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Chapter 1: A Cry For Help


Let me tell you a tale. A dark tale. Full of courage, honour, and valour worthy of glory. But with much for me to mourn. For this is also a tale of reckless stupidity, and an unforgivable arrogance. That is cause of much of my heartache and pain.
So come gather round and hear it all. And Judge it. To be my account, or my confession. I care not which you think.
..My name, I hear you say?...That can wait for now. For there is much for me to tell.


4,000 years have passed since the Emperors mortal wounding and internment on the golden throne. A time where planets had died, and even Holy Terra had lain in utter ruins. With technologies lost, such wonders of the Golden Age. The likes will never be seen again.
But the Imperium endures. Praise be the God-Emperors unceasing vigilance from atop His hallowed throne. Where even in His near death state. He guides His subjects in the defence of a His realm. Commanding vast fleets, and untold billions out among the stars. Struggling to hold a fragile and eroded empire together. With the help of his chosen Astartes.

You don't recognize the name by that look on your face, lad. Perhaps you must know Space Marines, eh?
Still no!? Well I must say. This is unheard of... Hmm. Then they must need some explaining. Sit down, my lad.

Taken as children from the arms of their wailing mothers. They are forever separated from the strain of common man. Their minds moulded and shaped to deal with the horrors they will face amongst the cosmos. While changing bodies, mutated by organs steeped in mysteries. Are hardened over the years of brutal trials, few will survive. And still they are yet to become true Astartes.
Only when they receive their black carapace will they become a true god amongst men. Only then. Can they take their place among the ranks of the Emperors chosen. Bestriding the battlefield. Clad in plates of plasteel sleeving gene bulked forms. Like towering gods from old. Trailing the air of majestic awe that easily follows in their wake. Armed to the teeth with the finest technologies and arms we can gift them. They march to war by the roar of the bolter, and buzz of the mighty blade. Meeting all in their path with an unquenchable fury. Heralding death where ever they tread. These killers, butchers, and lords of the blood soaked battlefield. They are our angels in our time of need. But even an angel is not perfect, lad.


* * *


Fifteen hundred souls of the Panther Claws hurtle from the warp. Smashing back into realspace on the edge of a seven planet system. Eighteen weeks of hard travel laying behind from a world called Udara. Far to the west of Segmentium Solar, and known space. With it's contact bloodless. Much to the joy of the Naval crews Imperial Guard accompanying the crusade. Sitting idle while compliance was hammered out on the bureaucratic anvil. But their scouts had not. Sent out into the void. Searching and surveying the nearby stars systems to add to the charts Where one. While surveying a brown dwarf and it's few planets. Had chanced upon a fleeing transport. Running hard from the Platyaen star system as it broke back into realspace on the edge of an icy belt, resting abused drives. Where it was quickly boarded. Those crammed aboard. Speaking hysterically of Orks assailing their world. While whispering souls driven mad by the slaughter. Gave voice to the orgie of blood that broke them. Stirring the hearts of the Astartes to claim vengeance.
Judging Udara near to compliance. The newly appointed Chapter Master of the Panther Claws. Charged the Lord Commander of the fleet to oversee full certification of a new world. And then, within hours. The chapter had made for an immediate transition into the warp.
After collecting their strength on the edge of the disputed system. The mighty fleet glided the near space dark towards the inner core. Thrusters bleeding off their collective speed. Using low energy auspex to detect returns lurking amongst the junk of battle. They drifted towards the inner planets. Silently stalking the debris.


* * *


On board the Strike Cruiser, Spear of Truth. Captain Agathon of the Panthers 7th company. Stomped the halls. Wearing his ire for all to see. The curt summons to council received in his arming chamber. Had rose his kolar to the point of venting. With the demeaning and dismissive tones his commander had began to use with himself, and fellow Captains. Was beginning to rankle.
Dressed in an Aquila stamped white vest, green fatigues and heavy black boots. His already imposing physique. Was magnified by his thunderous glare. Causing crew and serf alike to scatter from his path. Quickly sinking to one knee as they bowed or offered a salute as he passed them by. Making his way towards the cruisers large but modest training hall. Intent on working out his frustration in the cages. Though knowing the feeling would only be temporary.
Nodding to the two Panthers standing guard at the enterance. The hissing doors opened. Admitting him into the training hall. Where several squads from the 7th, equally dressed as their Captain. Drilled on the training mats that dominated the main space. Working through cardio routines under the watchful gazes of their instructors. The hall echoed to the grunts of effort or clatter of blades from the cages. Punctuating the bark of commands.
Making his way across the hall, accepting salutes with a nod. He came to the last cage in the line. His Command Squad pressed excitedly to the mesh. Shouting encouragement or support. Cheering on their favourite combatant battling within. And so he watched from afar as those inside drew to the close of their duel.

Through the metal screens of mesh. Leon and Hilerion clattered through an exchange as they darted and swept about the cage. Bare torsos glistening sweat as their blades finally locked with a mighty ring and clatter of the press. Teeth gritted with the strain. Each trying to gain the upper hand of the deadlock.
With a jerk. Leon slid his blade down with a grind. Entangling guards to knock both swords wide. He delivered a thundering cross to the cheek. Sweeping his blade back. Raising it down for the neck.
With a backwards stumble. Hilerion blocked the incoming strike. Deflecting blurred steel aside with ringing clatter. Side step the second speeding towards sternum as another ring of crossed steel sang out. Settling into a back and forth exchange. Before they broke apart to began their circling.

Leon smiled. 'Your getting slow, brother. Too much time lugging around that useless Melta of yours.'

Hilerion smiled back warmly back at the taunt. 'Funny. I was about to say the same thing. About that pig iron and quaint shield I've seen you play with.' Answering with his own playful barb. And another series of blows clattered between them, with no advantage gained. As they continued to circle the other.

'Well, it does allow me to do one thing.' Panted Leon slightly.

'And what's that?' Hilerion panted back heavier.

The half-hearted strike was easy to read and block. But with a blur of movement. The Company Champion's free hand darted out to strike out at his opponent. Rapid jabs stunning his squad mate. Before tugging him off balance as he swept the legs from underneath. Sending Hilerion crashing to the ground with a sword tip pressed to his cheek.

'It allows me to knock you on your arse from time to time.' Letting out a good humoured laugh. Removing the sword and helping his bruised brother to stand. The cage rising and retracting into the ceiling and floor around them.

'A fine bout brothers.' Agathon announced himself with a clap. Causing the five crowding Astartes to stiffen when they saw the owner of the sound. 'Now I must ask you to your duties. Are esteemed, Commander,' labouring the word. 'has called council. Prepare for the Emperor's will.' Constantine, the Sargent of the squad. The first to snap off a salute before his squad left. And watching them go. He couldn't help but smile at the comradery on display as they talked excitedly about the war to come. Leon and Hilerion continuing their banter, trailing behind the others. Wrestling with one another as they followed them out. But all too quickly his foul mood returned.
Walking to the controls on the nearby wall. He angrily stabbed in the program he'd selected from the ship, and stepped towards the rack of weapons. Picking two short blades and stepping towards the awaiting cage.
Waiting inside. The six ordered training dummies each sported four limbs, armed with a mixture of cudgels and blade's. Honed to a molecular sharpness. Who with an activation of verbal command. Sprang to life to kill him as the cage fully closed behind.


* * *


Twenty-two tense hours later. They merged into the junk filled skies of Platya. Full of smashed satellites and weather stations accompanying the glistening battle scarred ships, mass transports and cargo haulers tumbling in orbit. The fleet hung suspended above the capital city, scanning the planet in earnest. Surrounded by the silent tombs of frost slowly rounding the planet. The two matte black Battle Barges prowling ahead. Leading their pack of black clad vessels of veteran craft. That even alone, would cause more than a challenge for most planets to repel. But they were far from alone. Each supported by one of three Strike Cruisers hanging close by. Who themselves were haloed by the six Gladius Frigates and ten Hunter Destroyers. That took up the edge of this formidable formation. Where at its heart. Lay the Martis. A forge mechanicum vessel. Surrounded by it's clusters of auxiliary craft. Essential to the needs of the battle-group and ground operation yet to be unleashed. Truly the fleet was indeed mighty to behold.

Onboard the Prime Battle Barge Ariston's main bridge. Tension was high.
Since entering the system. The lack of enemy returns on their auspex. Had been most troubling, considering the reports they had received.
Preliminary scans had confirmed Ork bio-signatures on the surface. Causing a change upon the crew that was most palpable. As each sat ever more hunched over their consoles of row upon row of work stations, logic engines or scanning data scrolls from the bundle of terminals. Each churning the thought of a war fleet hidden somewhere nearby. Leaving the bridge of the Ariston was eerily quiet. Where normally it hummed with voices.


The loud hiss of blast doors heralded the arrival of the four Astartes onto it's tiered bridge. Clasped in their matte black power armour, trimmed in gold to signify their high status in the chapter. These gods amongst men were the living embodiment of the heroic figures woven into legend the length and breath of the Imperium. And the bridge crew stiffened at the sight of their Chapter Master. Who accepted their salute with a nod as he made his way towards the command throne. Wedged between the higher tiers of the bridge. Surrounded by an assortment of consoles, pict-screens and data streams. Manned by a mixture of servitors and crew, hardwired into their stations. Where the grizzled veteran Fleet Commander Katius awaited. Snapping off a salute to his Lord. Who halted before his throne.

'Situation report, Fleet Captain?'

'No contacts, lord. Vessels ready for drop manoeuvres and commencement of preliminary bombardment. Though at your word, Chapter Master.' Handing over a data slate.

'An answer to our repeated hails from the surface?'

'None, lord. Auspex scans of the planet confirm heavy ionization in the upper atmosphere. It's unlikely they can respond to us, even if anyone knows we're here.'

'Did the auspex pick up anything from the surface?'

'Two areas where Imperial communications are still active, lord. Confirmed as internal chatter from the Hive below, and a sub hive. Some, 70km due east of the capital. We've ran their codes through the records. Both are verified, it's authentic.'

'Status?'

'Under heavy siege, Chapter Master. Geographic scans of both locations reports structural damage ranging from twenty percent for the capital, up to sixty percent for the sub-hive Bashsan. But vast swathes of the planet have been reduced to an irradiated wasteland, or completely taken over by the horde.'

Detrus consulted the data slate in his hands as he contemplated the situation.

'Hmm, very well. Have the fleet complete any and all final checks for orbital insertion. No bombardment. Set drop zone coordinates, here. Twenty km south-south-west of the capital. Where we can land clear their siege lines.' Handing back the slate after inputting the latitude and longitude highlighting an area on the display with a glowing claw.

'By your word, lord.' Said Katius with a short bow. Bringing his fist up over his heart in salute before straightening.

'Are my senior officers and seconds assembled?'

'They await inside your stratagem for council, Chapter Master.'

Without another word. Detrus headed for the far door with his Honour Guard following him like a cloak. That above all else. Were charged with the safe guarding of their lords life. None more so than the chapters champion. A constant shadow. Ever vigilant to any threats to his masters life.

Inside were the gathered Captains and staff of the chapter. Seated at their customary long grey table. Talking between themselves or overlooking the latest data sweeps of the surface. They faced the tables head. Where an ornate oaken chair of gigantic proportion sat. Carved with the emblem of the chapter and intricate designs swirling about clawed fist and rests. That seemed to squat in front of a wall of reinforced glass. Affording a grand vista out onto the stars, and now world below. Separating those inside from the unforgiving cold of the void. But helped light the chamber with the aide of lumes and hololith bolted to the table. Projecting a world that slowly spun as it hung in the air. Casting a blue tinge about the chamber.
With Detrus entering the room. The officers fell silent at his approach. Standing quickly in the presence of their lord.

