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I seriously love your writing. You make it lifelike and it keeps me on edge for each new segment.

Good action packed stuff!

Great posts there, especially the Inquisitor's background.. it will be interesting to learn more about him & Romulus and see what crucial role they will play in the war. Keep up the good writing!

The sky was filled with the black puffs of flak fire and streaks of tracer fire as fiery comets streaked down gleaming red hot with friction. Inside one of the comets a warrior steeled himself for the coming battle, his mind at peace and his body ready for bloodshed.
He is a leader of the living gods of war and he is dressed in the uniform benefiting of his station and rank. His amour decorated with purity zeal’s and the symbol that shows that he is a crusader.
“Faith and fury brothers!” he calls to the ones following him down onto the world below. He feels their trust and loyalty as a bond that can not be broken by blade or shot.
Then the pod slams into the ground and the doors are blasted of with great force, his brothers spill out like a power armored avalanche and hit the reeling enemy like a great hammer striking a anvil.

He vaults over a trench line and swings his hungry blade at the first heretic to bar his way, the man is cut in twain and his bloodied remains falls down onto the bloodstained soil. But the lesser rabble is not his main priority, not that of his brothers. The ones they have come to slay are the walking horrors clad in millennia old suits of amour so heavy that his own suit of war plate almost pales in comparison.
His brothers advance in a steady line with bolters and growling chain sword cutting a bloodied and direct path towards the arch traitors. He sees the surviving guardsmen around him rally and find new courage to hurl themselves at the enemy with a righteous anger.
He fired a series of shots from his plasma pistol and ended the lives of enemy troops swarming around a few cut of and surrounded guardsmen fighting on no matter the odds. The blue bolts of energy slammed into the foul traitors and left their bodies burnt by searing fire.

Then he reached the first arch heretic, a towering foe armed with a great axe that seemed to shimmer with energy and a daemon shaped wrist mounted storm bolter. The brute turned to see the loyalist whelp coming at him with a gleaming sword raised to strike and a storm shield at his side.
The veteran traitor marine raised his axe in a guard position and with a lumbering pace he moved to end him. His wrist mounted gun spat shells infused with foul energies that slammed into the shield of passed by with mere inches, then the two crashed together in a shower of sparks and groaning metal.
Blows that would have buckled steel and crushed bone where exchanged between the two as the battle raged on around them, the first strike to connect was a hammering backhanded blow from the Chaos terminator. It made the shield held by the loyalist shatter in a shower of sparks and ruined metal that showered both of them.
Then a lunge from the brother captain severed one of the great tusks that jutted from the helmet of the towering brute, this made the beast growl in rage and with a deep animalistic snarl he redoubled his effort in laying the upstart low at his feet.
The brother captain avoided many of the brutal strikes from his foe but some he felt as they hammered into him. Knowing time was not on his side he gripped the blade he wielded and as the foe raised his massive axe he struck. The blade reflected the sun around them before it slammed into the eye socket of his enemy and sunk deep into the skull beneath. The sickening crunch of bone and the sharp sound of metal splintering followed as the powerful serpent like strike punched right trough the helmet and the gore stained blade excited the skull.
His foe slumped down with a low guttural gurgle and the blade was ripped free with a strong pull from the wielder.
He hefted the blade and turned to face a new foe when a powerful strike sent him flying like a rag doll. He felt the force of the blow and the sharp jab f pain in his left side as he slammed down into the mud. Looking up he saw a immense figure looming of the slain traitor he had just layed low.
The monster now looking down at him seemed to simmer with pent up anger as it came for him, the ponderous steps it took seemed to make the very ground tremble under its armoured boots,.
It was then the stricken brother captain noticed the markings on the left pauldron of his new opponent. The markings where that of a leader of these devils and the gleaming steel toned skull showed him to be a member of the inner circle of whoever commanded this foul band of warriors.
Getting to his feet and not relaxing the grip on his blade he snapped up his plasma pistol and fired a series of pale bolts of energy that hammered into his foe, but much to his dismay the bolts seemed to simply splash of harmlessly against the chest of his foe.
Speaking with a voice that revealed countless years spent spreading the will of the dark gods the heretic addressed his new found prey.
“Time to die corps worshiper! The time of your death comes!” and then the first blow came.
A sweeping strike from the massive mace lead the way as the fiend begun hi offensive, each blow that followed was more than enough to kill the brother captain. But it was the sheer bulk of his attacker that saved him, it gave him a split second to react when he saw the blows coming.
Dodging and making attacks of his own he seemed to dance a macabre dance with his once loyal brother.

Around the pair the other participants in the battle fought on with undiminished fury both divine and unholy.
The Ragnarokian troops found themselves very hard pressed by the veteran enemy units that had been sent forwards to reinforce the lines when the attack had begun. These zealots where in equal measures skilled at arms and almost suicidal in their attacks. They hurled themselves into the fray with las rifle and steel leading the way.
Many Imperial soldiers where cut down or disemboweled by these madmen clad in scarlet red uniforms with the gaping drake maw that had once been the well known and respected banner of their regiment.
Both storm trooper and grenadier found himself hurled into a mad frenzy as more and more troops from both sides where poured into the battle. But as these events unfolded further down the lines a phalanx of steel and flesh had smashed the rebel line and where now advancing at good speed up along the corridor created by their attack.
These warriors where the mailed fist of the Skiitari troops sent into battle alongside the guard, and with them came the Nemedian rough riders who also had managed to preform their goals and now where lending aid to their comrades in arms.

