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The carnage was indeed great and countless damned souls had been sent screaming back to the warp, but at a grim cost. Fifteen battle brothers lay dead and twenty more was wounded in such a way they would need to be evacuated from the field.
Cleaning the blood of his sword Arkangle stood and brooded, around him his brothers made the former staging area secure and rigged powerful demolition charges to level the tainted ruins and anyone who could still be lurking with its dark depths. The fight had been a bloody affair but it had pleased him to see his foes die in droves and to see countless others hurl themselves at his blade as he cut them down.

Mordred however was not equally pleased. He longed for harder foes to test his skill against but he knew even such vile things as heretics needed to die for their offense to mankind. Standing alone he gazed into the abyss that was the deep hives, down there somewhere their prey made his lair.
“Soon daemon lover....soon I will drive my blade into your tainted hearth and watch you die!” he muttered and was about to rejoin his lord when his vox crackled to life.

“TO ANY NEARBY FIRENDLY FORCES! We are being pursued by a large number of traitor Astartes. Unable to withstand them, immediate assistance required! Inquisitor Ambrosia out.”
The woman sounded like she was just about to collapse, and knowing his traitorous kin they would not live long when that happened.
His brothers too had heard the message but all awaited the word of their lord and master before acting.
Breaking the silence that reigned Mordred asked what everyone else was thinking.
“My lord, what do you command us to do? Do we offer aid or do we let those dogs die.”
the reply came just as fast.
“Go brother, aid the inquisition and do so swift!”

With those words Mordred set of at great speed down the ruined tunnels followed only by the sound of his own thundering footstep’s. His left hand clutched his halberd and his right held his plasma pistol while his mind carried thoughts of purity, piousness and anger.

He made swift progress down the ruined tunnels and abandon transport passageways. He was guided by the constant stream of information and tactical updates that was shown to him inside his helmet. Like a dark and deadly shadow the champion raced to meet a worthy foe head on.

Ambrosia and her companions had been running for what seemed an eternity when they reached a massive flight of stairs. Fifteen of their comrades had fallen to their pursuers and now they could once again see the shapes of the unrelenting Khornates closing in once again. The traitors seemed to be enjoying the chase but seeing their prey worn out and ready to break drove them to new highs of endurance.

“We cant outrun them nor can someone come down here fast enough to aid us. From what I can hear on the vox it seems all hell has broken loose on the surface” said Valeria in between heavy gulps of air while she slammed a magazine with krak rounds into her bolter.
She did not need to say what everyone was thinking, either the traitors died or they did.

“Well if we are about to join the Emperor lets take at least some of those bastards with us! Aim for the joints and the lenses. Make your shots count!” she said and drew a bead on the lead bezerker .
As the pack of snarling hunters drew nearer the party could almost smell the sheer hate radiating from them, and see the gore stained weapons they wielded.



He heard the howls of hate and blood lust as he reached the last obstacle before he could engage the enemy. A long flight of stairs ran down deeper into the under hive, standing some hundred meters below him on the bullet riddled stair cases saw the servants of the inquisition preparing to make their final stand against the servants of the blood god.

Knowing what had to be done he activated the amplifiers on his helmet and gathered his battle thirsty thoughts. As the champion of the second company spoke he slowly descended the staircase while pressing the activation rune on his gleaming halberd.
“I AM THE HAMMER! I AM THE RIGTH HAND OF THE EMPEROR! I AM THE INSTRUMENT OF HIS WILL!”
These words sounded like a storm unleashing its fury upon the seas and it seemed to divert the attention of the advancing hunters as well.

“KILL THE LOYALIST DOG FIRST!” the leader of the bezerkers growled and speed past the inquisitorial servants that had to dodge swipes from axe and fists as the Khornates speed past in a race to be the first to claim the skull of the fool who dared oppose them.
To those watching what unfolded over the next few minutes seemed to play out in slow motion.

Mordred fired a shot at point blank range right into the face of one bezerker, the now headless warrior toppled backwards and rolled down the stairs while black blood oozed out of his neck.
The next attacker struck at him with a low blow seeking to disembowel him, but with no luck. The shimmering weapon stopped the axe and with drove him backwards down the stairs.
He ducked to avoid a blow from the side and struck back like a growling beast. The blade punctured millennium old war plate and destroyed organs, bones and flesh before withdrawing in a geyser of blood.
“DIE FILTH” he roared and pummeled one traitor with a series of punishing blows that cracked his armor and with the finale one removed his left foot and arm. Kicking the flailing form down he was about to turn around when one of the hunters tackled him to the ground and locked them both in a brutal struggle.

Mordred could almost feel the foul breath of his opponent, while keeping one hand firmly wrapped around his opponents neck he drew his combat blade, and with a almost casual manner drove the jagged blade into the neck joint.
However his foe was not a normal nor sane individual. Even with cold steel about to claim his life he grabbed his axe and made a try to swing it.
As he did a heavy reinforced combat boot stepped on the hand in question and a voice said a few well picked words before the speaker pulled the trigger on his hellgun.

“Here is for my buddy you whore son!”.

With a single shot the sole survivor of the inquisitorial storm troopers pulled the trigger and put an end to the desperate actions of the now dead servant of Khorne.



