Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Detonated perhaps in a enormous cloud of plasma and flying debris. Oh don't get me wrong, he sounds noble but still like a total badass Marine, and that is a good thing.

Chapter 20: A Jump Into The Tempests Fury, A Heated Quarrel & The Hunted Prey



Soon after Agathons speech, each of the four Captains had gathered for council. Saying little or nothing of his earlier words, they laid plans and plotted schemes to bring their foe to ruin, with each given a mission or objective to achieve before the hour had passed and their contingencies had been made before the quartet left their seclusion. Tramping out onto the small landing pad close by, perched high over the fourth tiers wall where an open ramped Thunderhawk squatted on it's struts, idling it's engines in the rain.

Stepping apart from his brothers, Lycon, unclasped his cloak from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor where it fell into a sodden heap before tumbling away on the wind as a sudden gust caught a fold and it disappeared into the night. He shared a pragmatic smile as he clasped arms with each in turn and he stepped back from his brothers onto the ramp a few steps behind as the engines began their whine, and he raised his arm in farewell as the gunships struts parted from the pad and he called out one last time to the watching trio.

'Shadows and dust!' he cried. Turning away from the closing ramp, the Thunderhawk lifting into the clouds and towards it's desperate mission as the silent trio watched on and Agathon giving voice to a silent prayer.


* *


A glancing blow struck him from behind as he turned the alley and fled from his attacker who sent him shoulder first skidding to the floor, frantically crawling for the broken sil to a basement just a few scant meters from where he had fallen in his attempt to reach the street, and now he scrambled towards it's safety. Fighting the numbness of nerves that gripped his legs from the rod of fire that had been his spine, he crawled with every sinew of strength in his arms as he gained gashes and cuts from the leavings of the alley until his fingers grasped the inner ledge and ignored the lodged shards in it's frame. Too insane with terror to notice as he pulled his torso into the darkness and slid towards the unseen floor below until his right leg arrested his fall from the grip clamping tightly to his ankle, and he felt chapped nails biting cruelly into his flesh while feeling himself beginning to slide back over the cutting nubs as he instinctively grabbed the brickwork to save himself from their razor torment. Suspending himself between the strength of his arms and the hauling form of the Ork who tugged viciously on his leg as he desperately kicked out with his free footing, landing stomps and flailing kicks to the boy who barely noticed the blows as it became ever more frustrated with it's preys stubborn grip and began to shake him against the frame.

Whit hot pain and a scream of pure agony tore from his lips as his thigh swallowed a long chunk of glass that broke against the bone, his grip wavering with the scale of the pain that numbed his mind to all else but the searing pain as the Ork hauled him roughly through the window as anger and self preservation kicked in, and he grasped the nearest shard on the sil with a snarl as he past it by and stabbed it down into the hand of the Ork as he came back into the light who growled in pain.

With the counter weight gone from his body he dropped into the cool basement. Winding his lungs and sending the sliver spearing deeper into his thigh as he gave vent to a series of wheezing howls through his teeth and willed his body to drag his injured leg towards the far wall with his arms and left leg working profusely as his gaze alternated between the half seen wall over his shoulder and the Ork working a sickening sound from it's throat as it attempted to crawl through the window.
W ith a final awkward pained shuffle he lent back against the wall and pulled at his pistol. Squeezing off the last of the charged clip in a rush of trigger action at the crazed Boy filling the window, who withdrew back out into the alley. His relief total at it's retreat, letting his concentration slip as his vision swam with the blood leaving his body while the sound of grunts and dragged metal came from the alley before what little light from the day vanished with a clang. Sealing him in what he thought would be his tomb as a coldness crept over his body, making him shiver.
Quickly he ripped strips from his torn tunic, tying them high around his leg and the barrel of his pistol that would allow him to relieve the pressure of his makeshift tourniquet and then felt his wetting fatigues for his salvation.
The auspex was smashed, sparking in his hand as he drew it from his pocket, and he hurled it away onto the floor in anger to lean back his head on the wall in dispear


* *


Close to the open ramp, secured by a handhold. His cloak gone and a bulky jetpack now at his back. Lycon watched the swirling tempest seething below, knowing he'd soon enter it's heels fury.
The thought gave him no sense for trepidation or doubt. Only the thrilling adrenal rush he lived for when faced with such a challenge.
Life in the 7th was never dull he smirked to no one but the wind. Unclipping his blade, checking and then re-checking the chainswords throaty engine in the confined space as he studied the whirling blade for last minute defects and alignment of it's diamond tipped teeth, before returning it to his side.
Behind him in the compartment, others in the Thunderhawk followed his lead. Checking equipment for compromising faults, while some stood pacifly waiting for the ambery orange walls to be bathed in a sickly green as the matte black Thunderhawk hung as close to motionless in the high winds as it could achieve . The ship rocking with each gusting thrust as the pilot compensated with a jockey of the stick or a powered burst from a wing tip thruster.
The amber light flashed twice, signaling the ten count, and he turned to the fifteen hand picked brothers of his company behind him in the bay, seeing most watching him for one last word or tactical comment. Instead he gave them all a level stare. One they all met and returned with a determined glint of their own, and he nodded in assent to their conviction to follow him into hell before clamping his helm in place as he turned back to the clouds, checking his pistol one last time before he stepped onto the ramp and into the breeze.
Watching the rolling pattern of clouds and forked lightening striking beneath was almost hypnotic in it's motion before a shuffle of boots from behind returned him to the now and he jumped with the green light pulsing in time to the chime only the helmed Astartes could hear who were already jumping to catch up with their Captain hurtling like a metal thunderbolt through the air.

Stretching him limbs into the standard jump posture as he quickly gained terminal velocity, he plunged into the flickering clouds, activating a homing beacon with a nod to keep those following on behind on his vector, who with a glancing check, appeared in blip form on the aeronautical display tracking their decent as it marked out with a grey box their approximate landing zone below.
Passing through the heart of the storm, a warning rune flashed angry and red, it's urgency alerting him to his armours detection of the build up of ions in the charged air around him. Forcing a shut down of a plethora of systems to his warplate which reduced it's detectable output to a marginal thrum at his back that would unlikely attract a stray bolt that would give away his position, or ignite the promethium on his back.
Continuing to watch the readout for his altitude, he watched the numbers steadily dwindle in a rapid count down.

Five thousand feet...

Four thousand feet...

He watched the digits diminish with a professional calm borne of countless jumps and a cool confidence in himself and the jet strapped to his back.

Three thousand feet...

Adjusting his body one last time he positioned his feet and began to warm the engine at his back.

Two thousand feet...

An alarm sounded in his ears with an amber box flashing in his HUD, with the words 'Activate thrusters! Ground collision!' overlaying the display. But he held to his rapid course, punching through the last of the clouds as he sighted on his target looming over the hive.

One thousand five hundred... The amber box turned an urgent red. The alarm becoming a shrill and rapid wail, and he relented to it's demands. Igniting the bulky jetpack on his back with a chugging cough and series of whines before two blue spears of thrust glowed from the engines as he still moved like a blur across the sky as he picked out his landing high on the Titan's shoulders where a sizable cannon crewed by a mixture of Orks and Gretchins worked to feed the guns thirsty barrel with fresh ammunition.

Five hundred feet..

He set the fuel rate to maximum burn, expending the last of the promethium as he dumped the fuel directly into the engines. Reducing his impact speed to a survivable bone crunching velocity, instead of a suicidal blur that would see him dashed to pieces despite his armours and bodies enhanced abilities, his engines kicking out a sub-sonic roar which blasted downwards, confusing the Ork crew who looked skywards seconds before he landed amongst them with a boom of metal and a cloud of smoke in a one fisted crouch.

Rising to his full height in the audible pause that followed his grounding with the Ork mob watching on in stunned silence as the Astartes Captain rose from the smoke misting about his feet from his spent jetpack as he drew the Bolter from his side. He activated his external speakers, leveling his pistol towards the nearest Boy as three more Panther's landed at his back and drew for their Bolters and blades.

'Burn the heretic. Kill the witch. Suffer not the Xenos to live' Pulling the trigger with the last while his bodyguards at his back made short work of the foe rushing to hand.


* *


With no Imperial Titan to challenge their walk the Mek and Gargant acted with impunity as they methodically raised the second tier to vapor and dust, with little thought or reaction to the shells and thick beams that bounced or dissipated against their protective shields.
Few had noticed the growing number of the Gargants guns falling silent. But few could blame them as it continued it's rampant run through the city, unaware of the struggle being fought within it's depths.
And so the Gargant walked on.


* *

Moving through the cramped corridors of rock and metal the four teams of four past through the Titan's arteries with the speed of purpose, dealing with resistance from oily Gretchins and scattered Orks along the passages as they fought quick skirmishes to clear out pockets of resistance with the explosive force of their bolters and the hack and saw of their blades as they cut a gory path and left a bloody trail in their wake.

Removing his helm, it's left optics crushed from a blow that had damaged it's inner workings, he reluctantly discarded it in the tunnel Forcing him to endure the stale fetid air and the flesh burnt smoke wafting down the passage, and he spat in disgust to dislodge the greasy taste from his mouth.
Turning from the curvature of the tunnel where the last of the Orks had fled, he asked.

'How is he?'

'Dead.'

'The Flamer?'

'Fragged.'

Looking down over the Panthers shoulder, he replied. 'Strip his weapons and gear.' Removing a handful of krak grenades from his bandoleer around his torso as he spoke and handed them off to the Panther who reluctantly took them in hand.
'You know what to do.' The Astartes nodding grimly. rigging the grenades quickly under the fallen marine before placing a solemn hand to his friends shoulder.

'Lets move'. He whispered to the grieving Panther who nodded once and gathered up his laid aside blade. Mag-locking the now spare Bolter to his thigh as he followed his Captain and Kril moving ahead on point further into the dank and dripping tunnel, moving carefully so that their only noise were the low hums of their powerpacks and the soft patter, almost imperceptible tread of their rubber shod feet. They stole up to a junction dissecting the way ahead and they took up position, posting his team to a corner each as he took up the rear for himself and activated a low powered short range channel for the vox.

'Team two. Status?'

'In route to the engine room. Resistance, moderate. No casualties.'

'Acknowledged.' Switching to the next frequency on the short band.

'Team three Status?'

'.....'

'Team three, respond.'

'....' More dead air.

Powering up his secondary HUD on his vembrace, he let his armours limited sensors scan the nearby sections of the Titan's structure for the Imperial signals he knew he would see to find the team thirty meters down, close to the main ammunition store that had been their objective. But their blips were unmoving as they continued to remain static while he clicked on their bio-rhythms that read four straight lines of flat line.
He voxed team two again.

'Team two, be advised. Team three is down. Proceed with caution. Implement sub alpha kilo.'

'Acknowledged. Inshiating sub protocol.' The team leader replied.

'Team four. Status?'

'In position. Two casualties. One still combat effective. Orders?'

'Hold, Team four. We'll be in place in five minutes.'

'Acknowledged. By your word Captain.'

A hard bang and a long flash accompanied a hot over-pressure blast from down the tunnel that accompanied the cries of pain and surprise from their pursuers.

'Lets move.' he whispered to his team, rising from his one kneed crouch and backed off down the left hand tunnel with a soft pad as he followed the man on point, while the trailing brother flickered his aim from left to right down the two tunnel until he past junction and followed he his towards the crude flight of stairs leading upwards.


* *


With the Thunderhawk having disappeared amongst the clouds and the sound of it's engines fading upon the constant wind.. Agathon and Evander went to walk away to depart from the blinking outcropping, when Ateus stopped his friend with a word and gesture.

'Agathon, wait.' Holding up his hand to stop him, drawing a look from Evander who had already past him by. 'We must talk.' Shifting his gaze to the other Captain looking on and back again. '....Alone.'
Looking to Agathon with a questioning brow, Evander waited for an explination. But none was forthcoming as Agathon only nodded his assent for him to leave, and he shrugged as he made for the hatch in the wall without a word or backwards glance.

'So talk.' Moving away from the barring hand to stand in the vacated pad still warm to the touch with the hatch sliding closed behind them.

'What is this talk of the divine I hear you speak. Does a sickness grip you? Or are you some fool who wishes to bow and scrape to the Imperial creed?' Half mocking him in his anger.

'Careful, brother.' Agathon said. Lowering his chin and watching him darkly through the bristles of his right brow aas he cut an eye over his shoulder while his cloak stirred in the wind.
'Do not mock my faith.'

'Your faith!? Since when has it been your faith to bow before dolards and fools and worship false idols....? I hold the Emperor up high as any other, but never have I thought him to be a God! Our Chapters teachings are explicit. Going so far as to call it the true will of the Emperor that the High Lords have corrupted. You as a Captain of The Panther Claws know this better than any other..or at least you should.
Has nearly two hundred years in war turned your mind into a simpletons and made you forget you teaching masters tutelage?'

As he talked, he closed on Agathon, who had turned to face him. Gesticulating in time to his raised vpice over the storm and the beating rain, until finally he stood before him. Looking up into his broader brothers face, who glared down enraged into his own as he laid the last accusation at his feet.

'What do you know of truth, little brother!' Responded Agathon. Shoving him backwards as he spoke. Punctuating each sentence with a hard bang to his chest plate.
'So certain are you. So smug in your knowing, it seems. Tell me, little man. What do you know? W-.'

Ateus timed the next forceful shove. Bringing his hands up together between Agathons as they thrust forwards, and explosively forced them outwards while kicking him in the chest. Sailing him ten feet and crashing to the floor where he raised himself to his side by an elbow and glared up wildly towards his attacker.

'I know to keep my kolar tempered,brother.' Spitting out the last as if it suddenly tasted foul upon his lips.

Agathon scissored his legs to gain his feet and flew at Ateus. Blows and counter blows ensued with side steeped knees and kicks until Ateus past his guard with a vicious combo. Ending the bout with an open handed thump to the chest with a follow up hacking sweep to the legs as he grabbed his friends gorret , and dumped him to the floor.

Planting a foot on his chest to restrain his rising, he said. 'Do not force me to fight you, Agathon. I shall not forgive you if you should fly at me again.' His fists formed into murderous balls and his face contorted by his sprung anger until he relaxed his stance and offered his hand down to his friend.
'All I want is but simple answers, not blood.'

Agathon smacked his hand away and stood of his own accord, pacing away still hot with their previous words, while Ateus' jaw tightened with tension before he let the moment pass, and left him to walk to the lip of the pad and collect his humours.
After a few added moments, he too crossed the apron to stand by his side. Both staring out over the vista in silence as each collected their thoughts.

'I'm sorry I tried to strike you.' Came Agathon' sullen voice when the moment had past long enough to build the tension. Though still he was unwilling to meet Ateus' searching stare trying to meet his own. He went on to speak, but failed with a shake of his head.

'I'm sorry that I did.' Ateus spoke after watching Agathon closely. Placing a comradely hand on his shoulder and smiled placitatingly up at his friend who caught the good natured smile from the corner of his eye and began to chuckle. Easing the tension in them both as Agathon chuckled a reply.

'By God, you are more than a match for me when my kolar is up.'

'And by the Throne, you are more than a match for me when your cooler head prevails.' Causing a chuckle between the both this time and a more awkward silence to follow, which Ateus finally broke.

'Many of our brother chapters pray to him, yet we do not. We show our devotion to his Imperium in other ways. Mostly by protecting that which he built from those whom would seek to destroy it. But for two thousand years out order has ploughed the stars in his name without the need to pray to him.
Why? Why now do you wish to change all this?'

'Detrus.' he answered simply.

'For a madman?! but why?'

'Because if he had had faith he would not have fallen so easily to those that dwell beyond the veil. Instead he fell quickly to it's whispered uttering's, now well on it's way to ensnaring Marcus. All because they had no faith to guard their hearts against such an evil. Indoctrination in our teachings is now enough...We need the Librarius to be reinstated and the scripture of the Lectodivinicus to be taught if we are to guard ourselves against such things.'

Ateus concern soared with the statement. 'The Librarius! Truly you have forgotten your teachings. They were outlawed by our order long ago when their self proclaimed king fell to their craft on, Thraka. Those that survived his ending went to their deaths willingly, knowing how dangerously and deep they had delved into such witchery.'

'Then we limit such knowledge. Corral their powers to only what is needed. If we had but one amongst us he would have recognized the taint taking root, perhaps stopping what I could not.' Looking away with a pained expression at the self accusation.

Ateus pressed on. 'And who will judge what is to be needed? Who will say when they have gone too far, or not enough? No, brother. It is too dangerous. For us, and for them whom we would set upon this path.'

Agathon shook his head and looked away in exasperation after watching Ateus speak his peace. Having reached an impasse, they stared out over the hive again in silence until Agathon finally spoke his mind.

'Then we must agree to disagree.. For if some how we survive all this.' Sweeping his arm out to encompass the hellish vista. 'I will reinstate the Librarius.'

'Then I must do all that I can to stop you.' He ended with a sigh.

Their eyes met from their wondering's over the terrain, unable to deny they had chosen paths that would perhaps one day see them as adversaries. And there was steely determination to be found in both their stares before Agathon broke the contact, and walked away towards the pressure sensored hatch.

For his part, Ateus let him go. Feeling a deep seated tension and change in their friendship, as well as things unresolved for the future of their chapter and their uncertain present. With a final sigh, he too left this foreboding place.

I might have mixed the names, but anyhow here goes. He sounds bad ass since well he held a city against a Waaaaggghhh anyone who dose that is a bad ass in my book.
Im just horrid at remembering names from such long slabs of text

Chapter 21: Belly of The Beast


Far out to the west there sat a lake that had grown since the first bombs had fallen on the unprotected cities of Platya. It's vast stretches, forever misty. Sat on the borders of the Tygun plateau. Held back in the wastes of a banked carved depression and filled from the broken sewage that now poured in a trickle from Tygun's emergency pipes, into this vast catchment pool.
Emerging from the near shore rose the Panthers cautiously braking the surface. Weapons drawn as they trained along the shore ringed sludge, to the dunes and levies slope beyond. But nothing....
Not a Squigg or Gretchin could be seen of the enemy through the easing rain; squatting atop the banked carved mud, or patrolling as they trekked along the gently lapping shore. The wind and splashing raindrops settling the sluggish waters, the only thing disturbing the grey speckled scene.
With an unseen signal they broke their ranks, surging from the water. Wading onto the beach from the shallows as they kicked up brackish spays and unclean floating filth to reach the contaminated sands, and pound across the short beach towards the low struck dunes. With metal thuds as they flopped themselves amongst the piled sands, scanning Back and forth for a target.
Silence...
Only the shifting sands pushed along by the wind accompanied the soft patter of rain and the steamy breath from their grills.

Amongst the warriors eyeing their surrounds, Evander, scanned the barren uneven crest above for a sign or even a blemish of a contact. But once again nothing stirred as he sensed his men's eagerness to push on and he glanced back to the city across the blue tinged lake where it rose forlornly in the distance, as he sent his prearranged message before waving his men onward to begin their climb. for good or ill, committing them to his mission. And with slow measured steps they advanced over the dunes to ascend the levy. Covering each stretch in a leap frogging motion as their helms scanned the terrain, while they climbed the long steep mud that gave under their weight. Sucking at their footing, until the challenge gave way to the vista revealed to them out in the gloom that had become the plain.

The Ork encampment was vast, yet, unformidable. Holding no ramparts. No ditch, no real guard. Not even a sharpened stake could be see enclosing it's on stretching circumference. Only the occasional trukk or roving mob could be seen travelling toward the besiege city as a pair of buggies raced each other over the plain in some depraved dispute, or some twisted game. And Evander shook his head at the perplexity of their mindset. Thinking they could be cunning creatures. Intelligent even, at times. But they did the most stupidest of things or missed the most obvious and rudiments of warfare. And so he dismissed their defences as irrelevant or even a parshal hindrance to their infiltration as he scoured the boobing masses for his main goal. Scanning past the ad-hoc paths between the hovels and pens on it's outskirts, down the main streets with it's smattering of trukks and buggies trundling amongst the better conceived shelters and bars. With several clinks of magnification from his optics, he searched for any tell tail signs of his quarry amongst the haphazard throng of camp. His search bearing fruition when his eyes rested upon the largest of the shelters, set apart from the rest. His free fist enclosing around the mud under his gauntleted fingers while he looked away from his targets location and down the line of warriors to calm his thoughts of vengeance. His blood burning hot s he watched the fire teams set about their positions they had scooped from the back side of the levy, where four bulky tubes soon appeared, rising against the sky.
Satisfied that all soon would be set, he turned to his five man squad watching him closely, and lead them on towards the ramshackle city, with the mission of ending the Warlord Garn.


