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Well, after posting some criticisms of other people's stories (Some founded, some not-so-founded), I decided to write my own. The funny thing is, I don't even collect marines. Despite that, I decided to create a chapter, mainly because I have a story in mind for them.

Anyway, here is my custom chapter, the Steadfast Spires.

Some stats...

Chapter Name: The Steadfast Spires

Company Number: 7 (10 Pre-destruction of Paisajus)

Chaptermaster: Lanzus (No known last name)

Colors: Maroon/red and bronze

Battle Cry: "Never retreat! Never surrender!" Despite how basic the phrase is, it's become an integral part of the Chapter's philosophy.

Chapter Symbol: A castle tower/spire with pennant

Homeworld: Paisajus (Razed by exterminates)

Geneseed: Ultramarine (Twenty Fourth Founding)

Specialty: Ground combat, prolonged struggles, forest warfare

Doctrine: A Steadfast Spire never retreats. Ever. They will never give up a campaign once it is started. Even when their bodies are unfit for combat, the Steadfast Spires will not hesitate to fight from within Dreadnought sarcophagi.

Here's a normal Marine from the chapter.

And here's a Terminator. The blue skulls and shoulder mourn the loss of the Chapter's homeworld of Paisajus, and the deaths of most of the marines in four of the companies.


And now, here's our story...

The Castle's Fall

Captain Eric Lastimar gazed out the port-window of the burning ship at his dying world. Paisajus once had been theirs, once had been beautiful. Its forests of maple and crystian oak stretched for miles and miles, on all four continents, broken up only by the occasional tower or fortress of ages long past. The woods had once been home to camps filled to the brim with recruits and green candidates for the Astartes program. The trees had held many things; dread, excitement, ambition, and the sweat of the new Space Marines. Now… Lastimar turned away from the blackened world, and his eyes began to tear up. Unbelievable that such a thing could happen to a seasoned warrior, he thought, and he tried to resist unsuccessfully.

"It's quite the sordid sight, eh?" said a large figure nearby. Chaptermaster Lanzus was only recognizable by his deep voice under his titanic maroon suit of Terminator armor, but even that seemed to quaver momentarily. The veteran put a reassuring hand on Lastimar's cauldron. "We got 'em, you know. Got every single one of those disgusting monsters of Chaos, and sent 'em back where they belong: To hell. Our brothers… They'd be proud of us. Proud of yeh." The captain nodded and tried to smile, but he soon just looked away. With a sigh and a whir of the internal machinery in his armor, Lanzus began to slowly march away to comfort more survivors of the disaster. The [Future Sight]'s war room was rife with marines filled with grief, shame, and madness. But none of them, no matter how many horrors they confronted, had committed a crime as terrible as Lastimar's.

Of course he had done the right thing. They were the Steadfast Spires, and they had not backed up, not given in. Instead of evacuating the planet, the marines fought a vicious and prolonged war across all four continents. They had lived up to their name, given to them by the Emperor. They had shown no fear. And still, they lost. Lastimar banged his gauntletted fist against the wall and muttered, "Well, not like that did us any good." Six companies were discharged to save Paisajus, and now only two returned near whole, with the newly promoted Captain Lastimar being one of the few in the third company to not have been annihilated. The world itself was never saved; the best the Steadfast Spires had managed was burning the surface of the planet into ozone, along with any citizens still not consumed by the Chaotic powers. The alternative was to have a spawning ground for the ruinous powers.

Now, Lastimar was promoted, on the order of Lanzus himself. He was captain of the new holy Third Company, formed out of the remains of the Third, Fifth, Seventh, and Tenth. The previous captain was torn to pieces by slithering terrors that burst upon him from below the earth, the chaplain had his brain vaporized by psychic energies, the scouts were hunted down through the trees by death squads of local Chaos cultists. Lastimar fought alongside corpses and against all matter of horrific aberrations and sociopathic, bloodthirsty men. But he survived. He had survived for a reason that now shook the man to the core.

He had run away.

"We're preparing to enter the warp," muttered a pale-faced Psyker on Lastimar's left, and he was promptly brought back to reality. He nodded and began walking to the barracks. Soon, he would be a captain of a newly founded company, and he could not be the captain who moped and angsted for hours on end about some reprehensible act in his past. The Steadfast Spires would continue, and Lastimar could not fail them as a captain. He would be strong.

