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So, they were sending them against rebels. Marines were above this skum, but a slaughter was still a slaughter and slaughter was fun. Leonidus grasped the hilt of his archaic power sword, a field of crackling energy flickering noiselessly across its smooth surface. With a chuckle he attaches the final mag-lock of his customised skull helm, the usually black eye sockets lighting up with a blood red glow. Without a word he straps into his seat of his personal dreadclaw, countless flickering buttons and nodes lighting up with a tilt of the head, the activation and direction codes transmited instantly from helm's advanced matrixes. The thrusters powering up with a low hum, he opens the vox channel.

"Enim noctis."

For Curze, he would slay these upstart fools.

Although the dreadclaw moved at an incredible speed, the thick hull prevented any trace of noise reaching his superhuman ears, while the gravitational stabilisers made the ride utterly smooth. He always traveled alone, not even his trusted bodyguard were permitted to acompany him, his Nocturnus guard were deployed to the battlefield in his secondary dreadclaw, only seconds behind him. The scanner nodes told him impact time was in 27 seconds exactly. Accessing vid links and.....ah, the rebel forces had set up perimeter nearby. They had limited heavy support but were many. The info-links told him they were armed mainly with las and auto weaponry. Utterly pathetic. No mission for marines of their level. There frail defence would be no problem. No matter their weak weaponry and artillery, they would die all the same.

"Nocturnus, prepare for incision."

,His harsh voice crackled over the vox channels.

"We have landed." His voice crackles over the channels.

With a metalic thiring, the dreadclaw lifts its main body off the ground, the exit iris opening. A click as he unbuckles himself, Leonidus leaps to the ground and spots a nearby trench, he could hear the paniced men just inches behind it. Rising up to his full height, he takes a step foward and with a simple channel hack, connects his comunication channel to their outdated vox callers. Chuckling quietly, Leonidus begins to speak.

"Fools. Pathetic fools. Who do you think you are taking on the superhuman astartes, and with such feeble tools at your disposal. I offer no chance of surrender, for you there shall be no escape, you will never again see the faces of those you love and care about. Now show yourselves, lay down your arms and maybe, just maybe, you earn a mercyfully quick death."

With this, his Nocturnus guard close in silently behind him, their skull helms mirroring his own. He had personally chosen them from those on Nostramo he had most trusted, and they were utterly loyal to him. They were all highly trained, masters of the art of combat. Petty rebels would be like flies in their wake.

"Switch to incindiaries, open fire."

The vox channels told him the first trench was elimenated, the guardsmen easily routed. He would head to the second. Now this would be interesting. The info-links told him they had higher amounts of special and heavy weaponry and even some of the abhuman gene-brutes amongst their ranks; the Ogryns.

"Enim noctis." His harsh voice bellowed through his voice grill, his Nocturnus guard responding in kind.

The second trench was now within sight and their formidible weaponry was apparent, heavy bolters and autocannons bristling from their lines like hairs, many guardsmen carrying meltas and plasma guns. Their technilogical advantage seeming to give them bravely. They would soon see true fear. The renegades had the advantage of range, lascannon shots and autocannon rounds were alreadly raining down around them, tearing and burning great holes into the already dusty and cratered earth. As they neared, one of their number fell, his body blown apart in a shower of gore, his power armour and superhuman durability no match for a direct hit from a krak missile. They would pay for that. The charging astartes were within firing distance now, dozens of frail guardsmen dying in the opening seconds, their pathetic forms quickly set alight by his and his squad's incindiary rounds. Easy kills.

Only metres away now, his men all draw their finely crafted power swords as one, the remaining guardsmen hurriedly drawing their combat knives and attatching bayonettes to their las and autoguns. A heartbeat later, they were upon them. With an leaping sweep of his power sword, three renegades drop to the ground, their heads severed cleanly. He turns swiftly to slice his Narthecium across the throat of a terrified man, blade raised weakly in an attempt at parrying, the fool went down instantly, wide-eyed and gurgling. All around him his men did the same, the undisciplined guardsmen unable to defend against the lighting fast marines.

A deafening roar rending the air, Leonidus spins to see the head of one his most trusted men fly through the air, a brutish ogryn beating his limp body into the dirt. Drawing Bloodbolt from its holster, he opens fire. With three metalic clicks, three bolts plough into the giant's form, each shot causing a miniature explosion which tears a chunk from its side. Amongst the swirling maelstrom of blades and flame, the two charge.