* *


The air was alive to the bang of bolters and the chug and rattle of the Ork guns as Lycon and his team sheltered from the storm flying from the Titans bridgealong the short unlit corridor. Buzzing with the constant sounds of hard bangs, bullet impacts and spanking ricochets emanating from the Boyz seething about the bridges crude but functional doorway. Lycon keyed his vembrace as he shouted a command into his vox.

'Go Nito, we're got their attention!' Shouting over the added clack of Kril's bolter giving the doorway a quick burst before the Panther ducked away from the eating impacts to the corners lip that showered them all once again in dust as the vox echoed with the crackling reply.

'Aye, Captain!... Move it, Gadra!' It was time to strike and he readied himself to spring along the strobbed out smokey corridor to join the attack on the bridge, before the rear-guards shout grabbed his attention.

'Movement on the stairwell!' the legionary guarding the steps called. Taking his concentration from Nito's charge as he heard his brothes bolter bark as he turned and watche the Panther throw a grenade into the darkness below, where a momentary flash tainted his vision.
'Autocannon!' Warned, Kanacus. His sight returning. Seeing the Space Marine rising from cover only to quickly flatten himself to the ground as a whizzing hail rattled past his prone form and arked towards Lycon in a blistering stream of metal. The ceiling and tunnel behind disappearing in a shower of gouged pipping and wall debris as he dived for the floor. The crude bulked out multi-barreled mini gun howling it's throaty whiny roar, before a rapid click of an empty feed in the noticeable silence, prompted the rear-guards reply. His pistol barking twice and a barely heard splatter told the rest of his kill even before he reported the settling of the matter
'Enemy down!' Kanacus reported as he rose to a slight crouch and bobbed upwards unloading his pistol over the the lip as he took to his knee. Sniping over the remains of the landings cover as he held back a small swarm. Only now did Nito's attempt on the bridge reach their ears with it's rising intensity as it sounded harsh and gratting over Lycon's speakers. The link reduced to a static hash from an impact before Nito shouted into the channel.

'Hatch secured, requesting support! Repeat. We've reached the bridge...Gadra, watch out! Frack, man down! man down! Metellus, suppressing fire!'

'Pull back team two, abort! I repeat, abort!' He replied from the deck where he'd ducked to survive the earlier streaming metal as he listened to the open channel fizz suddenly with static.

'On the stairs! Melta, behind us!' The warning answered by a pistol banging several rounds into it's target that eventually detonated the over-charged orkish weapon whose reverberating boom was felt through the walls of the structure.
'I'm out! Reloading!' Nito shouted before sparing a moment for his lord. 'The stairways gone, Captain! We need to breach. Unable to fall back. Repeat, una-' His voice cut short mid sentence as a long serrated buzz and a pained squeal ended anymore reply to Lycon's shouts as Nito was lost to the throes of close quarter combat.

'Hold on, Nito. We're coming!' Lycon barked, rising from the gritty dust. His mind made up by a sudden cold clarity of the situation and a half formed logic coming to his mind.
'Kanacus, stand fast. Hold them as long as you can, but fallback on us if you must. We're taking the bridge with Nito.' The marine nodding without bothering to look up from his bolters aim as he
took in hand the spare at his hip and helm on grimly to the top step.
'Kril! With me.' Flattening himself against the wall once again as he prepared his pistol.

'Aye, Captain.' The other marine replied with nod. Pulling a pin from a grenade as he spoke and hooked it past his Captain down the short tunnel to land with a rolling clatter at the bridges hatch. And With the concussive thump through the Titan' walls, Lycon was off. Sliding low from around the corners lip and into the smoked out cordite corridor. His pistol outstretched and already beginning it's rhythmic buck as he kept his whirling blade low and roaring over his war cry as he charged for the bridges hatch. Bolts swirling the smokey mist as dim shapes ahead flared their muzzles in conjunction with his own, while rounds bit holes into his armour and drilled for his inner flesh.


* *


With an open handed fist and a sweeping wave of the arm, he halted his team deep in the bowels of the Ork encampment. Waving them further into the lengthening shadows of the day as he peered down at the screen of his auspex with a sigh of frustration.
The life-signs detector was a blob of gak. The reader, flirting on the verge of a melt down. Seemed wantingly to test the endurance of his patience as it slowly process the constantly fluxing maze, as new hodge podge lanes and mud slick roads sprang up, or were destroyed with equal measure. Denying the device and so the Astartes an uncontested path to their goal, and he struck the auspex in exasperation. Causing a small chirp and a double whine from the machinespirit as it audibly protested at it's handling.

A grumble and a lethargic shuffle followed by a shout came from the nearest hovel as something large disturbed from it's slumber as a bulky shape, back-lit from the fire within, appeared under the tanned hide where Evander had crouched to take his reading. It's glowing red Orkish eyes fixing on the hunched Captain with a growl before it before a shuffle forced it to notice Panthers hugging the shadows with their dull, yet piercing green eyes. It's mouth dropped open a if to shout, but instead only a wheeze left it's body as a black blur sprang forth from the nearest shadow. Tackling the Boy back into the hovel where the two fell upon each other like the bitter enemies they are, spitting and cursing as they snarled and struck at one another. Knocking gathered trinkets and metal cups with a scuffling clatter that ended in a muffled grunt and a long drawn out sigh.
A bloodied hand lifted the flap. Pulling back the tarp with a smear on the tan to reveal a still dripping blade in the hand of the Panther as he gave a slow slash across his throat with his thumb to indicate the silencing of the alarm. The squad lowered their bolters as Evander nodded his thanks to the brother.
A raunchus song began over by the nearest of the fires, where snatched choruses drifted up from the dancing lights and spread it's din into the coming night. With quick gestures he motioned for the squad to flank right to avoid the debauchery being enacted beside the fireside, and with a last kick of mud to conceal the protruding crimson trickle from under the hovels flap, he followed his brothers as they struck out once again off for the heartlands of the camp.


* *


With a blood curdling roar, he charged from the smoke. Heightened mind slowing time to a trickle with organs pumping a chemical cocktail through his veins as he hurled his now empty bolter into the Orks packing the hatch, and rushed forth to meet them with steel. Shoulder barging the first aside as he ducked under a swipe, he hacked at a second. Gory serrated teeth parting flesh as it emerged with ropy chunks to parry with a clang, before the counter stroke increased his tally.
I n the midst of the whirling skirmish the two Astartes and Orks met in a no holds barred brawl for the hatch with their foe, as metal clashed and blood flowed freely while the two hero's fell into the dance of paired combat. Hacking and slashing, they butchered their way through the small mob offering themselves up to their blades as they slew them with a growing zeal.
Glancing towards their thinning ranks was a costly endevour as a poorly defended stroke staggered him against the wall with blood pumping across his face from the gouge to his brow as it flowed to his neck. He slid to the floor as he fell awkwardly looking up at his potential killer that was upon him. Notched choppa rising overhead as the Ork gave him a sneering smirk and it's muscles bunched for the strike. The blade swished through the air as Lycon threw himself to the side but a pistol had already barked. The Boyz body falling headless to the floor as Kril sped past kicking a mewling Ork attempting to rise a he rushed on to the hatch.


'Captain?' He yelled over his shoulder, peeking through to the bridge before flinching back from a clipping impact to his helm.

'I'm fine, he lied.' Rising unsteadily to his feet and staggered along using the wall for support as he shook off the blur to his vision while picking his footing over the slain to the hatch.
'Situation?' He called over the open dooorway separating the two as he eased into crouch and nodded his head to the bulkhead, meaning the room beyond.

'Precarious, Captain. Mettelus and Nito are in there alright.'

'Layout?' Cutting the preamble.

'Two other exits..one to the rear, the other on the opposite side. Jabbing his thumb over his shoulder with a clip bunched in his fist as he continued. 'Two oblong, of what i assume are consoles, where Nito and Metellus are positioned. Two more to the rear up a pair of steps surrounding a crude thicket of pipping and a command throne where they seem to primarily operate this beast.' He ended with an audible curl to his lip as he finished drawing on his occulobe to relive the snatched glances of the room.
'Orders?'

'We complete our mission. Plant the melta- charge and exfiltrate to ground level through the view ports on our cabled line...clear?'

'Crystal.'

'Good. giving him a wolfish smile. Cover me, brother.'

'Aye, Captain.' Kril replied with a nod, sticking his bolter through the hatch and suppressed the trigger. Laying down a strobbing stutter of propelled diamond tipped brass onto the bridge as the ejectedcasings tinkled about the floor until he paused mid-stream to shout over his shoulder.
'Go, Captain! Go!'

With great bounds he hurtled onto the dim bridge, diving for the nearest oblong console as he let loose with his own bolter and dove unceremoniously for the console with a jarring clang and a short crawl for cover. He settled into it's curvature as he took in his surrounds and saw Nito and Mettelus sheltering close by. He nodded his greeting before shouting back to the hatch.
'Kril!' He yelled, beckoning with a wave to the remaining brother who took a last peeking glance and snapped off a quick burst from cover before emptying his clip on the move as he followed after his Captain.
He staggered. Power tubing, protective mesh and torn tissue mushrooming into a rich red ball which burst like an angry boil and splattered outwards as the Astartes neared the console and collapsed in a heap to the floor.
'Kril!' Dragging the downed marine into cover and propping him against the consoles rusted metal where his helm loosely slumped as his wound continued to gushingly pump.
'Stay with me, brother!'

'I, I can make it.' A small voice the from the wounded marines grill coughed, dripping stringy blood as Lycon reached for his belt and a vial of Larraman, which he injected straight into the wound, eyeing him with grave concern.

'Don't you die on me, brother. I need you.' He shouted while tossing away the empty vial before firing his bolter on reflex over the sheltering console into the face of a charging Ork shouting it's war cry with a mindless bellow. He shrank back from the a hail of poorly placed rounds as more Orks flooded in from the back tunnel.

'Aye, Lord.' Kril croaked weakly, causing Lycon to look down.

'Can't fuggin hear you! Grabbing his garret and pulling him closer. Repeat after me, I will not fuggin die!'

Kril's head jerked suddenly and shook with the effort as it turned towards him from it's sideways slump. 'Aye, sir! He croaked a little louder.'

'Good! Pressing the Panthers reloaded bolter into his hand and placing it across his chest. Hold the line, brother.' Reaching for Kril's spilled blade and readied himself into a crouch.


* *


Moving through the camp had become nigh on impossible as the drab day had stretched on into the blackest on nights and pushed the Panthers to seek the shelter of a depot close to the heart of the Orkiod city. At the closing of the day, they had found themselves on it's outskirts. Filled to bursting with junk and other scrap and surrounded by planted sheets of metal and splintered wood that stood in for a barricade from the haphazard squalor beyond. But this barrier was no impediment ti their strength as they tore aside a small section of crudely hammered metal, and slipped quickly inside. Cautiously setting off between the piled junk until they came upon the rows upon irregular rows of trukks, buggies, tanks and the larger constructs they could neither discern nor fathom.

'We need transport. Spread out and find something that works.' Waving them off into different directions as the Panthers vanished between the heaped junk and rusting piles hemming in this patch of the depot as he too set off into the night. Passing from concealing shadow to piled heap as he he scouted about the edges of the vehicles for a viable transport while half a dozen spot lights darted to and throe in an attempt to catch any thievery during the night.

'Captain!' someone whispered from nearby. Drawing his attention to a Panther who'd appeared from around a rocket mounted buggy that was parked amongst several more of it's kind as the Panther beckoned for Evander to follow and slipped from view until his tracks in the mud lead him to the marine watching something intently.
'Report?' To which the marine simply pointed in the direction of what had caught his eyes. A trukk idling as it chugged a mixture of unburnt oil and smoke while a grubby Ork clattered head first in it's engines compartment, grumbling.
'Well done.' Clapping a hand on the brothers shoulder as he activated the squads frequency. 'Transport found, acquiring now.' Receiving four answering clicks over the vox as the others backtracked and the two crept towards the distracted Ork. It's neck kissing cold steel as it bled out over the engine, adding to it's smoke and Evander pulled away the corpse leaving a red smear along the chassis. The brother shutting the engines cover and picking up the limp Ork he then stuffed into the drivers compartment before climbing inside. Revving the accelerator and testing the controls as the other members of the squad appeared from the night.


* *


Looking over the console he could see the Orks massing for one last gamble. The eight Boyz on the upper bridge pouring down a metal hail as they were drove on by the bellowing Ork Kaptan, who stood aside for three more Boyz whipping a dozen Gretchins onto the bridge and released them to the charge.
And with that he set off once more into the teeth of the mustered Orks fury with Nito and Mettelus. The two Panthers rising in support of their Lord as they charged up the steps, cleaving through the oily Gretchins drove on by the Boyz and met the husbanded strength of the Titans crew in a clash of a melee. Each driving into their foes midst in a brawling war as they cleaved and slashed while the Knob Captain stepped out from behind the bridges throne to challenge Lycon as their eyes met over the fray. The Ork barreling into the gritty press where Nito barred his path. Daring to intercede between the two lords. He plunged his blade through it's hide covered chest and was swept aside from a contemptuous backhanded stroke. Catapulting him into the crowd before the Greenskins and Lycons swords met with a strength testing clang and grind of metal as the Ork attempted to press him into the dust. It's snarling face inches from his own.
Lycon sprang back as he side stepped and dodged his opponents wild swings until he thrust at an exposed shoulder. Piercing rank hide and green flesh before ripping it free and once again they flew at each other as they parried and thrust or ducked under the whistling blades while the clang of deflected blows sounded from all angles as the rally went back and forth. The Ork showing a swordmaster quality in it's swordsmanship and little effect from it's wounds while it tested the Panthers own skill while they danced around the crude backed metal chair with the fighting around them babbling on.
Clearly this was no mindless beserker who staved off his attacks or pressed the counter stroke despite it's appearance, but cunning foe that twisted it's upper body away from his lunging attack while knocking his left hand free of it's blade with a downward hack that turned into an upward sweep towards his neck he barely dodged.
They were evenly matched in speed and skill, but the Orks raw power was beginning to numb his fingers and his mind raced for the winning strike even as he battled on. The Ork panting hard from another rally, but a slow smile had formed on it's face as it began to get the measure of the Astartes Lord who's blood encrusted face was set in grim determination. And so it pushed it's advantage. Renewing the attack with a mixture of savagery and skill that drove the Panther inevitably back until his blade spun off into the crowd and a shovel handed blow sent him crashing onto his back.
Lycons head lolled listlessly as he struggled and failed to rise from the ground while he fought the edges on unconsciousness. Feeling a sudden pressure on his chest as he looked down to see an iron shod spike toed boot pressing him to the ground and there was a creak of metal as the Knob bent forward to gloat over it's victim...


* *


His team was poised behind him in the trukk. The squad tense and silent as they yearned to be set loose and spring their suicidal plan now that their stalking persuit was at an end and the Warlord Garn was near. Barely twenty metres distant from their trukk, which idled in the rain.

'How much longer?' Someone whispered.

'A few seconds more.' Evander replied. Eyeing the nearest Ork by the enterance, which stood illuminated by a brazier through the rent in the flap he'd made in the tarp as they awaited for the Ork camp to be sown with the seeds of confusion. Each knowing barely minutes to live, but each willing to give it all if it meant the shattering of the Ork host. Knowing that without Garn the Orks would split into warring tribes that would turn on each other and so become easy pickings for the legion

A distant crump heralded the arrival of the star shell high above before it shone into existence and fell over the camp which stirred uneasily at it's appearance, while another trio appeared flaring into life before the whistle of the first mortar announced it's unwelcome arrival.
With the first distant thump, Evander sprang forth and drew back the flap. He leapt for the muddy ground and charged the two Boyz gazing round bemused at the scene as mortars bloomed in the camps distance with the added flare of lazcannon beams sizzling in glowing strips. He was upon them in moments, too fast for the guards to register the blur or comprehend the darting impacts from the shadows as he bounded forth from the trukk and quickly struck them down as the other guards nearby fell under the rain of blows from his squad. He bounded into the Warlords presence, and flew at the seated figure.

Two steps was all he took before the blow struck him in the back along his powerpack. Crushing plating as it sparked and coolant flung loose from busted pipping that signaled it's demise as the blows momentum sent him airborne while glimpsing two hulking Knobs detracting themselves from the shadows before the Warlord commanded them to his side.
Amongst the splintered remains of the table that had broken his fall, Evander groped for his blade as he struggled to role from his back and onto his hands and knees. He stood with a sway to see his target grinning at him with a sickening sense of pleasure. It's green skin almost black beyond it's armour and eyes so shifty, they belonged to a calculating Ork who sat upon a chair of crudely beaten metal.
Though a head shorter than the others, he was broad with it's musculature, scarred and pitted, from years of fighting that had seen it's turn in war and which spoke of a veteran who wore his scars proudly under his mail. A gnarled face regarded him with a sickly grin as he discarded his useless powerpack leaking it's hissing coolant upon the compacted floor as it ate at the ground and bubbled where it landed as he un-maged his bolter and kept it on the move between the trio. His finger tightening before the Warlord began to speak. But no guttural mindless bark he'd been expecting from their kind came forth it's lips. Instead the Warlord spoke a form of Gothic, low and uncouth, but still he was able to understand it's twisted nature as the Warlord toyed with a small dagger he'd unsheathed from his belt.

'I'v bin expectin you, sharu'shan, ever since i saw you leave in your Gara'dule.'

'A Thunderhawk?' Evander replied, his blade now poised high behind him ready to sweep or strike. His pistol leveled at the Warlords face as he spoke, wrong footed by the strangeness of the moment.
Why didn't he squeeze?

'Ah, dats da word you uz for it.' he chuckled, standing from his beaten throne and tucking away the dagger as he made his way over to a trestle full of strange meats and brews which he then poured for himself. His mail corset, tinkling with his movements as Evander followed his every step as his eyes never ceased to flicker between the Warlord and his personal guards.
Outside, the fight continued between the Panthers and the rest of Garn's guards as mortars shook the earth and spread confusion and death amongst the camp. His men fighting and dying to buy him time. Time he wasted, his muscles seemingly frozen by an outside force that wanted to hear the Warlord speak.
'Want one, ummie?' Holding out a jug of a brewed mixture towards Evander as it bubbled and smoked with a smirk. Knowing he would never take it and he was simply mocking him.

'My name, filth, is Evander Salvadar. Taking a determined step towards the still smiling Ork who held up a hand to still his bodyguards footsteps as they had stirred at the gesture. Lord and Captain of the Fouth. Loyal brother to the orde of the Panther Claws, and the last thing you shall ever see in this world, xenos. Remember it, for it will be your last as I have my vengeance.'

Garn laughed, tipping his head back and holding his ample belly as the jug slipped from his fingers and smashed upon the beaten grass. 'Oh you ar funni, ummie. Pretending to wipe a tear as he continued to chuckle. Perhaps I wont kill you afta all. Keep you around for me and da ladz amusement, ay ladz?' Inviting a response from the hulking two with a look

'Nah, chop 'im. Carve 'im up. Make 'im squeal. Said the club wielding Ork. I wonna see if'is eyes pop out.' It grinned, fingering a particularly nasty looking nail protruding from it's club.

'Boil 'im up an nash 'im. His skull wud luk a propa treat 'angin from my belt.' Jangling a set of skulls on rusted chains for effect as it laughed.

' 'Ear, hand off you Grot, skull mine!....his teef too. He added with an after thought. Find your own swag out front wen da Boyz av finished 'avin their fun.' The Warlord menaced, glowering at the last to speak until the Knob looked away and he turned back to Evander with a smile that was no long such.
'Now, ummie, wot say you to da ladz mashin you up propa, hmm?....or shall me and you av a little scrap?'