'At ease brothers. At ease.' he said. Waving them back to their seats and directing everyone's attention towards the hololith as he sat. Using the keypad built into the arm of the chair to lower the lighting. Highlighting two locations on the spinning globe. Suspending it above the table.
'The situation thus far, is this.' Casting his eyes over the assembled warriors. 'The capital Tygun, and sub-hive Bashan, are besieged. The rest of the world is desolate and lost to the greenskin.' He stated flatly.

The veteran Panthers took the news without comment, as each had expected the news. Though Captain Darius of the 2nd. Was the first to break the unending silence.

'Has there been any word from the Governors Palace, or PDF forces, lord?'

'None. We can not break through the ionization banding the atmosphere. My guess is. The Governor, successor, or appointed commander. Resorted to their supply of atomics to stem the Orks.'

'Is there any word on their numbers, lord. Or what sort of kit we can rely on to see?' Asked Captain Lycon. The scarred veteran Captain of the 8th assault company.

'Estimates from the surveyors puts their numbers somewhere in the hundreds of thousands. With the standard junk they call technology.' He snorted derisively at the thought. 'Expect them to field an array of captured Imperial equipment and weaponry from routed PDF ground forces.' Causing one or two Captains to share a look at this incomplete and vague assessment of the enemy. The bulked figure standing near the head of the table. Raising his hand to signal his wish to speak.

'Yes First Sargent. You may speak.'

Towering over the assembly in warplate forcing him to stand. The Sargent of the first company rarely spoke at such gatherings. But when he gave voice. It was listened to and respected by those remembering his sage tutelage before their promotions to captaincy.

'Will this be a cleansing operation or an evacuation of the populous, lord. And where is word on the enemies fleet? Their absence thus far is troubling.'

'At the end of council I will send out a scouting force to the inner core. To hunt for this, elusive fleet... As for the situation on the surface. Undetermined.' He drew their attention back to the hololith.

'We'll be landing, here.' Highlighting the landing zone with a touch of his keypad on the softly spinning globe.
'From here. We will move onto the outskirts of the capital. Over passable broken terrain. For Twenty km to reach the plateau of the capital.'

Typing in a series of commands into his keypad. He zoomed into the planets surface on the hololith. Until a 3D representation of the capital hung a few centimetres above the gun metal of the table.

'Once inside the city. We can then make an assessment after contact with Imperial forces. Questions?'

Seeing no one wanted to broach any more questions, or receive another unsatisfactory answer. Detrus concluded the briefing.

'I want all companies certified and oathed to the moment, in under one hour. Chaplain, see to it.'

'It will be done, lord.' Replied the guardian of the chapters soul with a curt nod.

'Master of the Forge. Prepare the ThunderHawks for an air support role for our armoured thrust into the capital. Make sure they're armed with krak missiles and fully loaded.'

'By your leave, lord, I would like to implement this now.'

'Of course.' Addressing the officers as a whole, he stated. 'Your data slates will be with you shortly containing your individual deployment orders. Dismissed.' And with a salute. The senior officers left the stratigem to carry out their appointed tasks. Leaving Detrus alone with his Honour Guard.

Standing from his high backed chair. The lord of the Panther Claws walked the small distance to the open wall. Staring out at the expanse and world they had come to save. Haloed with silent tombs.

'Thoughts and suggestions? You may speak freely now we're alone.' He said suddenly. Addressing his inner circle at his back as he gazed out through the translucent wall.

With a quick look between them. Sargent Argan was the first to step forward from the group that had gathered at the Chapter Masters back.

'This world is lost, lord. Why do we tarry here? We should bombard the planet with the life eater bane, and move on from the accursed place. It has been many weeks since we have had news from our allies standing watch over certification. My thoughts are troubled by the deafening roar of silence.'

Honoured Veteran Parmelon was equally vocal when he spoke. 'Unleash the life eater, lord. To do not, is folly. The world is lost. Nor worth the loss of this chapter as well.'

Honoured Veteran Tobin. Stepped away from the others as he spoke. Trying to catch his lords eye in the reflection of the glass as he made his plea.

'We should evacuate the populous, lord.' Earning hooded stares from his brothers. 'Save all we can. And then, lord. Do what must be done.'

Detrus bowed his head in thought before turning to look upon his Champion.

'And where is your voice in all this Andreas?'

'I am a weapon lord. My role is to strike, and strike swiftly to lay my foes low. It is not to think or to question. Simply to do. The who and the why. Have long been discussed before I am unleashed. I am no naysayer, lord. I am a weapon.' He finished simply.
Being the Chapters Champion meant he bathed in the rush of close combat. Seeing him more than willing to face down any and all threats to his masters life. That would ever dare meet his blade in open combat.

After a moments pause. Detrus turned from the view to face them.

'I will not abandon this world so lightly. But I will order it's exterminus. If, it comes to it. Thank you for you appraisals, brothers. You may carry out your drop checks.'
Knowing the matter closed. The Honour Guard saluted and left their lord. Leaving Detrus truly alone with his thoughts and theirs. As he turned back to stare out over Platya. With a burning want of glory in his eyes.

Chapter 2 The Mustering of Strength

As the fleet began to turn to the gears of war. Ordered by Detrus. Katius dispatched the small scouting force to search the inner core. With orders not to engage. Only to report on enemy activity found there, no matter how small. And not an hour after their departure. In the hanger bays and embarkation decks. The Astartes were mustering for war. Checking weapons and purity seals in anticipation for the order to embark. Their drop pods and Thunderhawks before them Awaiting the assault. Each abuzz with an eagerness as they waited the word.

On the Casius's second hanger. Captain Agathon heard the last of the readiness reports from his squads. Before dismissing them as he saw Ateus enter the far hanger. Forming his company on the ready line. Not noticing Agathon staring on And so with a nod to his junior officers. He walked over to his long time friend.

Standing bare headed in front of the silent ranks of the 9th. Ateus was amid the throws of a joke with his squad. Laughing with his men to dispel any pre-battle tension. Setting the example to the company watching on. Who for some. Would be their first taste of the full chapter going to war. When he noticed Agathon making his way through the noise and press of mechanics. Working to fit the last slender shapes under stubby wings, or rush by on hoppers laden with crates and supplies. He stepped away from his squad to meet him. Smiling to greet his long time brother with the age old warriors grip of a forearm clasp.
'Well met brother. Are you ready for this new adventure of ours?' Still smiling.

Though pleased to see his closest brother. Agathon's greeting was more melancholic in reply. 'I am brother. As always. But I would prefer a little more word on my foe than this. This is no way to launch a campaign.'

Smile now gone, and mindful of the 9th at his back. Ateus stepped closer. Lowering his voice so none nearby could discern what passed between them. 'I agree with you Agathon, my friend. But war is full of uncertainty. You should know that no plan ever survives first contact.'

Agathon also lowered his voice. But spoke ever more intensely as he leaned in. Casting his eyes about the bay conspiratorially. 'This is true. But to commit a whole chapter to a world without proper threat assessment of an enemy fleet. Speaks of utter arrogance, and folly, of the worst kind. One that should not be tolerated. Even from a Chapter Master.' He ended while looking his friend dead in the eye.

Annoyed with his dangerous talk. Ateus retorted hotly in a whisper. 'And what would you have us do, kinsman? The orders are given, and here we stand. Oathed to the moment..Look for a lesser foe? Break are oaths and stain our honour with broken vows? Sacrilege. I will not hear such things.'

'I do not say that we should not commit, Ateus. Just show more caution. Instead of rushing so blindly in.' Agathon shot back defensively. Looking off into the mid-distance to hide his stung pride. Though Ateus saw the hurt, and instantly regretted how they'd spoken. Knowing he'd only raised legitimate concerns. Ones they all shared across the chapter.
'I have no wish to argue with you, for I know you are right.' Sighing deep as he let out the pent up breath he'd held. "But our paths are set, brother. Our masters will is spoken. Let us now hope for a swift campaign.' Holding out his gloved hand to renew their friendship. Which Agathon took without hesitation. Gauntlets clattering with the gesture.

'Agreed.'

Over the ships speakers. The Deck officers booming voice announced. 'Ten minutes until launch. All companies to the embarkation line. Repeat. Ten minutes to launch. Prepare to embark.'

Dropping their conversation. The two warriors again clattered gauntlets. 'Strength and honour.' Said Agathon.

'Strength and honour.' Echoed Ateus. Adding. 'I'll see you in the city.'

'Not if i see you first.' Bantered Agathon with a grin. And Ateus knew the brief argument had been forgotten as he returned the smile.

Turning from his friend to the warriors before him. Agathon barked out the age old war cry. 'For the Emperor!' Pumping his fist into the air. To which the 9th answered with full voice. Their own cry ending in a short throaty roar. Banging their fists once on their chestplates. Then their lines were stilled once more.
Smiling again to his friend. He jogged off to his company to oversee the loading of the last few squads into the transports. Finding his Command Squad at the end of the ramp to their Thunderhawk in a loose circle. Talking boastfully of the campaign to come. And it was Brother Hilarion from the assembled. That was the first to greet in his normal manner.
'If we're not fighting in an hour. I should have known never to have gotten out of bed.' He said with a dramatic stretch and yawn ending in a grin.
The name making him take it upon himself to try and lighten any mood. But mostly ended up being the butt of most jokes instead. And mostly he didn't mind.

'I'll remind you to say that again when I'm stapling your guts together.' Joked their Apothecary Iason.

'And I'll tell you to remind him.' Said their champion Leon with a grin. Joining in on the joke on their failed comic.

'Bleed anywhere near my banner and I'll gut you myself.' Growled playfully Markus, patting his hilt. Causing the others to chuckle.

'Alright that's enough horseplay. Leave something of Brother Hilarion for the Orks to chew on, eh.' Added Brother Sargent Constantine. Grabbing his cheek and eliciting more chuckles from the whole party. Even Hilarion as he batted away Constantine's hand.

'Five minutes. All units to launch positions.' Stated the officer on the speaker.

Suddenly business like. They locked helms and repeated the ritual Agathon and Ateus had shared. Where afterwards. Agathon addressed his squad one last time.
'I want a clean dispersal on landing. Clear lanes, and over lapping fields. Watch the spacing's and clear the ramp for immediate dust off, understood?..." His squad all nodding as one in acknowledgement. Before he lead them up the ramp to join the two squads already aboard. Storing weapons and strapping into their grav-harnesses as the ramp began to close.


* * *


To see a Space Marine chapter go to war is both rare, and humbling in the extreme. The sight of enough to cower most enemies into submission by it's mere presence. But to those failing to submit to Imperial rule. It is enough to annihilate them.
And so began the Platyaen campaign with the launch of nearly forty drop pods from close orbit. The Ariston firing a bottom broadside like an ancient maritime galley. Hurtling its bulbous Drop Pods towards the surface at break neck, bone rattling speeds. Only the Astartes biology could survive. Blasted ahead of the chapters gunships and armoured transports launching from the hanger decks of the Casius. In wave after wave of black hulled monstrosities launching with some fighting the weight of war machines. As all flew through the hangers and bays now open to the void. The sun glistening dully from prows as they swooped after the first wave. Jinxing amongst themselves in near stalling dives. Racing to reach the surface.