The leader of the Skiitari troops was a massive figure, standing as tall if not taller than a space marine and armed with weapons that could strike down any foe he too was clad in red, and with the half skull of the Mechanicus emblazoned upon his back and chest.
One hand gripped a long shafted halberd and the other formed a iron hard fist that ended in a wrist mounted and belt fed bolter. Speaking in binary he gave his underlings orders at a very rapid rate as he sprayed a rag tag band of militia troops with bolter fire. The men where shredded by the explosive bolts that detonated in their bodies and in the air around them.
Tribune watched as a pack of the almost feral humans mounted on their massive war beasts tore into a host of screaming slaves leaving noting but gore and a fine red mist in their wake. The info feed that his augmentative eye implants showed him that they where a unit belonging to the Nemedian regiments, and thus friendly forces. As he drew back his weapon and let it fall yet again spilling more heretic blood a message from the high command appeared before his eyes.
+++++Vox operative. Transmission incoming! Standby to receive.+++++++
++ Move with all haste and assist Adeptus Astartes strike team. After completion move to secure Manofactorum complex Ajaksis objective!++
+++++ Transmission ending.+++++
The mountain of steel and red cloth turned his partially metal clad head and glared at the complex that his eyes could pick out in the distance. As he did a series of auto gun sluggs pinged of his chest making him loose hos focus as the systems built into his gun arm let of a few long rattling bursts of shells. His audio detectors registered the screams of the dying victims of the shots that had been fired.
His warriors advanced in a phalanx like style, with their weapons forming a almost unbreakable wall of death.
But the return fire from the servants of darkness still took their toll, he saw a Skitarii take a auto cannon shell directly to the chest and being reduced to scrap. Another one was swarmed and pulled down under a seething throng of cultists while his brothers and him attempted to clear a large bunker.
But to these men made machines death did not matter, only the glory of the machine god and the will of their lord and master meant something. So if death took them all so be it.
Tribune swung his halberd down hard and impaled a wounded man,ending his torment.
As he and his brothers in arms reached the top of the hill they had been assaulting and looked down they could see the forces of the guard and the black clad forms of the Astartes and the pale figures of the arch traitors they where clashing with.
Ordering a rapid advance and the rear elements to make full use of their available armaments the Tribune and his warriors began a thundering charge down the hill and into the maelstrom that awaited them down below.

While the forces of the Mechanicus began a new assault to reach their Imperial comrades a duel that shook the earth and made mortals scramble to get clear unfolded.
Brother Captain Romulus slammed his sword with all the strength he could put behind the blow against the traitor he was facing of against. His foe blocked the bone jarring strike with his mace and re payed him with a blow from his armored fist. Both had lost their side arm in the swirling battle and none of them paused to look for it either.
The Terminator champion was a soul hardened by countless wars and the dark glory bestowed upon him by the dark deities he fought and bleed for. His foe on the other hand was a walking avatar of the will of man and the eternal legacy of the emperor who sat on distant Terra, bestowed with the finest weapons and amour made by mankind he stood against the forces of darkness.
But the loyalist knew he was in a dire situation now, his shield broken and his armour badly mangled by the brutal blows from his foe, it needed to end soon or he would lay there dead and broken. His brothers had hit the other arch traitors with fury divine and taken a great toll of them, but so had the enemy. Six of his kin lay dead and many others had been wounded although emperor be thanked not life threatening.

Then the blow that he had been trying to avoid connected and the brother captain fell hard, his armour damaged so much that it barely functioned and his helmet ruined he struggled to rise but he could not mutter the strength he realized and slumped down. As he lay there and watched his foe raise his weapon to deliver the killing blow he made his peace with the father of mankind and closed his eyes. But the blow never came. Instead he heard the distinct hiss of hell gun fire and the whoosh of one or more melta guns followed by a inhumane scream of anger and disbelief, the heretic howled as more beams of light hammered into his broken form. Then a finale melta gun shot ended his heresy. Then the sound of running feet and the shouts of someone coming closer to him, then several figures came into view clad in the uniforms of a regiment he knew very well. Ragnarokians clearly did not suffer arch traitors to live either. Beside the mortals came his veteran sergeant with armour dented and gore stained. The stern warrior walked with a limp and held his chain sword in his free hand.
Extending his arm he pulled the downed brother captain up and looked him over with eyes concealed behind a helmet.
“My lord, your wounds and amour require attention. Shall I signal for a gunship to collect you?”

“Yes do so sergeant if the air is safe that is. You can oversee the remaining operations ground side until further noticed. But see to that our dead and wounded brothers are seen to first.”

Sorry I haven't commented in a while, I haven't been on dakka for a week, and I've missed so much!

great new entries and thanks for the Inquisitor entry, I needed it.

the only critical point I have to say is could you correct this sentence please - “So it dose indeed seem, so it seem.” - because I have no fething idea what you said mate. cheers.

Nicely written. My only complaint is that the tense occasionally changes. "The sky was filled" should be, "The sky is filled." Other than that, its good.