The brutish creature, clutching his backpack, slams his body into the ground a third time. He could feel his incredibly durable bones shattering under the impact. He could not take this much longer. With that final thought, the savage throws him against a wrecked chimera, a warped hole burnt into its side where one of his men had got it with a melta. The impact was hard but he was glad to be free of the thing's vice-like grip. Getting to his feet slowly, Leonidus could see his elite squad in combat with several storm trooopers and what looked like a psyker, white light eminating from his fingers to make one of his veteran's head explode gorily in a burst of blue lightning.

Turning his attention back to the raging Ogryn, Leonidus brings his power sword around in a deadly arc just as the hulking figure smashes into his. The crackling blade sweeps down into the Ogryn's gut, slicing through flak armour and thick skin, to spill its intestines across the dirt-covered ground. With this, the Ogryn falls to its knees, clutching at the gaping wound. In one swift movement, Leonidus sends his blade darting up through the brute's neck, its head rolling fowards into the mud.

Turing again to face his squad, he sees that the psyker and the stormtroopers had been slaughtered, their blood covering the ground. The victory had been at a cost however, and during their charge into the guard's ranks, two more of his veterans had been killed. Decadus, the plasma gunner, had taken a melta blast through the head. He had died instantly. Dominic, a good man he had known for decades had been killed by the psyker's fell powers. He would need to extract their geneseed soon.

Opening a vox channel, Leonidus taps into Brother Adric's communications.

"Apologies for the lateness brother, but me and my squad were otherwise preoccupied by the rebel scum in the second trench. The threat had been eliminated. Do you stll require any assistance?"

Leonidus heard the vox chatter, Brother Lucius needed help. He would come, it was his role after all.

"Brother Lucius, what is your current location? I have my sternguard and an assault team at my call, do you require reinforcements?"

He says bleakly down the vox caller. He had retrieved the two marine's progenoid glands, the third however had unfortunatly been unrecoverable. His Nocturnus guard had slaughtered the reamaing guard, they had all been too damaged to be of any use to him.

Brother Leonidus gets up from the injured sternguard. He needed no further treatment and his superhuman form would heal rapidly. Walking over to the newcome Forge master, he sheaves his power sword before adressing him directly.

"Well met brother. I am indeed the cheif Apothecary here and yes, I will indeed treat this Neophite you bring with you, to the best of my ability. Under my command here I have my personal veterans, the Nocturnus guard, an assault squad and a heavy weapons team, two lascannons, two autocannons and two missile launchers. Each the master of their trade. Let us continue this conversation inside, your prospect of a gift interests me."

With that he walks back inside his command tent, one of his men supporting the neophite inside.

Leonidus was concentrating deeply, the neophite was very badly wounded, a great chunk of his side missing. He had been carefuly removing shrapnel fragments, one wrong move and something important could be cut. The side of the torso had been to badly damaged to heal, several ribs utterly shattered. He was forced to use crude biotics, temporary of cource, until better repairs could be made. But the neophite would live, that was certain. The gift brother Aldric had given him would be very useful, he needed live ones. The crying grunt was currently tied up to a steel chair across the room. Since he had gone to work on the neophite, his squads had reported in many more hostile casualtes. The battle was going perfectly.

Chief Apothecary Leonidus was deep at work extracting the progenoid gland from a fallen assault marine's corpse. The astartes had fallen after an assault on a leman russ, the vehicle had been destroyed by melta charges but the unfortunate had been caught in the blast. His gruesome task completed, he gets to his feet to check the scans. Good. The progenoid has in perfect condition. Turning, he notices the Neophite once again stiring, his newly implanted bionics whiring quietly. Getting to his feet, brother Leonidus walks slowly over to the figure. With a slight whine of feedback, he begins speaking.

"Ah brother Lucius. I trust the bionic modifications are functioning correctly? I have healed you to the best of my ability, and for that I ask something of you. You see this?"
He gestures towards the bound figure at the end of the tent.
"This was given to me by Brother Adric on the condition I treated you the best I could. And it would be terrible if word got out that me, a chief Apothecary, was in possession of live members of the enemy force. If you keep my little secret, then I shall make sure things run nice and smoothly for you. If, however, word was to get out, then I can make sure that your remaining days will be filled with terror and agony of the likes you have never seen.