'You would fight me..alone?' He replied surprised as he glanced from the Warlord to his bodyguards and back again.

'Sure, why not.' Garn replied cheerfully with his hands now on his hips as his shoulders shrugged.

'And if I win?'

Garn laughed, his belly tinkling the mail. 'Then da ladz will mash you up anyway, den fight an see who becomes da next leada of dis here Wharragh. But more importantly, who gets ya teef.' All three Orks chuckling hard at the inside joke.

The fighting outside had ceased. Telling him how it had gone long before the bloodied and gore stained panting Boyz burst through the flap intent on blood and were stopped by a string of forceful words from Garn a he held up a commanding hand.

'Ka'dela na hoot! Cana tra'hala, verlosh kamay bayu!' Which cowed the mob before returning his gaze back to Evander with the warmth totally gone from his smile.
'Well, ummie, wot's it to be? Me...or them?' Pointing to the mob.

LONELICTAH'S WRITING CRITIQUE

Here, LoneLictor will list both the things you can work on regarding your writing, as well as the things he liked.

Things You Can Work On

-Show don't tell. Here's an example of what I'm talking about: "it was a battle group that consisted of the 2 battle barges Ariston and Caius, 3 strike cruisers, The Iron Might, Lighting Bringer and the Tempered Blade, 6 gladius frigates Spear of Iron, the Argus, the Hammer, the Shield of Truth, the Hunters Bow and the Felix, 3 pickit squadrons of destroyers of 3 ships a piece named after notable hero's of the chapter as well as the forge ship Martis and various support craft." When you're writing, you should include lots of little details. Those are what seperate a summary from a story. That being said, this problem went away as the story went on. In your first entry, you just talked about a lot of stuff without describing it. By the latest entry you were describing everything, which is great. Description is always good.

-Sometimes words lack 'capital letters'. This is a minor problem. It doesn't bother me that much really. That being said, the lack of capital letters will steer away some readers who would otherwise read your stuff. Moar capitals=moar readers.

-Sometimes the sentences run too long. This would be an example of that;
"The air began to reverberate to the sounds of whistling and exploding ordinance that quaked the gut as the ork gunz targeted the new threat that had crested the ridge behind them, and started to lay down a baragge onto the columns position who were moving too quickly so that most shells fell short or off target, but as the distance decreased a few began to find their mark, denting armoured plating and piercing several layers of adermatium, alas the fortunes or war were less kind to a squad of the 3rd company as a shell cut through the techmarine into the hatch instantly killing all inside and the burning hulk ground to a halt cooking off it's amunition into the night sky."

All you need to do is split up this sentence into two or three sentences, and it would make a great paragraph.

Things LoneLictah thought were awesome

-The Astartes have personalities, but are still Astartes. A lot of stories just make the Astartes emotionless killing machines. Other stories do the opposite, making Astartes into overly emotional cry babies. You achieved the perfect balance; the Astartes are stoic and cold, but still human. They feel emotions, but they don't let emotions dominate them.

Here's an example of what I'm talking about when I say that the Astartes seem human:
"he stepping forward and smiling broadly he greeted his brother with the warriors grip "well brother, are you ready for this new adventure of ours" he said still smiling.
though Agathon was pleased to see his closest brother his greeting was more melancholic in his reply. "I am brother as always, but I would prefer a little more word on my foe, this is no way to launch a new campaign" he ended sourly. "

Very nicely written.

-You describe settings very well. Even when the sentences are too long or a bit uneven, I still got an excellent mental image of the places you described when I read the story. Here's an example of some of the descriptive stuff I liked:
"while he had been lost in the past the column had traveled over 20km and had climbed the last rise before the vast plateau that the capital city sat on and as he looked out of the drivers slit he got his first view of the huge tiered metropolis with it's spires, hab blocks, manufactures, silo's and landing platforms on it's upper tiers. the outer wall had been breached in at least three places giving the enemy access to the lowest tier and underhive of the city, thick plumes of black smoke clung to the outer edges from among the ruins, fires were beginning to burn on the 2nd tier although the higher tiers seemed undamaged from the fighting proof of the struggle still being waged by its inhabitants while around the city lay a maze of crudely cut trench systems and artillery emplacements. "

In conclusion, I enjoyed this greatly and am eager for more.

Chapter 22: A Glimmer of Hope and Passion


As Evander fought his Gladiatorial duel under the watchful glare of a jeering mob, and while Lycon battled for the bridge of the Titan that now stood motionlessly amongst the ruins of the Lower-Hive Through the multi-coloured spectrum that i the warp, there moved a small flotilla edging it's way back towards the last besieged city of Platya. It's hull remade, pitted and patched, and some sporting wounds too wide or deep to knit closed. But each was still a honed killer that cut it's path through the Emerthieriums hellish light. AS their decks thrummed with hived activity and their battle damaged guns were prepared in their housing.
Aboard the task forces lead ship, the Strike Cruiser (name). Forge Master Varro, stood in fatigues worn since the last of the Ork had been hunted to extinction aboard the Martis. He stood divested as if fresh from the forge on the battle bridge. His eyes devouring the flickering data across the pict-screens beside the command throne, with it's dimensions too dainty for his bulk. Scaled for normal human usage, where it's human Captain sat like a regal king over his fiefdom. Talking in muted tones with a gaggle of officers he'd summoned from the decks.
They continued their daily briefing as his mind hovered on the edges of their discussion.

'Chief your report on the repairs, if you please?' Captain Beren, a shrewd middle aged man with a scar below his left eye that curved towards his hair line, asked. Staring towards the overalled engineer to the left of the gathering,who pulled at his tool belt before his sharp ambery eyes looked up from under a mop of fiery hair from the deck.

'We're still hard at it all over the ship, sir. But if it wasn't for the extra details from Martis, we wouldn't of even made a dent in our repairs.' Giving a nod of thanks to Varro as if unsure of how to cordially address the Astartes, who gave a gesture of acknowledgement as the man continued. 'We've made serviceable repairs to the starboard bays, though admittedly only adequate ones to bay five.'

'How adequate?' Tapping away at his arm rest as spoke while activating a holoithic system that suspended a schematic of the ship from the floor for the Chief to manipulate as he stepped forward. Highlighting damaged sections in red before zooming in on the for-mentioned bay and onto the catapult system.

'Catapults four through seven took the most damage from a crash landing and subsequent munitions explosion as the fighter broke up across the landing zone.' The chief paused to produce a spool he then plugged into a slot in the throne that began to play back the Interceptors crash where the schematic had once been which ended in a bright flash and a failed pict-feed before switching back to the catapult and launch system. 'Though if we strip out all the damaged components for repairs on the others, I could give you five and seven back into service within a few hours.' Highlighting the needed parts on the holo-pict before looking towards a worried Beren for approval.

'Hmm, I see. And the other bays?' Not liking the idea of losing four launches from his only bay on the port-side, considering the further news.

The Chief producing a weary sigh as he brushed a stray strand caught on his brow before continuing. 'Bays six, seven and eight are still in chaos down there, sir. That lance strike through the prow and port shields scored a crippling hit all along those bays.. We can't re-pressurize, or retract the bay doors into their housing. The strike melted them all like butter so we can't even retract them, nor replace them without a refit. Our only crumb of comfort is bay five receiving the tail end of the strike, and we're re-pressurizing now. But we wont know if it's successful for at least another hour, so work is continuing in the bay in suit for now.
'We'll need a full dockyard refit when we get through all this..If we get through all this.' Ending his report with a dejected look to the deck as he made the last comment under his breath.

Beren gave a glance towards the Master of the Forge casting his shadow in the low light over proceedings in his duty robes, which barely hid his semi-bionic forms wired plugging which escaped from under his sleeveless tunic and ran to his arms and faceless lower mask. Shocked to see the Panther eyeing the officers with a look of disdain creasing his brow as they mumbled dejectedly while the green orbs flickered from officer to officer before meeting his own, and switch again to the constantly scrolling data. His lords silent judgement causing Beren to shuffle uncomfortably as he tapped his wand on his rest before engaging the next officer with a nod.

'Sir. Navigator Talus speaks of another two full days until we reach the outer limits of the Platyan system, and another nine hours of kinetic bleed off before we reach the outer lying planet, judging on our previous translation.' Spoke an olive skinned youth, who behind her almond eyes and pretty looks, hid a razor sharp mind and a calculating wit. 'Lead ship (name), reports they're a little over a day out from the outer fifths planets largest moon. But as yet, no estimate as to when they'll actually translate into real space.'

'Cause?'

'The warp has grown more troubled since our first arrival into this system, sir. Even we are unsure a to when we'll actually translate.Talus and his choir have already sealed themselves inside their sanctum and refuse all other means of communication except through vox alone. They believe it's condition with only worsen in the coming days as we reach Platya, and so have sealed themselves off to protect the crew from any physic bleed off should a warp-spawn event occur.'

'Post extra guards to the Navigators sanctum encase Talus isn't strong enough to contain an event.' Addressing the Master Chief standing slightly aback from the group who quickly lifted his cuff to speak onto the vox as he stepped away from the gathering while Beren motioned for the woman to continue.
'Margin of error?'

'Between two and eight hours, Captain. But it's the warp, sir. We could arrive tomorrow, or three weeks before we even left, Udara.'

'Why was this not foreseen before and on our first arrival? Ignoring the ever present hazards of the warp that surrounded then even now. Surely our Astropaths in the fleet would have been aware of this?'

'It was deemed a negligible risk when they raised the matter to the Chapter Master, Captain.'

'I see....' Not wanting to irk the Forge Master with a slight of his Lords poor decision, he instead asked. 'An impending warp storm the cause of the disturbance then?'

'None detected, sir. But it's definitely a localized event, centred on the system it's self. Looking off to the side as if distracted at the thought before continuing. But as yet, the distance is too great to discern it's meaning or cause at present.'

Beren played with a lock of hair. Twizzling it into a braid in contemplation before he spoke again. 'Hmm..very well. Make sure the , scans for legion signals when they do translate. But nothing too intrusive. I want them to be on their guard as they scout ahead of us. There's sure to be pickets and Roks just drifting out there in the outer system. This Warlord is no fool, Nitieri.'

'Aye aye, sir.' She saluted. Taking her leave to travel to the Astropaths tower by a nearby grav-lift while shoot a bow towards the Master of the Forge as she left, who bowed slightly in kind.

'And now the grimmest of news. Tupin, your report, if you please.'

'Of course, sir.' Replied the Flight Officer seemingly drenched in an aura of propellant which wafted from his black and tan patched battledress as he took out a data-slate from a leg pocket. 'With half our squadrons lost, cannibalized for spares or transferred to the fleet. Three bays operationally out of action, with running repairs on our others. We're badly under-manned, sir.' The man spoke with a grim attitude while he continued his report. Handing off the statistic laden slate. 'It's not just the pilots you see, but the deck crews as well, sir.'

'Explain, Commander?' Effecting a coolness to his voice.

'With several shelters near the bays vented in the engagement and those that survived committed to the infirmary with flash burns and other apoxia related symptoms. I'm afraid I can only muster two full bays at full capacity, sir. Skeleton crews at best I can give you for the remaining others.
We simply lost too many hands, Captain.'

'Unacceptable, Tupin. I want every serviceable bay operational and manned. I don't care where you find the personnel from. Reprograme some servitors, round up some lower deck ratings. Just don't take them from the gun crews. Pointing a finger at the man in warning. We'll need every fighter we hold out there in the black for the next engagement if we're going to have a chance of anything. And those gun crews could make the difference.
You have twenty-four hours to report the implementation of a rudimentary training programme on those you've appropriated. You may leave, Commander.' His voice calm but with a hint of an edge at the officers earlier tones. Causing the man to flush slightly from either anger or embarrassment as he saluted and quickly left.

His attention switched from the receding man to the broad chested munitions officer, who's scalps closely shaved hair almost glistened in the light as he stroked a beard with a hand stained with gun smoke. The man straightened under the scrutiny.
'Well, Gynus?' Speaking with a hint that he hoped for better news.

'Sir! 'the man almost barked as he saluted before relaxing into a stiff posture while he reeled off his inspection of the guns and their crews reports in a robotic manner. Fixing his gaze into the mid-distance that never wavered to their surrounds.
'Point defense lazers, down to sixty-three percent. Flack batteries, seventy-eight percent. Battery one, destroyed. Torpedo tubes one and two, fouled. Bombardment cannon, offline-.'

'-Any good news Gynus?' Stopping the man as he paused fro breath to draw the mans eye and stop his bland delivery.

'Adept Kital, thinks the crippled tubes can still be repaired, sir. He's requested additional work crews for tube one.'

'Tell him he's got what he's given and work best he can. If he can't guarantee them both, then I want at least one for when we translate. Tell him he has one more day before i pull his crews into bay five.'

The man saluted. 'Aye Aye, sir.'

'Continue.' Waving him on with a backhanded gesture.

'Batteries two and three report minor damage and casualties, sir. Standard void action injuries. Broken bones and crush related injuries from broken away equipment or falls, but most crew are reporting in at full strength.'

'Good! And what of our stores?'

'We've been fully loaded by the Martis. But weather we'll be able to use our compliment of torpedoes, I doubt it.' Earning him a scowl from the chief who took it as a professional affront to his crews tireless work and his own labours as he broke back into the conversation with a barbed comment.

'Bloody gunners. Think because they can't fix it it's broken. They don't know their arse from their elbow. Giving Gynus a sour look before switching to the Captain. We'll not let you down, sir. I'll find a way.' Giving him a nod of determination.

'Excellent, Chief. I'll let you head up the project.'

'...What?' Caught off guard by his Captains comment as he looked away from giving Gynus another disapproving look.

'The torpedoes, Chief. I want you to find a solution to the problem.'

'...Me, sir?...but bay five-.'

'-Is where you'll be working from. I want a viable solution formalized if Adept Kital should fail. I'll let you get started.' Meaning for him the briefing was over, and the Chief walked off slack jawed at the enormity of the challenge added to his work load as the also dismissed Munitions Officer chuckled to himself in his wake. Leaving Beren with the last matter of the briefing.

'Master Chief. You have your compliments strength returns, do you not?'

'I do, my Captain.' His senior Armsmen responded as he stepped nearer to hand and past a slate to Beren that would add to the growing pile now stacking on the thrones rest before returning to a respectful distance.
'As you can see our casualties were light, sir. Since we never actually engaged with any boarding parties. But a number of patrols were lost near the outer hull due to venting and void action, though nothing significant.'

Beren looked up from reading the report himself. 'We'll need some of your men for the work details, Sulvak, And the ordering of a possible ground force to aide in the extraction of the legion if need be too. How many can you give me?'

The man puffed out his cheeks at the thought of a ground campaign before replying. 'Some few hundred I could give you, I reckon. But any more sir, and I wouldn't fancy the ships chances without us.'

'A few hundred is all I'll need, Master Chief. I'l leave it in your capable hands to pick the best and finalize the details. Report to bay four. Dismissed.'

'Sir!' The man saluted with his balled fist to his chest, and left by the main iris hatch to scour the ship for the pick of the litter.

For a moment the strain of the last few days overcame the face he wore to his crew, as Beren visibly shrank in his ample throne. Rubbing his brow and cheek with a propped up arm on his other rest. He had forgotten Varro who broke through his self indulgence with a question.

'You think it wise not to discipline your crew for such behaviour....? Defeat is not an option, Beren. Nor is the thought of it.' Causing the Captain to knit his brow as he looked up at Varro scanning the bridges crew as he spoke.

'With respect, Lord. I'm amazed they follow my orders at all. Reports have come to me of Ratings being arrested for insubordination, and even a sentence of execution has greased my palm since Platya.
Putting it frankly, my Lord. Most have lost faith in our Chapter Master and question the path set by him for the legion.'

'As long as they don't lose faith in the Emperor and serve him still, I care not what they think.'

'As you wish, Forge Master.'

'As I command, Beren.' Eyeing him for the first time since beginning their muted conversation and adding some iron into his voice as he gestured towards the closed screen. 'The bulk of the chapter is out there, Beren...Cut off. Alone. Besieged in a crumbling city as they stave off a host and they struggle to survive, even as we struggle to reach them. We are their last hope....I will not let my brothers fall abandoned.' Turning his head away as if his bionical orbs could shed the makings of tears.
Beren counted back the days in realization that the Forge Master had not left the bridge since their departure from the fleet, and only the Emperor knew when he had last slept. The Forge Hammerhe'd carried on his shoulder onto the bridge four days ago, still rested against his throne within easy reach. Where it bore the signs of splattered darkened blood.
The thought gave him pause before he answered.

Apologizes, Lord. I forget my self. I see the moment weighs heavily on you. Forgive me.

Forgiveness...? Forgiveness is but a word I can not express. How can I forgive another when I can not forgive myself?

Forgive your self? Lord, you fought for the Martis. You rallied the fleet and tempered us once more to set out for the legion. What shadow of blame could you lay upon yourself?

That I am here and they are there. That my brothers die while I stay idle. But most of all, the burden that our Chapter may fall into obscurity and shall notice it's demise.Not even the Emperor shall remember us for our folly.

Daring to touch the trans-human warrior by putting a hand on his metallic forearm, Beren comforted. The Emperor knows us all, Varro. He watches us. Even now when we think we are alone, he watches us and guides our fate.

You know this, how? He asked almost it seemed in hope.

He clutched at something under his tunic, and Varro caught a glimpse of a chain around his neck. I feel it, Varro. In my bones I feel it. In my heart I feel it. Dare I say, in my soul I feel it also.

Your soul!? Varro exclaimed and then once again lowered his voice as his orbs glanced furtively about the room. Careful, Beren. What you speak of is dangerous talk of the old ways
which the Emperor swept aside long ago.

Swept aside, or banished their falsehood so his guiding light could supplant them? He asked in earnest with a whisper.

Varro looked stunned at the question and the force behind the words that such a senior officer would ask or even hold such views. Beliefs, he corrected himself.
He had heard of the slow general acception through the Impirium of the notion that the Emperor was now deemed a God by many, even though it was his throne that sustained his perpetual state. Even chapters of the great crusade now bowed in supplication to their new deity instead of fealty to their Lord.
He scanned the bridge keenly to see who had seen or overheard their exchange before lowering his voice into a sound that could not travel.

Forget this dangerous talk, Beren, or the meaning of the words you wish to imply and be thankful I can not sow discord here amongst us so near to the cusp of battle which will decide the fate of our order. Speak no of it again, and with time, I shall forgive the sounds made of a broken edict.

As you wi- Varro's eyes turned down towards the man from their searching.- as you command, lord.

Varro snatched up his hammer into his hands and rested it's weight against his shoulder in an instant before turning to the bridges hatch with a pause. Send a summons for me in a few hours. I need the feel of beaten steel to centre my humours, Beren. Carry on, Captain. The task force is yours to command. He said the last in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

Beren stood and bowed to the retreating form of the Astartes. By your word,Lord. Straightening from his bow and watching as the Forge Master past from view through the iris's closing hatch, wondering if he had planted the seeds of the Lectodivinicus in the buried feelings of the Astartes heart.


* *


He awoke with the metal undercurrent of blood and sterile anti-septic smell of surgical alcohol filling his nostrils as the bright lights flooding the room blinded his opening eyes from the wall to wall tile reflecting the long oblong wards harsh illuminating strips, projecting into every crack and crevice. Correctly guessing he was deep in the guts of the (name) in an infirmary at the core of his vessel.
A glance to either side revealing a score of bandaged patients,bleeping machinery and a number of shuffling orderlies who moved about the ward. Regulating the flow of pain numbing drugs and monitoring an array of equipment
Testing his ribs with a shuffle produced a satisfying lack of pain and the feel of a tight bandage around his torso, so that sitting up only produced a dull ache. But It was a marginal pain and he slipped his feet down onto the cool green tiled floor in an attempt to stand. A drip feeds hooked stand snaking it's contents into several parts of his body lay close to hand and he reached for it's support.

'Oh no you don't..' Came a voice from behind as a gentle restraining hand forced him back down.

'Why you-.' He began, ready to chew out the presumptuous orderly who had dared order his Captain, when the Chief Medical Surgeon stepped around the the bed and into view.