While the Emperors chosen sons and their fallen brothers clashed on the surface, a darker breed of men dwelt in the depths below
The rusted blades had suffered very heavy losses in the time they had been down in the hearth of darkness and waging their own brutal form of warfare. But their losses where always replaced and the lack of condemned souls was never a issue their leaders had to contented with. With knives, las guns and flamers they had burnt and shot their way trough the seething masses of mutants and rebel troops opposing their slow crawl forwards.
But now the last enemy lay dead, at least for the moment and the finale piece in the plans layed by their leaders was about to be layed. Countless tons of explosives had been placed and prepared to collapse tunnels, ruin supplies of materials needed by the enemy and to sow disorder and chaos in the ranks of the heretics.

Tobin and Mongrel sat on a pair of empty fuel barrels and looked with utter disapproval upon the food in their ration tin cups. The food itself was seldom fine dining but this time it seemed the person who had made the stomach churning gruel had committed suicide by falling into the pot by the smell of it. It was a scarlet red porridge like substance that reeked of conservatives and years spent in storage.
“Oh this bloody dose it! Id rather eat my own underwear that to let one bit of this...thing pass my lips.” Tobin said and tossed his portion away and drew a canteen bottle from his webbing and undid the top. He took a long swig and offered the bottle to Mongrel who looked like he was considering murdering the cook. Much could be said about the man, and he had very, very moral standards but food that did not look like a frakked commissar was definitively one of his lesser known demands in the day to day existences they lead.
“I do hope the fool who made this almost sentient mess is dead by now, if not I will make him eat his own liver” the thin man said and adjusted his shades as he rose to his feet.
“Where you headed?” asked the other man who looked with calm eyes at his friend.

“I am intending to visit Eva, she seemed sad when I saw her a few hours ago. Beside I miss her smell.” he said and slipped of into the gloom of the tunnels that served as a sanctuary for the rusted blades as they awaited the signal to detonate the charges they had laid. The sounds of men preparing for the last charge in this phase of their war could be heard around the now solitary commander of the rusted blades.
He often wondered what that girl saw in the man that was his second in command,it was certainly not his caring nature or gentle hearth he had long ago decided on. But then again he sometimes showed affection in a way Tobin never knew the man to have the means to do. Deciding that the issues of displaying emotions and the hidden emotional nature of his officers where a subject best not thought about he produced a Ilho stick and light it while sipping the harsh liquid from his canteen.

The pale shadow walked silently trough the tunnel leading to where he knew Eva had made her resting place, in his tormented mind he envisioned her as his saving angel. The one who absolved him of sins of ages past. The image of her played on his retina as he rounded the last bend and saw her. She was sitting in the shine of a light bulb and fiddled with her vox set and seemed to be having some trouble with it. But what plagued him the most was the look upon her young face.
She looked up and smiled when she saw him approach.
“Hi Mong, almost thought I had to go look for you .” she said and put the tools she was using down beside her on her bed roll.
“Glad to see you too my darling, how goes it?” the pale one asked and sat down beside her, he paused for a moment and removed the shades he wore at any time or place. This was a sign of the level of trust and love between the two, no one had survived seeing him without them until now. Well except Tobin that was.

The response took a few heartbeats for her to come up with, compared to anyone else in the battalion she looked anything like a penal trooper. Fair skin, well kept hair and kind eyes, but then again she had not found her way into the battalion as most people did. Sold into it by her unhinged step mother she was never given a chance to have a normal life before the dishonored ranks swallowed her up.
“Guess Il survive a few more days, but emperor this gloom is going to be my death.” she said in a low whisper while looking down at the toes of her boots.

“I do hope you plan on being around for more than a few days.” said Mongrel and slumped down beside her, he placed one arm around her shoulders and rested his head on them. His nose caught the smell of her hair and he savored the moment before it was lost to him.
“I would not spend to much worrying about the darkness Eva, from what I hear we are headed for the surface. Its just the matter of the last party favour so to speak. “ Mongrel said and brushed a strain of hair from her face.

“Really? Would that be the reason why the boys have been hauling explosives for a long time now?”

“Indeed my darling. It is going to be quite spectacular” said Mongrel and wiped his eyes, they always hurt but particulary so when he removed his shades. But he was willing to suffer it, looking at Eva without the dimming effect of them was worth every second of pain and discomfort.
“ You know Mong, sometimes I wonder what it would take to break free from these chains that hold us. And to be able to walk with our heads held high.”

“For that be even remotely possible Eva a miracle would need to happen, we are all dead men walking in the penal ranks, but some of do not yet realize it. Hope will only let you down and leave you feeling gutted when it dies.” he said and light himself a Ilho stick and quickly put the match out of reflex and habit. Looking at the slowly smouldering Ilho he continued to speak in a low hushed tone.
“When tomorrow comes stay near me and Tobin, it is going to be a bloodstained day, even if the charges do their work. Keep close and whatever you do, don’t do anything that will get you killed. Loosing you is something I could not live with.”
Eva knew Mongrel better than anyone who still lived, well perhaps beside Tobin. But it was rare for him to display such emotions to her. If he was worried or concerned for the coming storm with worry she knew far better than to doubt him. He had been right on too many times to dismiss, she sometimes wondered if the man she loved could read the future.
As the pair lay side by side on the ruffled trench coat and held the dreams at bay the last charges where set, and thus the count down to detonation began.