"Well, time to see what these angels of death can muster," said Lastimar with a smile.
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"C'mon, fire, fire, fire!" The tactical squad fought furiously through the clinging vines and bushes. Bolter rounds shredded tree trunks into matchwood, but the marines still found themselves slowed. Their once-pristine reddish armor was now marred by brown muck. The green jungle pressed in on them, and it was completely unlike their homeworld; where Paisajus had been dry and tolerable, this new environment was a hot, moist, and unenviable as real estate.

A small, metallic object hurtled out of the undergrowth, and Lastimar barely had time to scream "FLASH!" and cover his eyes before a flash of light consumed their vision. For a few seconds more, there was nothing but white and a few dark spots; then it passed. When his vision cleared, Lastimar noticed that two of the new battle-brothers were out cold from the stunner, and another had his helmet off and was vomiting on his armor. "Get up, Brother Facilus, and dust that off," he said to the fallen comrade. "Everyone who's still conscious, keep going and watch out for more flashbulbs." The others saluted and began to advance once more, but their progress was still impeded by the terrain.

To his left, Lastimar saw a flash of movement. "Brother Vejazo, fire on the portside!" The veteran grunted a reply, raised his heavy bolter up to eye-level, and sprayed rounds into the trees, reducing whatever was left behind them into mush. "Good work," said the captain, but already his attention was diverted to the goal. "We've got another hundred meters until the generator! Steadfast Spires, attack!" Lastimar grabbed Facilus' shoulder and pulled the stumbling warrior forward. A blast of energy surged out from the forest and slammed into Facilus' armor, and he fell once again. By this time, only four other marines were still ready to attack. Another beam, and only three remained.

Lastimar swung his bolter around and fired in the general direction of where the attack that felled Facilus came from. There was the sound of an explosive shell ripping apart metal, and the fires in that area burned even brighter. Another stunner rolled next to the captain, and he contemptuously crushed it beneath one massive foot before it detonated. Then he advanced again, the end of his blotter roaring and smoking. A tree fell in front of his path, but the man simply charged through it. He noticed a red figure running towards him. It was one of his marines.

"What are you doing, Brother Perez?" Lastimar roared.

"Sorry Captain, but I need to find a better tactical position. It's too open up-" He was promptly interrupted.

"You are retreating then? Show some backbone, brother! The Emperor did not ever fall back!" And with that, Lastimar punched him in the helmet; he rocked back and then stared at his captain dazedly. "Well, what are you doing? Advance! Fight against the enemy!" said Lastimar, and then he was jumping over roots and firing ahead, screaming incomprehensibly in rage. Twenty meters… Ten meters… The generator was right there, all grey and boxy and coursing with arcs of power created by its holy machine spirit. Lastimar did not waste any time; he ripped the demolition charge right off his backpack and stuck it onto the metal. "Everybody, charges have been set. The defense trial is over."

And with that, the three remaining marines slowly wandered out of the jungle. Lastimar pulled of his helmet, nodded at them, and saluted. Another day of training, another series of defeats. "Brother Vejazo, Brother Perez, Brother Lenzo, you succeeded. Lenzo, clean that sword of yours, mud does not suit such a well-crafted blade." The warrior nodded solemnly and wiped his weapon on a nearby bush. "Vejazo, Lenzo, go pick up our fallen comrades. Perez, I'll need to speak to you personally." As the others melded back into the forest, Lastimar walked up to the man. Perez's head was bowed and he did not look his superior in the eye.

"Captain Lastimar, I was out of line," said Perez gravely. His voice was quiet, but it did not shake with any fear. "I am sorry I ever thought of turning back. It is unseemly of my chapter and…" He stopped. "Captain, are you laughing?" Indeed, Lastimar could not stop himself from chuckling at the seriousness of his soldier. "Did I speak out of line or-"

"No, nothing of the like. There is no need for apologies, Brother Perez," intoned Lastimar as he wiped away a tear. "You made a common mistake, one that I myself have made in the past. Retreat is indeed the rule that many chapters abide by, from our Ultramarine ancestors to even the mighty Space Wolves. But Perez, you are one of the Steadfast Spires. You know our chapter's doctrine. We are the Emperor's wall. We stop the evil by never giving an inch, never backing away." Perez's eyes widened. Lastimar gave him a pat on the back. "But look at the bright side. You were one of the three under my command who completed the exercise. Go, pray to our Father, the Emperor, and be cleansed of your brief period of cowardice. Oh, and don't forget to wipe off that" As the Perez took off and ran back to the compound, Lastimar smiled. He had been a bit harsh on his subordinate, but after what had happened in the burning of Paisajus… No, there could be no chances.