* * *


Fiery comets streaked through the sky. Like shooting stars bathed in fire. The drop pods punched through the atmosphere and clouds. Deceleration rockets igniting seconds from impact. Slamming into the ground like something tossed from the ancient gods. Creating a haze of pulverized dirt and rock to shroud the landscape of the landing.
Emerging from the haze sprang the companies of the Panther Claws 2nd, 3rd and 4th. Pounding down petal shaped ramps as they quickly peeled open on explosive bolts. Sprinting clear, before dropping to a knee or crouch. Scanning their weapons for a target.
Finding no opposition. The first wave quickly claimed the unremarkable land littered with Drop Pods. Where the first of theThunderhawk gunships soon came over head. Flaring thrusters brightly to land and disgorge more Space Marines. Before dusting off again to begin their air support roll. While the last gunships touched down alongside the Thunderhawk transports landing the chapters armoured support and supplies into the foot print. The huge transports releasing their cargo of war-gear and machines from their protective clutches. To begin the process of recovering the downed drop pods scattered over the small plain. Moving from one task to the next in a seamless ballet as they maneuvered above the drop pods deploying magnetic clamps. Then flaring their engines for the stars.

Squads where loaded into the transports of Landraiders, Razorbacks and Rhino's as the vehicles bolter's, cannons and flamers where checked and rechecked. Ammo feeds refitted before being tested for damage in the drop.
Inside his landed Razorback. Captain Agathon was deep in conversation with his Techmarine driver. Brother Leon testing the controls of the twin linked turret mounted heavy bolter's above. As the other Techmarine busied himself with the Stormbolter through the hatch. While the squad stored their war-gear. When Master Detrus came over the chapters battle net.

'This is Panther. Commanders, report readiness.'

Agathon activating a green rune. One of three appearing on his lensed display of his HUD. Turning the box next to his units designation green in his lords helm.

'Confirmed. All vehicles. Form up. Formation Sierra, Bravo, Foxtrot.'

'Weapons check.' Barked Agathon. Hearing a series of clicks and clacks as breaches were slid back to check chambers, and Herlion checked his Melta. And he gave his own Stormbolter the same treatment. Before thumbing the safety as the Razorback began to move off into formation with the column. His squad immersing themselves in their own thoughts with the grumble of engines and rumble of the tracks beneath. The turrets servo's whining as Leon tracked the rectule from left to right. With Agathon's thoughts drawn towards the brief words with Ateus in the hanger, and own his own misgivings. Not only for the campaign. But for his new Lord.

The previous Chapter Master, Octavius. Killed barely a year ago. Fighting a small piratical Eldar fleet plaguing nearby Imperial worlds. Attacking transports, cargo haulers. Even a naval light cruiser falling prey while investigating the loss in shipping. But by then. Thousands of crew and settlers from distant outposts had been put to the sword. Save an unlucky few. Kept alive for dark entertainment and cruel amusement. Slaves to serve their new masters. Sold and traded in a fate worst than death. Until in the final cornering battle. Octavius, leading the final assault onto the xenos's bridge. Duelled with their Lord in a gruelling trial as lords and champions met. Octavius victorious. Though in the act, he himself had been wounded. The slender blade biting deep. Shattering plate and braking bone. Coated in unknown poisonous toxins that refused to allow the wound clot or heal. He slowly bled to death as he ranted and raved with the toxins eating away at his mind.

In his most lucid state. He'd named Detrus his successor to ascend to Master of the Panthers Claws. The decision not sitting well with Agathon and others. Having never rated Detrus' command skills, and now blatant favouritism. Thinking never to of had company command. Let alone a chapter. He was far too reckless with the lives under him. Only reflecting the fact the mantle of Chapter Master fit poorly.
But he did not begrudge not being chosen himself. Preferring the seventh to command than a whole chapter. Though he'd wished....

'Captain.'

Shaking himself from his dark revelry. He made his way to the drivers compartment to stand lightly crouched beside the marine. Resting a hand on his shoulder.

'Report.'

'We're approaching the siege lines now, Captain. Contact in...seven minutes.' He confirmed by looking down to the panel in front.

While lost in the past. The column had travelled the 20km over craggy hills and down deep gullies. To climb the last rise before the vast plateau. Where the capital city lay sprawled below.
Looking out. He got his first sight of the huge tiered metropolis. A mixture of colossal spires, clustered habitations, nearby squatting manufactures, and landing platforms dotting it's five tiers. With breaches wedged wide into it's outer wall. Giving the foul enemy access to the lower tier, and under-hive of the city. Leaving thick pluming smoke clinging to the growing ruins. As fresh fires burned around the gates of the second tier. Where the chief of the fighting lay. Heartening his spirit as his sight swept on to the higher tiers seemingly untouched from the fighting. Proof of a struggle still being waged by its inhabitants as his gaze shifted to the plateau around the city. Scanning a maze of crudely cut trenches and enforced emplacements. Where the green and red tracers or blobs of blues and pinks sizzled and hissed from the massed guns towards the city.

Making his way back to his seat. He activated squad wide vox so Leon could hear him over the whine of his turrets controls. 'We'll be breaching their lines any minute. So it's about to get hot. But once inside. Be prepared to disembark to clear any pockets we may encounter as we push through to our lines.'
Cutting him off from anything more. A shell exploded nearby. Causing casing and shrapnel to ping and clatter off the Razorbacks hull. Drowning any reply from his squad. With Agathon once again feeling the now familiar pang of doubt in his commander. Wondered how many would have to die for arrogance before the end.

Chapter 3: Parting of The Sea

A low rumble built behind the rise to a high pitched grumble. Before the gathered host burst over the crest and thundered down it's side. Churning the earth black with treads spitting clodedd mud. Charging out over the barren plain of hardy weeds and mounded waste. Roaring across it's terrain at a ground eating fifty-five kilometres per hour. Their collective promethium rumble unmistakable to the enemy.
A multitude of flashes announced the Orks reply to the challenge. Seconds before the overlapping sounds of ejected metal caught up with the whistling, shrieking shells raining about the plateau. Forcing the host to dodge and weave through a maze of erupting shrapnel dirt as they advanced towards the trenches.
Two kilometres out. The barrage grew heavier still. The distance between the two sides ate by daring and speed. Allowing ever smaller emplacements to add to the swirling coldrun bracketing from the heavens. The massed mortars and siege cannons awaiting ahead. Peppering the ground. Gouging fist sized chunks and furrows from armoured slabs and flanks.
Overhead, Thunderhawks strafed as they swept in from the rise. Letting loose their bolters in a churning hail. Screaming above the battlefield. Streaming missiles at anything before the Panther Claws. With the Orks targeting the boxy gunships zooming overhead. Who again and again swept by. With the greenskins far from impotent in answering in kind. The air filled with the greasy flak and contrailing rokkits bursting amongst the gunships. That saw several explode or crash fierily to the ground Before a depleted arsenal saw them boost again for the rise.
Five hundred meters from the now smoking trenches. The rallying Orks let fly with their stubbas, rokkits and cruder blasters on the encroaching wall of metal. Which spanked and thudded off hulls in a chaotic rattle without answer. Until the Panther Claws answered with their own volley. Bolters chattering out to stitch shells along the trenches. Blowing flesh to fathomless pieces, as Lascannons bit through metal ease, to the steady thud of shells or whirling shriek of missiles. Tearing whole mobs to mist as they closed the last distance. Smashing over the rear trenches to spread death amongst the siege lines. Blowing trukks, tanks and guns to molten scrap. As they mercilessly mowed the enemy before them angling for the city. Shot and shell clanging off armoured hulls as they broke the front lines to ford no-man's land. While Detrus came over the battle-net.
'All Companies, prepare to breach.. Rally point is first junction...Execute.'

On command. The column split and made for their respective targets in the wall. Climbing the shifting rubble as their rearguard fought back the mobs trying to counter their charge. The chapter smashed their way down through the outer buildings to climb the mounds of rubble in search of the streets, such was the damage inflicted on the tier. As they occasionally came under sporadic attack from the mobs already roaming the districts. While they found passable roads or forged ones themselves. Until some twenty minutes after breaching the walls. The split force was linked up at the designated junction.


* * *


With a loud whoosh that signalled the ambush. The Ork Rokkit careened from the upper window to impact on Agathon's Razorbacks hull. The crude charge igniting in a ball of super heated gas and flame. Blowing jagged strips and metal chunks from the transport. Digging a hole into it's troop compartment. While showering those inside with twisted metal.
Constantine grunted loudly as he pulled the thin twisted spar from his chestplate, tossing it to the deck. Growling with the pain as he stood and fired a quick burst through the ragged hole. Before sitting back. Uttering oaths of vengeance under his breath.

'Are we having fun yet, brother?' Hilarion teased, leaning forwards.

'Are we fug!' Constantine replied. Finishing the age old adage with feeling. Eliciting a chuckle from the squad.

'Are you alright, brother?' Iason asked with concern. But knew better than to act without a call for aide. Even though he'd seen the blood on the spar.

'A paper cut kinsman. Don't trouble yourself.' Waving his hand dismissively at the wound to stop the Apothecary from rising.

As they spoke another Rokkit was already slicing through the air to strike the Rhino in front from the 6th company. Piercing a battle damaged section of armour into the grumbling engines to ignite the deep fuel tanks into a ball of fire that ripped the Rhino apart. Scattering the war machine all over the street as the flames cooked the occupants alive as the Techmarine manning the hatch mounted Stormbolter was blown high into the air by the concussive blast wave to land in the road in front of the wrecked vehicle in a crumpled heap. His legs gone, and only ragged meat and charred metal remained below the thighs.
Doggedly the Techmarine clung to life. Dragging himself towards the Rhino ahead that had halted to render aide. Rounds biting the churned street around him, or pinging from what remained of his armour. With the rear ramp in front thumping down. Quickly disgorging half a squad to spill onto the streets. Three providing cover as two grabbed the Techmarines out stretched arms, dragging him back up the ramp. Leaving red smears from his stumps as his body shook with latent shock.

'Leon! Find that RPG, now!' Bellowed Agathon, who'd seen everything. Leaving him enraged at the casual loss.

Above, the turret mounted to the upper roof tracked left. Where Leon opened up on a second floor window with a sustained chatter and tinkling of brass falling from ejection ports. The bolt shells eating away the Tankbusta leaning from the window. Blowing him into a claret of mist and a steaming pile of gore.

'Target down.' Reported Leon.

Agathon didn't even acknowledge the report as he instead he cast his voice out to the driver.

'Push the wreck off the road, and re-join the column. Now!'

'Yes, sir.' The Techmarine called over his powerful engines. The gravelly tones going from a deep rumbling chug. To a ear deafening roar as the Razorback lurched forwards with a burst of speed.

'Brace!' Warned the Techmarine before the Razorback crunched into the burning hulk. Ramming it from the road and into a building with a squeal of metal as they past the burning wreck.

* * *

Further down the tail of the column had become bogged down near a four way junction by the delay ahead. Under heavy fire from the buildings around them as the greenskins sprang their ambush from everywhere.
Inside his own Razorback. Ateus was finding it hard to hear over the near constant chatter of the Heavy Bolter's as he tried to make sense of the voice over the vox.

'Say again, Alfa 12..?'

'Repeat, under heavy contact. Enemy numbers increasing. They have heavy stubbers and R......' The vox dissolved into wailing pops and static squeals as the three Rokkits hit their target.

'Alfa 12, are you receiving me?! Alfa 12, respond!?'

'....'

'Contact left!' Shouted the Techmarine in the hatch as he swung round to engage the target on the flank. Though after a brief burst from his bolter. It stopped suddenly as a fine red rain fell through the hatch. The Techmarine convulsing and clattering to the deck with his chest a blown out mess.

'Apothecary!' Ateus called. But knew it was already too late to save the dead.
Peon springing over the downed brother to check vitals for any flicker of life, or any spark needing eased into oblivion. But found nothing but a last breath and a sightless stare as he removed the helm.
Resting a hand on the dead marines shoulder, he whispered. 'The Emperor shall know your name, brother. Be at peace.'

Turning from the scene. Ateus activated the company vox with a hint of anger in his voice.