When the ones sleeping and regaining their strength for the coming assault was awoken a sombre mood had spread amongst the rusted blades. Men checked and double checked their rugged gear and watched the timers slowly count down to zero.
Platoon leaders rallied their men and instructed them in what would be their tasks as the massive charges went of and a series of massive gaps where punched in the lines of the heretics above.

Penal battalion commander Tobin and his second in command Mongrel fixed their bayonets and made sure their earplugs where ij place and that their bandoleers held enough ammo.
Then both men looked at each other and nodded. A simple phrase signaled to the pair of engineers that stood by their sides to press the detonation remote.
“Firing in ten seconds” one of the men said and flicked the protective casing on the detonator and smiled a devilish smile.

It first started as a low distant rumble but then it sounded with the force of a thousand cannons, the tunnels shook and dust fell from the roof, then a flash of light illuminated the dark maze below ground. Above ground the early morning night was made to resemble mid day by the massive balls of fire and rubble that rose into the air.
Below ground the last tremor signaled the cue for the rusted blades to spring into action, the calls of platoon leaders and the hoarse war cry of thousand of blood thirsty warriors sounded as the emerged from the massive gaping holes blown by the mines they had placed.
The enemy was in absolute disarray, their lines where missing several long pieces of trench line, gun emplacements had been reduced to rubble and scrap. While dug in amour had simply vanished. And as if that where not enough they also now where faced with a foe who poured out into their lines howling like mad dogs and baying for their blood.
So it was that outside the now weakened and partially ruined walls of the hive city that the men and women of the rusted blades came to grips with the ones who had been spreading their heresy top side.

Leading from the front as always Tobin was amongst the first to step into the day, and even his hardened mind was taken back by the sheer destruction wrought upon the enemy. But it did not distract him.
“First to fifteenth platoon head for the left, burn and knife anything that still lives! No prisoners! The rest of you lot are to push forwards and distract the enemy for long enough to allow the other Imperial forces to make their advance.”
as he said this he fired several shots at a group of enemy troopers shambling out of from what remained of a partially ruined bunker, the men where in no shape to fight back with ruined eardrums and many bleeding wounds. But he cut them down like a farmer cutting down the wheat come harvest. One man fell screaming as he saw his comrades die, he seemed to beg for mercy until a penal legionary rammed his bayonet into the chest of the man, ending his life.
The whoosh of flamers and muffled thuds as grenades where tossed into bunkers sounded all around him, the rusted blades had the enemy laying low now. And they would take great pride in tormenting the dying foe before its last breath where taken.

But even in this ruined state the enemy proved to have kept their fangs, soon enough fire from the enemy began to take their toll. Men where reduced to a fine red mist as mortar rounds blew them apart in a shower of shrapnel and fire while heavy bolters barked and scythed down those who dared to advance over the ground the guns guarded. But ever true to their almost suicidal ways the men never stopped to pause, in countless waves their hurled themselves at the foe and dragged him down screaming with their bloodied hands and knifes.
Such where the nature of the penal troops, where only death brings redemption and a promise of salvation for the wayward souls condemned to such service as they.

None interested in reading?

The first sentence is awkward, so that might turn readers off. "While the Emperors chosen sons and their fallen brothers clashed on the surface someone far less honoured and respected waited in the darkness below" might read better as "While the Emperors chosen sons and their fallen brothers clashed on the surface, a darker breed of men dwelt in the depths below." An awkward first sentence, even when the rest of the story is good, can cost a writer a lot of readers.

Also, sometimes the dialogue is a little stilted, but considering you don't live in an English-speaking country, that's fine. Even native English authors can have a hard time with dialogue.

That said, I really like the new entry. It captures the miserable and hopeless lives of penal soldiers well. The 13th paragraph (I think) where you describe the explosion and the call to warfare is nicely done. Its one of those scenes you can clearly see in your head.

Looking forward to the next entry.

Thank you for the honest feedback, it really helps me progress as a author. I can not thank you enough LL

I really like the atmosphere (and the idea!) of the underground war. You've made it very easy to picture in my head.

Your writing is very good, and keeps me interlocked with the story. You also paint a good picture.

A couple of real standout sentences from that last update, for different reasons.

The first was the line about the person making the gruel committing suicide by falling into it - that one made me giggle.

The second was the line about hope: 'hope will only let you down and leave you gutted when it dies'.

That's a damn nice turn of phrase.

Oh, and for some reason Mongrel is reminding me more and more of Vin Diesel from Pitch Black.

I do like this penal legion stuff - keep it coming.

Wow these rusted blades are really coming along nicely. And the flow of the story is spot on, plus nice descriptions as always. You make it very easy to picture the landscape with it's sights and smells.