Lastimar took his time walking back. He often enjoyed the small periods of relaxation, even in the hot forest. Training on this unnamed world had been a new experience for him. The new Third Company… No, just the Third Company, was improving. Lastimar had split them up into various squads, with the marines who had the greatest records as warriors leading each as sergeants. For the first squad, Lastimar himself lead and organized. The going was slow, of course. There had been various reports of complaining or surliness, but those were natural; this company was built of the bones of four others, and not everybody was going to get along. Even in his own squad, Lastimar noticed problems, especially with Vajezo, who had apparently been rather close to the previous sergeant. As he reached the door, the captain finally came to his conclusion. After three long months of training, his men truly needed to experience the battlefield as a whole.

He had no idea just how soon that moment would come.

---------------------

Well, thoughts? Criticisms? I probably will be updating this every couple of days, so please, any reviewing will help!

Hey man, great work. I like the whole "I retreat only when my body is being carried away by my brothers" thing. This would be an intresting game tactic. Of course, they took away the whole "Chapter Traits" thing that would have made this even better... Keep writing! I'll keep up with comments.

Small update, this time. I hit a bit of a wall, and I'm working to overcome it.

A Cry for Help

Chaptermaster Lanzus slouched upon his throne in the dark command room; it was uncomfortable sitting down in his heavy and cumbersome Terminator armor, but custom required that he wear it during meetings. Across the room from him was a shimmering and wavering image of a man in a great coat. Colonel Strikida, despite his holographic figure being only eight inches tall, cut an intimidating figure that would have cowed any normal man. Any normal man, thought Lanzus lazily. The colonel's familiar sharp face and strange manner meant that Lanzus had all but grown tired of him, especially after his troops failed to prevent the fall of Paisajus. Strikida's men called him compassionate; the Steadfast Spires thought him a coward.

"Sir Lanzus, we have intercepted a message in the Paisajus system," said Strikida in a clipped voice filled with static. Sir Lanzus, the Chaptermaster reflected, what a strange title. "Our highest level psykers were able to decode it. However, the message is apparently for your eyes only, so we've sent it to you on a private channel without examining the contents. I hope you find it relevant, sir." From beneath his helmet, Lanzus rolled his eyes. He knew that they had probably already scanned the entire message for demonic influence or any other sort of problem, so the lies were tiresome. "I must be on my way. For the God Emperor, Astartes." Strikida put his hands on his chest in the symbol of the aquila, while Lanzus merely nodded.

The colonel disappeared, and another tiny figure popped up in his place. This one, however, was that of a powerful Astartes warrior, his head shaven and some dark stubble on his chin. His armor's color, white with red stripes, and the cross-shaped chapter symbol on his shoulder marked him as one of the Fire Angels, heroes from the Badab war. His helmet was off, but the man seemed unusually tense; Lanzus could see it in his shoulders and constantly shifting eyes. The marine remained silent for several seconds before beginning the message.

"Start the message. This signal is intended only for the chaptermaster of the nearest Space Marine chapter, whoever that may be. I am Paxion, captain of the Fire Angels Fifth Company. We are currently… Somewhere. We were pursuing a convoy of the ruinous powers when they entered the warp; we decided to follow their path and blow them out of the sky, which was easy enough. However, when we exited the immaterium, we could identify nothing around us, and the planet occupied by Chaos seems to be merely a supply depot. We have been forced to land planetside, as their fleet defeated our Battle-barge. Since then, we have been hiding and waging a guerilla war, but we cannot last forever. Luckily, a few days ago, several ships left the system to an unknown destination; their travel has weakened the warp and made it possible to send this message to wherever they turned up. This world is corrupted, and unsalvageable. We need an exterminatus, and, if possible, a retrieval of our company. We are reduced to only two score and thirteen, but we will still serve the Emperor at any cost!" At this, Paxion pulled out a chainsword, presumably for dramatic posing. "Death to the ruinous powers! Death to false Gods! Death to Chaos!" The captain stopped and turned to the side. Lanzus heard some quiet speech from off the visual feed, but sadly he could not discern the individual words. Finally, Paxion began speaking again.