'-Now, now, Captain. Be nice.' He said with a smile of one used to the hostile manner of his patients. 'I didn't pull glass from your leg and put throne knows how many stitches in your body so you can start gallivanting around the ship from my care and tear open those wounds again.'

'Again...? How long have I been here?' His mind fugged by the drugs fuzzing his memory so much he held no recollection.

'Three days.'

'Three days!' And went to stand before the Surgeon once again forced him down. 'But I have to get to the bridge, the ship-.'

' -Is fine, Captain. Your officers have done commendable work over the last few days. Now rest.' Giving him a stern expression that told that despite being master of this ship he was now in his Chief Surgeons domain.

'Very well, Yuan. But at least tell me when I can get out of this, place?' Eyeing his surrounds with a broody contempt.

'Oh, tomorrow or the next, I guess. The gel under the bandages are healing your wounds quite well, though it will still be several weeks before full mobility returns to the leg. That reminds me.' Reaching under the bed where he produced a metal three pronged cane he then hung off the bed rest. 'There you are, Captain, a present for you. It's nothing fancy but...'

'Oh just fetch me my staff will you. I've had enough of your bed side manner.' Thoroughly grumpy by this point at the prospect of being bed-ridden for another twenty-four hours and having to walk with an aide.

'I will, as long you promise not to bother the other patients or order around my staff too much. They're very busy, you know. Oh and try not to move around too much, hmm?'

'On one condition.' Yuan raised an eyebrow as if to invite the demand. 'That you bring me some food, I'm famished.' His belly rumbling on que, causing the Surgeon to laugh and his belly to roll with the chuckles.

'A hard bargain, Captain. But I think we could stretch to that. Now lay back and rest while I see to your demands.' Flashing him a winning smile of his bedside manner that earned him a flush of red on cheeks and a deep scowl before walking away with the sounds of Canus's muttered grumblings escaping from his murmuring lips.


* *


Hanko dozed contently as he lay cross-legged and propped by the spires doors. The breeze, cool and welcome in the middle day sun, which shone down in all it's brilliance. Warming his tired muscles from the rigures of aerial combat above the hives contested levels, lurking below. The noise of war muted under the clouds and the klakson wail of a scramble forgotten as he dreamed his familiar dream of taking flight as if a bird which soured above a world rich and lush in natural wonder. It's peaks and rivers glistening amongst the forests and plains, which dazzled his senses. He could dream this dream for hours, but it was not meant to be.
Strolling across the short hanger of spire five came the bane of his recent existence. A woman of a fiery temperament who wore heeled boot that clacked loudly on the metal floor from their heeled trim, until they halted at his side and a prod of a staff drove into his ribs.

'Well I should have known I'd find you here.' The stern little woman's voice grated as his eyes bulged open from the stab of pain and he looked up at her with contempt for her brusqueness.

'I was merely resting, Philomena. The crews have yet to finish my repairs.' looking off to his fighter dwarfing the others in the bay as a bundle of tech-crews battled on with the added blue glow and sparking showers from a welder. 'I was simply waiting for my Interceptor to be ready.'

'Slacking off, you mean.' Replied the woman dressed in a one piece body suit of leather with a plunging neck line. It's peaked collars resting over her breasts as her hair stood proud, whipped into platted ponytail. 'I told you to join me over two hours ago to assign the patrols and finalize the reformations of the depleted squadrons. You, as my second in command, should have been at my quarters hours ago. Explain.' Crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto the one foot as the other tapped impatiently.

'As you well know, I was out on dawn patrol in sector Lima-nine, where we tangled with with some bombers strafing friendlies and we were bounced from above by their escort. We drove them off, but we lost warren in the sortie. He didn't eject.' Mentally playing back the memory of warren's screams over the open vox as his spinning fighter dove into the side of a tower.

'Irrelevant!' her cheeks flushing with anger and the staff stamping onto the floor as it came from under her arm. 'The logs state you returned five hours ago. Are you to tell me you've been, here, all this time?' Sweeping her spare out then back and forth to encompass their surrounds.

'I've written my report, if that's what you mean, Philomena.' His own anger starting to rise at Warren's easy dismissal.

'That's Air Marshal to you, Wing Commander.' Using his temporary title like a whip to curb his informal manner in front of the hangers staff, who pretended not to listen. 'Now get up and follow me. I have a new task for you.'
Without waiting she had already set off once again across the hanger, and by the time he rose to follow suit, she was gone from sight and out through the blast doors that lead to the spire.
'Well?' she shouted form out of sight as the familiar clacking tap sounded from her boot and he picked up the pace, finding her in the corridor beyond where she threw herself into his arms.
'Oh how I've missed you, Hanko.' Kissing him passionately as he responded to her quivering touch. Their bodies meshing as he drew her into his own and they fell back against the wall. The mask they wore to the people around them now gone as they canoodled contently.
'Why didn't you come to me, my love?'

'I couldn't, Philomena. I had sermons I had to attend. We were praying for Warren's souls, and all the other unfortunates of this day.'

'Oh how I hate it when you talk of such things, Hanko.' Nuzzling her head against his shoulder as she drew him close. 'If ever you were to be found at such a meeting, not even I could save you from what they would do to you.'

'I am prepared for what my Emperor has in store for me.' Dismissing the thought of spending the rest of his days as a mindless servitor drueling about as it performed the same tasks over and over with the seared mark of a heretic stamped into his forehead.

'I don't want tom lose you. Hugging him tighter.'

'You wont, unless the Emperor calls me to his side.' Stroking her stray hair from her face as he bent down to kiss her forehead.

'Kiss me, Hanko. Don't let me go.' Pulling him lower with a hand now bunched into his tunic.

'Never.' He smiled. Drawing her closer as well as they kissed with a rising passion before she lead him by the hand to her quarters, where the throes of coitus were loud and unchained as they gave themselves to each other until they were utterly spent.

As they lay there in Philomena's quarters. The sheets twisted round their coiled bodies, while her head rest on his chest that rose and fell in a contented rhythm, she asked. 'Promise me one thing.'

'Hmm, whats that, my love?'

When the time comes, you'll kill us both. Don't let me be taken as a slave and worked like an animal until I die.' The mood before now totally gone as the situation that had aligned their orbits was stark once more before them in the room.

'It wont come to that.' He stated with conviction, causing her head to rise as she stared directly into his eyes for a hint of a comforting lie as they met.

'But how do you know?'

'I have faith-.'

'-Oh, Hanko-.' Cutting him off as she thought he would once again mention his heretical views she so desperately wanted to believe.

'-I have faith.' he began again. 'That the fleet will come. They must, their duty demands it. But above all their warrior code would make them return and die in the attempt rather than slink off amongst the stars and live like a cur for the rest of their days. You don't know them as I do, my love. They would battle a hundred foes if it meant the saving of their one. They will come, of that I have no doubt.'

'But will they succeed in breaking the blockade to reach us?'

He sighed. 'Of that, I am unsure. The xenos fleet is large, and the Hulk that leads them seems an impossible foe. We killed many of their smaller ships, but their chieftain remains.' His eyes glazing slightly as he recalled the battle in orbit and the Space Hulks guns reaching out to destroy the crippled Casius before it disappeared in a silent fiery ball. He shook off the memory as he returned to the present. His lover starring down at him with a worried expression. 'They will come.' He stated simply as he drew her down to hug her tightly and kiss her brow.

A klckson wail like a mechanical gill broke loudly over the speakers in the halls as it signaled a general scramble. 'I hope so.' she replied.

I'm just gonna agree with what LoneLictor said. The story is good, no doubt about it. But you get a little bit too excited sometimes and go nuts without any commas.

Also, if you feel like you're unsure about how a word is supposed to be written then you can look it up on google! Heck, even I do that since english is my second language.

Chapter: 23 Blood, Sweat & Gears


The Ork Captain beant closer to where the Panther Lord lay under it's booted foot. It's primal, yet, intelligent eyes searching over it's opponent for a hint of an renewal to combat as his head lolled off the floor while his eyes barely focused, and it howled in a triumphant roar. Stamping it's booted foot further into Lycon's armoured chest. It's layers bending and breaking as they creaked. While power and other cabals broke loose from his midrift and spat coolant and other liquids over the Orks footing, which were quickly sparked into ignition. The rising flames spreading hungrily over cured hide as it cooked flesh giving off a burnt tang, to which the Knob only laughed at the riding flames as it spat in Lycons face and then spoke in it's own savage tongue.

'Ur tym iz ova, Sharushan. Ur week. We ar da futcha. Da tym of da Ork iz cummin, and itz tym iz now.' Laughing cruelly down at him at the end.

The blade flung free from mangled fingers as the left hand disappeared in a shower of blood and metal. Kril's shot had hit true, but his next shot strayed from it's target. Devouring flesh with it's ample covering of skin from the Orks shoulder with his aim dipping low while the beast charged with a bellow, as more chunks disappeared from it's flesh. It barely noticed the shots as it drew a long serrated blade from it's belt while Lycon watched on as Kril made his stand propped up the console. The Panther deflecting the first blow and the swipe of the second and received the Orks splintered stump like a jabbing thrust in his throat. The shard plunging deeply into the half from scar and spilled rich red fountain of blood in a spray as it was ripped free.

'Nooo!' He roared. Watching as Kril fell from view and was hacked to floor behind the console. The Knobs blade rising and falling in a frenzy until the Ork came back into view splattered in gore. It's prize in hand, raising Kril's head to the sky with a roar.
Lycon registered the emotional response. Tried to quash it, and failed. He rolled off his back firing hate from his eyes and rose while turning the grimace of pain from grinding splinters of chestplate bone into a growl and set off at an unarmed run towards the Ork with a rising roar of hate.
Tossing aside it's blade and dripping prize the Ork Captain met him as equals as they clashed to the floor mid-run. Lycon tackling the Knob backwards, his speed the greater, as they fell into bass instinct savagery. Head butts and balled fists becoming bludgeoning weapons as the Ork also jabbed with it's jagged stump at Lycon deflected. They battered and slashed at each other with abandon until the Orks improvised shiv reached up and into the Panthers partially exposed midriff. Twisting the bone shard cruelly with a grin as the congealed shard slid into organs and flesh and worked the wound gladly.
But Lycon had become too wild with grief to feel or care. He rained down hammer blow after hammer blow on the face of the Ork. Smashing bone and fanged teeth while it's eyes burst like popped boils in a face that began to take on a pasted look. The Ork bucked underneath him with it's brains goo beginning to seep onto the floor, until finally he stood over the Ork with caked balls of fury as it twitched at his feet with the last of the dying embers of it's nerves.

He fell back away from his victim onto the floor. His wounds throbbed and his body felt hot as it went into overdrive to seal off damaged organs and form scar tissue. His spun and in his confused state his fist swung up towards the shadow that fell over him.

'Peace, My Lord.' Came the voice of Metellus. 'The bridge is taken.' The Panther holding his hands out palm outwards to show he posed no threat and Lycon dropped his fist. Allowing the Panther to bend down to his aide and helped him to stand.
Walking him over to the command throne he sat his Lord in it's ample space, where he began to give direction.

'Smash out a view screen and set the charges. Call for Kanacus and see to Nito. Let us be done with this place, I feel weary of it.' Looking at the dregs of the skirmish and gave a sigh of more than weariness.

A few minutes later the Panther in question strode onto the scene and took stock of the story it told and their losses. Sat in the command throne Krils corpse now occupied it's space. A melta charge grasped in his arms and held to his chest as it awaited to strike the final blow. He saluted his brother and joined the others by the view screen as Lycon hobbled over to pay silent homage, before pressing the preset timer on kril's lap and turned to give the order to evacuate over the vox.
Two minutes of fast rope and a quick scramble to get clear they were once again amongst the building of the hive as the Titans bridge erupted in a bright flash. Toppling dramatically to the ground as more melta charges detonated and secondary explosions ripped apart it's frame as it fell to the ground. Flattening toothy ruin in a cloud of dust.


* * *


As the dust settled from the Titans fall, the remaining metal mob pulled back from their battles to war horns hooting howls for the mighty walker laid low, as their own wounds sparked or flamed from their battle damaged frames. They climbed through the tiers and through the track of their destruction, until reaching the Orkiod city. But regardless, the the Wharragh continued on. Driving against the Imperials in a ferocity filled with vengeance for the slain Gargant. Beserker hordes, smoke billowing bikes and a legion of buggies storming ahead of armoured columns that drove against the mustered strength of Ganius's reserve in a fiery clash. The Hive was once again lit with battle, where sneak raids of Ork transports tested the defenses day and night as they tried to find a blind spot in the hives air patrols and puffs of flack or sizzling beams.
The days grew dark, and hope seemed to fade with the light of the obskewered sun. As mortal men's hearts despaired and the cries of the anguished for their loss played as an lament about the streets, where power barely fluttered and the Hive bathed in the light of it's own destruction. The grim Astartes and remaining Plattyain Guard fought back the Wharragh which ground against their lines with brutal attrition.
Time and time again the Orks cunningness and their numbers broke the stalemate of blockaded streets, trench warfare and block wars. where tracer rounds and lugged heavy weapons glowed or shrieked between the floors. They pushed back the defenders into the last of the factories that hugged up against the third tiers walls with the last of the slums, where the Imperials attempted to hold against the unending onslaught.


The missile weaved as it spiraled through the air while locking onto it's target. It's propellant marking it's track across the pock marked factory floor before punching through the battle wagons crude armour and it juddered to a halt.
All across the the factory complex the green tide advanced against Ateus and his small mixed band of devastator squads and Lycon's hardened assaulter's, which battled amongst the gantries and long dead production lines.
What at first had been a probing attack to find a hole in the Imperials defensive line, had quickly become mobs of boys and smoke billowing war machines pouring through the curtain wall to the east to fall on the defenders. Their soot churning bikers tearing through the madness of friend and foe alike with guns ablaze and a cackling howl from their lips while battle wagons and Ork Dreadnaughts supported the main advance. The ground lay dotted with bodies and burnt out wrecks which they negotiated or churned into the rockcrete as they ground on into the clustered buildings of smelters and elongated factories playing host to running battles, hand to hand fighting and the clashing of steel.

'Danis, Do it!' Ateus shouted into the open channel over the scream of battle and the squad of Assault Marines dropped from the shadowed gantry above and into the thick of the charging mob. Their blades like silver blurs and Thundershields akin to battering rams as they counter attacked the Orks bearing and his two squads, who rose and joined the charge. Sprinting from amongst the nearby machinery and vaulting makeshift barricades of smelter trucks dotting the factory floor to meet the Orks head on. Their blades drawn and roaring death that soon met green flesh in the press of the melee.

Flinging back his upper torso to avoid the swipe of a snarling Ork, Ateus brought down his powered blade two handedly on it's iron capped skull. The dented helm no hindrance to it's charged surface, which swept through with ease as he moved on to his next target. Blocking a thrust and splitting his foe down it's front with a hack and reversed the the swing for the upward stroke before stepping over his victims body. Each step he took he gained with another snarling or roaring Ork bedecked in cured hide and a mishmash or armour who barred his path. They were relentless in their attack. Meeting the Panthers ferocity with the same will and determination. No matter how many were cut down, another was all too willing to take it's place. Their love of battle and blood lust unending as most hurled themselves at the Panthers while bellowing a single drawn out word from their guttural language. He cut into the press like a dervish with his blade constantly in motion. A flick of the wrist and the head of a triumphant Ork, who had struck down it's opponent, toppled to the floor and he rammed the glowing tip into the back of another to help equal the odds for an Assaulter before scanning the room.
The Orks attack had faltered. But still more of their number entered through the factories enormous doors, with a walking metal monster amongst them. It's clawed feet cracking the rockcrete with it's talons while a thick cloud of greasy smoke vented from it's back. The Ork Dreadnought waddled on it's piston legs to the attack. Firing its spinning gun arm while random rockets shot loose from it's shoulder mount to take on a myriad of crazed trajectories.

'Gandra, Guda! Take it down.' He ordered as he battled on. Ordering the two teams high on the flanks to target the new threat with their launch tubes giving birth to four stubby missiles that shot away under their own steam. They weaved over the head of the melee and into the path of the the Dreadnoughts spinning barrels stream raking the air that detonated three, before the fourth one slammed home. It's armour piercing warhead doing little but scoring its hide and fouling any remaining rockets as it rocked back on it's talons before resuming it's slow paced charge.

The initial melee was over and the Panthers awaited the next charge gathered behind the Dreadnought. Danis's assaulter's peered out hunched behind their electrified shields that staved off the worst of the Orks wild volley as they too broke into a run and counter charged the mob while krak missiles zoomed overhead and decimated the front rows before them. They charged head on into the new mob hacking through the piece meal survivors at it's front to clash with the main mass behind with Ateus and his Ninth hot behind them. The sounds of chainblades and duller thuds of beaten metal and flesh cutting through the terrible screams and war-cries of the combatants. War in all it's brutal savagery was laid bare to be witnessed, and the Orks reveled in it.

'To me! Rally to me!' He shouted. Trying to keep the Panthers united into one collective amongst the confusion. He gathered them around his rallying call as the teams high above kept free his shrinking flanks. Then the Dreadnought entered the fray.

The first he knew of it's arrival was a Panther sent flying from the swing of the power claw as another was crushed under foot by it's clawed talons. It broke into their shattered line and lay three more to waste with its spinning barrel as it came for Ateus. The swiping claw met his powered sword where sparks and crackles illuminated the two combatants in the radiance of it's light. The two fields of killing energy resisting the other until they sprang apart to meet again before the barrel flattened him to the floor where he rolled away from a taloned stomp and rose into a crouch, awaiting the next strike.
Down came the claw and again he rolled away. The Ork grinning from the cockpit as it chased the Panther Lord who deflected and dodged as his men were too engaged to help battled on. It pressed thr Ninth's Lord back. Forcing him to duck and dart away from another attack as it followed after him, the power claw making for another grab to crush the life from his body, and so he dodged the next combo. Ducking the Dreadnought swipe and roar of it's gun to roll through it's spindly legs, where his blade came up and sliced through piston and metal. It toppled to the floor, the pilot thrashing in the cockpit as it beat upon the release button for the cowl before a shadow fell over the cockpit.
There stood Ateus. Sword poised on the glass that bubbled and spat from the charged blade and the Ork barred it's teeth in defiance as the Panther Lord let the blade eat through the glass in torment. It slid closer and closer to the pilot who roared before he thrust it into the Orks chest. The dreadnought giving a shudder and then relaxed in death as he worked free his blade from the pilots corpse that had spat blood over the glass to see his men in the midst on an unequal contest.
Each brother now battled alone in a sea of madness and blood lust. The enemy lusted for their blood and taste of their flesh as they sensed victory was near, and he rallied them with a cry to reforge their flagging strength and spirit.
The metal beast at his feet was slain, but more foes needed the Emperors justice before the day could be won, and he lept down from the husk and charged back into the melees, for death or glory.



* * *



In the fourth district beyond the western gate, where a sizable force of Ork had pushed through into the work tiers. There was to be found Agathon rallying his men once again to stem the onslaught.
Tireless he had strode in deed and sword as he and his company had formed a buffer between the tattered Guard and the relentless Ork. He had struck hard when he could, or fled into the shadows to whittle at their flanks in a guerrilla war of brutal savagery. He was both an unmovable rock or a feint wisp on the wind to his foe who had begun to show a grudging, if not hard won, respect for his warriors and tactics.
But now on the edge of a dedication park to the fallen hero's of the Imperium, where the workers of the factories had once roamed. He faced his most deadliest of challenges. For across this open expanse a cloud had formed. But this was no manifestation of earthly weather, nor the beginnings of the shifted climate that threatened to irradiate them all. Nay, for this was far more sinister than any wily storm or rad filled cloud. But a gathered host made of flesh and metal. It's ranks filled with Boyz clad in armour that chugged smoke and Gretchins who growled or hooted as they brayed to be set loose from their chains.
Ever more crawled about their tanks and battle wagons which had been parked in preparation for the barrage that was soon to come, and all this and more had gathered across the park that fear had magnified for his human allies. And he knew what awaited them over the gentle hills and small woods blasted to moonscape with the promise of no mercy.
His trench lines and tank traps scarred the landscape before him in which the Imperials had drawn their lines on raised ground as they prepared to receive the enemy, where the as the air was heavy with the prospect of death as they waited and watched for the inevitable storm.