So, are we at an agreement?"

His assault squad had brought word of an oncoming renegade force. It was a fairly large with a leman russ as support. He was enraged that the rebels still kept the name of a great primarch and warrior for their vehicles. But it mattered not, they would die all the same. He was moving his forces out of the camp, his heavy support team would lie in wait within the trenches, his assault squad would take the fight to the enemy and as usual, he would lead the charge acompanied by his Nocturnus guard. He was glad the neophite had accepted his terms. It would have been such a waste to have him die just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Once this small battle was done, he could finaly enact his grissly work on the unfortunate sitting metres away.

Leonidus opened the vox channel, the words, "Don't shoot the leman russ!" ,coming in from brother Aldric. Putting his advanced prototype helmet on, the message was instantly transmitted to his forces, Don't shot the Leman Russ. Walking outside his comand tent, he sees his highly trained heavy weapons team opening fire in perfect time, shells, bolts and blasts tearing dozens of rebels asunder. His assault squad had moved into the thick of the fighting, las and autogun shots either bouncing off their harmlessly or leaving small burn marks. In return, the renegades' were ripped limb from limb by the astartes' chanblades. Drawing Bloodbolt and his power sword, he charges foward, his Nocturnus guard again at his side.

They would leave none alive.

Leonidus opened the vox channel to Brother Sahaal, his powersword sweeping backwards casualy into a charging shotgunner, his head seperated in a burst of gore.

"Chief Apothecary Leonidus here. Heavy enemy engagement near the second captured trench. Heavy weapons and vehicular resistance encountered. We have a heavy weapons team, assault squad, sternguard and one Leman Russ. We are holding out, no further reinforcements are needed at the moment. Oh, greetings Brother Aldric. I trust things are going well over there?"

With this, Leonidus spins round, a small group of six or so autogun wielding rebels, each seemingly terrified. In a fit of panic they all open fire with their puny weapons,their bullets pinging off his chestplate and pauldrons. In a burst of superhuman speed, he is upon them before they can even register his movement. Swinging foward, his armoured gauntlet impacts upon the face of one unfortunate, his face imploding inwards with a gurgling. In one swift motion, he brings the same bloodied fist around into the gut of a second renegade scum. Bringing his sword arm, he feels a burning sensation on his back. It annoyed him. Turning his head from the strugling figure, his fist still embeded in his stomach, he sees a flamer-wielding man panicedly spraying the white hot blaze at his back. Stabing foward, his blade breaks through his ribcage. With a nightmarish, amplified laugh, he lifts upwards, the blade passing up through the man's neck and violently slices his head in two. Turning back to the swine impaled upon his gauntlet, he chuckles slightly as he reaches further back, tearing through meat and organs to his spine. Jerking his arm backwards, the man shrieks as he dies agonisingly, his backbone ripped out in a horrifying display of brutality. The remaining few men simply drop their weapons, their faces turning a paler shade of white, and run.

Raising the grisly trophy aloft, the blood soaked butcher lets loose a blood-curtling cry of pure rage.

"LEAVE NONE ALIVE, SLAUGHTER THEM ALL, FOR THE LEGION, CURZE AND THE EMPEROR."

The battle had gone perfectly, minimal astartes casualties and total routing of the enemy. The death of three of his closest comrades had come across his mind several times however. He had to find some way to avenge them. They would not be forgotten. He had recovered one of their bodies some hours ago, the power armoured body lay at the far end of the room, both legs and an arm little more than ravanged stumps. He had to have careful however, if anyone had seen him take the body then his carefuly formed plans could all be instantly brought down. Enough. He had to clear his mind for the task ahead.

Picking up a devilishly sharp scalpel from the tray, Leonidus walks over to the bound form of the captured rebel so generously given to him by Brother Adrid. The one comrade he could fully trust. With one heavily gauntletted hand, he grabs hold of the struggling man's head, holding him still and silencing his muffled cries. Utmost precision was needed for this stage, one mistake, no matter slight, and the specimen was wasted.

The scalpel drawing close, he begins his grisly work.