The massive doors slid open and the Inquisitor walked in flanked by two Inquisitorial storm troopers. His face was a mask of worry and concern, the news that had filtered back to him was not good. It was bad enough that the ruling elite of a system had thrown their lot in with the dark gods, but that in this very moment traitor Astartes lurked out in the waiting darkness was news most unwanted. And now the loyalist marines who had clashed with them returned with several of their own fallen and several more wounded.
He had witnessed the arrival of the massive gunship that had carried both the living and the dead, and he had seen the unmasked rage on the face of their commander. While Romulus was a stoic warrior he was also a member of a chapter who viewed the universe with hate filled eyes. To them almost anyone was noting more than a tool to be used to further their own agenda and holy crusade towards the arch enemy, it made his hearth sag with something resembling pity for such warriors that had for aeons stood eternally guard over mankind to end up as such cold and uncaring machine like forms of life.
Snapping back to the moment at hand he looked upon the scene before him. Kneeling in the shrine to the emperor was the one he had come to see.
The figure was clad in dark robes with the two headed eagle displayed across his back, it was clear the warrior was deep in prayer as he knelt before the great altar. His mangled war plate had been removed by Tech priests and servitors and his sword that had struck down his foes had been sent to the armoury for repairs and sanctioning.
When he rose his eyes that had been before his meeting with the traitors filled with something resembling warmth or maybe compassion was now filled with a icy hatred. In fact his whole demeanor had changed in those fateful hours on the world below.
” My pardons for disturbing you Romulus but I have news you may wish to hear. If you are done with your praying that is” the old man said and leaned on his ivory cane while his two aids maintained their stoic watch over him.

“No pardons required Inquisitor. The dead have been honored and the living will avenge them. And what news is this you speak of?”

“ Two standard hours ago a message from the Chapter command of the Death hands was delivered to me by a Imperial Navy contact I have, a strike cruiser is making for this system as we speak. It carries more of your brothers and a few party favours so to speak. They will be arriving within a week at most.”
Pausing to wipe away sweat from his face and gripping the cane harder he continued.

“Let the guard pound the enemy into bloody submission. For you and your remaining brothers who are fit for battle I have a task only you are fit to handle. On the northern pole of the world below there lies a old research facility, it has been abandoned by both loyalists and traitors due to some unknown cause. I have a tingling sensation whatever is down there may prove to be useful. In this matter I would prefer if you where to handle it. I will make sure you have some guard support just to provide a buffer if things goes sourly.”

To these words the angel of death did not react, at least not in a visible way. But in his mind the wheels had already begun to turn, such places as the one the old man had mentioned seldom became abandoned just because of the weather. No he suspected something far, far worse than that when even the arch enemy steered clear of the place.
“Understood Inquisitor, and if you intend to come along may I suggest bringing something else than a cane to ward of whatever lurks down there. I would hate to have you eaten or maimed by some unknown horror.”
the old man smiled a devilish grin and laughed at these words. He had indeed something to keep the potential minions of darkness at bay. For he knew what lurked it the depths of the ship he stood abroad was the stuff most evil men had nightmares about, terror as a tool and weapon was not lost to him either
The three humans left the lone angel to summon his brothers, and plan the coming mission they would undertake.
In his head the angel pondered the reaction the old man had given to his last words, it sometimes felt like he was crossing mental blades with a mind so devious it could almost rival that of a Eldar witch or those who served the dark gods.

But his train of thought was interrupted when the first of his brothers joined him, the sound of the staff his brother carried thumping the floor as he walked forwards echoed in the shrine.
To him as a leader of these angels serving the holy Inquisition the skills of a liberian was of great use, and it allowed him the luxury of having someone who could counter the wicked ways of the foes they faced too. While both sword and bolter wrecked havoc amongst the enemy the sheer destructive power his brother gifted with the powers of a psyker wielded was unrivaled.
The pale features of the librarian set against his ash grey amour made him resemble a walking embodiment of some primeval ash creature.
“You called and I felt it wise to come to hear you out” the psyker said and grinned at his comrade in arms.

“I felt you watching us brother, however it seems the good Inquisitor did not. At least he did not show it.”

“Oh he knew Romulus, he knew. His mind is like a great fortress, probing his mind would prove to be unhealthy I believe. Do not take him for a regular human Brother Captain.”

“Thank you for the advice but I do not, he is as many others of his kin. Filled with more deceptions and plans hidden within plans than I care to think about.”
Then once again the brass inlaid doors slid open and the remaining Astartes who was fit for duty walked in in a solemn procession, and the planning begun in earnest.

While the marines planned their own ends of the task at hand the Inquisitor walked down the gloomy halls of the ship he had called home for so long. His ever present attendants remained a few steps behind keeping their vigil over him.
In his mind he went over the few scarps of information he had dug up on what awaited him and his followers in that place of cold and darkness, he knew he would need to requisition more bodies to help in the search. Stopping he pressed his vox he spoke to one of his acolytes.
“Get me the headquarters of the Ragnarokian regiments, I believe I need to talk with their commander about loaning some of his men.”
“Understood my lord.” came the answer from the man on the other end of the line.

As the next day began several transports lifted clear of the rough landing pads behind the lines of the Ragnarokian lines, in the transport holds sat men and women from the Ragnarokian storm trooper regiment.
One and all of them where ragged and weary from several long and bloody days at the front, but their fighting spirit remained strong and hard as steel. In one of the holds sat Major Helena Stroud and pondered what awaited them, the message from the top brass had been delivered by the man himself, accompanied by that old hound of a Commissar lord.
It was clear from that point on that whatever fresh hell awaited them was not the the average special assignment. Then it was the unsaid things too she decided and tucked the briefing envelope away under her seat as the transport climbed into the cold embrace of space while the ship was shaken by turbulence and the other things that made flying downright unpleasant by her standards. Somewhere behind her she heard a trooper vomit violently and his comrades beside him cursing the hapless fool who happened to be somewhat sensitive to flying in a old rust bucket like this.