I' say we should pull back to the wall and let them have this blasted tier. We would make a fine tally as they scale the walls.' Said Leon. Voicing his opinion aloud to no one in particular as he leaned against the parapet.

'What and miss out on all this?' Replied Hilerion, ribbing the Champion as he starred through a field glass. His appearance just as soot stained and grubby as the rest. His talbard, ratty and ripped. Matching the remaining parchments held to his armour by the melted silver as they fluttered in the wind.
This could be your finest hour, brother.

'Or my last.' he retorted. Unconsciously touching his Aquila.

'Tut, tut. Such gloominess.' Added Constantine in jest from down the line as he trudged closer from where he had stood as he past on instructions over the vox and joined the conversation on the squads channel.
'And I thought you would welcome such odds?'

'Great odds, yes... But not impossible ones.' Looking out over the land.
'This war was lost long before this day. We should have blasted this world to ash and cut short their suffering.' Jutting his chin towards the nearest Guardsmen intermingled amongst the company who had been spread amongst the Imperial lines.

'Such melancholy for our cause, Leon.' Said (name), shaking his head.

'Cause? I see no cause. Only a forlorn hope and a fading dream. We are a pragmatic breed, brother, and I know you see the the end is nigh, just as I.'

'Enough!' Agathon barked. Stamping down his authority on the rising tension as he stepped from the dugout and silencing the matter.
'Perhaps you should meditate to centre your humours, brother. Your tongue wonders a bitter path that none here wish to tread. You seem tired and should repose yourself until the time has come for swords and not words.'

'Aye, I am that... until then, Lord.' He replied after a pause and a dancing of their gaze. He strode without another word into the communication dugout behind. Planting his sword in the earth and crossing his legs onto the ground, where his hands formed the Aquila in meditation as Colonel Brye supervised his aides while they marked new positions on a weighted scroll of the battlefield.

'He's tired, Lord. Do not dwell on such words. A few moments rest and he'll be himself again.' Spoke Constantine to his Captain, who still watched the enterance.

'Nor food nor rest we have all endured. We have all sipped from the dregs of loss and walked the bitter watches of the night. I will not have such words spill from my Champion that would poison our fighting heart which he holds in trust. We must believe that the fleet will come or steel ourselves to reap a tally so horrific that it will leave a scar on their racial memory so deep that they will never truly rise again.' Leaving them all to think upon his words as he climbed the firing-step.

'Movement! A haze there, in the distance!' Called, (name). Pointing off to the left and gathering all eyes to his call.

A little man of middle age from amongst the aides hustled from the dugout and dew up short behind the squad watching over the trenches.

'My Lords!' The man began as he sank to one knee at their backs. 'The Ork approaches our western flank. Some thousands strong and a mechanized contingent amongsts them. Shall I inform the batteries to open fire?'

'No, let them come. They believe us weak and wish to test their theory. Send the Colonel my compliments. Tell him the western sectors are to open fire and support with heavy mortars. We need to drew out their plan. Their true intent is not yet clear to see.'

'As you will, Lord.' Replied the man as he rose and ran back into the shelter to relay the order as Leon appeared and climbed the parapet.

'A diversion?' Asked Helerion.

'Evidently.' Replied Agathon as he scanned the far distance with his sight where after a few moments a blinking flash in a ragging line stuttered death, seconds before the whistling whine overhead rained down it's destruction.
'Down! Everybody down!' He yelled as he and those around him dived for the mud while shrieking balls erupted dirt and fragmented debris into the air.


All across the eastern flank, the barrage blasted the moonscape into a new vista as sections of trenches ceased to exist or buried their occupants alive from the thrown up dirt. The consant noise and shock wave bubbles claiming their own victims, as men went deaf or babbled jibberish from their broken minds as perforated ear drums dribbled blood. They hunkered down in the bottom of their trenches as they held on. The Panthers amongst them raising their spirit as they endured the same hardship of the Orks bombardment, until they rose up to meet the Ork when the barrage crept on.
The Imperial lines were engulfed in bitter fighting as the Orks stormed the trenches in hand to hand savagery, while heavy mortars and earth shaker rounds slowed up the mechanized advance.


'Frak, Sarg! They're getting close!' The young lad yelled to Kasander as he fed another charged cell onto the bulked up laz-carbine supported by a tripod. The gunner gritting her teeth as she mowed into the Gretchins and Boyz with a new cell who ran and bounded over the fallen or jumped from shell hole to shell hole.

'Keep firing!' He spat over his stock. Picking his targets and trying not to let his eyes wonder to the Astartes not ten meters from his position.

'Fifty meters!' The gunner reported as she blazed her thick beams into the horde that only multiplied as it swallowed her shots.
'We need to fallback!'

'To where..? Negative, soldier. We pull back now and we're dead. Hold the line. We're still in this!' The Orks boiling across the landscape through the ruby rain and lesser barrage of bolt shells and heavier explosions to close on their prey. Soon flamers and stick bombs lashed out at the defenders, adding to the carnage.

'Thirty meters!' The gunner counted as she cut through a band of Gretchins and swung her mount round to draw a bead on a Boy lugging a heavy cylinder on it's back that erupted in flames that stuck to it's comrades and burned.
'... Holy Emperor's ball-sack. Incoming! Watch out, grenade!' The dreaded word causing all eyes to turn on the bulky tin like object that thudded into the mud and hissed menacingly from a fuse before the gunner smothered it with her body. Disappearing in a red rain or slapping chunks and body parts as the concussion knocked Kasander from the firing-step as he fell back with fragments of bone cutting him like razors on his arm and cheek. He lay there as his gaze wondered from the painted muddy walls to the young lad screaming soundlessly as he clutched at a stump of an ankle with missing fingers and pulsating wounds as his sight drifted on to the Panther who fought on. Switching from bolter to pistol before an Ork charged down from above and tackled him to the ground. It's raw strength ripping the Marines weapon from his grasp while it beat the Panther to death with a cudgel as another Boy jumped down, silencing the screaming boy with a flick of a mace and turned on Kasander grinning. It advanced to seize on another easy kill. Shaking off the matted hair as it drew a rusted blade and contemplated the grey mans slow tortured death.

'Frack you, you bastard!' pulling his knife and threw it at the Ork who contemptuously batted it aside only to find the grey man had distracted him to crawl towards the cast aside pistol of the Space Marine lying in the mud. Realizing too late as Kasander rolled onto his back and fired the bulky gun that ended it's short existence. The pistol deafening as it bucked in his arms while the Boy toppled back into the mud, a smoking crater in it's chest.

A squad of Guardsmen ran into view as they fired their weapons over the trench into the retreating foe and drew up short at the scene. Watching in horror as the other Ork had begun to fed upon the Panther in the midst of the carnage and drowned it in shots as the Sargent gave the order and waved them on to Kasander, who had begun to rise.

'Sargent Major, you alright?' He asked. Dragging his eyes from the fed upon Marine and directing his squad past the corpse who had paused in morbid fascination to spread out along the trench.

'It's nothing.' He replied while battering away the hands of the Medic who had reached for his arm and beckoned to the Sargent as he climbed the firing-step. Pulling an old style telescope from a pocket that was scraped with wear and peered through it's magnification.
'You have comms, correct?'

'Aye, sir. But-.'

'-Stow it.' Cutting him off as his eye roved over the far distance.
Get command on the line. Tell them to call it all in, I want it all. Air support, artillery, tanks, mortars. An extra company to reinforce this position and make sure they have extra fire team detachments. I want these fuggers blasted, burned and gakked on. Understood?

'Sir, yes, sir.' Was the only expected reply as the man turned and called for his vox operator while Kasander jumped down from the firing-line and stomped along the duckboards behind the squad.

This is where we stand. This is where we fight. It's where they die and we live to see the tomorrow. I'm not giving up my homeworld to these bastards. Which produced a cheer from the squad as the Orks once again began to appear and come forth over the landscape.
'For the Emperor!' He cried, leveling his laz-carbine over the trench top as he climbed the fire step and let loose the first salvo of the Guards manifestation of defiance.


The battle for the park was in full swing as the full might of the Imperials depleted arsenal was brought to bear on the invader. Counter barrages whistling f rom the support trenches from Griffons and Basillisks rocking the earth as bayonets glinted in the explosive light from Guardsmen roaring up from the muddy ground to take the positions lost with moderate success. They met the Orks in a no-mans land of hell where Preditar tanks and Leman Russ's dueled back and forth against Grot and Bonecrushsha tanks as Hellhounds and Chimera's roved across the landscape. The air above them all too apart of the battle as dog-fights and bombing runs criss-crossed and marked the sky with their contrails and puffs of detonation. The battle raged relentlessly as the blood ran and the bodies piled in droves amongst the burning hulks of slain armour, with the battle dragging on.



* * *


Down through the levels of the hive, down through the tiers in the abandoned dark of the under-hive. Marcus and his small band searched. For what, only Marcus knew as they took a twisting path through the unlit levels far from the war above. But always down was their path. His band following behind, their fate tied to his own and they had thrown off the trappings of their former life: Defacing squad markings and removing any trace of the Aquila from their gear as they had begun to carve the eight pointed symbols Marcus had taught them.
Since the rain swept heights of the spire Marcus had said little except direct their path or order a halt in their march to the bowls of the earth. They had crept past the last of the Orks and past into the oldest part of the hive that had not seen the light of day since it's foundation. It's rooms, vaults and tunnels, forgotten. And none now alive on Plattya knew what lay hidden in it's depths.

On they trekked with Marcus whispering aloud to the shadows. It's form just out of reach for the others to see, which sometimes walked beside them or floated above. Exploring the darkest corners or lurked in the shadows ahead. If any dared ask with whom he spoke, he would only laugh at the interruption. Until no one now questioned his mutterings.
Now, as they walked through some of the oldest parts of the hive. Marcus held one of those muted conversations.

'We must hurry, time is short.' hissed the creature. 'This world will soon burn in the fires of war.' Whispering in a lisp as the warband past through a cavernous place as the eyes of the warp creature floated off to the side without form. The walls far away and grey from the bare rock that had been hewn over a millenia ago. Where a multitude of tunnels led off into the dark as they crossed it's empty expanse.
'The room is not far now, though getting the machine to work will have it's own peril.'

'What do you mean? you said it would need no tinkering to work.' Annoyed that it had only brought this up now.

'Tinkering, no. But a powerful soul, yes. There is one amongst you that is only now beginning to discover his latent abilities. It is him who you should sacrifice.'

Marcus let his head be turned back to the band that followed and his his came to rest on Velic, who reguarded him with an air of suspicion.

'To what end?' One will not be enough. Looking back to the tunnels ahead with his own will.

'The device is primed since is was sealed away and forgotten. Though with time, some, sss-energy, will have been lost.'

'Energy...?'

'Don't play coy, human. You know of what I speak.'

'And what happens if he doesn't work?' Ignoring the contempt expressed in his races name.

'Peace, Marcus.' It's voice now like honey. 'I have seen the threads of fate and your time will not end here. We will have many deeds to achieve, many wonders to explore. Now take the tunnel in front. It will soon be time to leave this place to continue our journey.'

Mollified by the words and after several minutes. The warband came to the tunnel indicated by the whispering shadow carved with warding and warning runes and past into it's deeper shades.


Days past. Though there was no marking of time in the shades about them but the chronometers in their suits as the war band drew closer to their goal. Passing vaulted rooms and hidden caverns that led for miles into the bare rock, until they came to the ancient doors of the room they seeked. It's metal rusted, but strong enough to ward off more than their weapons if they foolishly tried to gain entry by force, and the warband gathered before it as they awaited Marcus's instructions.

'Halan, Kunda. Take the passage on until you find a control room to the left of the tunnel. The doors will be unbarred and the controls simple to operate. Activate the power source and release the main lock, then return.' Marcus ordered after a brief whispered conversation while he stood before the warded doors. The two marines sharing a look before one of them shrugged and they left. Leaving Marcus and the four others to await their reappearance.
Marcus looked off into the shadows and nodded, then turned on Velic.
Come here, brother. He motioned to the marine who looked around at the others watching him and approached the Captain who put an arm around his shoulder as he began to walk and whisper.
I know your secret, brother.

'Secrets....? I have no secrets, Captain.'

'Come now, Velic. I have mine, and you have yours. Though you don't know mine... I know yours.' Giving him a knowing smile.

'But-.' Velic tried to bluff.

I know your a Psyker...' Feeling the Astartes stiffen at the word and continued before Velic could speak to deny it.
'I know you see snatches of thing from the future at times. I know you can move things with your mind if you have a will to. And I also know you can levitate and do other tricks on occasion. You deny this?' Daring him to lie as he stopped their pacing.

Velic was dumbfounded that he knew his most darkest of secret and whispered a question back in reply. 'How, how do you know all this?'

'As I said. I have my secrets, as do you.'

'You are like me, a Psyker?'

'No, brother. Though I have help from another to perform such feats as yours.'

Slow realization dawned on Velic. 'You are possessed?!' Trying to take a step back from Marcus who held him firmly as his smiled deepened while he continued t whisper.

'Primitive word for a primitive meaning. Do not shackle your self to their logic anymore, Velic. We are free of it. Beyond it. Above it, so far above it now.. Embrace your powers and you shall rise to new heights, just as I.'

'But how?' Seduced by his words that promised to allow him to become the man who he was born to be. The pulling power of the necklace strong so close to it's source.

'Feed your emotions and unchain your restraint, and they will come to you. You have only to embrace your new path, brother. Kill Dhal...' Turning them round towards the marine to the back of the band. '..And all will be yours.'

The air chilled as Marcus stepped back from Velic and the dank walls crystallized and glittered from their frosting. A fell wind stirring along to tunnel as it grew closer, until a raging gail whipped from the corner and buffeted them all with it's icy wind. Pinning most to the spot as the struggled to keep themselves righted, but not all.
Two figures rose in the winds. One Velic and the other, Dhal, as he fought against the unnatural wind as Velic stretched his arms out wide and then threw them towards the marine with his fingers outstretched. His eyes aglow with warp power that he directed onto his chosen victim. Spreading Dhals limbs wide as his weapons were stripped away and his limbs were flexed before the first of his bones began to crack. First an arm and then a leg broke free under the strain. Though instead of falling away to the ground they hung there untouched by the wind with the red droplets suspended in mid arterial motion until Dhals head came loose with a snap. The dismembered body hanging there grotesquely in defiance if the wind until the torso and limbs shot away on the gusting air. Bouncing and clattering off the walls as they left splashes and smears of blood until they were lost from sight.

The wind died away as Velic again touched the floor. His eyes returning to their original colour and he dropped to his knees exhausted.


'Good, Velic. Good.' Came Marcus's praise as he came up behind and put a hand to his shoulder while the two marines sent to the control room returned with their weapons drawn and ready as they came into view.
'Put up your weapons, brothers. The danger has past. Have you done what I asked?'

'Yes Captain. But Dhal, he... We saw... What happened?'

'Speak of it no more! He spoke'. Killing any further talk on the matter as a rusted grind of metal emanated from the doors at their backs and he helped Velic to stand.

'Open the doors, brother, and let us begin our work to leave this place.' Allowing him to stand alone as a coldness again built around him and the doors began to grind open on the vast teleportation room behind that flickered into life through the opening crack and shook loose dust.

Its all rigth, well made and except for a few typos noting bad about it.

I agree with Trondheim, the latest entry was quite nicely written.

Chapter: 24 The Vanguard Strikes


The small Destroyer eased from the icy blue planets second moons shade with it's ports shuttered as it moved like a shadow against the blackness. Creeping from the gravitational pull of the fifth planets four barren moons with it's sensors listening for the returning pings of data as it tasted the inner planets and rocky belt.
On the bridge the mood had been understandably tense for the two days since their translation. The crew barely talked. Nobody uttered unless in a whisper. Each was bent to their duties in the red glow of the lights or green tinge of their pict-screens. Sweating from the reduced life supports function, barely operating with tolerancy. The ships engines and output had been minimized to diminish the Artemis's signature which would alert the Ork to their presence as it moved like a black hole against the background music of the stars.
Sat in the command throne of the small two tier bridge. Jurgun Fanir, gazed at the hololith of the solar system projected before him as new data was fed into the ships computers.
It had been the same since they're return to the Plattyian system as hour on hour the data was amended and his crew added new scraps of information that had so far kept them from the enemies clutches.
The Ork had not been idle since their departure. Outriders of the their smaller ships and over a dozen of their Roks, where fighters patrolled from their yawning bays, were scattered like sentinels in the out lying reaches of the system.
But there were gaps in their coverage. Holes in their patrols in which the Artemis had thus far exploited. The moons of the fifth planet and the planet it's self had been useful in playing cat and mouse with fighter from a Rok that had drifted recently by. But in the last few hours it had past out of their fighter operational range and the task had now been taken up by two Ork class Frigates that now took up the hunt. Their maneuverability more dangerous than the Rok as they could easily entrap them in a two pronged pincer. Forcing the Artemis to make it's move as it drifted from the moons protection at sub speed as it aimed for a persieved gap in the two ships sensors.

'Are you sure the scans are accurate, Sevirus?' Fanir asked the First Officer perched at his shoulder after the man had returned from double checking their trajectory.

'Aye, my lord. We should pass through a narrow corridor of approximately, one-point-two kilometers, at it's widest margins.'

'And it's narrowest point?'

'Just under half that distance as we pass between the two ships, sir. ...If they stick to their predicted patrol patterns.'

'A tight fit, Number One.' Looking up from the hololith with a wry smile and a cock of the brow.

'It's a gamble, sir. But as you can see from the data, it's our only option.' Pointing to the suspended images.

He was right, of course. He thought. Looking over the hololith at another Rok that would soon drift into patrol range and keep them either slinking amongst the moons of the fifth planet or heading back out to the fringes of the system to try another route. But it was more than that. The inner core was thrice and more watched than the outer reaches they found themselves in. The plotted trajectory that he and his officer had decided relied upon the timing they had seen in a seemingly chaotic pattern.
'How long before we reach the outer sphere of their sensors?'

'Two minutes, Captain.'

'And we're sure of their sensors range and their ignorance to the sensor gap?'

'Yes, sir. In the last hour we've been using our scans to study what armament, tonnage and so class of the two ships. Legion records confirm them as Frigates, sir. The database has a full rundown on statistics and expected capabilities. Such as crew compliment and weapons gathered from previous encounters.'

Fanir nodded as his implants linked him into the ships systems. Allowing his brain to manipulate the pictures in front of them as they zoomed in on the two Ork Frigates. Their sensor fields projecting out like bubbled auras that extended into nearby space.
'Reduce void shielding to two percent. Bring battery guns online and reduce speed. I want inertia and maneuvering thrusters only.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' Sevirus responded as he stepped through the holo's beams to the rail and relayed the orders.
'Helm, reduced speed. Set engines to idle. Bring maneuvering thrusters to full and steer onto heading, blue-two-four-o, and hold steady on the bearing. Standby for course correction.'

'Sir, aye, aye, sir. Reducing speed and bringing thrusters to full burn. Coming onto heading, blue-two-four-o, and standing by.' Came back the Helmsman.

'Munitions, bring battery guns and point defense lazors online. Liaise with navigation for speed and heading for target tracking. VSR only. No active scans.'

'Battery guns and defense network coming online. VSR only.' Came back the confirmation as Sevirus activated the ships vox.

'Engine room, report.'

'Engine room here, sir. Chief engineer, reporting.'

'Chief, reduce shield generators to two percent output.'

'Aye, aye, sir. Reducing now. But the shield wont be good for anything but space dust and the smallest category of meteor impacts. Anything larger than twelve meters and I can not guarantee outer hull integrity.'

'Noted, Chief.' Looking over to Fanir who nodded. 'The Captain understands the risks. Carry on.'

'Aye, sir.'

'How long?' Asked Fanir.

'Thirty seconds, Captain.' Responding after a pause to take in the information crossing a ceiling suspended pict-screen.