"Thank you, brothers, for your support. We have just received a report; three of ours were killed while scouting. Their lives will not be forgotten. We have also sent a starmap of the area, for navigation purposes. This planet is not easy pickings, of course. There are currently around a dozen cruiser level vessels and a corrupted battle barge orbiting, so be prepared for combat. But this place must be destroyed, for it is a blight upon the integrity of this system, and a supplyer for heretics. Your help, or the help of whoever else can reach us, is much appreciated. May the Emperor watch over you. End message." The message fizzled out and the tiny image disappeared. Lanzus clenched his fists; the same scum who had corrupted Paisajus with their filth… Now his chapter knew where they were. With just one wave of death, they could end the influence of the ruinous powers on one world and save who-knows-how-many others. Of course, such a mission also needed a team to rescue the Fire Angels. His veterans were up to the task, but...

"I know exactly the men to handle this." Chaptermaster Lanzus grinned. This would be the perfect trial-by-fire for the new Third Company.
-----------------

"Hell?" said Lastimar, a bit taken aback. He kneeled in front of Lanzus' throne, in the dark war room of the compound. "A planet named Hell? Only the ruinous powers themselves could come up with a moniker so mediocre and foul." His chaptermaster nodded. "I'm surprised that name wasn't taken."

"Aye, Hell. It's a planet that apparently lives up to its name; the message sent by Paxion mentioned streams of hot iron and smoky factories as typical locations. Of course, you'll probably be landing some place a little bit safer. You will be accompanying a taskforce of Imperial Guard warships to take out the planet and all the ships in orbit; we, the 1st Company, will also be there, boarding the enemy capital ships. Your mission is quite simple: Retrieve the Fire Angels trapped down there fast enough that we can slag the entire surface of Hell into soup. Are you ready, Captain?" Lanzus grinned. "Because if you're not, I could always take my Termies and show them why messing with us old oaks is a very bad idea." Lastimar chuckled and stood up on his feet. He gave a thumbs-up to Lanzus, who returned the gesture.

"Well, those Chaos mongrels certainly picked the right place. My men are ready for combat, and will give no quarter. Let's see if we can give them a taste of the Spires. We shall vindicate the dead of Paisajus!"

"May they live through your deeds, Captain."

this is pretty good, have you painted any of this chapteer?

turaku wrote:this is pretty good, have you painted any of this chapteer?

Nope! I don't play Space Marines!

This is just for fun. I'll probably have them meet my Necrons some time in the future... But not soon, that's for sure. That'd be too predictable.

NEW UPDATE!

Angels in the Sky

It is said that for every hero of the Imperium on the ground, there are a thousand more who serve amongst the stars. From the smallest fighter to the largest battleship, every vessel played its part in the war above Hell. Blasts of light illuminated the inky black of space as they pierced the void shields of an Oberator class, and dozens of fighters found themselves silenced by a broadside at the same moment. In this battlefield, gravity did not govern the laws of combat; ships lay perpendicular and parallel, on the same plane or on any other. There was no order in the arrangements, no logic that any planet-bound Astartes could understand. Nothing was sacred. A defiled cruiser found itself too close to the battle-barge serving chaos; the larger ship merely plowed through its neighbor, ending the lives of all heretics onboard in a moment. At the same time, a torpedo snaked out to smash against a piece of debris, the explosion consuming any nearby small ships. A flash of light, and another cruiser fell to pieces. The Future Sight looked upon the battle as a silent and indifferent audience; it was too far away to attack reliably, but at a safe enough distance not to fear enemies. The battle-barge drifted closer to the planet, its shields nullifying all the scattered fire that came its way.

Despite the visual spectacle outside, the Space Marines of the Steadfast Spires Third Company felt no awe. That was not their war. Instead, they milled around for the next mission. The docking bay was in a state of disorder. Heavy weapons and equipment of unknown design were lugged inside maroon and bronze Thunderhawks by the mechandrites of techmarines and their blank-faced servitor retinues. The other battle brothers gave them a wide berth, for the mechanicus adepts were only too happy to give anybody who touched their equipment or distracted them from their work a piece of their mind. Facilus, who had never before had much experience with the augmented, walked straight up to the techmarine at the front of the group.

"Hey, Brother Heramien, the Captain wanted you to know that we're probably gonna need a good amount of engine oil, and a some extra bolter rounds. Also, we were wondering about whether we had any of those little Thunderhawks, the ones that-ACK!" Facilus struggled with the metal claw that squeezed his throat as the techmarine smirked. One red eye just stared, but the organic one twitched in glee. "Brother, let me go! Hey, this isn't funny!" The warrior was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, and his assailant gave a chuckle as he walked away. Facilus picked himself up groggily and backed away from Heramien's group.