As the dust and smell of blood and gore seemed to settle Mordred rose to his feet, he towered above the still standing humans. Being in such company always left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Picking up the weapons he had managed to drop and while so he cursed himself and vowed to preform thirty days of penitence for such carelessness.
Even if his dislike of mere mortals he had not forgotten the lessons imprinted in him by his lord, it was always better to act noble if you had uses for fodder when dealing with them.

“My thanks!” he growls and grips the halberd with one enormous hand.

The trooper only looked up at him and made a stiff bow before rejoining his comrades who all stood and gazed at the lone Astartes that had answered their calls for aid.

Ambrosia felt her hearth finally beginning to calm down, the long and horrid chase had drained her of her strength. And she felt a need to sleep for a long time, but she knew no such luxuries could be had now. Not with the champion of the Death hands second company standing before her covered in gore and his armor showing the signs of heavy fighting before coming down here.

“Are you alone Astartes? Where are your brothers in arms?” she asks and feels unsure if she will get a response from the towering warrior.

“I alone came to answer your call for aid, my brothers are engaged in a struggle of far greater experience than your petty heretic hunt! But it seems you have kicked the hornets nest Inquisitor. I will relay what I have seen down here to my master, perhaps if he feels it is of importance he will send aid. If not we stand alone. My orders where to keep you alive, I intend to do so.”

This statement seems to calm the woman down, and make her companions relax. But he knows it is a fools hope to continue he hunt alone and with such poor company, well beside the two he knows are more than capable of going on.
One of them sens him a coded message vie the vox link they share. It reads the following.
“Always a pleasure to hunt beside you Mordred, too bad about the rest of the company. What do you require us to do?”

Yay, Berzerkers! Its always nice to see Berzerkers, even if they're getting killed by loyalist dogs.

Excellently written.

Thank you, and yes. Those boys need more loving!

Was it Valleria sending the message at the end, and how do the sister's know the champion?

Nice chapter, roll on number 8though the sister's were a bit quiet in this one, I was half expecting the crazy to get stuck in to lol.

Responding on the same secure link he answered the woman who he knew was a keen observer, and a very morally questionable individual. Keeping those two in line was important.
“You still live Valeria, I must admit I did not expect to meet you again after our last encounter. That inquisitor you delivered to us did not last long when the tools of suffering was employed upon his wreaked form.”

His response produce a shrug of the shoulders and a attempt to look innocent. It did not work at all, she looked more like a death hound from the depths of Medusa IV when she flashed those teeth and those eyes bit into you.
Replying she gave him a answer of sorts.
“Well the fool did try to kill both me and my sister. And he was not much of a man to begin with, without those fancy cloths and those flashy emblems he was a rather sorry sight in bed I dare say. Emperor knows how much Amasec I needed to forget those awkward nights.” she replied and removed her full faced helmet and mask to light up a Ilho stick.

Mortals and their forms of deviousness never ceased to amaze Mordred, he was very much pleased he was raised far above such things as what he just had been told about. Physical attraction and other wastes of time was something he gladly left to those of a lesser statue than him and his brothers.

“Valeria! Stop polluting the already foul air down here and get that arse of yours in action! I do not wish to linger down here any longer than we need to.” Ambrosia barked and showed a hint of the violent temperament that lurked beneath her surface.

The group walked onwards in silence, leading the way and acting as a screen was Valeria and Mordred, who seemed to prefer the company of the unhinged woman than the company of the other loyalists.
They passed remains of dead heretics that had died both by the hands of the Astartes and the combined firepower of the Inquisitorial war band.

“Grim grim always grim! You angry and full of hate for the pretty lady?” asked Andrea as she ducked out from a mess of pipes and old cables. Her eyes meet the lenses of Mordred and held his gaze without flinching.

“Yes I am but I sense you are less than hostile towards her, do I sense a trace of fondness for her in your question assassin?” he said and stepped over the shredded remains of a child that lay in his path.

“You no fun to be around! Just as angry as last time, but we like pretty lady! Very nice tush on her” the woman said while giggling.
“Glad to see you keep your mind on your objectives, just don’t attempt to play the hero..... you know how that always ends for those who do.” he said and stopped while listening.
Raising a hand he signaled for her to keep quiet and hidden.
“We are not alone here Inquisitor! I suggest you catch up to us as fast as humanly possible, there may be more than mere traitors and mutants lurking down here.” he said quietly over the vox net.

Aiming his pistol down the gloomy hallway his eyes searched for any sings of movement or scuttling feet, but noting reared its head.
“Do not wander of Andrea....You are not nearly equipped to face what I fear lurk down here.” he said with a tone that made it clear that he was indeed worried. And if fear had not been breed out of him very, very afraid.

The Inquisitor and her henchmen hurried down the hallways speed on by the worryingly message sent to them by the lone Astarte. If a warrior of such caliber could sound worried it was indeed no time to waste.

As they caught up to them Andrea turned and looked down the hallway, with the enhanced vision offered to her by her helmet she gazed at the empty halls that lay behind them. Just as she was about to turn around she saw a flicker of movement. What she saw sent a ice cold shiver of fear up her spine.

“Inquisitor.... we need to leave! As in now I think. We seem to have obtained a follower.” she said and pointed down the hallway, down there the sound of talons on hard ferrocret and the hiss of something coming this way could be heard.