'9th company, secure the junction. Protect the transports!' His squad leaders acknowledging. Piling out of their Rhino's. Even as he switched over to his squad.

"Leander, get that hatch open!" Pointing to the access hatch that quickly sprang open at his word. The hatch clanking down, and the squad clambering out to find themselves near the edge of the junction tailing 8th company. Who had disembarked to pour forth into the surrounding shattered buildings. Getting to grips with their foe in the intensity of close combat. So that all around the junction. Echoed with the stutter of gunfire and occasional shriek of a melta or whoosh of flame that licked at surrounding buildings hungrily.
Seeing his company hold up in and around the junction. Occupying the piles of fallen rubble dotting the section or the very buildings themselves. They fired along the streets or into the other buildings around them. As they, for now. Held their own. The main weight and threat. Pounding down from a three story tower behind to his left. Laying down a punishing rate from its top windows. A heavy stubber, sooty rokkits and shoota's. Skidded and clanged from the other side of the Razorback in a varied rhythm.

'Alfa seven through eleven, secure the rear. Alfa three and four, right flank. Alfa five and six the left. Alfa two keep the way open to 8th company.
Hold your ground, brothers. Until otherwise, or until death.'

'Until death!' Echoed back his men as he switched back to his squad.

'Make for the base of the tower. Lets move!'
With that. He was up and sprinting the thirty meters from behind the Razorback. The base of the tower looming ahead. Bullets biting the ground around his squad as they ran towards the open doorway with bursts from their bolters. Ateus pulling at a krak grenade from his belt as Cantius behind did the same. Tossing them in a swift, flat arcs. Rebounding from the door frame to land aside the barricades piled high. Where the muffled bangs signalled the charge into the smoke filled room that billowed past the squad.
Inside, only three Orks remained behind their makeshift barricades in a choke filled daze from the blasts. The rest, largely shredded by the shrapnel. So that Ateus didn't even pause to tug the trigger of his Stormbolter. Spraying fat shells from the double barrelled weapon in a sustained bark of automatic chatter as he ran. Quickly cutting down the remaining three as he barrelled on for the stairs. Pumping his legs up concrete steps that cracked under his stride. Reaching a landing in time to see an Ork come from the only doorway along the hall. And he pumped two round into it's chest still on the move. Collapsing it to the floor as it made horrible sucks and wheezes from the frothing craters in it's chest. He ignored it's death throws to skid past to the door and slip round it's frame. Firing four bolts into the back of the Ork at the window. Who fell with a shriek as they took the next stairs. Rushing along the second hall Only to find the room at the end strangely empty. And they moved on again. Climbing the last flight for the top of the tower and it's open plan. Greeted with the sight of a mob crowding round the windows facing onto the junction. Lashing down at the column as a Knob in heavy bolted armour. Tried in vain to direct their fire with a huge serrated choppa and bellows from it's maw.

Surging into the room. The squad took the fight to the enemy. Ateus holding down his trigger. Firing into the knot of green flesh. That took down four Boyz in quick succession. Bolt shells rupturing rib cages and limbs in fountainous gore as he charged on. A beastral roar announcing the huge knob. Choppa raised ready to smash his skull. Lumbering towards him with Titus's bolt shells ricocheting from nailed armour. Til Titus was tackled amongst the melee. Leaving Ateus alone to face the enraged Knob. Throwing up his Stormbolter in a two handed defensive block. Halting the blade with a shower of metal. Forcing him to his knee from the raw strength and jarring impact.
Rallying with a cry. He knocked aside the grinding blade. Reversing the arc of his bolter to smash stock into knee and cartilage. Shattering the bone as the Ork howled and toppled like felled tree to the ground. Where it quickly kicked out. Catching Ateus in the chestplate in a mauled kick. Pistoning him into the far wall. That cracked as he crumpled to the floor.

Titus saw the knob challenging his Captain as he took aim at the beast. Watching in dismay as the hail of bolt rounds bounced harmlessly away while the Knob charged on.
Registering movement too late. The Ork to his side tackled him to the ground. Bolter slipping from grasp to be lost among the press. Finding himself pinned beneath an attacker with a hand clamped to his throat. The other holding a jagged dagger that plunged towards his faceplate.
Gabbing the descending dagger and hand. They struggled for ownership. Titus attempting to break it free as the Boy slowly inched it closer to his eye lens, even as he tried to push it away. The grip around his throat tightened as the Boy sensed victory. His vision blurring. Forcing his third lung to kick in to make the most of his tortured airways. But he knew from bitter experience he was on the verge of blacking out. And what he did in the next few moments. Would determine his fate.
Looking past the warning runes in his helm. He activated the cocktail battle stims. Hundreds of tiny needles shooting out from his inner armour. Injecting the heady mix straight into his bunched muscles. That burned with fresh power as he commanded his power pack to boost it's output into the red. Leaving three minutes before it's overloading reactor took them all to the fires of hell. And his hands clamped down hard on the Orks wrists. Pulverizing bone and causing the Boy to cry out and pull away. But Tynus only seized on his opportunity. Hammering a cross into it's face as it rose. With another that sent it sprawling to the floor. Tynus smothering weight atop the Ork. Forcing out an explosive exhalation as Titus began to squeeze the life from his enemy. Relishing the act as he choked the Boy feebly trying to prize him off. He gladly watched the light die from it's eyes.


Inside his helm. Ateus could taste blood while his vision swam. Vaguely aware of the dent to his chestplate. Even without looking to his armours display. His body flooded with pain suppressant stims as he looked up with his vision blurred. Seeing his opponent growling and rising. It's buckled leg oozing blood down the shin. While bone protruded from the skin. that twitched as it began to limp menacingly towards him.
Pulling his pistol. Ateus fired groggily. Catching the knob high in the neck and head. Putting it back down. Where it murmured curses as he rose to his feet. Body protesting as he strode over to his downed foe. Unloading bolt after bolt into the knobs exposed face as he came. Until all was left was a crimson spray above the torso.

Turning to the melee that had raged on around. He could see it was all but over. Four of his squad mopping up the last. While Titus sat astride his Ork as he strangled the last vestige of life. He walked to the nearest window to the junction and saw the 8th, 9th and 10th companies still held their own. Despite the fact that more and more of the enemy had arrived from the reorganizing siege lines. Only kept at bay by the disciplined fire of the Chapter. Though he could see it wouldn't hold back the growing tide forever.
Turning from the view to address his squad who had finished their bloody work, he said.

'Fine work, brothers. Now back to the transports. Quickly now.' Leading them to the stairways as he activated his vox and led the way through the structure.
'Golf Charlie Alfa. Are you receiving me, acknowledge.'

'Go ahead Item Charlie Alfa.' Replied Agathon over the bark of heavy bolter's and growl of throaty promethium engines.

'Heavy contact to our rear. Enemy, two angels plus. More en-route. What's the stoppage? We need to get moving back here.'

'Blockage is cleared,. brother. You may proceed.'

'Received all. Joining column' He said as he reached the base of the tower and exit onto the street. Switching over to his companies vox to give the order.
'Fall back to the transports. We're moving out!' ,he said. Walking to his Razorback with his squad in tow. Receiving a string of after actions from his Sergeant's making their way back to the relative safety of their Rhino's. The butchers bill light with two deaths and a few seriously wounded. But each death was a bitter blow added to the loss of three Predators from their rearguard before they had again began to move. Turning the action sour, and for the first time. Ateus to feel doubt creep into his mind at Agathon's words. The head of Eighth company moving on as he reached the Razorbacks hatch. Standing aside for his squad to pile inside. Raising a hand to the lip. Taking a last scan down the column to check for stragglers, before pulling himself inside.

At length, they reached the second tiers gate. Ending the ordeal of contacts from blackened rooftops and smouldering rubble as the Orks had tried to keep pace. The battered column passed beneath the archway to the euphoric shouts and cheers of the guardsmen on the walls and barricades before it's shattered doors. They ignored the joyous sounds. Pushing on through the streets towards the highest tier. Passing the gathering press of people who'd rushed to see the miracle of a God-Emperor. The streets soon lined by a cheering mass. All calling out praise and reciting prayers to the Emperor. Thanking Him for his chosen.

Chapter 4 : A Fate Relived

With the order to halt given. The chapter fanned out around the second highest tier. Climbing the battlements atop the walls to the nervous glances and whispers of the guard. The companies deployed while the Techmarines tinkered away to rig effective repairs to their battered war machines. While Detrus seeked out the governor at his palace as he rode in the back of his Land Raider. His commanders with him through the streets, now empty of voice or sound. But the echoing rumbles and squeaks of their metal tracks.
Inside, Detrus heard out his Captains as the Land Raider twisted and turned through the city. 'And you, Captain Remus. How did the 10th fare?'
"Well, lord. Though most of the companies Rhino's received moderate to extensive damage, being of a lighter variant than most. They where built for speed and stealth, lord.'

Brushing aside the matter, Detrus continued. 'A minor matter and inconvenience. They shall be surplus to our requirements' He stated. Dismissive of the 10ths battle doctrine and needs.

With most having removed their helms for this informal council in the back of the Redeemer. Agathon had chosen to leave his on while he eyed Detrus coldly from behind his lenses. Grinding his teeth at the dismissive manner towards war machines that had served the chapter for far longer than him. Causing a building hatred for his commander to rise and simmer as he gripped the seats handle tighter to hold back the torrent scratching at his throat. Detrus continuing on. Consulting the data slate in hand. Oblivious to the rising tension in his captains. 'Orbital scans suggest enemy casualties in the ten's of thousands. A fine tally for the loss of only 47 brothers.' He ended with a grin.

Ateus, opposite Agathon. Was shocked at their losses. Nearly half a company, lost?....His mind churning with the thought and need of it as he looked across to his friend. Impossible to read behind his impassive helm. Until a handle hold to snapped off in hand. And he had his answer.

'As I was saying.' Continued Detrus, unconcerned at the interruption. 'We must ascertain the strength of the garrison, and defences, if we are to marshal a counter to the next assault. And do it quickly if we are to weather the storm.'


Major Marius awaited them on the palace steps. Standing with his aides and bodyguards as the deep rumbling tremor under foot grew. Until an adamantium juganaught burst into view. Smashing down the Palace gates with barely a pause. Halting at the base of the steps. Where Sixteen towering giants in power armoured battle-plate. Strode from the idling metal hulk. To advance upon the broad palace steps. The Major and his aides unnervingly finding themselves looking up into piercing green slits of their black helms. Where a granite voice issued from one of the speakers.

'Where is the Planetary Governor and General of your army, Major?'

'D-dead my lord. We are all that's left.' shakily indicating his aides with a hand in their direction. Not daring to take his eyes from the legend given form.

'We will converse. Lead on to the governors office. Time is short.' The voice from the grill rumbled brooking no argument or delay. Forcing them to nearly jog after them to keep up with the astartes as they made their way through the palace.


In the governors office. Marius stood before of the old planetary governors imposing desk. Feeling as if a child in front of the Chapter Master and gathered captains. Though he gave his account of the war to date in plain broad strokes of a seasoned veteran and witness.

'The first we knew of them. They were already in the system. Passing the forth planet. No word sent from the patrols in the outer reaches or the mining colonies. Only silence. And so in haste. We gathered our ships and made to challenge the danger before they could pass into the inner core. Striking from ambush from behind the third planets shadow and moons, on a force three times our number. Destroying the vanguard utterly. But quickly after we sighted their main fleet and were joined in a vicious battle.