As the transports drew closer to their destination the pilots began to slow down their ships, and informed the cargo they where hauling to get ready for to land in a few minutes. Then with a landing that made the vessel rattle and shake the sensation of movement ended, and the harnesses on the seats the storm troopers had been seated in where deactivated and allowed the troops to get to their feet.
When the doors in the cargo bays slid open the troops filtered out and mustered into their respective squads while standing to attention.
What meet their eyes however would have made anyone of them gulp for air, or mutter a prayer to the Emperor at least.
For there stood the very avatars of the wrath of man that had waged war beside them not long ago. The angels of death stood silently and watched the two hundred or so storm troopers presenting a unified front.
And beside these warriors stood a group of men and women clad in a assortment of gear and cloth alongside a old man that leaned on a cane.
Major Helena was about to walk over to the man and present herself and her troops when a realization hit her, that old and somewhat frail looking man could only be one thing. An Inquisitor and one who seemed to have seen a fair bit of action in years past by his ragged looks.
It was the old man who broke the silence that now reigned in the landing bay.
“Welcome abroad my humble ship Major Helena. I am Inquisitor Dorian of the holy Inquisition, these men and women beside me are my acolytes and savants. While the power armored figures behind me are Space Marines of the Death hands chapter.”
As he spoke he seemed to suffer a seizure of sorts and where stopped from falling by a massive Marine who gripped him with a gauntleted hand. Using a few moments to regain his posture and usher his acolytes away from him he continued to speak with a now somewhat shaking voice.

“Sorry for that major, age is not exactly a pleasant thing. You have been summoned here to provide myself and the gentlemen you see behind me with some much needed bodily support. You will be briefed by my savants in one hour or so. Leave any requests for additional weapons and gear with them when they are done.”

“Understood Inquisitor. We only need to refit and rearm before we can hit the dirt.” the major said before rejoining her own men.
The old man nodded seemingly pleased with her and her service record she knew he must have read. Few where those that where selected to assist the Inquisition, and ever less where the numbers of those who got to fight beside Astartes twice in a short amount of time. Yes this could definitely help her get the golden braids she was aiming for. But she knew enough about these things to keep a cool head and making sure to not ask any questions that should not be asked.
While the storm troopers made their preparations for the coming mission they where being watched. Hidden in the shadows stood a slender figure clad in a suit of customized carapace amour, her long slender hands ended in gauntleted hands with fingers that ended in sharp talon like claws. Her face ruined by a las shot and one ear was missing. She was the hidden tool and she served her master onto death. Her eyes was a abyss of madness and other less savory thoughts but it had not always been so, one she had been beautiful and free and with a sister whom she had loved until the day she died. Then it all ended in flames and nightmares. Then her savior found her.
Her moment of observation was interrupted by a faint cough behind her, turning her bald head she saw him.
“So out watching the new arrivals are you?” the old man said with a faint smile on his face.

“Observing not watching. They seem capable my lord” the assassin said and seemed unsure what to do with her free hands. They came to rest on the hilt of the twin power swords she always carried.”


“Well yes I think they will play their part well enough. However I have other uses for you than watching Guardsmen, seek out the leaders of the rebellion and stalk them! Make them jump at the shadows that surrounds them until the order to strike comes! You leave at once”

“Any particular form of terror you desire sown my lord?”

“None in particular, but I will leave the creative thinking to you.”
Nodding in silent acceptance the assassin left him standing there, he looked after her as she emerged from the shadows and stalked down the halls like a hungry beast hunting its prey. He knew she would preform well, she never failed her appointed tasks. She was his most prized tool, even more prized than the Astartes that had sworn to serve him.

The flight of thunder hawks screamed down towards the snow and ice dotted pole cap, aboard the massive ships where the strike teams that would search and evaluate the potential prizes hidden within its massive walls.
In the lead ship where the marines under the command of brother captain Romulus sat silent in their harnesses, utter silence reigned amongst them, the only sounds was those coming from the cockpit where the two tech marines piloting the ship exchanged information and weather patterns as their craft descended down trough the drifting snow.
Then the weather cleared up for a moment and they could see their destination, a slab of reinforced concert and steel placed in a massive snow covered wilderness.
“ We are here my lord! Landing in ten standard seconds. All other flight elements hold position and secure surrounding airspace” the senior tech marine said over the crackling vox net.

“Understood brother tech marine! Ultima and Garraia squad will secure the landing pad and sweep for any intimidate treats. Orion squad and myself will head for the facility.” the firm voice of their leader said as he undid the harness and rose from his seat. Around his brothers did the same and rose almost in unison with weapons ready.
Then came the signal lamp above the landing ramp turned to green and the two squads ordered to secure the land pad swarmed out, fanning out they swept rapidly forwards and kept their bolters trained on anything suspicious, then Orion squad jumped from the hovering gun ship and began to head for the central building of the compound.
Romulus felt the snow and ice crunch under his armored boots as he and his brothers jogged towards the towering central building.
They reached the doors who had been partially covered by snow drifts and a thick sheath of ice. It was clear both heat and regular use of this door had been a long time gone.
They smashed the ice with their fists and the snow was left where it lay, hammering in the access code Romulus felt a cautious tingle in the back of his mind. Then the doors opened and a gush of cold stale air rushed out kicking up snow as it did. The air that gushed out stank of dust, decay and something rotting somewhere in the darkness. Taking one cautions step he and his brothers entered the abandoned place that lay there waiting for them. As he did he raised the two other squads searching the outside.