Driven on by fear and a hope that whatever lurked in the dark would not catch up to them they fled upwards and finally reached the relatively safety of the surface.
As they hurried onwards amongst the ruined remains of the hive Mordred contacted his lord.
“My lord, I regret to inform that we have more than traitors to contend with. I will offer further information when I regroup with you in fifteen minutes.” he said and allowed himself to cast one final glance back at the dark and foreboding opening that lead down into the abyss.

Nice mood setting, I could feel the uneasy tension at the end it goes without saying but nice chapter I will await number 9 on the edge of my seat lol.

Well I achived what I aimed for then, expect the death of several characthers over the chapthers to come.

Please, say it aint so, not my beloved sisters, please don't let them die. (pardon...pass you that axe...ok) oh my lord where did you get that axe from? oh no not the face, oh no I can't watch *thud* oh dear I wish there was something I could of done.

How many I wonder, hmm? my bets on one of the sisters for sure, I'l tell you who even if they don't die, but we'll see.

Excellent new entry. I have a suggestion for writing dialogue (though I'm not sure if it'll be helpful). I would suggest using a lot of contractions, and also not using too many words. Like the line, "Inquisitor.... we need to leave! As in now I think. We seem to have obtained a follower." could be "Inquisitor, we need to leave now. We're being followed."

Still loving this. The firefight was really well-written and I'm intrigued to see what's going to happen next. And who's going to snuff it!

Mordred rejoined his brothers with fresh marks of war upon him, his armor scarred and his weapon showing clear signs of heavy use. But he also brought grim tidings to his lord.
Brother Captain Arkangle stood and awaited him in the remains of the ruined city.
“Good to see you still live brother, You do the chapter proud by displaying such fierce skills and culling the traitors that oppose us from the universe. But I think you do not come bearing just good news, had I not known you better I would have said you sounded worried.”

“Thank you sire, and yes. I come bearing foul news. While myself and a operative you are familiar with where advancing ahead of the main group we cam upon signs that made me offer prayers to the emperor. And judging from what I saw what had happened to a good number of the cultists I found while entering the catacombs and lower hive, I can make no other judgment that the foul Slaugth has managed to sink their teeth into several of the hive gangs. And corrupted their weak minds.

Pausing to transfer a video log to his master he continued after the file was sent.
“I dared not think about the possible outcome of such a foul event before entering the halls. But we both know my lord what this means. If the gangs has been subverted to such an extent as the video log shows then their masters are also present on this world.”

Few things had the ability to make the Brother Captain mutter a silent prayer of deliverance to the Emperor, but the mention of these foul xenos who feasted upon the dead. And sought to sow war and carnage all around where they traveled made his stomach churn with fury.
For almost five hundred years he had opposed the enemies of man, countless heretics and xenos had fallen to his blade and yet these where the foes who always made him feel almost inadequate.
They had no clear leaders, no chain of command and most unnerving was their eternal hunger for the flesh of man, to satisfy their hunger they would gladly spread their poison across a whole sector and feed in the shadows as war raged all around.
And beside, there was no home world to strike at. The last attempt at localizing it had cost the Ordo Xeno a fleet and countless lives as they became lost in the dark and loathsome star cluster known as the Ghoul Stars.

“Damnation! If the arch enemy should happen to form an alliance with the Slaugth this world is lost and I will NOT allow it to fall into the hands of the ruinous powers! All battle brothers are to prepare for combat! We end this heresy today! And someone inform that Inquisitor of our intentions....”

Haven given his orders Arkangle left Mordred to oversee the destruction of the former traitor stronghold. It exploded in a fiery plume of fire and debris that rained down. It also sealed the tunnels that lay below under hundred of tons of steel and rubble.

Ambrosia was awoken from her sleep by a brutal hammering on the door, stumbling to her feet still groggy from sleep she opened the door, and looked straight into the abdomen of the towering warrior who stood outside.
Glaring up she almost looked outright hostile.
“Now that you have awoken me you lumbering idiot I assume you have something important to say or give me? If not show of and don’t disturb me unless the four gods of darkness are standing outside!”


It was when she looked up and saw his face she realized her mistake, in her mind she imagined how the less than friendly champion of the second company would take to being called a lumbering idiot. The answer to her fears came fast.

“if you are done polluting the air I am forced to share with you whore I suggest you take heed when your betters offers information! My lord wishes to inform you that he will be entering the under hive to purge the source of this corruption in two standard hours. If you and your ragtag henchmen wishes to come along.”
his heavy footstep’s echoed down the hallway as he left her standing there while feeling somewhat less than pleased with herself.


Meanwhile this was taking place a massive battle was being fought near the former industrial sector.
Countless waves upon waves of traitors clashed with the grim men of the 134th Ragnarokian regiments. The fighting was particulary brutal near the massive smelting plant where the mailed fist of the guard kept hammering the enemy.
Leading from the front was Field-marshal Hendric S. Loki, he stood tall and barked orders as shots and munitions screamed all around.
“All armor units focus your fire on the main breach, drown those dogs in shells! And I want that plant taken NOW!” he said over the busy vox net. A hail of confirmations and promises of killing anything that was not wearing a Ragnarokian uniform flooded back to him.