At the core of their line. Eight massive ships, seemingly Imperial. But now changed and befouled in shape and design. Bracketed us with their torpedoes and batteries as they engulfed us in fighters. along with their smaller ships that were the bane of many of our own. But what lead them, dwarfed them all. A twisted mixture of vessels, fortresses, manufactums and habitation that defied belief with it's magnitude. And with it's presence, we were undone' A shadow passing over his face as he recalled the scene.
'We were totally outclassed. Quickly it turned the tide into a rout as we made no effect on the hulk. Sending what survived of the fleet into chaos. With some fleeing back to Platya. While others tried to run for the nearest jump point, only to be chased down like dogs. Leaving the populous panicked at the news. Who then tried to escape in any warp capable ship they could find. Running straight into the Ork fleet in orbit. where they were easy pickings for the massed guns that rained fire and huge burning chunks of star ships back into the sky.
Several hives were struck by the shower. The worst, Camuda. Vaporized by the Northern star's core when critical as the vessel smashed into it's upper tiers. Detonating in a massive plasma cloud that none survived.' Marius paused at the remembered loss and chaos that followed. Until a cough from an aide made him continue his delivery

'Soon after they landed. They moved from hive to hive like locusts. Breaking down walls and slaughtering all within in their savagery. With several times over long months. Forcing the growing swarm to battle. But each time repulsed by it's unending numbers. The governor Alarius. Lost with our General as they led a relief column, and were wiped out to a man. So that when the black tide crept over the rise and poured forth. We could only meet them feebly upon the walls to defend the gate in the first days of the siege.
On the third day. They brought forward hundreds of ramshackle towers to assail us. The defence platforms destroying many. But could never hope to stop them all. And after a heavy contention. They finally drove us from the outer walls. Hacking us down as we fled back to the 2nd, tier. Where they shelled us into the night.'
'On the forth we sallied forth at dawn to fight for the outer districts and force a pitched battle. That raged for three days amongst the ruins. Back and forth it went. Twice we regained the outer walls. Only to be pushed back once more as they opened new beaches, and we had to grudgingly conceded the ground.'
'By eighth day. Yesterday, I think? They launched their armoured assault on the second gate. And as you saw yourself, lord. They breached quite far pat out cordons. Wrecking considerable damage in their thrust into the districts. Where it was a close thing. Until I let loose the last of the reserves of armour in a desperate gambit. Driving them back with heavy losses in our own tanks, armoured support and machines.' His eyes glazing over as he recalled the fighting. A tactful cough from his aide de-camp was needed to bring him back to the present and conclusion of his briefing.
'We've barricaded the gate as best we can. Beginning a main line of resistance further back amongst the ruins. Anchoring it round what remains of the armoured divisions in support of our four regiments, and twice that in militia. Who barely know how to hold a lazcarbine.' Ending with a frustrated sigh that ended his summary and account.

Throughout, Detrus and his Captains had listened in silence. Choosing not to interrupt. Until Captain Darius strode forth to glare into his face.
'So you've let your world burn while you cower behind your high walls, is it? Pathetic.' Spitting at his feet that bubbled and hissed.

Marius shook with rage at the affront accusation of cowardice as his hands shook behind his back to stay his tongue. Partly because Lycon came to his defence. But mostly because he knew he would have been a red ruin spread across the floor had he acted.
'That was uncalled for, brother.' Lycon spoke as he stepped between the two. Forcing Darius back while eyeing him reproachfully. 'The Major has done the best due to the situation. He deserves our praise not our scorn.' Turning his back to the Captain of the 2nd. Nodding in respect to Marius who returned it with a bow as he Assaulter Lord returned to his place.

'Yes, our thanks to you Major. But from now on. We'll be taking it from here. You and your men are hereby now by under legion, therefore, my command.'

'Yes lord.' The Major replied saluting crisply. Marius retreating to a plush couch close by to sooth his nerves with a Aramaic that his aide de camp handed into his shaking hands.

'The question now is, what is to be done?...Opinions and recommendations?' Asked Detrus. But the initiative slipped from their control as the greenskins unleashed a barrage onto the second tier in a prelude to the coming attack.
Turning from the window with it's flickering lights on the clouds. Detrus announced. 'To the gate!'

I there a reason this couldn't have been one post rather than 4 separate ones?
Welcome to dakka by the way

Chapter 5 : A Close Thing

The lull in fighting soon ended as the greenskins launched their attack with renewed vigour. Word spreading through the Ork camps of a new and more worthy foe inside the city. And so they came on like fanatics. Throwing themselves at the defences in front of the second tiers gate. Only to fall in their droves. Using the carrion piles. So that the barricades where stormed with flesh. Forcing the retreat from the near walls. As the Orks surged into the tier with the characteristic 'Waaaargh!' on their lips.

With ground eating strides. The chapter raced through the streets alongside their tanks. Pounding the ground with their feet as the machines revved and growled. Echoing like thunder never to end. But it was never going to be enough to drown out the sound of the fighting intensifying as they ran on.

Lieutenant Faustus's off duty morning now seemed like a dream. His under strength company spread over the two streets behind their rockcrete walls. Sheltering from the hail of lead zipping towards them as their dug-in pillbox held the road. Spitting back into the fog clinging to the street.
From his doorway onto the street. Faustus shouted encouragement to his men and curses to the enemy as he snapped off shot after shot with his pistol. Feeling a pulse of satisfaction when he saw a Boy fall to his aim as he ducked back for cover.
'Corporal, bring the mortars in closer. They're nearly on us!' Crying out to the hastily dug mortar pits set back behind their line. Unleashing death from above, that barely slowed the swarm.
"We bring it in much closer, sir. We'll be dropping it right on us!' Was the reply over the lip of the nearest pit. Punctuated by the steady crumps of unleashed mortars.

'I don't give a frack Corporal. Get it done!'

'Sir!' Was the only expected reply as Faustus glanced towards the street. Alarmed to see the Orks coming on through the hail of las fire and mushrooms of shrapnel. And he urged his men to meet them.
'Rapid fire! Rapid fire! Bring them down! Bring them down!' Raising his pistol to squeeze the trigger until the ammo counter chimed zero, signalling a dry mag. And
he slid back into cover. Calling his vox operator a few feet away as he fumbled with his belt for a load. 'Titus, get me HQ!' The man slowly inching along the barricade. Shouting into the pick-up to get an answer on the end of the caster. Before raising his head too high to call out to his commander. Taking a round to the head that blew out his brains all over the floor. The vox caster at his back. A sparking ruin from the impact.

Frack, thought Faustus. First the chimera, little more than metal slag to the side of the road, and now this. What else could go wrong? The cruel fates answering by the destruction of the pillbox from a rokkit fired up the road. Detonating on target in spectacular fashion as he watched a man dragging his shattered form from the devastation in their line.
Powerful explosions rocked the building on the other side of the street. Bringing a cold smile of satisfaction to his lips as he thought of the carnage wrought by the mines he'd ordered laid to secure their flanks. But it was short lived. The dust cloud pouring out. Began to fill the street with an excellent cover for the next charge.

'Runner!' He called out hoarsely from the smoke. A guardsmen crawling over for him to quickly relay orders. 'Find Sargent Kasander. Tell him to fall back to the next junction and take up a new position. Go!' Sending the runner into a sprinting crouch while Faustus turned back to his men.
'Okay lads. We're falling back to the next position to link up with the Sargent and the rest of the lads. So on my signal only. You'll fall back to the next junction by fire teams for cover..And if I see anyone just running for it, ladies. I'll shoot you myself!
Right. Now on the count of three. One..Two. ' He fired a few shots up the street as he turned to run in the opposite direction. Slamming into something rather large and metal. Sending his world into white haze as he slumped to the floor.

Agathon never moved a millimetre as the officer slammed into his chestplate and sprawled in the doorway. Ignoring the man as he called out to the Guard through his speakers. 'Make way at the barricades there!'
The Guardsman hastily making way for five Panther squads appearing from the buildings along the street to the firing line. Quickly filling the gaps to add their weight to the fight as the men and women in their midst cast them awe struck looks.
The Orks were sent running for their lives back down the street by the combined fire of astartes and guard. Until the noise drop off to the sounds of distant fighting and a groan at Agathon's feet that drew his attention downwards.

Faustus felt groggy. But unharmed by the impact. Shaking his head as all around him now stood giants in thick black armoured plate. His vision cleared as one with all manner of tools covering his arm. Bent down to examine him closer. The giant with the green crest, marking him out to be a Captain and very much their lord. Speaking to the black giant now looming over him.

'What's his condition, Iason?'

'A knock to the head. He'll be fine in a minute.' The Brother Apothecary said while pulling him to his feet by his tunic. Leaning him against the door frame.

'Lieutenant, you with me?'

'Yes, lord.' Faustus replied a little unsteadily as he chased away the lingering fingers of fog.

'When they come again And they will come.' Pointing up the street with a plasteel gauntlet into the dust shroud masking the street. 'You and your men are to hold until they brake clear of the smog bank. And you will hold this line. No matter what appears from it.' The black giant ended with a stern look from his lenses. Faustus pushing himself erect from the frame as he came to attention.

'Yes, sir. Until death.'

'Good.' Giving him a nod for his determination and unknowing quotation.

A guttural chant through the cloud could be heard. Repeating over and over as it echoed up the street. Growing in volume until it became a bellowing roar and senseless babble as the greenskins charged up the street. Shouting to their two feral Gods.

Calmly. Agathon walked the line behind his kneeing squads and twitching Guard. Turning to face and stare down the charge that his optics easily picked out from the dust. Calling out to his squad leaders as they came. 'Five rounds volley! Fire on the mark. Ready..Present..Fire!'
Volley after volley of bolt shells headed down range to elicit screams and yells as the only proof to the Guardsmen of the carnage being wrought in the dust. Until the vague shapes could be seen lumbering in the haze. Before they broke from the cloud, and were met with a storm of laz rounds and Bolter fire. Faustus giving the order that reduced the uneven ranks to broken humps and sharded shrapnel. Breaking the Boyz spirit. Who had grown too used to fighting the humans of this world. They scurried back the way they came. Followed by laz shots and catcalls from the Guard to help them on their way.

Slinging his bolter and drawing for his power sword. His Panthers about him following in example. As without a word. He hurdled the rockcrete barrier and set off after the Orks with half the 7th at his back. The stunned Guard joining in on the charge into the dust cloud. As the Panthers caught up to fleeing foe and began to hack them down, crying out. 'Death! Death is here! It comes to claim you all' With the Guard joining in with the chilling warcry. 'Death!'

The heart fled from the greenskins with a sudden rush back towards the gate. Pressed closely by the Panthers and Guard. Turning it into a rout as the Orks fought each other in the crush. Biting, chopping and stomping one another to free themselves. With the Astartes cutting them down mercilessly, giving no quarter. Where they were pressed around the gate. The near streets awash with blood that ran from the gate in streams of claret that steamed in the air.

There was to be no more fighting that day once the last Ork had been put to the sword round the gate. The greenskin slunk back to their camps and trenches to lick their wounds and knock a few heads together. And after a couple of hours the word to stand down was given, and a rota posted. While word was passed to the Captains and all senior staff that the elite of the city would hold a banquet come twilight. In honour of their arrival. To which they were all guests of honour at the high table. To thanks to Detrus, the pompous fool. Already accepting on their behalf.

Chapter 6: Into The Lions Den

As most of the populous sat huddled in the dark, eating their meager rations. The Lords and Nobleman of the city feasted on a lavish display of gourmet foods and treats to stuff into their portly mouths.
Loud obnoxious women pranced around the hall in elaborate gowns at the height of style on Terra. Wearing far to much make-up plastered to their faces. Causing them to sweat profusely and stain their silken gowns as they constantly fanned themselves with their brightly coloured fans that only spread their sweet stench about the room.
The men were dressed in their traditional dinner jackets and tails, with bow ties dyed in the livery of their houses and their crest on their breast pocket. Most sported beards or mustaches which they constantly stroked or fingered to give them a false sense of knowing and wisdom which none possessed.
Long rows of tables ran up and down the domed hall filled to bursting with fine foods and drink displayed on the finest silver and etched crystal. Picked at by the guests as the hubbub talk consisted of the latest symphony or piece of art instead of the status below. Leaving little to stimulate the mind or senses, and soon boredom quickly set in for the Panther's Claws.