'Sound collision. Lock down all bulkhead. Inform the Infirmary and all aide stations to prep for casualties.' Gripping his thrones rests tighter as Sevirus repeated his orders aloud and the first of the wailing klaxsons and blast hatches not already closed screeched or rumbled shut with a clang. He turned his focus of the hololith to watch the unfolding drama.

Out in the void the two Frigates drifted closer as they made their sweep. Their guns tilting and turning in their housings almost as if they sniffed at the space around them as the Artemis began to pass between the two detection fields with tentative blasts from their thrusters.

'How long until we're through, Number One?' Releasing the breath he'd unconsciously held.

'Seventeen minutes, thirty-two seconds, sir. We'll be abeam of the first vessel in just under six minutes.'

'Orientate battery guns onto target. Charge plasma cells.'

'Your going to attack, sir?'

'No. But I want us ready. The Legion records might now be fully accurate.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' A worried expression on his face at his Captains caution.

The minutes ticked by like an eternity as first one and then the other past abeam and slipped on by without even a twitch. That was until the port Frigate began to drift closer to the other as it closed the tightening corridor of the Artemis's course.

'Course alteration! Port Frigate closing up on the starboard. ....Sir, detection fields closing in on our position.'

'Have we enough speed to pull clear and avoid detection?' Leaping from his throne and grabbing the officers shoulder as he stared over their head at the screen.

After a moment pause for calculation and a shake of the head, the officer answered. 'No, sir. We haven't a hope.'

'How long until detection?' Whipping his head round at Sevirus.

Forty-four seconds, sir.' Who had already crunched the numbers.

Fanir was momentarily paralyzed as his mind worked the scenario. He couldn't turn back, nor hope to hide now that the moons lay behind and the Frigates lay between them. In moments the two ships would spot the Artemis and turn on them like prey. He was left with only one option. He stabbed his finger down on his thrones rest after two purposeful strides.
'Chief, this is the Captain. Give me full engine bloom. I want all reactors set to maximum, shields output to full. We're engaging the enemy.' Taking his finger off the rune to look over his crew who had paused to look towards him at his words. He galvanized them into action.
'Prepare for battle. Helm, give me full power. I want battle speed in twenty seconds.' Feeling the rising thrum in the deck as the Artemis's heart beat for war.
'Munitions, call out your target. I want targeting solutions, ordinance trajectories and predicted arcs of a return salvo.' Dishing out the orders as the engines built up to battle speed and the Artemis began it's turn to port as he scribbled a series of course corrections and changes along with timings and speed. He past on the calculations he'd scrawled on a data pad to a runner and up-linked his maths through the ships computer onto the hololith. After a few seconds more the Munitions officer called out his first solution.

'Acquiring target... Target acquired... Locking on. Target locked. Permission to fire, sir.'

'Fire!'

The Artemis's engines flared from there dull embery glow as it lurched with the sudden burst of acceleration and began it's turn to attack. The battery tracking the port Frigate as it aimed it's prow for passing swoop before the lash of plasma and steel broke upon it's back. The launch of torpedoes weakening the shield before the batteries Plasma Projectors, Lascannons, Missile Launchers and Macro cannon finished the job. Peppering it's shields then hull from it's aft quarter onwards in a barrage that overwhelmed shield emitters who's overlapping bubbles broke like tinkling glass as they popped with secondary explosions ripping through the hull. The Frigate was crippled as it began to list and tumble away while it's damaged engines fired inconsistently in an attempt to regain control.

A cheer spontaneously erupted on the bridge as confirmation was piped through the vox from spotters dotted around the outer hull confirmed they had at the very least crippled the port Frigate. But it was a short lived euphoria. The Artemis shook with a impact and a duty station on the lower tier exploded in sparks as a near miss rippled the rippled the shields.

'Report!'

'Sir, remaining Frigate is turning to engage. Incoming salvo, they're opening fire!' A kinetic impact shook the ship as a CO2 valve broke loose and began to spew noxious gas in a heavy cloud onto the bridge that hugged the floor in a expanding mist.
'Shields down to eighty-three percent.'

'Hard to port, evasive action! zig zag pattern, delta-three.
Number one, increase power to aft shields and return fire!'

As the two vessels engaged in a running battle they exchanged sizzling strips and projected metal that crossed the void between them. The two shield rippling and glowing in localized flares with the added puff of flak as they pounded one another with hundreds of tonnes of star ship killing metal and plasma beams. The Artemis dodging the worst of the salvos while the Frigate plowed on reguardless after it's prey as it's shields sparked and rippled.

'Shields down to twenty-four percent. Plasma Projectors and Lascannons on cool down. Marco cannon and Missile Launcher still firing, sir.'

'Good!' He shouted. The fire suppressor systems making him shout even louder over the creaks and rumbles of his ship as it dampened down a small fire somewhere behind him.
'Keep the guns on target, Number One.'

'Aye, sir.' He shouted back as a hard bang was felt through the ship.
'Hull breach! Decompression on deck four. Sealing section.'

'How many in that section?'

'Twenty-seven, sir.'

'Did any make it out before the section was sealed?'

'... No, sir.'

He put their cold airless death from his thoughts as he turned back his attention to the hololith and spotted something unexpected.
'What's that?'

'A comet, sir. Designation, Olarns comet which orbits the sun once every eighty-eight years. Composition, mostly ice, nitrogen, basalt rock and a trace of elements and minerals. Speed, sixty-two kilometers per second. Circumference, ten point three kilometers. Diameter-.'

'-Helm, put us on course with the comet. I want a sling shot trajectory, but hold us in orbit until I give the word.' Cutting Sevirus off from reading the full description and history once he had what he needed.

'Aye, sir. Coming onto new course, bearing red one-one-five. Boosting engines into the red to one hundred and five percent. Attaining catch up velocity. ...Matched. Now passing required speed. Reducing engines to one hundred percent.'

'How long until we attain orbit?'

'Seven minutes, sir.'

As the minutes past the Artemis began to pull ahead of the Frigate. But it was only momentary as the Orks engines were pushed hard and soon began to catch the fleeing vessel. Forcing the (name) to do the same.

'Sir, we'll have to slow down to achieve orbit.'

'Fire thrusters, reverse engines!'

The (name) shook as the thrusters roared and the hull trembled as the anti-inertia was applied like a brake that slowed the Hunter Destroyer enough to be captured by the comets gravity. It's mountainous surface and deep canyons passing by in a repeating loop as a pole to pole orbit was achieved. The Ork Frigate following suit and the deadly chase once again continued.

The Artemis began to speed up as it swept round the comet. The frigate falling behind and the crew breathed a little easier as the distance increased and it's guns fell silent as the vessels soon lay on opposite sides of the comet.

'Sir, we'll have to slow down to achieve capture.' Sevirus advised his captain as the comet yawned over them with it's shadow as they drew closer and closer, Fanir waiting until the last possible second.

'Fire thrusters! reverse engines!'

The Artemis shook as the thrusters roared silently and the hull trembled as the anti-inertia was applied and she began to slow enough for the comet to capture it in it's gravity. It's mountainous surface and deep canyons being to pass to port as a pole to pole orbit was achieved. The Ork Frigate following suit and the deadly chase continued. Each orbit the small ship swept faster and faster around the comet, until the Frigate began to fall behind and the crew breathed a little easier as the guns fell silent at their backs and soon the two vessels lay on opposite sides of the comet.

After a while Sevirus beamed down at his Captain. 'We've lost them, sir.' Relief evident in his feature and broad smile. 'Shall we brake orbit? We'll gain a substantial lead on them as they're forced into another orbit once they discover we've gone.'

'Maintain orbit, increase speed.'

'But, sir. We've already gained enough speed to escape orbit.' Confused at the order.

'Patience, Number One. I'm winning.' He said grinning. The gleam of mirth in his eye and the cryptic answer lost on his subordinate s his Captain kept his council.

Slowly but surely something fleeting and bright began to be seen around the comets mass. there and then gone, then there again as they pasted by protruding mountainous rock. Each orbit it became bigger and more defined as it stayed in range for longer, until the engine cones of the Frigate that had chased them loomed ahead for all to see. A few more rotations and the aft section too became visible.

'I don't believe it, sir.' Shaking his head in disbelief. 'Surely they should have broken orbit and broken off the attack by now?' Starring down at his Captain for an answer.

'Their clever, Sevirus. Oh so clever. Cunning even and tenacious. But once an idea burns in their minds it's like a red rag to a bull. They become stubborn to change or blind to a new course of action. It's one of their greatest strengths, and possibly their greatest weakness.' He ended philosophically before his tone hardened.
'Bring the battery guns back online. Target their engines and any pods or craft that abandon ship. I want this done with quickly. Once it's over, we'll back track to the other Frigate we crippled and make sure of it's end before we continue our course. No witnesses.'

'Aye, sir. ...Battery guns online. Awaiting orders.'

'Fire.'

Damn that Captain is badass. Great new entry, Themanwiththeplan.

Chapter 25: Cold reality & The Bickering of Fools



Step, by step. The road to the third tier was inevitable. Garn's endless hordes descending night and day from the ships and moonlit Hulk above, which contained new all too eager armies to join the Warrrgh! Pressing back the ranks of the Hives defenders with new terrors unleashed from their arsenal. A new breed of Ork stalked the battlefield. Unseen, unchecked. The Panthers attempt to bring them to battle failing as they spread their bombs and fear amongst the Guard. Silence and death cloaked them, and they spread their terror well. But ever more horrors where the bane of their existence. Great beasts swayed and stomped amongst the ruins as their gun platforms spat fiery death. Until beyond the third tier wall were no more than Gangers claiming turf or cut off squads battling in dwindling numbers.
Even now the Ork made an attempt on the third tier. It's weakened guns and puffing flak now turned on the lower Hive or aimed high into the sky towards the lumbering transports and bombers streaking their familiar smoke, dodging the rapid hail or dropping whistling bombs trying to smash or slip by it's defenses, with the few Hive fighters daringly zipping amongst them picking at the swarms before peeling away as they fought off the fighter cover. All the while the siege guns of the enemy ploughed death below. Creeping the war ever higher up the Hive.


The war closed in on the last open gate, where Ateus stood watch over it's arch where the time had logically come to bar the thick adimantium doors which ground closed. Muffling the pitiful pleas and mingled shrieks from the packed ranks where in the near distance he saw them butchered under the hands of the Ork.
The near part of the second tier burned. Giving off a flickering glow to the hellish vista as flamers licked out to scorch and burn. The tide slowed by the packed flesh before it that clogged their guns and blades with their blood, such was the bounty.
The thought to toss a grenade and unleash his rationed Bolter to ease their drawn out suffering fleetingly crossed his mind, before he dismissed it as folly. Forcing himself to push the flicker of empathy aside and take solace in the fact that at least some would soon fall between the the crossfire he held back as he allowed more of the green filth to feed into the adjoining streets.

A presence in his periphery diverted him from the screams and blood lust, seeing a ragged soldier staring out over the walls. Streams of hot tears spilling from his red rim eyes and down a soot streaked face while his. eyes glistened in the light of the edging flames as his fingers whitely gripped the parapet like bleached bone. A hot wind pulling at his tattered uniform, giving off an aroma of smoke and ash he could almost taste through his grill as it wafted from the mans hair which had been singed by settling embers.
The Platayian balled a blackened fist. Thumping it down atop the wall and strode towards the steps behind to call down into the courtyard, where a score of Guardsmen rested.

'Open the gate!'

'Belay that order. The gate stays closed.' Ateus countermanded without a look. Earning a black scowl from the man who returned his gaze to the ongoing carnage before suddenly striding to Ateus's side. Face twisted in contempt as it sported a look that almost seemed to challenge the Astartes to face him, bored into Atues's helm.

'How can you stand there and do nothing!?' Pointing over the wall. His anger all too evident. along with his contempt that was dangerously unconcealed.
'These are people, MY people. My kith and kin I swore an oath to protect! You can not tell me to just stand idly by and abandon them to slavery and death?!' The Panther remaining unmoved before him. Untouched by his word or plight and the continuing massacre below. Ignoring him as he continued to watch on, which visibly irking the Guardsman.
'Your meant to protect us.' The man said bitterly, his facer now full of hate and his tone low and hard. ' Be our saviours from such nightmares of the galaxy.' Gesturing to the horde. ' Instead you are no better than the beasts that have come to destroy our lives and eat our flesh as they carry away our children to be their slaves... Damn your lack of compassion, and damn you to the warp!' Any last vestige of restraint slipping at the last as he made to walk away to the steps and down to the courtyard as a slow turn of an Astartes battle helm tracked his steps, before the unmovable object turned into a barely seen blur.

Mid-stride, Kasander found himself airborne as he headed for the floor. Blacking out mid-fight while his brain still tried to process the rushing sound from behind as he awoke with the bounce and sprawl of his body. Finding a meaty hand tugged into his tunic. flipping him onto his back where the unflinching glare of a Space Marine Captain greeted him.
Ateus fixed the man to the ground as he removed his helm with the one hand with the hiss of released air while towering over his, by comparison, petite frame. letting the moment linger before his deep voice spoke.

'Name?' Came the growl. Leaning over the man who tried not to turn away from the closing face.

'K-Kasander, Lord, please, forgive-.' Ateus held up a hand to still his tongue now it was free of his helm he'd clipped to his side.

'Your men, and the people who shelter behind these walls, rely on your good judgment.' Pointing down into the courtyard to the Guardsmen and people who had gathered to watch the confrontation and loathe to interject. '.. They need you to guide them through this nightmare. Not deal out hot words nor rash decisions that throw away lives on some foolish errand that opens up this tier to the same fate as those outside.' Jutting his chin towards the building screams. 'Do not throw away your lives for those that even now scream for mercy. ..You can not save them.' The Astartes shoulders heaved as he finished his last sentence and looked out over the wall once more before bowing his head in introspection and then met Kasander's wavering eyes.
'Harden your hear, Kasander. Return to your post and remember your betters, and I shall choose to forget your earlier outburst.'

He agreed quickly. Nodding dumbly where he lay. Relieved at the subsidence of the Captains anger who had already stood to replace his helm and returned to the spot he'd stood before as a nearby sentry helped him to stand.

'One last thing.' Ateus said in his now cold metallic voice with one last look towards the man before he descended the nearby steps. 'Disobey me, or any of my kin again and I will kill you.'

Kasander swallowed nervously at the news and descended the steps with the sentry supporting his quaking steps while the dower Captain turned back to the lingering death of the city before giving the order to open fire.


* * * *


High the the central spire. Agathon listened to the shouts and squabbles of old men. The Hives Nobles bickering as they aired their troubles to him, which were petty at best. Fuming at such things like the quality of rations or their garden pools without water. While others argued of fleeing the planet in ships barely capable of such, and not one spoke once of the people they had lorded over all their lives. For in their narrow minded minds, they were forgotten, or had not even come to thought.
Through all this Agathon listened as he sat in a chair big enough for his bulk. Until the need to pace took hold as the Nobles continued on and on, wearing at his patience.

'Enough!' He roared. Smashing a fist down on the large table that dented and cracked like old dry wood. The Lords jumping or shrieking at the sudden outburst of violence and noise. An hour had ticked by since the start of his back and forth wonderings, and still they were no closer to agreeance.
'For hours I have listened to your witless words and still we are no closer to the heart of the matter for which I have come. What say you to opening the fifth tier and spires to the refugees from below?' Noticable anger to his voice as nervous eyes turned away from the bristling Panther to the three grandest throne, where The General sat astride two wizened looking men. Who sheepishly looked to him to answer.

'Lord..' He began hesitantly. ' .. The Lords council believe that if they do what you qask and open up their homes to the common people. They would be dead by days end and their homes picked clean of all there worth.'

'Fools.' Agathon growled. Angered further by their selfish narrow minded natures as he began to pace once more eying the gathering. 'These people care nothing for trinkets or the golden cups from your tables. They wish only to live. Not pay back a life time of suffrage, that I'm sure you all deserve. Have you forgotten the oaths you all took to govern and protect them? I have not, and I am here to make you remember them.' Causing a mixture of ashamed glances and angered looks as a low hum of muttering began until they were quelled by the black look of the Panther Lord as he scanned their faces.
Once again it was left to the General to speak.

'I have not forgotten my oaths, Lord.' He said as he stood and straightened under Agathon's glare. ' I offer up my home and all it holds freely to those more in need than I.' Surprising most with his offer and causing delayed murmur of accenting voices uttered through unwilling mouths.

'Then it is settled.' Giving a nod to the General and went to turn towards the doors of the council chamber where his remaining squad awaited by it's doors before a voice called out that halted his steps.

'What of your fleet, my Lord? Will they return, or have they abandoned us to our fate?'

'They will come' He said with conviction as he halted and spoke over his shoulder. ' Though the ashes from this world still flutter in the wind from the dying flames and our corpses lay cold to the touch. They will come.'

'But shall it be in time?' Cried out another in a shrill tone, cheered on or backed up by others. Earning a pause before Agathon once again spoke.

'Of that none but the Emperor shall know.' Cutting through the clamor. ' We must trust in him to deliver us from our plight or welcome us into his arms should we be ground under the nailed boots of the Warrrgh.' And strode from the chamber as the rising voices at his back began to once again argue as he reached the threshold and the doors began to close on the continued bickering.


* * * *


An hour had past by the time Agathon entered the headquarters of the chapter, ehere mostly serfs manned the humming equipment. Passing back and forth across the tiles with grim faces and data slate or communications in hand with even grimmer news. Ateus waiting for him stood by the main hololith that dominated the centre of the room, where he studied the display of the Hive dotted with unit dispositions and the lower Hive coloured in red on the translucent image. He greeted him with a salute instead of a comradely embrace as Agathon's squad dropped back mingling with the Serfs and the two Captains pulled off to the side to a vacant corner talking in low tone only they could hear. A sensitive discussion going back and forth between him.

'How is our brother?' Agathon asked firstly.

'He rests. His wounds keep him bound for now. But he and his warplate mend well, and each shall be ready for the other when he has risen.' To which Agathon only nodded as he hesitated at his next question.

'No news of Evander?'

'No news... Nothing since the coded signal... Enemy forces continue to grow. Any predicted breakdown in hierarchy is wholly absent. Their forces remain in relative unity.'

'Then it is as I feared. Our brother has failed.' Bowing his head in prayer while touching a hand to his Aquila. '...But all is not lost.' He spoke as his head rose. Producing a data spool he plugged into the hololith after a few purposeful steps. The machine whirring for a few seconds before an image appeared with a running scroll of data that made Ateus step forward to behold. Hope flaring for the briefest of moments before it was dashed by it's singularity and his pragmatism.

'This is dangerous news, Agathon. One that will make us or break us in this war. What if it's a trick of the enemy?'

'But what if it isn't?' Countered the other Panther. 'This could be the sign we've waited for. A turn for the better in this war.'

'And what if this information gets out and then turns out to be false, and hope turns to madness? What then?.'

'But what if it's true, Ateus? Still trying to convince his brother. ' Varro and Cassius would never send just one ship.'

'The array could be damaged. We can not know for certain.' Still unwilling to believe.

'Have faith. brother. Our salvation has come. We must hold on believing the Emperor, blessed be, has answered our prayers.'

'The Emperor can not help us.' A drip of contempt creeping into his voice. Growing frustrated by his comrades continued talk of religion. ' Even as we speak he sits upon his throne holding back the eye of terror and the horrors that lay within it's depths as he feeds the light of the Astronomican to guide our race across the stars. He can not hear us. We are but a tiny voice lost in an ocean of noise. Why should he save us?'

'You are wrong, Ateus. We are his chosen. His shield and vengeful sword. He will not, nor has he, abandoned us. The Emperor protects.'

'I do not share your new found faith, or hear your prayers answered. All I see is but one ship. One ship against an armada hell bent on our destruction.'

'Then believe in me, brother. Trust in me as you once did. Let us go forth and spread word of deliverance, and let time judge it to be truth or folly.'

'I share not the hope, but I will bear the news. Come what may.'

Then I shall hope for the both of us.' Giving a small smile before turning away to the nearest Serf he beckoned into their presence.