Leading the charge of the infantry was the hardened grenadiers and storm troopers who had been tasked with breaking the ring of defenses, and allowing the regular troopers to advance and bring their superior training and numbers to bear upon their hated foe.
A lone Grenadier stood his ground and kept on firing even as the enemy drew closer by the second. All his squad mates lay dead and dismembered around him, and he bleed from numerous cuts and wounds on his body.
As he took aim with bloodied and trembling hands he felt his legs give out as his weary body collapsed, muttering a curse he saw a band of heretics rushing towards him with knifes drawn.
“Come on you dogs! I’ll take you all with me to hell!” he managed to snarl and somehow got on his feet. Waiting for them to get close enough he pulled the pin on his last frag grenade and with a finale effort he jumped in amongst their midst. The grenade detonated and in a shower of shrapnel and heat it ended his suffering and took with him his foes.

Meanwhile this happened all along the front men died and suffered alone and forgotten by all except their projectile or piece of shrapnel that had claimed their life in this meat grinder of a war. But as always when one fell another ten took his place.


As Hendric and his personal guard attempted to hold their ground when a massive and very well coordinated counter assault was launched something happened that could change the tide of this war.
He sidestepped a sword blow and rammed his growling chain sword into the offenders guts, his bolt pistol barked its angry message of hate and he saw his men cut down the heretics in droves.
What a fine army to command he thought as the bullet struck him in the chest, feeling the hot bite and the shock he stumbled down onto the ground.
The first beside himself to see he was hit was his old friend and faithful comrade Lord Commissar Augustus.
“MY LORD! MAN DOWN MAN DOWN!!” the man yelled and others began to realize what had happened.
As his bodyguards and staff swarmed around him to make sure he was kept safe and brought to safety he looked up at the battleship grey sky. He felt alone so utterly alone, he placed one scarred hand on his wounded shoulder and felt the blood seep out from his weary body. Oh how he longed to sleep and let eternity claim him.
Medics begun to work as if possed to save their beloved commander, but that moment all he wished for was for someone to hold his hand and say all would be okay.

He saw the faces of friends dead and gone, he saw the face of the woman he had lost so long ago. Yes he thought now as I lay here dying on this ruined world I get what is my due, no one will mourn my passing. Only my fell deeds and zealous service to you my lord they will recall as my spirit leaves my body behind.
When his tear filed eyes closed for the last time a single raindrop fell and landed on his now calm face.
Around him men stood in silence and became filled with sadness before a seething feeling of rage overtook them one and all. Like a wildfire this feeling spread amongst those who still lived.
As if guided by a unison spirit of outrage the men of Ragnarok renewed their assault and before the sun once more set not a single heretic drew breath in those blasted ruins and blood soaked trenches.
Here ended the long and lonely life of Hendric S. Loki, field-marshal and supreme commander of the Ragnarokian regiments.

Poor Hendric. He didn't deserve to die like that. This line, "Medics begun to work as if possed to save their beloved commander, but that moment all he wished for was for someone to hold his hand and say all would be okay" was especially sad.

Nice death scene - not maudlin or overblown.

I liked the contrast with the unremarked death of the unknown trooper.

Who's next for the chop?

Well its a sad day for all those who liked him. And as whom dies next, well stayed tuned and await it. Although some readers migth have developed an hunch as to who it is after reading some of my other works.

No way, that man was bad ass, what a shame, such is war. Truthfully I thought you were going to give a sister the chop, bur maybe in the next chapter. You have a knack for writing really good Guard stories, and your Astartes are bad ass too lol, nice chapter. next please.

Rain hammered the eerily quiet ruined hab blocks that lay around the entrance to the under hive. The weather seemed to reflect the mood that hung over the forces of the imperium fighting for this world, the death of the Ragnarokian commander and the last series of brutal and taxing battles had drained he forces of the guard. Who now awaited reinforcements and resupply, before any more attempts at breaking the enemy could be made.
Lord Commissar Augustus had assumed command and in keeping with the iron hard determination of his fellow men he had vowed to liberate this world or die trying. But even he knew his men needed to rest and tend to their wounds, half dead and bone weary soldiers made for poor fighting men.

Arkangle and his remaining Astartes moved like a band of vengeful ghosts, the empty hallways and the halls filled with the remains the dead and other forms of garbage was all they had encountered so far. But none let this fact deceive them, their foe was more than likely gathering its minions and preparing to unleash a flood of deranged cult members at them.
Leading the hunt was Mordred and his lord who had chosen to arm himself with the prized relic that normally rested aboard the Judgment Of Sin.
The sword who had been killing the enemies of man since the earliest days of the great crusade, and who had been there when the traitors assailed the imperial palace on Terra so very long ago. Alongside this he carried a storm shield that had been forged in the vast forges on Hellheim two thousand years ago, added to the impressive suit of war plate he wore he looked like the emperors will made manifest.

Each of his brothers wore the telltale I of the Inquisition upon their shoulders as was their custom when they hunted the foul creatures known as Slaugth.

“Hold here! This is where I saw that damned fiend” said the Champion and pointed to a corridor that broke away from the main path and dwelled deeper into the darkness.