There were no tanks or rhinos, as most of the Steadfast Spires eschewed their use unless the situation made them absolutely necessary; this was to be a foot-slogging affair. Instead, half a dozen slumbering mechanical giants were wheeled into the bays of a few gunships. These were the greatest heroes of the four dead companies, those who had chosen to fight even when their bodies could take no more. Now, they would destroy the foe again, as holy Dreadnoughts. They were considered the pinnacle of warriors. Consecrated incenses were burned in their path, and a red patch was sewn to the massive banner on each Dreadnought's peak, to mark another mission. Several of the flags only had one patch; these were the casualties of the war for Paisajus, and even in their sleep, the sarcophagus inhabitants dreamed of revenge against those who had burned their home.

Off to the side, worshippers prostrated themselves before a black tombstone-shaped alter inscribed with runes. Among them walked a strange black wraith, his breath echoing harshly in his skull-mask as he shouted praises to the dead and forgotten . His voice was soft like leather, yet underneath was a faint growl.

"Brethren, remember the departed. They fight even now, in eternal battle, alongside all of us. That is the fate of the just; they never stop to serve the will of man. Today, when we must face evil, remember those who stand beside you. You might not see them, but they are there. I can hear their cries, their cheers, their every utterance…" One space marine began to shake and sob, but the Chaplain silenced him with a touch of his staff. "Be happy, for this afterlife is the ultimate reward for their deeds. You too will join them, one day."

-----------------------------------------
Back in the control room, Lastimar and Lanzus stood in front of a hologram of Paxion, conversing about the retrieval.

"Chaptermaster Lanzus, we are pinned down in the city of High Worship. Outside, heretic marines gather; our intelligence reports have identified some of them: the Knights of Entropy, the Fleshrippers, the Nightkillers, and worst of all, the Black Legion." The last two words were spat out with such venom that Lastimar winced. The name of those who had once served the original sinner, Horus… They were here. It would be difficult to fight such a deadly force. "We estimate there are six score traitors at least in the city, and who knows how many more outside. How many do you number?"

"The Third Company is currently at around three quarters strength," said Lanzus. "Our best bet is a quick strike that gets you out before we get in hot water. We'll be deploying the company through Thunderhawks, while we will stay up here to board the enemies. Is there any sort of nasty surprise that the enemy has in store for them?" Paxion shook his head.

"We haven't seen any sort of anti aerial guns, but we'll tell you if they bring them out."

"Are your Thunderhawks still operational? We weren't able to detect the crashed one you mentioned earlier in our scans, nor could we find any live ones." Paxion's face hardened.

"The traitorous powers must have stolen them! Damn their hides! Emperor have mercy on the poor machine spirits within those vessels!" Lastimar nodded. He could relate; several of the chapter's Dreadnoughts and Thunderhawks had suffered similar fates, and the only mercy for them had been death.

"Captain Paxion, please remembe-" As Lanzus began to speak his request, the room suddenly shook, and the communications hologram went down. "Dammit! Paxion, do you read me? Emperor's bones, what happened to the ship?"

"The enemy battle-barge is advancing upon us," noted one of the technicians. "We've had to engage them."

"And no one told me? Well, then it's time we arranged a little present for those spawn of Horus!" He turned on the vox caster. "This is your Chaptermaster, Lanzus. All 1st Company, prepare for boarding; we're gonna take the fight to them. All 3rd Company, it's time to strap yourselves into those Thunderhawks." The Chaptermaster stomped out of the room, only stopping to yell one last comment: "Lastimar, get down there and find those men! Now!"

--------------------------------

The Thunderhawk gunship screamed through Hell's atmosphere, its bronze gilded wings shining with holy light. Winds buffeted it, yet the aircraft did not stop or slow. It tore through grey clouds, pointed like an arrow towards the smokey, dead surface of the world. Inside, Lastimar sat with his troops and chatted.

"Brother Lenzo, I see you took your blade. Hoping to cut a few heads, eh?" Lenzo nodded silently. "So, where'd you get that sword anyway? It's truly a work of art." Lastimar smiled. "Did you know a good forge on Paisajus?" He shook his head, and then finally spoke.

"It was a gift from Seargent Malum. He died fighting the invaders." Lastimar decided then not to pursue the matter, and turned to Perez and Facilus. The two fighters were actual brothers, and sat next to each other. Perez was lost in thought, while Facilus was playing with a wooden puzzle. It was a cube with pegs leading into it, and inside were several geometric blocks attached to the ends. The goal was simple: To arrange the blocks inside in such a way that all the pegs could be retracted, all without knowing which blocks were which. Every time Facilus seemed to get it in the correct position, another piece popped out, and he groaned in annoyance.