Leonidus could not retreat now. He was so close, so near his goal. But the battle needed fighting. Reluctantly, he steps away from the subject, his face completly skinless and a gaping hole in his chest from which discoloured organs still pulse and throb. He had been so close. Taking a melta-bomb from his belt, he steps outside, fire and death all around, astatres and men fighting despiratly for their lives. With a roar of pure rage and fury, he draws his arm back and throws the bomb back inside his tent. Seconds later, the hole thing explodes in a searing blast of devestating energy. There had to be no evidence of his grotesque activities for anyone, marine or man, to discover. His plans were ruined. He would have to start from scratch, the only infomation he could salvage was that within his own mind. By the Emperor, he had been so close.

Turning around, he catches sight of an incoming rebel group, a chimera at their front. Picking up a discarded meltagun and drawing his blood-stained sword he charges, the reminants of his guard falling in behind him, their bolters spewing bolts of inferno. He would slaughter these scum. Or he would die trying.

Leonidus grasps the sergeant by the neck, lifting the struggling man off his feet. Those in his two squads who still remained were on their knees in a line, hands behind their head, their disembowled comrades spread at their feet. Without a word, the blood-covered apothecary plunges his free hand into the choking man's chest, his brittle ribs shattering easily fro the impact. After several seconds of rooting around, he grasps hold of the rebel's heart, and crushes. The last sight the sergeant sees is the pulped remains of his heart ripped free from his chest cavity, and casualy thrown aside.

Tossing the bloodied ragdoll to the ground, the apothecary turns to the cowering wretches and through his voice grill, adresses them;

"Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Now at last do you see the concequences of your actions, the price of betrayal? I have no mercy for you scum, if I had come across you earlier, I might have let you run but now after all that has happened I will enjoy seeing you slaughtered."

Turning to his six remaining guard, he shouts out'

"Kill every last one of them. skin and disembowl them, and bedeck your armour with their skin and guts."

Opening the vox channels, he says calmly,

"Come in. Is anyone still there?"

"Ah good, Krieg we are in dire need of reinforcements here, sent any troops you can spare to reinorce the front line. Move any artilery units into the second trench, I currently have five devastators there. Any assistance at the moment would be most apriciated."

With that Leonidus turns, hearing the screams of dozens of traitors. On the hillside is a Leman Russ vanquisher, its weapons systems frenziedly shooting down traitors left and right. Was that Adric? The apothecary moves towards the ehicl, first at a fast walk and then a bounding sprint. By the Emperor it was him. He must had used his powers to possess one of the enemies' tanks, an ability Leonidus had never fully understood. Drawing close he barks out the words;

"Brother Adric, ceace this at once. You are killing good astartes, your allies and friends. You are a marine, an Angel of death, you have the strength to control this, and you know that. Stop this pointless rampage."

"Enemy armoured forces at subsectors 98157 and 98187. My thanks for the assist."

Leonidus says into the Vox channel, still extremely cautious of the oncoming Vanquisher.

Leonidus could just see the badly bleeding Brother Adric passing out. Walking slowly over to him he sheaves his power sword, fresh with the blood of traitors, and picks him up by the shoulder, slinging one of the uncontious marine's arms over his shoulder and begins the long trudge back to the remains of the camp to heal, rebuild and repair what and who he could. He could see his guard following to the left, each astartes dragging along behind him one or two bound rebels. The attack was over, but they were vulnerable. They all had to be on guard.

Leonidus was tired. Even with his superhuman abilties and strength, his body called him to sleep. The night air was cold, the only illumination the occasion searchlight and the remaining flaming debris scattered about. Patrols were out and about, searching for any remaining renegade forces in the area. So far they had found none. And there it was. A whistling. A piping. It was coming from the darkness of the night, just out of sight. An echo in the breeze. There it was again. Further out. He would follow. He had left the camp now, it was growing ever smaller. He was running now, the whistling always coming so close then fading away, further each time. There it was. At last.

There was a small fire, an incinerated fragment of tank, a casualy of the earlier conflict. The fire was moving. Slowly, it drifted further away, the same whistling and piping always on the edge of hearing. He gave chase again. He grasped the flame in his gauntleted hand how, it had turned a deep purple now. He drew his hand away to find it wrapped in serpents, of all colours and sizes, all hising wildly.

Then he awoke.