The senior officers and their troops readied themselves as Arkangle looked to the grim figure of the company librarian. The Astarte clad in the dull grey war plate that was the sign of his rank alongside the psycich hood and the staff he carried in one hand stepped fourth.

As if silently whispering with an unseen and unheard companion he gazed into the darkness while a vibrating hymn began to be felt by those who stood around him. And as if someone slammed a hammer into a great bell a unseen barrier shattered and a keen howl of pain was heard emitting up from the dark tunnel.

But the librarian did not wait, muttering a word of power he hurled a bolt of pale blue energy down the hall. Along its path it seemed to snare and break gossamer like treads of energy and pale light.
This seemed to cost the veteran warrior dearly as sweat glimmered on his face and his fists gripped the staff in a grip that would have broken bone and shattered steel. But he rallied and regained his posture.

“The way is open my lord, the wards are broken and the guardian is broken and banished. However do be careful. Residues of the foul beast can still be floating about.”

“My thanks librarian. Your skills are always welcome amongst us.” the Brother Captain said.

With no need for further orders two stern guard squads moved forwards into the darkness that awaited them. Their bolters trained upon the front and their vanguard brothers bringing up the read they picked a path down the steep stairs and down onto firm ground.

Mordred hated tunnels more than he hated xenos, they always made for prolonged firefights and heavy causalities if something went astray. And even for Astartes they would often do so when your foe was a creature of immense power and more worryingly a supreme sense of intelligence. And a will to turn entire world into its own feeding grounds. Or unleashing a plague that could envelope whole sectors and damn all those who dwelled within them to a slow and horrid demise.
When the first shot slammed into his left shoulder he was already acting, countless years of training kicked in and he returned fire with his pistol and shouted to the stern guards that enemies was ahead.
The damned dregs must have set an ambush, because a steadily increasing amount of fire hammered into the ground and pinged of the armor of his brothers as they struck back.
“Flamers to the front! BURN THE FILTH!” he called over the dim of the gun fire.

Three stern guards advanced under a hail of bullets and aimed their promethium loaded weapons at the entrenched foe, and hosed them with fire. Screams and shouts of panic quickly replaced the steady hymn of stubbers, auto guns and lasguns as the fires consumed all who did not flee or die to well placed bolter shots.

“My lord, you can advance now. Enemy fortification breached and all resistance eliminated.” he voxed his captain.

After that first initial encounter the marines did not hear or see more of the rabble. Either that was the last of them or they had been ordered to keep clear.
As they made their way deeper and deeper down sings of ordered imperial construction and maintenance began to fade, and the slow but steady decay of the truly deep hive realms began to unfold before them.
Remains of burnt down buildings and scrap was all around, alongside the eery silence that seemed to have taken hold down in there accursed depths.

“My lord, we are not alone down. Nor have we been for some time, it seems one of the foul creatures have been stalking us for some time.” said the librarian while he unsheathed his sword and a ghostly look passed across his face.

The brotherhood pressed on, as they did so they began to discover signs of a brutal fight that clearly had been raging for quite some time. The bodies of cultists and syndicate members lay all around as they crossed a massive bridge spanning a great chasm, the corpses bore the signs of both gun shots and the unmistakeable signs of chain axes.
It was clear that not even the traitors who served the dark gods had much in the way of good will against those who bent their backs to a foul xeno.

As they neared the middle of the bridge a low and bass filled growl filled the air, climbing up from the dark depths came the foul creature that had been stalking them. It towered above the Astartes and its cold eyes drilled holes in them. Snarling like a crazed animal it rose to its full height and barred a maw filled with blade sized fangs.
Its gore stained hands did not carry a weapon but they ended in curved fangs that shimmered in the low light provided by the lights on the bridge.
Here stood one of the foul Slaugth in all its horrid splendor, before it stood its hated foes. The dark specters that hounded its minions and interfered with its plan for a massive fest upon the dead and dying. But now it would sate its hunger upon their marrow bone and flesh.




Arkangle looked upon the foul beast, it was indeed a horrid thing to behold. It was a massive one even for one of its race but it seemed somewhat different to the ones he had fought and killed before. But that would not matter, it would die still. And its mangled corpse would burn when it fell.

But before proud captain could act a hand gripped his shoulder, beside him stood Mordred and looked at the beast with what could only be described as a look of pure and unfiltered rage in his voice he spoke.
“My lord I will ask for your permission to sink my blade into its foul hide. For far too long I have failed to avenge my fallen brothers. I have failed you and hence I ask only for your blessing in this finale service to the emperor and our chapter.”

The once proud and noble warrior who had changed in so many ways after the death of his entire squad at the hands of a Slaugth while aiding in the purge of Centurion Prime now only asked for the chance to redeem himself and gain revenge for his fallen comrades.
Knowing it would only further torment his brother it was with heavy hearth that the Brother Captain replied.

“Go then brother! May the emperor guide and shield you in the coming battle. It has been my honor to serve alongside you!”

the Champion only nodded in silent acceptance and stood firm as his foe began to lumber forwards while its claws dragged along the road surface and sparks flew.
He felt no fear, no regret only shame and rage burn in his veins. Having traded his halberd for a more cumbersome but just as deadly thunder-hammer.
Like a knight of old Terran myths squaring of against a dragon he stood firm.