“Ultima and Garria! Report “ the brother captain said and awaited the replies from his brothers.
“Ultima lead here sire. Noting to report except frozen corpses and ruined machinery.”
“Garria lead responding sir. No signs of life at this moment but will continue sweep!”

“Understood brothers, well done and keep up your vigil. I will signal the Inquisitor that its safe to land.”
pressing a rune on the wrist of his armour the captain sent a signal to the other thunder hawks that it was safe to land.

The massive ships came into view in the drifting snow as Ultima squad stood guard as they landed, as they did the landing ramps slammed down and the storm troopers of the 134th poured out ready for action. Clad in white camo gear and armed with hell guns and plasma weapons they joined the Astartes in their search of the perimeter.
Major Helena walked down the ramp beside her second in command and the Inquisitor who had requested that she waited for him.

The old man was wrapped in a heavy fur coat and seemed to relish the cold air and drifting snow for some reason lost to Helena. She hated cold weather and she hated snow, it seldom brought good news with it had she experienced several times on many different worlds.
But her thoughts where interrupted when the vox channel crackled to life and the harsh voice of the one commanding the space marines sounded.
“My lord Inquisitor we have forced entry into the complex, no signs of enemy or friendly activity for quite some time. So far you seem to be correct.”

“Ah good to hear Romulus, hold your position and have your brothers join you. When ready I want you to press forwards and locate the generator room that should be somewhere on the level you are now on.”

“Understood sire, will begin search soon.”

after this brief conversation with the massive warrior that was somewhere ahead of them the old man turned to Helena and spoke in a firm voice.
“Major I want you and your men to join the Astartes as they search the complex but leave enough men top side to guard the entry point. And by all things holy do NOT allow any of your men to wander of alone........Emperor knows what is lurking around this forsaken place!” he finished and walked with a slight limp after his acolytes and savants with his two closest attendants shadowing him as they always did.
She swallowed hard and then turned to her second in command and instructed the man to recall any teams that was at any great distance from the point they would use as an entrance.
She was by no means superstitions of afraid of the things that lurked in the darkness, but she knew nightmares lurked around every bend in the war and horror filled galaxy she lived in. caution always payed was her experience when dealing with places like this.
The troopers advanced in a loose formation and with their guns trained on the towers, ruined structures and broken machinery that littered the approach to the massive tower that was by all accounts the main building. They reached the massive blast doors and stepped into the gloom that awaited them.
As the marines advanced in utter silence and moving like great armored ghosts they begun to come across heaps of partially decayed corpses and heaps of spent shell casings, it was clear to them then that a fight had raged here. But against what or whom was unclear, some of the dead seemed to have been sliced with massive blades while others had been ruined by powerful weaponry. Many walls also sported deep marks left by the same guns that had scythed down the ones that had died here.
Brother Captain Romulus drew his sword as he and his brothers stepped inside a massive domed hall, his mind tingled with the sensation he always seemed to get before a enemy jumped out from the darkness to hurl themselves at him.
“Make ready brothers! I believe we will soon meet the ones who cut these wrenches down.”
He said as he drew his sword and pressed its activation rune. Then the silence that reigned in the silent hallways where broken by the distinct sound of hell guns and plasma weapons being fired and the loud howls of something not of this world and that of growling chain swords.

Major Helena did not let go of the trigger on her weapon as she fired on full auto at the howling monster that had just ripped her second in command into a fine red mist.
The beast stood on two cloven feet and its skin glowed with a deep reddish tint and its massive clawed hands gripped a blade that would have been hard for a human to even lift, let alone swing with any efficiency.
The horror and its kin had fallen upon her men and her as they had opened a sealed of blast door to investigate what lay behind it.
In the time it took a normal human to count to a hundred some fifty guardsmen where hacked to pieces or reduced a thin red mist by heavy calibre rounds that detonated inside their bodies.
One unlucky man was picked up and pulled apart by a enormous figure with long sharp metal claws emitting from his gauntlets, in these horrid moments it became clear who had made the rebel forces and loyalists alike abandoned this place. The most capable servants of the dark gods and their daemonic allies had seen to it.
The surviving storm troopers to their credit put up a fierce fight and the enemy payed a heavy toll as they charged trough the hailstorm of fire from the troops. But it was all to be in vain, against foes that could walk between the worlds and fuelled by the raging hatred of their daemonic masters mortals had very little chance. All but a few of them died in that gore stained chamber.
She fumbled while reloading and suddenly became aware of a massive red paw coming at her at great speed. She was knocked backwards and slammed into the wall with a loud thud, the air was knocked out of her and she felt a sharp pain in her left hand.
Then as she tried to get up and her still working hand fumbled with her side arm, a armoured hand grabbed her and hauled her up and held her in a iron hard grip while whomever hab grabbed her called out in a harsh metallic voice while the sound of guns and the whoosh of a flamer joined the choir of screams and sounds of flesh being ripped and bone broken.