At the high table, the Astartes for the most part had sat in silence. Eating and drinking sparingly. Only Detrus talked at ease with the High Lords and the more important of the Nobles who had gained a place at the table with Andreas lurking as ever over his shoulder.
The conversations people struck up with the Astartes never shifted to the siege below. Leaving little for the Captains to contribute to the stale conversations of these in-bred swine's puffed up with self importance.
After all the courses had been served and consumed, the tables were removed to make way for the ball room floor. A orchestra struck up a melody from somewhere in the hall to begin the night of waltzing to the clapping of the guests. The Captains unused to such occasions, unconsciously found themselves at the edge of the room near the entrance to the balcony over looking the darkened city as the couples trotted and twirled to the music.

Standing nearby these giants among men were a small group of lesser Nobles and Imperial Guard officers who were being largely ignored by their so called better. And were now seeking solace in their flutes of wine.
Agathon, standing with his fellow Captains Ateus and Lycon. Was going through the days action from each of their own perspectives when Agathon noticed the young officer from earlier, and beckoned to him with the crook of his finger as he caught his eye.
Downing the Dutch courage in his glass, Faustus walked over to the three imposing figures. Even out of their armour and in simple fatigues of black and grey they could still strike fear into a man's heart he thought. But Agathon greeting was warm, even going so far as to offer him a rare smile.

'Faustus.' Giving the young officer a nod in greeting.

'My lord.' Replied Faustus with a bow.

'This is the very man I was talking to you about brothers.' Gesturing with his spare hand addressing his fellow Captains.

Turning sharply, Lycon spoke with a menacing growl to the young officer. 'So this is the worm that dented your armour with his head..Why does he still draw breath?' Glaring threateningly and using his
scared features to full effect on the now quivering man. Causing Faustus to nearly wet him self while taking an involuntary step back as he tried to stammer an apology.

'Forgive my brother and his crude jokes.' Interjected Ateus cutting him off, giving him a reassuring grin as Lycon burst into a deep laughter that turned heads at the strangeness of the sound and slapping him good naturedly on the back that nearly sent him sprawling to the floor face first.

'A jest Faustus, a jest, please forgive me.' Lycon said in between chuckles.

'Of course lord.' Faustus relied faster than he would like in a attempt to forget the matter and move the conversation forward. Giving the Captain a nervous smile to show that he accepted the apology. The last thing he wanted was truly offend an Astartes.

Wanting to put the young man at ease, Agathon changed the subject to gain the insight he craved. 'I called you over because we would like a few answers to our questions.'

'Anything lord.' Calmer now the conversation had moved on.

'Why do the other Nobles ignore you so?' Agathon asked out right.

Blushing visibly as he spoke in a slightly bitter tone, he replied. 'Though we are Nobles, we do not hold the power and wealth they do and so are deemed..second class. Their foot sloggers if you will. That it why most of us serve with the army as higher office is denied to us.'

'But what of Major Giunus?' Asked Ateus, looking over to the gaggle surrounding Detrus on the far side of the room where Giunus stood at it's edge. 'Is he not a lesser Noble?'

'Yes, but he holds power over the army, and is now..tolerated in their circles at such functions because of it. But he would much ratter be drinking it up with us on this side of the room since he despises such pious fools.' Satisfied with his answers thus far, they asked their chief question tugging at their minds,

'One last question.' Spoke Lycon. 'Do you think we can win?' Watching not only his eyes, but also his body language for any falsehood or deception.

Weighing the question in his mind for a few moments, Faustus decided upon honesty being the best policy and answered plainly. 'No.' He stated flatly before elaborating. 'Do not begrudge me. You are mighty warriors, and I am thankful for your aide. But you number too few against the the tide that laps at our walls beyond this hall. You can only prolong the end.' Ending mournfully as he stared into his empty flute before looking up. 'I am sorry if I have spoken out of turn lords?'

'Not at all.' Replied Agathon. 'We are grateful for your candour and honesty. You have gained friends among the Panthers Claws this day.' Holding out his hand for the warriors grip, gently grasping Faustus' upper arm when he reciprocated.
Repeating the gesture with the other Captains, Fuastus departed their company with a final bow to return to his fellow Nobles.

Agathon watched him go before turning back to his fellow Captains. 'A dower man, but he has courage, and so long as men like him fight by my side I shall not give up hope.'

'Let us hope there are more like him.' Said Ateus, scanning the room as he assessed the people about him with an unfavouring eye.

'Can we get out of here now?' Spoke Lycon gruffly, who was quick to boredom and now bored again after his little jest. 'If I have to hear one more conversation on symphony's and bloody art, I'm going to take their feking head off. What do I know of such things except the symphony of battle, and the art of war.'

The other two grunted in agreement, and with a final cast around the room the three of them left together as the orchestra played on.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

As the waltz continued, a new deadlier one was about to begin. The scouting force had made steady progress through the void. Meticulously checking every debris field clearing and each sector before moving on.
Upon reaching the asteroid belt between the first and second planet. The Imperial vessels extended their battle line to the edge of theirs sensors to better cover the field as quickly as possible.
Set to the task, the matte black warships cruised above it's elliptical plain as they scanned the rocks below. eighteen hours later with over a third of the belt scanned and mapped, complacency and boredom set in for the crews from the munnotany of the task at hand.

In the middle of the picket line on board the Lightning Bringers command bridge, Captain Nathaniel stifled a yawn. What at first had seemed like a vital but dangerous assignment, now seemed nothing less than punishment. Making him wonder what slight he had caused his Fleet Captain.
His backside was numbed from the eighteen hours straight on the bridge, and he decided to stand to ease the feeling as he stared out the view screen of his modest sized bridge at the asteroids looking like they went on for ever, and he cursed his luck.

Around him his crew looked equally impressed at their task as they idly sat at their stations, or lethargically tapped commands into the ships computer. Even the servitors looked bored, or would if they could feel emotion once more. The only one hard at his work was Barca, the ships communications officer. Who sat in his curtain lead lined booth as he kept in regular contact with the other vessels advising him of their status and results of their own scans.
Nathaniel let out a frustrated sigh ending in a yawn as he checked the ships chronometer, resigning himself to another day of fruitless search before his radar operator called out from the bridge crew filling him with a sense of terror.

'Contact!, bearing___, mark___, I have four returns on my scanner, make that six, no wait ten!' She fiddled with her controls as if trying to clear up some interference, the radar operator continued in a quizzical tone. 'That can't be right...Nothing out there could be that big...Captain.' Hearing no reply to her report she turned to her Captain questionably. 'Captain?...Captain!'

He was no longer listening to her as he stared out of the view screen at the leviathan rising from the deep. 'Emperor preserve us.' Were the only words that escaped his lips under his breath.

Over seventy craft rose from the rocks below clustered around a massive hulk, flanked by another eight other vessels more than a match for the Lightning Bringer.
The rest of the enemy fleet ranged in size and tonnage from a destroyer to a frigate, but it was the one at their center that radiated death from every gun port and launch bay. It's stupendous hull glistened with weapons salvaged from countless vessels that had been it's prey.
After releasing hundreds of fighta bomma's from it's bays it was content to leave this morsel to it's lesser kin, and sunk into the surrounding rocks once more.

It's underlings surged forward on jets of fire from their engines fully intent on claiming the first kill. Out of them all only the eight Killa Krooza's had the capacity to launch torpedoes, launching two apiece at the extreme of their range. Bar one Krooza, that after a few seconds erupted from the inside with a series of internal chain reactions as a grot with a hammer sent up the launcha tube to unblock the faulty torpedo beat upon the casing in frustration. After the glow of it's demise had dissipated, all that remained of the vessel was a expanding cloud of crystallized gas and quickly cooling molten metal glistening as they cooled.

The Imperial ships were forced onward by their inertial speed while desperately trying to close the huge gaps between one other in a effort to present a united battle line to the enemy.
Releasing a small wave of Interceptors of their own from their launch bays, the Imperial warships fired their torpedo salvo's at optimal effective range at the oncoming wave of ships as they prayed for the Emperor to be merciful.

The fighters met in a swirling tangle of dog fights and blossoming fire balls and trailing smoke as each pilot was locked into their own individual battle for survival in the unequal melee.
Speeding through this maelstrom of death came the two torpedo salvo's seeking the targets they tracked through the void. The Imperials torpedoes flew straight and true, claiming six victims that disappeared from their scopes in a series of silent blinding white explosions, and two more shuddered out from what passed for their formation. But none were of the remaining seven Killa Krooza's who lay menacingly at the heart of their swarm.

In answer, fourteen crude torpedoes streaked towards the Imperial line. Meeting a barrage of macro cannons and rapid cycle mega-lasers that pierced the void with their voltaic light, destroying half their number in quick succession in blinding flashes. The seven survivors sped on through a wall of shrapnel kicked out by the flack batteries doting the matte black hulls. Claiming two more kills that left the five remaining torpedoes to slip past their net of metal to impact against their targets hulls.

The Lightning Bringer lurched and shuddered like a wounded beast as klackons wailed, and warning runes flashed everywhere in the flickering darkness.
Nathaniel slowly picked himself up from the deck where he had been thrown from the massive impact and called out into the gloom of emergency lighting as he dabbed at the cut on his cheek.

'Damage report!'

''The front section and prow have been vaporized, sir.' Called one voice.

'The torpedo bays are gone too.' Said another.

'We're leaking atmo from at least nine decks, with fires on another five...Sealing the compartments now.' Called back his first officer from somewhere nearby.

'Helmsman, correct our tumble and get us back into the fight. We've still got guns we can bring to bear.'

'Aye sir.' Said the helmsman with obvious strain in his voice as he fought the controls refusing to bend to his will.

'Communications, what's happening out there?'

At his station, his vox operator Barca was listening to the grim report from his opposite number aboard the Hunters Bow before relaying it to his his Captain.

'The Arkan, Calipto and Straken are gone...The Argus is listing to starboard aflame from stem to stern, their not responding to hails...The Hunters Bow is engaging the fighters and bombers and continuing on course...Their about to launch another salvo sir, they're requesting targets.'

'Tell them to fire at the first ship that bares, and keep hitting it till it's gone.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

The shuddering slowly subsided as the Helmsman called out from the shadowy darkness. 'I've regained control sir.'

'Well done helmsman. Now straight at'em, and give the guns something to fire at.' Nathaniel said with relish as vengeance filled his heart.

'Aye sir.' Answered the Helmsman grimly.

The Lightning Bringer lurched back onto the fight aiming straight for the Orks center as it threw caution to the wind even as the jaws snapped behind them. Blazing away like a cornered beast at any that dared venture into range.
The cruiser reaped a fine tally among the smaller craft with it's nova and macro cannons as the noose drew ever tighter about their necks.

The pounding of the massed enemies guns took their toll on the Imperial ships the Fightas and Bomma's constant attack runs that doled out punishing damage in return to the Lightning Bringer and Hunters Bows ever weaker defense as they suffered under the same wrathful rod.
Eventually the Imperial guns fell silent as the guns lay shattered in their housings, their crews dead or maimed around them or vented to the void.

The enemy swarmed around the stricken vessels in a frenzy like animals scenting the blood of it's prey. Some even tore at their own in their eagerness to claim the prize and be the first to board the two ships.
Brute Ram ships plunged their prow armoured beaks into the Lightning Bringers hull like daggers trying for a vital organ, disgorging hundreds of Knobs and Boyz into the inner decks who savagely cut down all they came across in a frenzy of blood letting and cries from the damned cut off by stabbing blades.