“COME THEN BEAST! FEEL THE WRATH OF THE RIGTHOUS!” he roared while he began to swing his hammer in a swirling pattern, then on a almost prearranged signal the two fighters charged each other.

The ground shook and trembled as Astartes and Slaugth crashed together, the great beast roared in sheer animalistic hate as the hammer crashed into its side sending sparks and a shower of chitin flying.
It returned the favor by pummeling the puny human who dared stand against with blows that could crush a lesser foe into a bloody pulp.
Dodging a blow Mordred struck like a viper at his foe and delivered a blow to the chest that seemed only to anger the beast even more.

The monster sidestepped a blow and blocked another, it realized it had underestimated its foe. This was not some deranged human with a death wish but a very, very skilled foe. And one who could seriously harm it or even kill it if not dealt with correctly.
Its massive form rippled with muscles and force as it begun a vicious series of blows aimed at putting the warrior on the defensive, and allowing it to use its tremendous strength and resilience to the wounds caused by that biting hammer to deliver the killing blow.

Sensing a change in his foe Mordred knew something was about to change in this fight, that he knew would most likely be his last. Steeling his mind he retreated into that sanctuary he had deep within him.
Feeling a calm unlike he had not known for a full century he looked upon his foe with a new fire burning in his gaze. Blood dripped from several deep cuts across his great body and his helmet had come of when a glancing blow had almost sent him over the edge and down into the abyss below.

Chanting the psalm he chaplain had imprinted in his mind centuries ago he stood tall and begun advance.
“ Fight With Blood. Fight With Steel .Die With Honor. Never Yield Fearless Hearts Filled With Pride! Into Glory We Shall Ride! Into Glory We Shall Ride!”

The Slaugth could not believe its eyes, the foolish human still came on, despite bleeding and having received several blows that should have killed him long ago it still kept on fighting.
It roared and did likewise, it came thundering forwards while swinging its great hands like a wrecking ball. A blow sent the warrior flying but he was on his feet in the blink of an eye.

The sparkling hammer struck like a thunderbolt and produced a yelp of pain as it cracked ribs and damaged organs, a gush of blood stained the bridge surface.
Mordred felt life dripping from him as he rained down blows upon his foe and received them in equal amounts. But still the batherd Astarte kept on attacking like a scorned beast.

As desperation gripped it the beast somehow managed to grab a hold of him and held him in a vice like grip. Still he stuck it with fist and hammer and it bit deep in his shoulder cracking armor and bone.
“I DIE FOR MY EMPEROR FOUL SPAWN OF DARKNESS!” he howled and with a inhumane effort broke free, grabbing the hammer with both hands he raised to the sky and struck one last time.

The hammer that had served many a great hero and received the blessings of the inquisition’s finest artisans cracked bone, splinted sinew and pulped flesh. It tore the great fiends head apart as a keen blade might cut a piece of paper.
This was the blow that ended the best and signaled the last blow Mordred would ever strike.

His foe vanquished and his life force spent he collapsed down on the ground, his mind was finally free of guilt. A faith smile crossed his lips as he allowed him self to slip into the dark and comforting peace of death.

Oh my god. What a glorious death!

Yes I think so myself, it was a fun thing to make.

It seems like everyone's dying now. The battle is really going to hell.

Death scenes are always fun to write.

Now that's the way to go! Hope the Apothecary's around, because that's gene-seed that NEEDS recovering.

“Sire we have him! Returning to the Judgment of Sin, the rites of entombment will begin as soon as possible.” a figure clad in crimson red war plate said and picked up his fallen comrade in his armored hands.

“Affirmative apothecary. Arkangle out”.

His hearths felt heavy with mourning and a single tear made its way down his scarred check inside his helmet. Yet another fallen brother to avenge, yet another pious soul that would forever be remembered by friend and foe alike.
Some say Astartes never weeps for fallen friends, but then again few people dare to ask anyone of the Adeptus Astartes about such things. But those who called Mordred, fallen champion of the second company brother did so. A single tear was shed by one and all who held him dear.
Arkangle strode forth like a vengeful wraith, none could stay his blade nor hide from his wrath. He and the full might of the second company ripped trough the waves of syndicate troops like a predator might shred a defenseless child in the wilds of Medusa.
Once the last man fell they took stock of the situation at hand, ahead loomed a immense cathedral of truly ancient design and architecture. But it no longer served the god emperor, foul markings and totems defiled its once pristine surface and a massive banner flew from its highest point.

Selecting a combination of runes that where displayed on his wrist mounted auspex he sent a chain of simple commands, the order was sent and the signal traveled trough the darkness and past heretics to its receiver.

The baleful eyes of the assassin glimmered with barely contained hate when she read it. It would indeed be a bloody and gruesome retribution that would rain down upon the unholy dogs that dared strike a servant of the emperor! And a equally painful demise for anyone caught in her path when her chain was removed as it just had been.
Her sister too received the coded transmission and although she did not feel a white hot fury burning in her soul it would still be a pleasure to do her master this favor.

Unaware of this the fools that surrounded them kept on advancing, silent as a pair of ghosts the two dissipated into the shadows.
Let them die alone and in pain for their blind ignorance and failure to mankind. And beside, one less Inquisitor would do the universe a great service.
Gone was the mask of madness, now she revealed her true self. A finely honed weapon dedicated to the disposal of her foes.