Managing to look to her side she saw that the one holding her was a figure clad in crimson red power armour and with a helmet forged to resemble a leering daemon. Its eyes glared with bale fire and unholy pieces of text hung on the massive figure who now held her in its crushing grip.
In the other hand the monster gripped a gore stained sword that was longer than herself and ended in a hilt adored with bone and eerily glowing gems of some sort.
She gasped for air and felt a trickle of something wet run down her legs and then with one causal flick of its wrist the Word Bearer snapped her neck and hurled the corps it now held in one hand casually to the floor.
“My lord all the loyalist scum are slain except for a few that slipped our grasp, shall we run them down like the whore sons they are?! The bearer of the word asked over the vox link he used.

“No let them run, it matters not. Proceed with your mission zealot!”

 Trondheim wrote:
The massive doors slid open and the Inquisitor walked in flanked by two Inquisitorial storm troopers. His face was a mask of worry and concern, the news that had filtered back to him was not good. It was bad enough that the ruling elite of a system had thrown their lot in with the dark gods, but that in this very moment traitor Astartes lurked out in the waiting darkness was news most unwanted. And now the loyalist marines who had clashed with them returned with several of their own fallen and several more wounded.

His mangled war plate had been removed by Tech priests and servitors and his sword that had struck down his foes had been sent to the armoury for repairs and sanctioning.

Just a few things I see, bolded. In the first, it seems like you are dumming down the true capacity of what the ruling elite have done by saying

it was bad enough...but I'd of said something like. The rushing waves of dread caused by the high castes treachery was quickly overshadowed when hell had come in the form of Traitor Astartes... I'm not sure if this was purposely written as such, but just my two cents. Also for the second bolded you said sanctioning do you mean sanctification? Because the way it reads, you're saying his sword needed repairs and then needs to be judged on usage still for its bearer. Unless you meant sanctification, where it'd need repairs and then the mystical rites associated in the 40k universe in regards to IoM weapons and all.

Now let me get back to reading.

 Trondheim wrote:


Major Helena did not let go of the trigger on her weapon as she fired on full auto at the howling monster that had just ripped her second in command into a fine red mist.
The beast stood on two cloven feet and its skin glowed with a deep reddish tint and its massive clawed hands gripped a blade that would have been hard for a human to even lift, let alone swing with any efficiency.
The horror and its kin had fallen upon her men and her as they had opened a sealed of blast door to investigate what lay behind it.
In the space of a few seconds the beasts had murdered almost fifty men and hacked down one of the acolytes who had distracted one of them with a series of melta gun shots. Now they came for those who still lived with a unholy thirst for blood.
The surviving storm troopers to their credit put up a fierce fight and the enemy payed a heavy toll as they charged trough the hailstorm of fire from the troops. But it was all to be in vain, against foes that could walk between the worlds and fuelled by the raging hatred of their daemonic masters mortals had very little chance. All but a few of them died in that gore stained chamber.
She fumbled while reloading and suddenly became aware of a massive red paw coming at her at great speed. She was knocked backwards and slammed into the wall with a loud thud, the air was knocked out of her and she felt a sharp pain in her left hand.
Then as she tried to get up and her still working hand fumbled with her side arm, a armored hand grabbed her and hauled her up and held her in a iron hard grip while whomever hab grabbed her snarled with a harsh metallic voice while the sound of guns and the whoosh of a flamer joined the choir of screams and sounds of flesh being ripped and bone broken.

Managing to look to her side she saw that the one holding her was a figure clad in crimson red power amour and with a helmet forged to resemble a leering daemon. Its eyes glared with bale fire and unholy pieces of text hung on the massive figure who now held her in its crushing grip.
In the other hand the monster gripped a gore stained sword that was longer than herself and ended in a hilt adored with bone and eerily glowing gems of some sort.
She gasped for air and felt a trickle of something wet run down her legs and then with one causal flick of its wrist the Word Bearer snapped her neck and hurled the corps it now held in one hand casually to the floor.
“My lord all the loyalist scum are slain except for a few that slipped our grasp, shall we run them down like the whore sons they are?! The bearer of the word asked over the vox link he used.

“No let them run, it matters not. Proceed with your mission zealot!”

And last thing here, your fight scene. all in all I enjoyed the entry as it kept me on edge. But your conflict here just didn't hit the nail on its head for me. I'd like to see more for the fight scenes. It seems you did it up in two or three paragraphs yet missed the 3-d aspect that it should have. Going longer for your fight scenes is a real benefit, rather than saying *see underlined* and ommitting the troops really playing a role in the fight, give me some detail on their deaths. Rather than, in a few seconds fifty died. Maybe add in an extra paragraph of those gaurdsmen' defiant yet futile resistance. The key is if you write it so that it grips the reader, it doesn't particulary matter how long the discription of the fight is, because it can still take place over mere seconds in the readers mind!

Wonderful addition Friend, I'm eager for more

Wow that was some read there.
Okay onto the critique. Some of your sentences seem a bit rough and could do with a polish.

Okay onto the good stuff. It was quite gripping from the off, and the addition of the elite of the Word Bearers was a nice touch.

And the death of my beloved Major was not fun , we are not amused

I look forward to more.