His newly formed tent was slightly smaller than the last and he had lost most of his equipment. Soon after the battle he had had his Nocturnus guard form a much larger tent, the heavily armed astartes dragging the bound captives inside. Only them, Adric, Lucius and of cource, himeself, were permitted to enter. His elite guarded it day and night, incindiary bolters always in hand and power swords sheaved.

As he had to almost start his great project from scratch, he had prosponed it until he had the correct equipment, this could not be rushed. Getting up slowly, the apothecary moves out his tent. The calm and tranquil morning sun seemed at odds with the grotesque and bloody events occuring under its gaze. Pieces of wrecked vehicles, both loyalist and renegade, still littered the area. Every so often a rebel survivor was found amongst the dirt, bloodied and crippled by the conflict. What made things better, was that he hade the choises about what happened to them. He had every eleventh man sent to the tent screaming. The rest were all put to death, their flayed and disembowled corpses bound to poles and put up around the edges of the camp, a testament to the brutality of their Legion.

His Nocturnus guard still wore the remains of the squad killed the other day, something that would have been usualy questioned and called on if it hadn't been for Leonidus' rank and influence.

The room was a charnel house. Gore soaked the room and various organs and body parts were carefuly pinned to walls or hooked up with pulsing pipes to glowing machinery. The area for the captives was large, but even with its size it could barely accomidate the amount of cowering wretches cramped within. Two more Nocturnus guards stood near them, carefuly looking out for anyone foolish enough to try and run or resist.

The blood-covered Leonidus turns to Brother Adric, one of the few permited to enter, and putting down a bloodied scalpel, removes is helmet to adress him.

"Ah greetings brother Adric, of cource I have some to spare, most are here as backups in case of failure with the subjects. I can spare you...a dozen. Will that be sufficient for that project of yours?"

Leonidus, Tent, doing 'work'.


Leonidus opened the vox channel to brother Adric yet again, the line opening with a breif static buzz

"Brother Adric, I have need of a favour, a return for those twelve subjects. I am communticating to you through my helm's secure channel, we can't risk our projects being discovered. In return for those subject, and future resources, I require the following; Several pieces of tank plating, a searchlight, vehicular wiring, hostile vehicles acceptable, a heavy bolter, and a squads worth of cybernetic implants. It may seem steep, but if you can secure these items, you guarantee my future support and forces, aswell as numerous more test subjects. Do we have a deal brother?"

Leonidus, camp (tent), 'project'

Leonidus heard the nearby explosion, but he could not let it unsteady his nerves. The last of his men were entering now, carrying with them the parts given by Brother Adric. The secondary project was going well now, he had the needed machinery, and from there on the rest was easy. The remains of ten subjects were tied down to tables now, each taken apart carefuly, their lifeblood soaking into the ground. Ah here it was. The last member of his elite came in now, dragging in behind him a dead astartes, the least damaged body they could find. Kneeling over the fallen marine, he extends his Narthecium and places it into the power armour's small extraction port, the Progenoid would be extracted momentarily.

Walking back over to the subject holding area, the blood covered apothecary carefuly chooses one cowering rebel to be dragged out. One of his elite strap the man down to the central table. Standing over the horified man, Leonidus selects an injector from a small box at the foot of the table, the thing full of a strange, sickly green fluid. Slowly and with great precicion, he stabs it into the subject's jugular.

Leonidus turns quickly from the table, now splattered in the blood of the restrained man, almost panicdly.

"...Captain...I was not expecting you back so soon."

The room stank of death. Gore covered most of the walls and had seeped into the floor, dismembered rebels lay still on steel tables, pulsing pipes connecting them to glowing machinery. Stepping backwards and dropping a barbed surgical tool onto the table, Leonidus again speaks.

"Captain, I can explain all of this."

At that moment Leonidus knew that he had crossed the line. Marines, especialy of high rank, were aloud much leeway and free reign, but this was bad.

Mid argument, the three marines hears a loud explosion coming from somewhere outside, the sounds of screaming, gunshots and chainswords filling the air, the astartes likely winning. Turning to the Captain, the blood-soaked apothecary speaks.

"Make your choise Captain, kill me or let me live, but make it quickly for there are many enemies aproaching the camp." Leonidus says loudly, raising up his arms.

"Make your choise."