“Shall we hunt dear sister” she asked. The reply was a mere nod from the heavily armored and armed woman walking beside her.

Bolter aimed at the darkness before them and with zeal in their hearths they moved at great speed. One was like a nimble shadow, one was like a charging Ork. Tall and built like a tank and armed to the teeth.

The first to feel their bite was a lone heretic who had become lost in the depths, she turned to see a dark form appeared only for a armored hand to grip her throat and crush it like a bug. As she fell down choking to death a heavy booth stomped hard on her head and crushed it like a overripe fruit underfoot.



Valeria fired a long rattling burst of fragmentation shells and watched them shred the band of traitor guardsmen, a crimson cloud was what remained of them for the most part. Beside a few body parts here and there, reloading and drawing a bead on a lone gunner she fired a single shot and smiled with satisfaction as the hellfire round slammed into his head.

“Gunner down Andrea, feel free to leaned a hand” she said and fired several shots at a lumbering mutant that seemed to shrug of her shots until a lucky shot ignited the flamer strapped to his back. A massive fireball reached for the sealing and engulfed the would be pyro in a shower of fire and sparks.

Andrea pole vaulted over a tall stack of pipes and rammed her power sword into the chest of a unlucky foe, twisting the blade she grabbed his neck and ripped the head clean of with one swipe of her clawed gauntlet.
As if dancing she hacked and ripped apart several more opponents in the space of a few seconds.
“Die you filthy dog! DIE!” she growled as a former ministerial priest swung his massive two handed chain sword at her, barely missing her long braided hair.
Skirting to one side she avoided a blow aimed at her guts and raked his face, the eyes where ruined and he dropped the weapon and screamed in agony. Not content to watch her foe scream she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed his body down upon the growling sword that churned him into a bloody ruin as he wailed.

That was the last for now, the pair regrouped and looked at each other with a crocked smile. Both had received several blows and a few cuts and bruises but noting serious, the worst was the fact that it seemed to be several factions of the filthy dogs battling each other. They had observed a band of Khorne bezerkers hack apart a large force of men clad in uniforms similar to that they knew the syndicate troops present here wore. And that alone was a bad, bad thing.
Skilled and deadly as they where both knew that such large amount of syndicate troops pointed to the fact that one or several Slaugth was present here.

Activating her vox bead she contacted the one who had been their true lord and master for many a long and bloody year.
“My lord we have cleared the sector. However we are seeing substantial amounts of traitors all around, the enemy seem to be embedded in a struggle with each other as well. And the merry band of fools are far behind us, I suspect they wills tumble upon something rather nasty soon though. Valeria out!”

A deep and thunder like voices answered her with the sounds of gunfire crackling in the background.
“Understood, well done Valeria! Move to the coordinates showing on your HUD and await further orders.”

A gripping read for both chapters, well done. What a death for the Champion, it was glorious!. I see my sisters are on fine form again, more please

Excellent new entry. Nice to see the sisters again, kicking ass and taking names.

Fun story, not much I can mention as far as characterization goes.

As for structure, you seemed to have some tense issues early on, but those went away fairly quickly. It also irked me to see the singular of "Astartes" written as "Astarte". Its just "Astartes" or "Adept Astartes" , like samurai or fish.

I'd also recommend using shorter sentences for dialogue. If it doesn't sound good in one sentence, make it two or three. Its better if it sounds like something a person would say rather than a monologue.

Thanks for the feedback, and sorry for causing irk. Will strive for more pleasing reading.

No problem. The story itself is sound, its just the little things that need work.

Well there is always room for improvement. Glad to get such honest feedback, and I must admidt, translating this story from Norwegian to English is a real pain in the hind quarters.

So Mordred's going to fight on as a Dreadnought, eh? Good stuff.

Fun update, Trondheim. A pleasure to read, as always.

A foul taste filled his mouth, looking at this cathedral dedicated to the dark gods made him almost blind with rage and grief. This affront to all he had sworn to guard would have driven a lesser being insane with all consuming hate and a lust for blood.
But he was one of the chosen few who stood against all the creatures that lurked in the dark, awaiting a chance to sink their teeth into the defenseless mortal.

Looking to his left and right he saw his fellow warriors stand ready to shed the blood of the tainted scum that opposed them. His breathing now calm as his mind he drew his sword, far above them the skies broke open for the first time in many weeks, the soothing rays of the sun washed down upon the war torn hive. Yes this would indeed be a fine day to die he mussed to himself.
“BROTHERS! ARRAYED AGAINST US STANDS THE SERVANTS OF THE DARKNESS! HOW WILL WE REPAY THEM FOR THE CRIMES THEY HAVE COMMITED?” he called out with a voice that resembling that of the crack of thunder. His comrades answered in a unison cry for vengeance “IN DEATH!” was their battle cry and answer to their lord.