"Hey, Facilus, I heard you encountered Brother Heramien today," said Lastimar with a grin. Facilus rolled his eyes and pushed in one of the pegs; in response, two more emerged with a click. "Need some help with that?" A nod, and Facilus handed the puzzle over.

"I swear, I've been working on that thing for far too long, and it's almost sickening. I swear, I've spent half an hour of my daily routine, all of my free time, trying to mold this stupid joke. I started yesterday, after Brother Vejazo handed me it. Every single time I think I've got the right combination, it just breaks again. I'm beginning to think he was just leading me on and playing a joke on me, because that puzzle is impossi-" Lastimar handed the now-featureless cube to him, and Facilus' eyes grew large. "How'd you get it so fast?"

"A captain never reveals his secrets." Lastimar sat back and waited for the inevitable landing, pondering life. His mind went back to Paisajus...

The forest stretched on for miles upon miles of unmarred wood, yet in one spot, there was chaos. The space marine hid behind a tree, gasping and shivering from exhaustion. To his left, a Terminator groaned. His legs were ripped off, yet his will was indomitable. The fallen warrior raised its storm bolter, and began to fire, only to jerk around as autocannon shots riddled his body. The Tactical Marine took off towards the source of the bullets. He raised his bolter, but before he could even pull the trigger, another burst of fire slammed into his leg. As he went down, he looked up to face a nightmare of twisted flesh and spiny metal. One arm was an autocannon inscribed with unholy symbols, the other a vicious multiheaded flail spinning about and covered in blood. On top, a puny helmet sat and stared with a blank gaze. Six legs slashed through the earth, advancing the abominable automaton closer, ever closer…

BOOM!

Lastimar was jolted out of his thoughts, and he stood up, looking around frantically. The Thunderhawk shook as the sound reverberated through it, a sound that was as if lightning had hit the craft. Of course, thought Lastimar, the pilot wouldn't make that mistake. He would not fly into a storm, surely.

BOOM!

"What the hell's going on?" yelled Lastimar. The answer came from his communications device.

"AA missiles, Captain! It doesn't look good." The pilot's voice was strained with the mental effort of keeping the aircraft aloft. The entire cabin was keeling from side to side, and Lastimar wisely sat down.

A flash of maroon and the roar of a Thunderhawk engine caused the space marine to glance upwards. Something was falling towards him through the canopy, and without a second thought the soldier leaped out of the way, ignoring the pain in his wounded leg. The advancing monster looked too late, and barely had time to screech before several tons of metal landed right on its shoulders, crushing it inwards. With a roar, the new attacker pointed its heavy bolter at the twitching body of the demon engine and fired, blasting apart its inner workings like tissue paper. The victim moaned in protest, but soon rose to a high scream, and then stopped. All that was left was a pile of smoldering metal and a Dreadnought sitting on top, pulling the wreck apart with its clawed arm like a child playing with a new toy. The space marine looked up at his savior and could not help feeling a sense of awe…

"Mayday, mayday, this craft's gonna crash!" The pilot screamed something else, but the Thunderhawk now rolled over and tossed, its engines roaring louder and louder. Vejazo was praying, Facilus and Perez were scrambling to hold on, Lenzo had knocked against a bulkhead and was unconscious, Igless was yelling something, and the captain could only hope for the best as his vessel came closer and closer to Hell. He could not die to something as simple as this, he could not have found redemption only to die a death not in combat...

The warrior stopped gaping at the Dreadnought and turned back to the battle. His leg was damaged, but that would not stop him. He fired his weapon at a screaming, black-armored maniac; the traitor marine fell, but with the last of his vitality threw his chainsword. It spun past the space marine's helmet, cutting a long scratch on the side. "NEVER RETREAT! NEVER SURRENDER!!" roared the Dreadnought, and his heavy bolter roared in return. In its path, trees splintered and bodies exploded. A pair of tactical marines rushed past cover, slamming into a small group of the traitorous troops and bowling them over. Flack armor and foul sorcery were no match for ceramite fists, and soon broken bodies littered the ground. One cackling man jumped on the back of a space marine and stabbed his bayonet into the space of the armor on the neck; his joy was short lived, as his prey simply plucked the man off and threw him against one of the oaks. The space marine with the wounded leg crawled forward and shot, roaring a battle cry. Blood ran into the grass of Paisajus, to be drunken by thirsty trees…