The air on the bridge was thick with the haze of smoke that induced a wave of coughing fits among the crew to add to the cries of the dying.

'Radar, where's our Interceptors damn it!" Nathaniel called out trying to stifle a cough from the fumes while clutching at his broken left arm.

'All Interceptors destroyed' Said the servitor tonelessly. Unaffected by the smoke and chaos around it as the officer next to him lay slumped in her chair as her sightless eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

Several large explosive decompression's rumbled through the hull clearly felt by the bridge's crew.

'Sir..reports coming in from all over the ship. We're being boarded!' His number one reported, answering the the question everyone already knew the answer to.

'Tell the master at arms to repel all boarders, and break out the armoury! They mean to take us as a prize the scum..And get a barricade in front of the doors.' Pointing over to the hatch to the bridge with his good arm as the other flopped uselessly at his side.

'Aye sir.' Several voices called back while wrestling nearby wreckage to the doors.

Addressing the bridge at large who now looked to him for guidance in their final hour, he voice rose over the chaos around him. 'Prepare to defend your selves!. Arms out! Take them from dead if you have to!'

Struggling to pull out his ornate pistol presented to him the day he took command of the Lightning Bringer and promotion to Captaincy from his holster. He checked the magazine for a full charge as he vowed to take as many foul xenos with him as his God-Emperor allowed. Ending a silent prayer as he slammed the mag back home on his knee as the first enemy blows echoed from the bridges hatch.

Chapter 7: Illumination

In the two hours before dawn, the Panthers Claws were ordered to repel from the second tiers battlements to the ruins below on reinforced cabal. Quick and swift as shadows they moved, wearing the darkness like a cloak. And like their namesake, they silently stalked into the rubble.
Their prey had withdrawn back to the outer breaches and trenches, and only a few hardy Boyz had made camp inside the city. These scattered pockets of green were silently dealt with by a matte black combat knife eased under the ribs, or a quick slash to the throat as a powerful hand clamped over their mouths to muffle any gurgling cry as they were dragged into the shadows to twitch out their death throws.

So it went, until the half hour before dawn. The grey half light found the three companies of the seventh, eighth, and ninth hunkered down in the buildings surrounding the south-eastern breach observing the shapes milling about nearly two-hundred meters away.
The attack on the breaches was set to commence in the ten minutes before the rise of the sun to make the best use of the half light that would see the rising sun in the greenskins eyes. All that was left to do was to watch, and wait.

But the Orks had other plans for the new day. More and more began to arrive in the breach to their front. Causing a uneasy murmur to ripple along the three companies battle line as their numbers swelled into the thousands for their own attack on the beleaguered hive.

Knowing it was madness to carry out his orders, Agathon activated a priority channel to his Chapter Master.
'Golf Charlie Alfa 1 to Panther..are you receiving.' Whispered Agathon.
'Receiving transmiton.' Replied Detrus.
'Heavy enemy are massing to our front. Request permission to launch the attack now before their numbers are too great to achieve stated objectives.'
'Negative. Repeat negative! The attack will proceed on schedule. Confirm.' Was the harsh reply.
'Received and understood.' Was his own reply through gritted teeth, and switched over to his two brothers private vox channels.

'Did you hear that my brothers?'
'I did.' Said Ateus deadpan not wanting to betray his emotions over the link.
'Yes.' Growled Lcycon who didn't care who knew his displeasure. 'We can not attack that..and live.'
'Agreed. We must organize a defence here...' His mind raced as a plan began to form in his minds eye and slot coherently into place. 'Ateus, take your company up to the third floors where you can gain some elevation for your missile launchers and Heavy Bolter's. Lycon my brother, spread out among the first floors to cover us while I'l take the position on the second floors with the seventh. Agreed?' He received two acknowledging clicks over his vox as nearly three-hundred Astartes set to the task. Minutes later, all was ready.

Five minutes before the commencement of the pre-planned assault, the greenskins stepped down from the breach and poured into the city at a slow confident stroll. Believing the fight lay far ahead they were completely oblivious to what lay just ahead judging from the queer guttural barks of their speech and harsh laughter as they entered the vast kill zone.

The silence among the rubble and shattered buildings broke with mighty rolling booms of Bolter's erupting from the buildings to the greenskins front accompanying the strobe flashes from many of the windows that toppled the front ranks as a salvo of over twenty frag missiles added to the carnage with their shrapnel.
The stunned and befuddled Orks paused long enough to allow another barrage to hit home before recovering their wits and broke into a charge with a fanatical Waaargh bellowing from their lips.

Heavy Bolter's stitched swathes through the torrent of green flesh while frag missiles blossomed amongst the bobbing green mass as Bolter's carried out their bloody work partnered by the occasional shrieks of a melta.
Through it all they stormed on. The gaps quickly filled by eager Boyz hungry for the taste of Astartes blood shouldering aside those who fell.

Fifty meters out from the three companies position, the eighth company added to the weight of fire onto the green tide from their Bolt Pistols with precise shots that fragmented skulls and decapitated limbs in welters of gore.
Still on they came. Rushing over the last few meters of the broken ground to pour through shattered doorways or volt blown out windows to get at the Panthers Claws.
Assault marines boosted their jump packs from amongst the rubble to slam into the foe head on with the roar of their chain blades adding to their war cries, and the sounds of tearing armour and flesh rent the air.

In the thick of the action where noise and confusion reined, Lycon pumped two bolts into the back of a Orks skull struggling with a nearby brother that sprayed blood onto the helm of the marine he had just saved. Then snapped off three more rounds into the swirling melee around him. Hearing a crunch of gravel from behind, he instinctively ducked as the choppa intended to take his head smashed into the support column beside him showering rockcrete. Pivoting low on one foot as he crouched. He swept the legs from beneath his attacker and emptied his clip into it's chest, adding a slash to it's throat for good measure.

He rose with bloodied blade to find three Boyz barring his path who had picked him out from his men by his crested helm. Letting his now empty pistol fall to the ground, he drew his combat knife in a under hand grip from his hip as he dropped into a fighting stance.
They came on as one mass that gave no rest bite, and he was hard pressed to dodge or block each strike until a precisioned slash managed to disembowel a Boy who had pressed his attack too far. Leaving him exposed to the counter strike that spilled his guts to the floor. The other two were howling in rage as they attacked more ferociously than before. Raining blows onto his once again hard pressed guard of chain blade and knife, forcing him to give ground under the pressure.

His second chance came while blocking a clumsy ill timed blow. Allowing him to slide his knife along the offending choppa and plunge it to the hilt in the throat of the Boy. It's eyes to bulged as they rolled in their sockets in surprise and pain with the tip piercing it's brain. Using him as a meat shield. He blocked the next hate filled blow with a parry, and ran his last opponent through the chest with his chain blade as blood and gore splattered against his armour from the whirling teeth. Letting them slide off his blades to the ground he took up a defensive guard.

His blood from his two hearts pounded in his ears as his anger surged to the fore. So that he dispatched his next few victims in a haze of red mist without thought.
Salking through the melee like an avatar of blood while blocking blows with menacing growls, he rammed home his blades with savage snarls he was unaware of as he cut a bloody path through the battlefield.
His next lucid thought was as he stood alone in the middle of a field of corpses while his breath came hard and fast as the blood flicked from his whirling blade watching the greenskins flee back the way they camee as Agathon was shouting into his vox.
'Press the attack! No rest bite!'
He grinned a wolfish smile as he replied. 'Aye brother' Bounding after his prey before he took to the air.

Now was the time for the Astartes to pour forth. Racing after their quarry with long lopping strides, firing from the hip as they chased them down and Lycon's assaulter's fell on them from the sky killing at will.
With hatred Fueling his steps, Agathon soon found himself climbing to the summit of the breach cleaving a path with his power sword as his squad followed hot on his heels. With a final swing of his sword, he sent the final Boy tumbling down the reverse slope from it's top and bent forward to catch his breath.

The sun rose over the plateau with the first rays of light falling at his feet. Causing to Agathon look up and take heart at the vista before him of his fleeing enemy. Thousands had took flight from the trenches as they broke for the rise on the horizon. Others though gamely stood their ground with steely determination. Shouting their out defiance to the figures now filling the breach.
Turning to the nearest of his company he called to them. 'Let us illuminate them my brothers, to the ways of the Emperor! Strength and honour!" And with that he set off down the slope with a host of black clad Astartes at his back.


Spreading out into no man's land, it was now the Panthers Claws turn to run the gauntlet of slugs and shells as they sprinted, rolled and dived from one shell crater to the next over the pock marked battlefield while a wall of enemy fire kicked up divots and clouds of dirt all around them.

Ateus desperately dodged and weaved to escape the puffs of dirt chasing him as unit cohesion broke down amongst the storm of fire. He dived for refuge into the nearest shell hole as the stubba's hot lead swept over his position in search of a new target.
Picking himself up from the mud, he found the shell crater occupied by the second squad and remaining survivors of the tenth from his company who were in the middle of exchanging shots over the earthen lip with the Orks trenches some 100 meters away.
A mortar shell landed close by, showering Ateus in dirt as it sent a Panther sprawling it's bottom close to where he had lay. His helm ripped open from the shell, and his hands still grasping his missile launcher in a death grip.
Seeing Sargent Alcimus leading this ragtag group, he made his way over to his position to hunker down by his side.

'Report Sargent!' Shouting to be heard over the the constant whistle of mortars and shells plowing the ground around them.
'Sir!, we're pinned down by those two bunkers!' Indicating a crude bunker on each flank with an outstretched arm. 'I was about to order a flanking maneuver over to the left just before you arrived to..'
Ateus cut him off. 'Forget going around! I want krak missiles on those positions till they're gone! When they're gone, we're going straight in! Stop for nothing until we reach the trenches! From there we'll establish a bridge head by splitting into two teams to work along the trenches, clear?!'
'Crystal, sir!' Emphasizing it with a nod.
'Good. Now hand me that launcher, and load!' Pointing to the launcher at the bottom of the crater.

Two krak missiles reached out form the mud to rip into the bunker to their left. Obliterating it in a of haze of flame and dust as another smashed into it's twin on the right seconds later, momentarily silencing it's heavy guns.
With that they were up and running along with the rearmaments of two other squads who had rose up from nearby craters to join the charge and escape the killing field.
The chatter of slugga's and shoota's peeled out from ahead to greet them. Sending a few Panther's crumpling back into the holes from whence they came never to rise again as most plowed on through the metal wall of slugs pinging from their armoured cocoon.
More battle Brothers fell as they sprinted for the relative safety of the trenches ahead filled with the green bodies of the Ork awaiting them ahead, but it was far too late to stop the momentum of the charge now. The greenskins were already dead, they just didn't know it yet.

Ateus leapt into the air with a battle cry issuing from his Power Armours speakers to land on the wide eyed Boy. Crushing him with his bulk under foot as more black clad figures jumped down around him to grapple with their foe in the savagery of hand to hand combat.
He dodged aside a Boy armed with a slugga tipped with a bayonet by flattening his body up against the muddy wall. Allowing the Boy another lunge again, this time for his midriff in an attempt to impale the Astartes to the wall of the trench behind him. Ateus parried the lunge to the left, digging the bayonet into the soft clay and letting his momentum bring his Stormbolter's grip and mail fisted hand up to connect with the Boyz face, knocking him cold. He bent down to smash his stock into it's face several times. Pulping it's skull to a fragmented ruin on the bottom of the trenches floor before he stood.