Out of the massive black doors of the cathedral a great host of foes appeared, traitor Astartes and mortals rushed out to greet the loyalists who had come seeking death. Each and one felt the gaze of their dark masters upon their gore stained self. Today would be a red day, a sword day!
Of the former loyal angels of death who now marched fourth all bore the repulsing sigil of those who serve the dark prince of pleasure. Of those who served Khorne there was no trace to be found in their ranks.
Hideous mutations and outlandish trophies decorated their foul forms as they awaited the command to charge headlong onto their foes.
Leading this circus of madness and towering above the swirling mass below was a towering form, daemonic eyes gazed upon his hated nemesis, and long talons curled in loathing for such weak minded fools who choose to serve a long dead corps.
“Dispose of these ghastly intruders my dear minions” he said in a hideous voice that would have caused any sane human to curl up in seething agony. But to his followers t was as the finest music.

Dividing these two hosts was a long and wide bridge, it offered no cover for either side but none of the sides seemed to take note of this.

Standing against this sea of madness was the might of a whole company of Space Marines, clad in dark power armor and with the double headed eagle blazing on their chest, and the I of the inquisition on their left shoulder they awaited their foes with stoic calm.

Officers called out orders to those armed with ranged weapons, and those armed for close quarters combat looked to their own weapons and offered a last prayer up to the lord of mankind.
As the horde came rushing fourth a single word was spoken by a Sergeant that stood on the side of their Brother Captain.
“FIRE!”

Almost a hundred bolters accompanied by the hiss of several plasma guns filled the air. The wall of shells cut down heretics in droves but propelled both by their sheer mass and the madness that gripped their minds they did not miss a beat.
Return fire bounced of war plate and hissed past but for the most part it did not cause any serious harm. Worse was that the sheer amount of it disrupted the loyalists in their attempt at holding them of.


The foe was greeted with cold steel and iron hard resolve, the two lines struck each other like a pair of enormous creatures hammering into each other.
It was in this swirling mayhem Arkangle felt alive, he struck like a hammer at an traitor. His sword cut the man into two pieces of ruined flesh. Wheeling around he punched another with such force that the victims head was separated from his shoulders and skidded across the now bloodstained ground.

But he did not loose his understanding for the ebb and flow of a battle, knowing they could not afford to kill every heretic assembled here he looked for the fiend who lead this foul army.
But it seemed he was not alone in thinking this, as he was about to cut down a heretic a pale arch of energy roasted the man alive and sent his soul screaming into the warp.
“My lord! Go slay the one who betrayed our chapter! We will deal with these mongrels! “ the psyker said and lashed out with his sword and sent a traitor stumbling to the ground clutching his severed arm before ending his life with a jab to the throat.

Brother librarian Octavious ducked and weaved to avoid the frenzied blows from a deranged traitor marine. He brought his sword down in a sharp angle and the blade bit deep, separating limb from body and spilling blood. He gathered a fraction of his powers and channeled them into his blade and rammed into his opponent chest and unleashed a torrent of power that cooked the marine in his suit of armor.
He was by the standards of his chapter somewhat odd. His brothers for the most part stood between seven and nine feet tall. while he barely managed seven, but what he lacked in height and brute force he made up for in sheer destructive power. In addition to being one of the finest swordsmen in the chapter he was also the most gifted. And in someways cursed member of the Librarium. For his vast powers he also payed a heavy toll.
Now as he and his comrades battled the enemy he unleashed his pent up rage and frustration over this campaign and the loss of his trusted friend Mordred in a frighting display of warp powers. Lighting danced and flickered as he crushed his foes and destroyed their very souls.


In the meantime while this scene of utter carnage unfolded the two sisters came to the location they had been told to make their way to.
“Well there is groxballs worth of noting here!” said a rather frustrated Valeria and kicked a piece of pipe so hard a dent appeared on it.
Just as she had said that her sister answered her.
“Umm sis... I would not bet on that if I where you.” Andrea said with an unusual tone in her voice.

Stepping out from the shadows like ghosts troopers wearing the markings of the 134th appeared. Their leader was a tall and imposing man wearing the unmistakeable great coat of an Commissar and with steel grey hair.
He spoke with a low but very commanding voice.
“Our leader lies dead, slain by the foul traitors! Now in this hour of judgment and retribution we come to the aid of our comrades in arms.”

Valeria looked at the man she had hoped to never see again, lord commissar Augustus was a man cut from the same fabric as the late field-marshal, and that meant he intended to march straight into the jaws of the battle that raged between loyalists and traitors some distance away.
Few people made her feel nervous but he managed to make that cold shiver of fear crawl up her spine in such a way she did not dare imagine, how regular men found that old warrior.

“I bring five thousand men with me, this is the advanced guard. The rest is some way behind us. I suggest you two make yourself useful and show us where to find the enemy.” he said and drew his saber as a statement of his intent to repay the loss of the man he had almost considered a son of sorts.
“This way then gentlemen! First upcoming stop will have assorted heretics, traitor Marines and other gods. Spray and pray at your own leasure.” she said and begun to jog down the damp corridor past the silent men of the 134th who stood like wrathful statues waiting for a command to spring into life, only the red glare of their eye lenses in the signature full face mask they wore showed that one and all lived.

With these words the last and ultimately decisive battle was joined by the third and finale actor. Now it all would either survive, or come crashing down in a shower of blood and heresy here in these emperor forsaken depths.

Cool, massive brawl coming up I thought it was nicely written but, you need to have a quick read though again to fix up a few words that you didn't complete. Thats my only gripe, next chapter please.