'Lords?' The man asked sinking to one knee. Head bowed as he placed a clenched fist to his chest.

'Good news, loyal friend. Ships of the fleet have been sighted.' The man could not help but lift his head at the news as the sounds of the room died back.
'Even now they speed on the outskirts of the system. Rejoice, and spread the word and feel happiness once again in your heart. Now go.' Giving the man leave as he beamed down a smile that was warmly returned as the man set off through the nearest doors, shouting as he ran.

'The fleet comes!' Yelled the Serf as he sped on. Spreading the word into the streets that soon post him by like the wind. Lifting the hearts of many and bringing tears to a few as they felt hope rekindle in their breasts.
The fleet was coming.

Dear lord! I dare say that Captain is sheer manliness! Well done and the space battle was great

Yeah, the space battle was excellently paced and written.

That last one was good, I always enjoy seeing Orks die!

Excellently written. I kinda feel bad for the Ork whose guts fell out.

Awesome! pro story man!

Chapter 26: A Turbulent Sea & A Doomed Escape


The ships were indeed close by, but the warp around them boiled and seethed. The Astropaths struggling to hold the ships in position in the turbulent tides that seemed to resent their presence as it tried to push against their shields. The shuddering deck, a constant reminder of the unchained power of the warp.
On the bridge, Varro once again stood as before. Though now bedecked in his wargear. An ornate warplate etched with flowing scroll in High Gothic and machine cant picked out in gold that swirled over and around his torso and upon the mechanical arms that sat poised in repose about his back, as one held aloft his hammer. He reguarded the data of their voyage with a mixture of disdain and frustration before turning to the summoned Choir Master.

'We should have reached the system by now. Why have you not ordered the ships to break from the Empyrean?'

The blind Astropath turning away from the shuttered viewscreen had a pained expression as he looked upon the Forge Master with milky white eyes as he answered.
'Lord, the warp resists our gifts to make sense of it's depths. The system at times seems to be hidden from us. Sometimes it's as if it's not even there at all, then suddenly shines out brightly as if blinding to behold.'
Varro accepted the answer but not the excuse.

'But you know where our destination lies.' Stating it as fact and not a question. 'How far off is the system?' Asking his true question.

'We're already reached our destination, Lord. Though the warp grows more turbulent every time we even attempt to form a warpgate.'

'Irrelevant. Order the ships to make immediate preparations to translate.' Brushing aside the Choir Masters warning and concerns, who bit his lip nervously and bowed to the Panther before he left.
Varro turned to the command throne as he rattled out a string of orders which the crew acted upon instantly, such was their desire to leave the warp, avenge their slain and rescue their chapter. They quickly went about their business in a brisk professional manner which was pleasing to behold. And within minutes all was ready.

'Lord, The other ships have communicated their readiness to open the gate into the Platyian system, but report the same unease from their choirs. The Atropaths are deeply worried, Lord. The warp rebelled before us and it's currents grow strong. Reported Beren. The ship groaning as he finished as if to highlight his words as the gellar fields strained to resist the probing warp predators and swirling colours that crested and broke upon their protective bubble.

'Then the time has come. He answered stoically. Easing Beren's concerns with his confidence and will to press on. 'Signal the ships to begin translation. We shall not turn from our path.'

Seconds later warning klaksons wailed and the ship shuddered more violently as it was buffeted by the tides as a black tear was torn in front of the small flotilla and grew into an ugly gash. The warp around it swirling with maddening colours while the ships darted for the opening. Rocked and shaken by the emotional currents as the warp vented it's anger at it's prey slipping from it's grasp and headed from it's clutches into the gate. And the predator creatures that had followed these shinning beacons in the hope of blood and puppet flesh lamented their parting with animal howls that only the Astropaths heard before the gate snapped closed behind them.



* * * *

In orbit of Platya. The Defiant was hunted by a pack of frigates and fightas that bore down on the wounded ship and strafed its length. Hours earlier their luck had failed. An Ork boarding party that had come to loot anything of value had discovered that the seemly dead ship was in fact nothing but. And after a brief bitter skirmish at the boarding parties breach, the remaining Orks had fled back to their ship and called in the wolf pack to run them down. Forcing the Defiant to turn tail and run. But there was no where to go, no hope to out run their pursuers. They were hounded at every step. The Defiant out matched by the foe. And the brief engagement was already lost before their engines had stuttered and died. And all hope of escape was extinguished with their failed drives.

The kinetic force from the four ships bearing down on the Defiant, bombarded the already wracked frame of the valiant vessel that was once again a powerless husk as it visibly dipped into the atmosphere. Damaged systems spluttering offline, and it's decks fluttered into darkness. Sending the desperate crew fumbling for life pods as thousands of tons of starship fell like a rock through the thickening air while it began it's far from graceful decent. Groaning and rattling as the pressure built. It shed peeling plating like crusted skin as the friction melted away the protrusions around it's increasingly glowing surface and became a fireball across the sky.
On the bridge. Dead consoles sparked or flamed, while others still spitting data from intermittent auxiliary power told Canus the Defiant was mortally crippled and beyond redemption.
Knowing they had only a scant few minutes to live if they stayed aboard, he slammed his fist down hard on the ship wide vox on his thrones keypad, giving his last order as master of the ship.

'All crew, abandon ship! I repeat, we are abandoning ship!' Yelling over the increasing rattles and alarms as he tried to be heard over the groaning hull. Hoping those on the lower decks had heard his warning as he ordered the bridge crew to disperse. Scattering into pre-selected groups as they headed towards their designated pod, with some stopping long enough to retrieve wounded comrades they then carried to relative safety.

Battling the flow of bodies through the bridges main doors came the Master Chief and his twenty guards, doubling as the bridges and Captains protection, who had left their posts outside the doors. Pushed past the stragglers to come to a halt beside the throne with the surviving command tier officers gathered close by.

'Sir, we're abandoning ship?' Asked their leader, a sinewy man with spiked hair and decked out in black carapace.

'No time to explain, Chief. We're got less than a minute, maybe two, and then we're dead.'

But I thought...' A violent shudder lasting several seconds shook the doomed ship from stem to stern, making them all cower in fear as they stared up at the chapel arched ceiling high overhead as if expecting it to collapse at any minute. Until the shudder subsided into an ever present squealing tremor.
Meeting the eyes of his Captain, the Chiefs mind now concurred with Canus, and he wasted no time in implementing his orders, waving two of his Armsmen forward.
'Higgit, Ratama! Help the Captain down from there and look after him. Don't let him out your sight or I'll have your ovaries and balls for breakfast.'

'Sir!' The two Armsmen chorused as they broke ranks and climbed the steps to help Canus descend the short flight with their aide.

Another violent shudder ran through the ship nearly toppled Canus from his throne as he rose with the aide of his cane and was saved from a tumble by the Armsmen, who swiftly reached their charge to steady his faltering steps.
This time no one cowered fear. Instead they all watched the ominously vibrating walls until it had past once again and name broke the spell.

'Don't wait for me! Go. Go.' He huffed, reaching the deck and was ushered along by Higgit and Ratama as the Chief marshalled the thirty strong group around him.

'Lets move. You heard the man. Lets get the frack outa here.' And the group followed him at a jog to the doorway beside the Captains sanctum. Waiting what seemed an age as the Chief punched in a series of codes into the green lit panel until the door slid open. Revealing a long thin passage studded with flashing lumes which chased each other along the walls in the direction of the pod.
Standing aside, he waved the first few through as he waited for his Captain to appear among the press. Where name shuffled into view moments later with his arm around Ratama, hobbling along in a sweat. He clutched his cane tightly as Higgit tried to clear enough room for the frail man to shuffle.
One look told the Chief his Captain had come as far as he could under his own steam.

'Sir, We must hurry.'

'I'll be, fine. Go on, ahead, Chief.' He wheezed.

Shaking his head disbelievingly. He ordered his men to carry him to the waiting pod as name protested between gasps until the two Armsmen grabbed a leg each, rendering his argument moot, and hustled after the Chief who had sprinted on ahead as the last of the crew filed in behind.

Bumping along between the sweating Armsmen, he could see the pods hatch up ahead where his crew scrambled inside and latched themselves into their grav-seats lining the walls of the bulbous pod as more than a few hysterically fumbled with their harnesses or grunted and screamed as their world continued to shake and judder.
With a last heroic effort the two Armsmen gently set Canus on his feet inside the pod, where they proceeded to sink to their hands and knees with their breaths like bellows until the Chief steeped through the hatch with the last of the stragglers and ordered them to secure the Captain and strap in.
Closing the hatch, the Chief had set off a twenty second count down that could not be reversed. He took a seat with barely time to deny gravity a new play toy as the ship passed through the thickening atmosphere. Which sent anything not bolted down crashing into the ceiling from the g-force. Seconds later the main pods ejection retros slammed them all back into their seat as the life pod left the Defiant to it's doomed tumble as it shot away in an arc from it's hull into the sky on thin jets of thrust as it's machinespirit fought not to bury the pod into a grave of it's own making.

It makes me sad when I read that Orks dies. But it was a good read!

The new part is nice. My only advice is to read your writing out loud before you post it, and see if it flows well. Keep up the good writing!

Chapter 27: Lubrication


In the depths of the Hive, the great machine hummed with the now activated energy. Coursing through thick cables and lengthy wires, criss-crossing the space, as the air felt thick with it's greasy charge.
But the pent up energies were not enough. The levels were incomplete to enact it's purpose. Shown on the main control panels dials next to the vast pad that flickered and bounced. Telling Marcus it would take but just a little to fill the cavern with molecular displacing light, and transport them onwards to his destiny.
He turned away from the near brimming dials to his Sargent to gather the others for teleportation and then walked to where Velic stood apart from the others, toying with a psychic fireball that hovered just above his hand.

'I see you have begun to open yourself to your new powers.' Nodding to the fireball before it popped and dissipated into nothing.

'Yes, though strange it feels. As if I was blind before, but now I see into another world. One that intrudes upon our own.' Pointedly staring off to the side of Marcus's shoulder, where the shadows eyes and teeth sat.

'So you see it too now. How long have you known?' And couldn't help a smile.

'For many hours, though truly only in the last few have I been able to see it. Replying with a sideways glance at the shadow. 'At first I thought it was an illusion. But now I know now what it is.'

'No. No, illusion, brother. But something much more real, and deadly.'

'You talk with it, it hears you?' Lowering his voice in surprise, having not heard it yet speak.

I hear you too, Witcher.' Hissed the eyes and teeth before it spoke to Marcus.
'Enough of this. Finish this and be gone from this place. Take the Witches powers and be done with it.'

Velic gasped in shock at the teeth's hissing voice, and then at the words imparted to his Captain. Stepping back warily from the two before he brought up his hands palm outwards, letting out a long hosing gout of fire with a shout. Drenching where Marcus stood in it's flames.
But when the fire of his palms died away, there stood Marcus and the shadow once more, untouched. The Captains grin matching that of the shadows as he lowered his hand and the small psychic shield popped out of existence.

'You can not kill me, Velic. Nor even hope to beat me. It is inevitable. It is your purpose to feed this machine.
Now it was Marcus's turn. His hands came up, and Velic slammed back against the wall where he dented the metal and fell to the floor clutching a hand to his chest.
'As you can see, my powers are beyond your own.' Pulling him into the air and then slamming him into the ground twice more before he heard the audible crack of bone.
'The longer you fight me, the longer you suffer. Submit, Velic.'

'Never!' Velic roared as his hand shot out and lightening crackled from it's fingertips, arcing towards Marcus. With a resounding bang knocking him from his feet as the lightening crackled around his sailing body, And lay twitching as the lightening dissipated.

Marcus's world was black. And for a moment he thought he'd passed out, until he realized he could hear his breath coming in short gasps from inside his helm, and he painfully reached up to tear off the malfunctioning wargear. Revealing in front of him, Velic. A cold smile playing on his lips as he levelled his pistol at his head.
The sound of armoured feet was heard before Velic silenced them.

'Move again, and he dies.'

Marcus turned his head to the side to spit, and then smiled up at Velic as his teeth glistened with blood. What now, brother? Are you going to shoot me? ... I think not. And gave a short laugh.

Velic took a step forward. ' Try me.' His barrel never wavering.

No. No, I think not. ..And do you know why, Brother? He said with a sneer.

'Why?' Cocking the hammer.

'Because..' He began with a predatory smile. 'You've forgotten about the most important thing in the room.'

With a cold chill of realization Velic realized his mistake, but too late. The hiss of triumph in his eyes as the shadows blackened claws pierced his back was proof of his folly. It lifted him into the air and he felt his essence seeping away through the claws as the shadow feasted upon his soul while he cried out at the pain and fear it brang to the fore.
Marcus watched as the shadow drained Velic in mute fascination from the floor. Watching as the skin paled and the flesh went slack against the bone, while Velic's trembling limbs jerked and shook, until the shadow threw down the husk to wither like curled paper before the flames as it crumbled to ash and bone.

'Fool! What have you done.' He snapped in the silence after when it dawned on him that Velic was of no use anymore, and he rose angrily towards the shadow once again given form.

'Careful, human. Remember to whom you speak.' It hissed with a brief glow from it's eyes and then continued to lick the blood from it's claws with it's serpentine tongue. But Marcus was undaunted.

'How now are we to leave here.' Gesturing mockingly to the cavern. ' You've killed the Witch, and his powers are no more. How else are we to feed this, machine.'

Be silent1' It rasped. Irritated by Marcus's uncomprehending grumblings. ' I shall feed it with the Witches powers. It needed only to open it's self to the great ocean enough for me to feed on it's fledgling powers. Step onto the pad and I will begin.' It snapped.
Marcus, curbed, did as he was he bidden. His men joining him as the shadow latched onto a particularly thick cable and feed Velic's powers, though not his soul, into the machine.

The background hum of it's mechanics whirred louder and soon the cavern was filled with the clatter and throbs of it's workings that near deafened them as it built to it's crescendo. Until with a clap, Marcus and his followers were gone from Plattya.

I checked half of the first chapter for errors and such. I think it's easier in the next time to do a double check yourself before posting. I did finish reading the whole chapter, the rest will come later.

Haven't read the rest yet, but I agree with the previously posted feedback from others, LoneLictor especially had some good feedback. :-)

Improvement points:
-Language: the way the characters speak feels a bit too much like modern soldiers to me. I know the Space Marines are sort of the Imperium's special forces, but their imago is generally like that of knights. 40k is more fantasy with some technology rather than conventional science fiction. This is something you should keep in mind when writing the conversations.

-Descriptions: You mentioned that the chapter master has a certain personality, but I haven't really seen it yet. He seems like a reasonable commander here. It's a flaw that many BL authors (especially James Swallow) have, so no worries here. It's something you need to learn. You need to perhaps read into other stuff as well. So if a character is overly arrogant, how does that show? Not just "and he arrogantly said", but actually describe his body language, his actions, and also the way he says things.

-Astartes: you made them quite interesting. But remember they are very flawed, they never had a normal childhood. This must have some psychological implications. I think Aaron Demski Bowden showed this rather well in his Night Lords trilogy. To a certain extent Astartes are like Michael Jackson, but biologically/genetically upgraded, hypnotic/chemical indoctrination about war, and armed to the teeth. They are more human than human, but at the same time also something complete different from it. Also note that Astartes are normally recruited from violent populations, be it gangers, savages, etc. This doesn't mean they're all mad raving psychos, but they do have this potential inside them. However, they are very stoic, completely distant, only serving. In that sense they are very much akin to a Terminator (from the first movie) or the Angels from Prophecy, they kill because they have to, no remorse, no nothing. They will suffocate little girls in front of their mothers with no emotion. That alone makes them rather nasty...

Chapter 28: An Eyrie Battle and Deliberation

To say the upper hives defences were strong, would be a foolish whisper. For they were not. It leaked like a sieve in it's multitude of unbarred bridges, landing platforms and mix of various add on and protrusions, that served no military usage at all. And as such, it was a wall that only sparingly sprouted much of military purpose.
Instead, in the tier beyond. With the last of the Hives vast complexes now gone. Huge skyscrapers encroached and stretched above the lesser buildings and interwove well-to-do habitation about their footings. Where the Hives smaller generators, water treatment and hybrid nutrition waste plants squatted amongst a war lit by wavering shadows and lightening flashes, with it's flames of destruction amongst the fog banks.
Below, the Warrrgh was relentless. It's near full might had been unleashed. True. A few million, or more, were scattered throughout the Plattayian system on their inter-planetary or stellar craft. But the core of the hordes untold billions stretching across Plattya. Meant there could be only one out come to this deadly embrace of shot and shell, with it's clanging blades stained in blood. And the Orks pushed on to their victory, lustfully.


The chapter only in name, was a shadow of it's former self. And it now called on brothers who would man their war craft, to fill out the combat squads. That none the less, stalked the floors and picked their way through the upper cities landscape. Hidden when they could amongst the warren of bridges and buildings they struck from or used. Hunting the Ork, as they too were hunted.

'Go! Lead them on , Lebron!' Ateus yelled, urging on the three Panthers of his squad with a wave of his bolter as he steeped to the rail while three more from another ran by dragging a fourth as he leant into the stairwell and fired into the gaps between the stairs with a howl from his bolter before he ran on with hard rounds spanking against the hand rails and rockcrete from below as he struggled with an intermittent vox-link.
'Papa-nine, do you copy? We are at rooftop.' Hearing Lebron or another smash the door off it's hinges, which signalled an end to their labourous climb.
'We are at pick up, papa, over.....!' Cursing as he heard nothing but a static laced link while sprinting from the gaining footsteps from behind and burst out onto the rooftop, scanning the skies for the Gunship as he joined his brother on a small terrace to face off against the unlit doorway.

With a sudden roar, they came on without pause, one after the next. Uncaring of the bolt shells coring flesh as dozens were cut down before the first had managed to barge it's way through the jetsam, and still they came on into the maelstrom til the bolter clacked dry and they had gained the rooftop by blood .
Out swept the Panthers blades, roaring into life, or shimmering as they swept down on the upturned heads and limbs. That only multiplied with each sweeping hack and thrust, til a small sea of bobbing blades and twisted faces stretched before them, baying for blood.

Thrusting out his blade, Ateus yanked back the broad sword with a savage battle cry before he slashed it two-handedly in an arc that clove through tusks, teeth and bone that fell back onto the growing mound while he blocked and cut and battered away another.
A cry from his left, and he looked to see the brother fall dead across the wall even as another further along was dragged still hacking at those around him into a scrum of pounding boots and plunging knifes.
Away from the wall. step back! Fall back to the apothecary. Regroup! He rallied. The survivors quickly stepping back and constricting their line in the face of the mob before they were cut off from each other and hacked apart. They backed away in a tight ball from the Orks spilling out onto the terrace. Backing off, hounded by the Ork mob intent on their destruction.
Another brother fell to the plunging, stabbing and hacking blades spread like a storm lashed thicket around them as their pace faltered under it's weight. And Ateus roared with hate as he boldly attacked the sea of panting, howling faces.
'Strength and honour!' He cried, attacking those in front again in a frenzy of blood splattering hacks with both hands clasping his broad sword as it fell with the song of vengeance as he carved a bloody half moon into the stunned mob. His Panthers following him in, punching gauntleted fists into faces and hacking into the press enclosing their Lord as the two sides brawled savagely. Carving ragged meat and causing splintered bone to puncture armour and flesh as sucking wound rattled and spat, coursing blood into ropey streaks that fell in dark pools that the living trod and slipped through as they fought.

'Alpha-Charlie-S...., do...copy? .....s..pa...nine, over.'

'Receiving you, Papa-nine. Signal is choppy. Boost signal for compensation.' Grunted back Ateus as he fought not to be borne over the edge he'd been forced back to as even the Apothecary fought to defend his two charges propped against the wall.

'R.............Alpha-Charlie-Seven. Thirty second out.' Cutting the link as a building whine of engines throbbed over the fighting as the Thunder hawk suddenly grew near from no where as the echoing acoustics of the buildings threw the sound from all directions until a hot blast of heat wash slammed into his back as the Thunderhawk reared up from the streets below.