Character: Leonidus
Location: Camp, my tent
situation: conversation with Adric.


"...Yes, I can do that for you. The Black carapace should aid the subject in interfacing with a vehicle. May I ask brother, what are you planning to do with he subject once he has been implanted, and why choose a lowly rebel to undergo such a complex procedure?"

Leonidus says through his skull helmet's voice grill, pacing slowly.

Character: You guessed it
Location: The very same
Situation: Still in conversation



"Hm. Very well brother, I shall tell you. My overarching goal is to further combine the powers and mind of the human, with the durability and cold precision of the machanical. This is far past simple bionics and even the tech priests with their bodies of steel do not match this. I shall create the perfect hybrid of man and machine, no mere servitor, something much, much more.

And this brother. This is the first step on that road, an imperfect stepping stone on the way to success. As grotesque and bloody as it may be, this prototype will herald the journey to victory.

Now do you see brother, now do you understand?"

Character: You guessed it
Location: The very same
Situation: Still in conversation



"Indeed brother, our goals are indeed parallel and a cooperation may indeed be fruitful for both of us."

Says Chief Apothecary Leonidus, holding out a gore stained hand.

Character: Leonidus
Location: The tent (Camp)
Situation: completing project (incursion begins)



Leonidus had only to add a couple more implants now, the experiment was going well and quicker than expected. To make this thing, this marvel, he had had to commit grevious heresy, this was too far even for a respected marine of his level. To complete it, he had implanted the progenoid gland and other important organs from the deceased astartes, an action which went against his very purpose. But it had to be done. The heavy bolter given by the Forge master Adric had been grafted to it's left arm, replacing the hand and the searchlight had been mounted upon its shulder. The recovered Leman Russ armour had been added to various parts of its titanic form, effectivly shielding it's mechanisms from harm. It emmited a constant buzzing from its multitude of implants, it's deep red optic units flickering and twitching as if it were deeply dreaming. The great thing was still layed down, several tables had been put together to accomidate its size and weight, if stood it would be easily a head taller than an Ogryn. In contrast to its horrific, gore-stained form, the thing's face was deathly still, a ghastly pale mask of pure calm. From its back, half a dozen Mechadendrites, sprouted, each laying swaying on the ground, each tipped with a horrific surgical tool or a Narthecium designed to extract the Gene-seed of fallen brothers.

Something was wrong, a wrongness in the air, a faint smell and taste in the mouth. Then he saw it, a great flash of red. Stepping outside breifly, he could see a great fiery explosion from past the trench, he thought he could see illuminated figures skulking from it.

Then he heard the weapons fire.

Numerous tanks, marines and artillery were all opening fire on much nearer foes, the explosion must have been a distraction. The creatures were man sized and dark red, the hue of dried blood, and vaguely reptilian, snake-like toungues darting from fanged maws. Each wielded a great blade made of finely crafted bronze, skulls of all shapes and sizes dangling from their waists, held by iron chains.

"Nocturnus Omega." Mutters Leonidus

And the great construct stirs.

Leonidus darts foward, his crackling powersword cleaving another devil's head clean off, its disolving body sinking to the floor. Spinning round, he just manages to put two incindiary bolts in another's face before it impacts into his side. Him and the beast down into the trench, the blood of countless rebels till staining it, and they fight. Their weapons had been dropped in the fall, this would not be easy. Lunging toward him, the devil grabs him by his neck, lifting him off the ground. Choaking on his own blood, Leonidus grasps the thing by its scaled face, and squeeses, it's jaw and nose snapping from the pressure but still neither would yield. A swift knee to the gut, and the thing loosens its grip. And thats all he needed. With all his strength, the bloodied Apothecary crushes down on its head, eyes popping and skull cracking. Then it's head implodes. Coughing heavily, Leonidus picks up his powersword, and climbs back up over the trench towards the battle.

Nocturnus Omega had nearly awoken, it was the first time it had been activated and so the systems took a while to fully activate. It was safe through, his entire Nocturnus guard were defending it and they were the elite. Decapitating yet another of the things, he spies something at the other end of the camp, something new. It looked like another of the devils but slightly taller, its bronze armour gleaming and dripping with fresh blood. In one gauntletted claw it holds a great, serrated blade, the hilt forged in the likeness of a screaming skull.

This would be a harder foe to face.