The armoured Gunship Transport, Papa-nine, side on and majestically over the lip of the wall to the stunned surprise of all as all it's berths but one swayed empty til the eye reached the clutched hull of a battle scarred Predator battle tank whirring its double snub nosed barrels to bear on the mob.
Down! Ateus warned. Ducking for the meagre shelter of the floor as the heavy bolter shells rattled out from the chin mount and the predator battle cannons boomed into life that walked death about the rooftop. Picking clean the mob defiantly firing back til the last had been gunned down or sent fleeing through the pitted doorway.
Rising in the vapored blood and curling cordite wisps, Ateus took stock of the scene and nodded in satisfaction himself into the gunships vox.

'My compliments, brother. But that was a close thing.' He voxed as the Gunship closer to the roofs edge so the panthers could ferry their wounded and jump aboard after the Apothecary had finished his grizzly duty.

'Aye. Captain. Apologies. But I thought you'd appreciate my companion berthing first.'

'Indeed.' Switching frequencies to the battle tank. 'My and my men's thanks, Foe Hammer.' Reading the name from the ident in his HUD.

'A pleasure, Lord. Sargent Dena, at your service. Though the ride I offer is rather sparse on comfort.

Ateus waved it aside with a chuckle. 'I understand, Sargent. The gunship is too pretty for us. We prefer the view you offer instead.' Making light of the disabling damage done to the prow of the Gunship that had disabled the ramp into the transport. And he leapt the small gap behind the last of his men and secured a hand hold on a piece of broken plate as the Thunderhawks nose dipped for the ground and it lurched forward into motion as it began to thread the terrain of a war that raged on relentlessly below.
All the while Ateus' mind was troubled by the doubts he could not expunge, that haunted him. With words expressed out on the platform in the wind swept rain.



Agathon had no time for past words. Settlement for past deeds would come. His mind was on the war cast on lithic screens and spread data as information spat from the whirring cognigtaters, churning vast streams of data that fed the main lith, dominating the small room where most present gathered.
The situation was grim for all to see, but not hopeless, he told himself. Even as he gave the command for a sector to withdraw before they were cut off. And the pieces slowly moved out to safety at the command or awaited retrieval as the enemy markers advanced and overtook those of the slowest. Which blinked and faded on the lith
To his side stood the man, marius. Commander to the worlds surviving Imperials none legion forces, cutting through the back scatter wash of battle playing tinny in the background as he directed his forces with a deft and defiant hand. The man had so far achieved the impossible by managing to hold together his shattered forces through the horrors of a fallen world and the long retreat from the outer walls. Though now what was left to him was crumbling. And the occasional fretful flicker of the eyes or twitch of the mouth told of an inner doubt had begun to flicker more increasingly over his face as he marshalled on with dogged grimness in the face of total annihilation.
Understandable, Agathon thought. With recent events of the Chapters near destruction at the hands of chaos's subtle influence, and the blunders over the years from an inept Governor and pompous superiors as he'd watched his world slowly burn by inches. The man was stoic in the face of defeat, but not wholly immune to it's worming touch.
The flicker of doubt came again as Marius read through the scrolling data on the slate handed to him as his knuckles whitened under the pressure of anxiety not fully supressed.
Agathon turned to his few attending serfs to dismiss them as he asked for the room, requesting Marius do the same with his own retinue so they could candidly alone. And the two commanders waited until the last had left, activating the door with bow before Agathon asked his chief question in the near silence of the rooms background chatter when the door had closed.

'Do you believe I lied to you?' He asked directly.

'Lord?' Marius replied, confused.

'Perhaps all I offer is a hollow victory, I admit. But victory none the less. Borne at great cost, that still involves sacrifice to achieve before the end.'

Marius raised his chin and frowned quizzically. ' But Lord, it is not the end.'

'Isn't it' Returning the expression. ' Our craft may not reach us in time, General.'

'But surely we have to wait but days, a week at most before we know the hour of their coming? The doubt now staying longer than flicker.

'Perhaps. But what if it takes longer than expected? We do not know how far behind the others are to the first, and the is still a mighty fleet and Space Hulk to contend with. That by now, must surely infest this system.'

'You make their task seem insurmountable, Lord.'

'Fear not. We are Astartes. We find a way, or die in the attempt.' He stated simply. ' We must plan for more time, Marius.' Causing the man to look away to the lith as he thought on the question of how.
' I will not ask you now how long we have' Agathon continued. ' For my kin already know we have perhaps days to abandon the last of the tiers or be crushed under the enemies weight. The forces we have are but a fraction we need to secure the territory we possess. It is only through the vastness of the city that we hold ur defensive lines that barely hold. But soon they will break. Scattering to broken islets around the spires, that surely will spell the end. We've not the manpower, nor the resources, to replace our losses.'

Marius knew this well. His forces were little more than survivors of a burnt world and scavengers of the battlefield. His ranks were militia bands and troopers with a hollow look that could call upon a scratch armoured force made up of patch work equipment. Hardly encouraging, he thought while studying the lith, weighing their chances. Though what he saw lead him to the same conclusion.
He answered as gestured. 'Aye, Lord. We should withdraw, abandon the tiers, as you say. We blow access points here, here, and here. Pointing on the lith to a cluster of rails and bridges. Though we can not hold them long in these outer spires. The areas we speak of are too vast for our forces. Too many linking rails and bridges, even if we destroy the majority. The few left or unable to reach in time would unman us.'

'Agreed. Conclusion?'

'We'll have to abandon too, Lord. The threat they pose is too great to us. If they were to overrun even just on of these spires... As you say, Lord. We need to pool our resources into a tighter permimeter to weather the storm.'

'So we are in agreeance? We hold the main spire and its foot spread districts until the extraction force arrives.'

'Indeed, my Lord. I see no other choice for us. It is the only path. We must hold for as long as possible. And with this, we will be at our strongest.'

'The council we not be pleased with our decision or with having to vacate their homes. They could become..difficult.' He ended with a sour tone.

'Indeed. Though what should we do if they say no to this?'

Agathon pondered the question before answering. '.. If they fail to see logic, then truly they are the fools I take them for. I will not fetch them if they do not come, nor will I protect them if they stay. Let them be the fodder as we have been theirs ' Settling the matter.

Marius pressed a button on the liths panel to summon an aide he quickly briefed before sending him on his way as he faced back to continue.
'We should be able to limit enemy attacks to air assault and bombardment, for a time. But we should expect ground to be lost at some juncture. We should begin fortifying each of the key floors in turn and assign men to the likely first and secondary breaches.'

'What of our larger wargear? Seeing a further problem into the future. ' The last of our battle tanks and Landraiders will never find a perch in such a lofty place with so many people filling it's spaces.'

'Aye, Lord. This is true, and for us also. Though that number is few, and growing fewer still. Though still enough to protect the districts or a counter strike to a threatening breach to keep them at bay for a time.'

'Hmm, a strike at ur enemies. That is truly what we must do. For we are in grave danger, Marius. He said as his hands worked the controls of the lith. ' But where shall this hammer of ours fall if we are to gain the few extra days we need to perhaps snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?'

'A hammer blow? A few days? Lord. We could hold for tenfold with these plans we've laid. Why so short a timeframe, or the need to expend such valuable reserves?'

'Because, my General. We have less time than you think. Even now our position becomes perilous and untenable. hour by hour. For their Titans will soon walk again. And this time, we can not stop them.' The final twist of the dial bringing into focus the oddly shaped frames of Titans cascading sparks as cranes hoisted and cranked them hiher, as they rose over the Orkiod city.

The terminology you use when the Astartes are talking all sound like more modern military styled action movies/series. It's almost as if you've taken military scifi and placed it in a 40k context.

However, that isn't that much of a problem since everybody does 40k in his (or her) way. But I recommend reading some more stories with Space Marines are main characters in it, especially the ones by ADB, you'll notice the difference.

As for Detrus, I can get it that you want this to be judged by the reader. But the statements in the beginning already make it seem in such a way. I think you should try to let it be reflected from his character and the way the other interact with him.

As for the mannerisms and mild dyslexia: have you considered first writing the story in a word document before putting it here? That way you'll have the spelling/grammar check which can take out a lot of the smaller mistakes.

Keep up the good work!

Chapter 29: The Last Sally

The war drew higher still, on and on. As the Ork horde slowly but surely conquered the beleaguered city. Adding to it's leavings that lay sprawled in death, or belching black smoke to the already dark clouds. That forever flashed lightening and growled thunder into the distance. And so the supports for the two kilometre long spire blew out in near silence under the canopy of war. Until the shockwaves ripped out to crack plasteel and rip apart adamantium. While the spire shook with a tottering groan.
And with a slow wailing fall of inevitability. It smashed into the hive with a building roar, as it pulverised with the shear immensity of it's stupendous bulk. Sending huge clouds, and rolling avalanches. Churning ruin before it's flattening force. Before it came to rest. Broken and rent upon the hive.

Down came the last charge, into the dust. Engines hammering battle cries over the shifting rubble. They clawed their way onto the fallen spire that was to be their Bridgeway, and gunned forth into the storm rising from the lower hive. Blasting a trail through the rumpled wreckage. With tanks thundering shells and Landraiders adding eye watering beams. While Whirlwinds shrieked death as they all swept by to the Heavy Bolters chattering tempo.
The crumpled Bridgeway thinned, bunching their numbers. And now hellfire truly flew as they ploughed on into it's whickering force. Tanks throwing treads or halting aflame, blown asunder, only to be smashed aside with hatches and wrecked frames drooling smoke. The rest running the gauntlet to the end of the fallen spire, plunging for the lower hives outer breach. Alive with the massed ranks of Gretchins that awaited their charge.

The column smashed down, into the lower Hive. Clattering over the last of the rubble as it drew closer to the Gretchins. Shrieking and yammering as they charged behind their guns towards the onrushing tanks. Throwing themselves at the war machines that ploughed on into the wave. Battering them aside or rolling them underneath. While the lucky or brave clambered to claim their victim. Prying hatches and wrenching aside broken metal. To send the occasional cloud of promethium's collection of hot blown metal shooting to the sky. Before the breach alive with bursting shells and coloured streaks as they pressed on. Hell bent on their goal of the Orkiod city.

Once again the Panthers charged the plateau to attack like an avenging storm. Smashing apart earthen works and supply chains found in their way. They ground what little resistance they found levied against them, and closed on the Orkoid city. Blaring Klacksons in the near distance as they sowed destruction in their wake
.
Two was added by dozens. And soon hundreds of blazing guns were loosing fat shells to land with shattering force. A whittling barrage, that only grew in thickness from the Orkoid city pummelling it's attackers relentlessly With Landraider and Rhino alike from the sally marking the advance by their twisted frames. Until only the hardy reached the mud daubed metal walls to smash them aside with ease. Sending welded sheets and dry stone flying with the Orks crude scaffolding twisted and spiralling from a ragged hole. The Panthers poured in. Laying waste to the shacks and pens as they began to blaze away at anything and all across the city. And like a comet spitting death, they hurtled on. Carving across crooked dens and through ramshackle streets. Beating their passage through the fetid city. Flattening workshops and razing small armouries alike along their makeshift path. As they cut towards the looming Titans beginning to tower above their charge.

They awaited them. These silent, colossal, brutish things. Every inch the killers of armies, cities and worlds. Rearing to the sky with their towering battlements festooning broad chests and mounted shoulders sitting astride piston legs, that drew the eye ever upwards. Until the face of a juganaught stared down at a world with the disdain of a War God.
Into the construction yard the panthers stormed, with the titans there to meet them. Wading through the workshops and scrap piles they kicked about like shrapnel. The metal mob came on with the Panthers careening about the workshops. Auto cannons and las-beams reaching out to the stomping metal mob. Flaring on the shields of the Gargant and Mek that soaked up the lashing of missiles and beams. Who let loose their own limbs in their fury. Laying waste in their desire to destroy the surprisingly nimble machines. That hid, dodged and charged across the yard. Firing at the metal monsters trying to crush them.

Dozens lay in ruins about the yard. But the Panthers war machines were dogged in their attack . Concentrating on the smaller Stompas and Mek. Til a lone Stompa toppled under a whirlwind barrage, and the Mek staggered with blown emitters ripping it's arm off into the yard with the overload. Halting with livid flames venting from the stump as the others charged past to reap it's retribution. Goff Stompas stomping flat any machine in reach as their guns bracketed the ground. While the towering Gargant let loose balls of molten fire. Vaporising metal and searing the ground to glass with it's volite consumption. Claiming dozens as it twisted on gimbals for it's chassis to reave or stomp after the dwindling tanks. Already breaking back for the cover of the Orkid city.

Won't let you open it or what?

What I meant was that you should use word, or whatever typing programme you have with a spelling/grammar check, and write your stories in there before posting it on a forum. That way you can get a lot of the smaller spelling/grammar errors out. :-)

Chapter 30: The Slow Stalk of Awakening


Aboard the Strike Cruiser, Tempered Blade. Varro ghosted the small flotilla through the debris cloud thronging the near space of Plattaya, burning their engines around him fitfully him. Running at the barest minimum to avoid the drifting and tumbling wreckage around them. While applying what stealth they could in the chaotic swirl on their approach to the planet. Still millions of kilometres away. Though now becoming visible to the naked eye as a shiny dot highlighted on the viewscreen.
Days earlier. Smashing back into realspace. Varro and his ship captains had faced off against a sized shoal of pickets as their systems came back online from the transit. Small craft, of no real tonnage compared to the Cruiser and frigates of the Panther Claws. But enough drifted out there awaiting them for Varro to order the shields be lit, and all speed, as they hurtled on into the gathering wasp storm that followed after them. The Ork ships weaving and darting amongst the Imperial formation as they tried to isolate particular vessels and overwhelm it's defences. Only to be smashed or crippled one by one by the Panthers guns. Battering them aside in their headlong plunge into the system.
Awaiting them. A small Ork fleet appeared from amongst the fourth planets outer moons to challenge them. But Varro barely slowed his ships in answer. Crippling with lance strikes, torpedo salvos and finishing broadsides as they sped by and left the remnants to snap at their heels like the still dogged shoal. Losing them in the varying thickness of debris stretching out from Plattaya. Forcing a slow stalk as they crept toward the planet. The erratic rovings' of the Ork ships, plodding Roks and fighter patrols. Swarming back into the inner core in their desire and haste to catch them. Only for Varro to slip past their dragnet of ships and disappear into the systems background scatter of star radiation and the wreckage left in abundance. Trusting the debris to cloak them from the scans lashing the fields. While they waited to burn hot their engines and attack those ringing the planet to break their blockade.

From his vantage by the command throne. The Forge Master surveyed the bridge and crew dressed in his finery of crafted plate, armed harness and hammer. His other wargear awaiting him by the drop bay he'd already chosen. Praying to the Omnissiah that the men and women around him would gather strength from his presence and calm words. In this cat and mouse game they now played amongst the wreckage.

A shudder shook the ship. Causing Varro to raise a brow towards the throne.
'Shipmaster?'

'Over four thousand kilometres, Forge master. They're switching quadrants to launch another spread into our region of the field.' He finished as a lesser shudder from a detonation ran through the ship.

'The count?' Varro asked, though he knew it.

'The fourth, Lord. …No fighters detected.' Said Captain Beren after looking to his nearest officers, shaking their heads.

Varro approximated a scoff. 'So they send no more, the fools. It was madness, to try in this.' Gesturing to the half open viewscreen.

'Change heading as a precaution, lord?'

Varro continued to watch the torpedoes detonate out in the field by a feed relayed his optic orbs before answering.' No. Let them lay waste to nothing. We stick to our path. E.T.A on attack run?'

'Twenty-six hours, Lord.'

'And the serfs and Armsmen earmarked for the drop with the strike team?'

Equipped as ordered, and drilling in the mock theatre halls to improve cohesion and combat effectiveness with their new weapons and allies.' referring to the two battle companies of Skitarii spread amongst them.

'Will they be ready, Beren?'

'I believe so, Lord. Though I must admit, doubts.' Dropping his voice.

'Doubts?' Varro shot back, unmodulating his tone.

'On being able to defend the ship in your absence, Forgemaster.' looking away, his eyes dancing about in speculation. 'They will come at us, my lord,. from all sides. Like leeches hungry for blood. And we have but a few ships to hold them at bay

'But you will hold for the chapters return, Captain Beren.' Eyeing him now fully.

'Until death, Lord. Though I wish to live past tomorrow, Emperor willing. But the odds are stacked against us.'

'Then tell me of what our auspex has picked up over the planet so far.' Relaxing now slightly that the doubt was only a fear of failure as he focused on the lith

'A sizeable fleet awaits us, lord. Though, few capital ships or that accursed Space Hulk detected thus far. And still stands as a mystery as to how they can stop it from being dragged back into the warp, Lord.'

'Hmmm, Wierdboyz perhaps.' Mumbled Varro to himself.

'My Lord?'

'Nothing.... A myth from fragmented records. Continue.'

'Our last estimate puts three destroyer wings, two squadrons of frigates and several capital class vessels, including a Rok, in orbit or ringing the planet. Though there could still be more our scans have yet to pick up. The data will become more precise the closer we become, lord.'

'Positions and formations?'

'Haphazard. Seemingly uncoordinated. Most hold erratic orbits or patrol patterns that hold no standard. But we continue to mark their trajectories'

'And the rest of their fleet?'

'Spread throughout the system as they hunt for us and the Artimis, or denying our escape routes by being hidden like us in the debris, lord.' Indicating the hololith that held the plattayean system and plotted courses of the known enemy not amongst the static hash of the debris.

'Any indication of abnormality in the planets axis spin to indicate the Space Hulk lies on it's far side, beyond our scans?' Pointing to the highlighted world and far side of the planet.

'None detected, but inconclusive. We've trouble had getting a clear reading. The region of the field we're in is quite dense, lord' Indicating it all with a sweep of the hand while trying to hide his tiredness.

'Inform me at once if it is detected. For It's out there, somewhere. And all depends on finding it.' He said gazing through the viewscreen as if he could search it out with his own vision.

'And you, Lord. Are you prepared?' Drawing back Varro's attention.

'Me and my brothers of the Omish that survived amongst the fleet., Are ready to do the Emperor's work. As are our kin we brought over from aboard the Martis with the Skitarii. The awakening is near complete, and I will speak to them of the doom facing our chapter, and their dire need. For make no mistake. The Panther Claws die out forever tomorrow, or are perhaps reborn anew from ashes.'

'They are... well, your Dreadnaught brothers?' Beren asked uncertain.

Varro gave a short grating mechanical laugh. No, they are dead. Or at least, on the very cusp of it. But they will serve. As it is their purpose to serve. Until duty ends. As us all.'


* * *


The hours past slowly before Varro made his way down to the ships main armoury, seeking out his equerry. who oversaw the Techmarines and few serfs tending to the dreadnoughts. watching on as the last rites were completed and the slumbering warriors were brought to full awakening. And he turned to his master once the last tones of the rites echoed into silence. Ushering Varro forward to stand before the venerable warriors as he awaited their systems full activation.
'Why have we awoken?' Rumbled the eldest of the nine when it's bulbous sensor helm lit up to glare out from the gloom.
'Lords.' spoke Varro reverently as he also fed the chapters campaign battle data through the noosphere. The nine helms dimming as they ingested the data while they listened to him speak. 'Our order stands on the brink of annihilation. Doomed on a world of Orks in the last free city we were led to by a fool. And our coming is late, Lords. he spoke as he watched the feed for the in-loading data in one of his opticals. 'But in mere hours I will launch our last strength for it's surface to aide in their extraction, or join them in death as we stalk the ruins, until we too are slain.' He paused as he exloaded his plan in the growing silence as all eyes fell on the dreadnaughts for a response. Watching as the eldest of the nine's sensor opticals blazed bright and fix on the forge lord.
Venerable brother. Will you follow me?' asked Varro as he held the dreadnaughts fiery gaze with an unflinching one of his own.
'Until death' Rumbled it's mechanical voice as the dreadnaught began its slow heavy stride for the door towards the drop pods, with the others pounding the decks behind.

Ah, like so. A shame really, because I think it can really help you improve your writing.

I'll try to look at the rest of the texts later today. :-)

Cheers