He rose to find the brief savagery done, and pushed past his blood splattered men calling out for Sargent Alcimus.
'Sargent! Sargent, good your still alive. Take ten men to the left. Clear as far as the bunker and await for further reinforcements. I'l take the dregs to clear the right.' Pointing towards the partly demolished bunker pinning down his brothers still trying to cross no man's land.
'Yes, sir.' Set to his task he called. 'Second squad, on me! You three, with me.' He said pointing to three other marines, and made his way down the trenches in the opposite direction to his Captain as Ateus gathered the rest.
'Lets go brothers!'

Working his way along the sandbag lined trench with his eight marines, Ateus fired over the lip at the enemy further down the trench system as he went. Clearing pockets of resistance, and throwing frag grenades into any hole they came across to secure their advance until they reached the final bend before the smoking bunker.
He quickly but cautiously peered around the corner to see the enterance no more than twenty meters away. Two Boyz were posted on sentry outside, but were too busy craning their necks to watch the action being played out around them in no man's land.
He slid back into cover, battle signing to his cobbled together squad.
'-Bunker-Two sentries-Grenade-Assault.'
The brother closest to him handed him a grenade from his belt while the rest made ready for the charge.
Pulling the pin, he lobbed it in a high arc over the trench wall to land at the surprised Boyz feet, who could only stare at it in disbelief before it went off in a shower of metal.

A muffled bang later, the nine Panther's were up and hustling along the trench in a low crouch as a Boy appeared in the doorway. Ateus let fly with eight bolts to the torso with his Stormbolter, and the Boy fell back through the doorway with a cry.
Charging past the splattered gore into the unlit intierer full of vague moving shapes in the smoke from the heavy guns, a confused and savage melee raged for well over five minutes. Full of strobe flashes and the hard bangs from Bolter's punctuating the Orks crude weaponry wafting the smell of cordite into the air to join the clatters of blades and the cries and grunts of pain from friend and foe alike.

At it's end, Ateus alone stumbled from the shadows out into the light of day. Splattered in the mixed gore of brother and foe to rest against the bunkers door frame as he slid to the ground.
He fumbled to remove his helm and disconnect his water tube attached inside to let the cool liquid pour onto the back of his head as he bent forward to expose his nape so the water could trickle inside his armour and down his back. And lent back in the rays of the sun, closing his eyes to calm his racing hearts.
Reinforcements ran by to secure the rest of the trench system as a shadow fell across his eyes, and he opened them to find Agathon standing over him shaking his head in mock disdain.

'And what do we have here, a shirker. There is work yet to be done kinsman.' To anyone else that heard Agathon it would seem like a mocking actuation, but Ateus knew him far too well to take the bait as he heard the amusement in his brothers voice.
"'A well deserved rest, brother.' He answered in the same tone.
Agathon peered inside the doorway at the tangle of bodies littering the floor, the smell of blood was overpowering even to his Astartes senses. 'Hot work I see.'
'Yes..hot work' He replied drowsily despite his gene enhanced body.
Agathon rested his hand on his friends head. 'Rest awhile brother, your duty is done for now.' And strode off down the trench with his Command squad in tow as Ateus's eyes fluttered closed behind him.

Chapter 8: Judgment

The fighting had raged amongst the gun emplacements and trenches systems of the invader for the better part of a day as the three companies, and few steadfast Guard battalions acting in support, dug out the last resistance from the string of strong points amongst the blood soaked mud.
The other companies held at bay by Detrus through the morning had been unleashed after repeated heated discussions from his Honour Guard that had eventually forced his hand as the call for aide from the embattled companies had become more urgent.
Set free, the remaining companies had sallied out from the wall and breaches with a roar. Falling upon their hard pressed enemy with a rallying cry to their brothers that took heart at the joyous sound.
These seven companies smashed into the greenskin forces. Cleansing the battlefield with the noble hammer, and righteous power claw, as Bolter and sword cut down the foe like chaff before the scythe.

By nightfall an eerie silence had befallen the battlefield. Broken by the murmuring groans of the dead and dying, and the chilling screams for the Emperor's mercy.
The enemies back, broken before the walls, had been sent reeling into the night to lick at their crusting wounds. But for a heavy price.
Even now search parties were scouring the carrion piles and smoke filled shell craters for the injured and maimed by torch light as the night marched on, and hope faded for the living.

Watching the bobbing plumes of light from under the arch of the cities gate as he listened to his Sargent of the fourth squad report his strength returns of the brothers under his command, Agathon was mournful.

'....Andros and Lyanta are still unaccounted for.' Was the Sargents reply, staring out into the darkness as if hoping to catch a glimpse of his lost brothers. Dropping his head to shake mournfully before turning back to look upon his Captain.' And Vandus is with the Apothecary now.'

'Will he live?' Asked Agathon bluntly.

'A sword wound to the leg. A few days rest and he'll be able to return to the squad, Emperor willing.'

'Well done today Pandar. I personally witnessed the feat of arms you and your squad performed against the charge of giant Squiggoths.'

Recalling the climb Pandar had made on the back of one by it's chitinous growths to scale it's hide like a man on an ascent. Clinging on manfully while the thing had shook and bucked as it shook it's head while as he punched a hole big enough into it's skull for a krak grenade to be tossed in side, before leaping clear with the pin in hand.
It's spectacular end of raining chitin and matter had finally put it's kin to flight. Removing a dire threat the enemy had had in it's quiver.

'Be proud of this day.' Putting his hand consolingly on his mournful brothers shoulder guard.
'Now look to your brothers.'

Dismissing him with a kindly nod, and watched Pander stride away with shoulders sunken in mourning. Agathon knew the mourning rites lay ahead for Pandar and himself, as many amongst the chapter for their fallen brothers.

Pandar's tally had made four more to add to the growing list, and the rest had fared no better.
Three under the care of Iason might yet still live. While others would return to duty soon enough. But fourteen brothers from his company alone lay dead amongst the battlefield. Hence the search parties for the fallen to deny the Ork any morbid token.

It had been a hard fight for the Panther's. The three companies taking the brunt of the fight and losses across the chapter, he reflected as he stared out over the days action.
The mad dash over no man's land, the assault on the trenches, and the grueling slog through the mud that had taken it's toll on them all.

The Ninth had cracked the nut, allowing the rest to pour into the breach brought by the lives of their brothers where the fighting among the siege lines and enemy guns had lasted for hours.
Hour upon hour of a constant grind to dig out bunkers and emplacements as they cleansed the trenches with their bolter fire while pushing resolutely on into the green horde around them.
Having to press on or die, as the siege guns pounding the city had begun to target their own lines. Forcing them to assault trench after trench to stay ahead of the creeping barrage that tore through friend and foe alike. Causing Agathon to wonder if a stung pride had stayed his Chapter Masters hand for so long.

He pushed the thought aside, he saw Honour Guard Veteran Sargent Angron making his way purposely towards him through a parting crowd of nervous Militia and Guard assigned to the gates defenses.
Saluting the chapters second in command with the sign of the Aquila. Agathon stared back into a bare headed steely unflinching gaze.
Resplendent in his Artificer armour bedecked with laurels and honour scrolls of nearly four hundred years, Angron looked every inch the hero every boy from the Imperium aspired to be.
Even so Agathon braced himself for the tirade to come.

Returning the salute, Angran cast his gaze about as he scowled.

'Where is Captain Ateus and Captain Lycon? The Chapter Master requires.' Labouring the last word. 'The three of you in his presence at your earliest convenience.' Which meant now, or sooner.

'I don't know sir.' He replied, trying resist the urge to shift his weight from one foot to the other under those uninviting eyes.

'Then find them, and quickly! For all your sakes!' He growled. Striding off back the way he came, glaring at all in his path leaving Agathon wondering what lay in store for himself and his brothers.


Half an hour later, the three of them stood in front of the old Governors oaken desk at attention under the thunderous glare of their Chapter Master.
They were alone in the grand office, which was unusual having no other senior officer present at such a rare hearing while Andreas stood guard outside the impressive doors.
Detrus's gaze shifted from one to the other as he lent back in the chair looking over his clasped hands while deep in thought over the fate of the Astartes in front of him.


'And who, prey tell, lead this ill conceived attack while disobeying my expressed commands?' In a voice dripping in mockery.

Stepping forward, Agathon answered. "I did lord" Unwaveringly taking responsibility for what was to come in an attempt to shield his friends from their commanders ire.

'Yes you did!' His voice beginning to rise. 'At the cost of over 40 of your brothers! With twice that number you sent into the care of the Apothecaries!' Ending in a roar.

Lycon stepped forward to his brothers defense unperturbed by his commanders wrath. 'With respect lord, our objectives were fulfilled, and surpassed within acceptable parameters with...'

Detrus cut him off to continue his rant. 'If I had not led the chapter to your aide, you would have wasted the lives of more brothers under your command in that foolish attempt of heroics.' He retorted hotly. 'Only MY, timely intervention had spared you of a fools fate.' Ending in a sneer as he gave them contemptible looks.

Both Agathon and Lycon bristled at the implied insult and twisting of the facts, and could not trust the words pressing at their vocal cords to be anything other than insubordinate if they gave voice to the words inside.
It was left to Ateus to answer the unjust charge with his cooler mind.

'We only followed the most tactically sound course of action, as laid down by the Codex, lord.' Which only served to further enrage Detrus. Rising from his seat to pound the desk and heavily dent the thick polished oaken wood with his pasteel fist.

'You are under my commands! and my commands alone! And you will follow them to the letter! With no deviation!' Raging once again he roared.

Seeming to forget they were even there, he raved on as he stood and paced behind the desk. 'My plans were perfect in every detail! perfect! I would have fallen upon the xenos like a thunder bolt. Scouring the earth clean of their filth! My name would have been amongst the hero's of old! My name would have echoed for a thousand years!' He paused mid stride and turned on the Captains staring on with growing unease, before dropping his voice to a low menacing tone. 'And you ruined it! His voice dripping with contempt and unchecked anger .

'The battle doctrine of our chapter demanded action, the Codex clearly st...'

'ENOUGH!' Detrus erupted. Shouting Ateus down and waving him to silence with the cut of his hand.
'I have made my decision...'

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Later, he wondered why he had not fought his unjust incarceration as Detrus had passed judgment.
Ateus and Lycon had been sentenced to abeyance, and would be watched like a hawk for any reason to replace them.
After a brief dressing down, they had been dismissed back to their companies, each with a Chaplin in tow while casting worried glances back for their brother as they left.
Moments later the doors had opened for the second time. Admitting Six black clad Terminators of the first to enter the room. Encircling him in an impenetrable wall of thick bulky forms and cracking power claws with cycling guns drawn reluctantly against him. But still ready to enact their Chapter Masters will.
Detrus had ordered him stripped of his armour and title as a final insult to his honour, and confined him for thirty days as penance.
With a final verbal insult from Detrus, he had allowed himself to be lead away.

At first he had paced back and forth like a caged animal, brooding in the dark of his cell somewhere amidst the first tier as his now inflamed hatred for his commander gnawed upon his mind.
A Panther Claw stood guard outside his cell at all times, while the same man reeking of fear and sweat from every pore, quickly pushed his sustenance under the door twice a day with his pudgy hands.

On the forth day, late into the evening. He was sat upon the edge of his cot as he picked at his food to occasionally bring his spoon to his lips as his jailers foot steps faded into the distance.
A series of bright flashes issued brightly between his barred window. Casting shimmering shadows onto the cell floor.
Jumping to his feet and spilling his platter to the floor, he pressed his face tight to the bars.

High above, the evening air flashed and shimmered behind the clouds as if the gods were making war amongst them selves. Throwing massive crackling thunder bolts to split the the heavens to detonate in silent brilliance.
Agathon knew the signs for what they were. It could be nothing else but a mighty space battle in orbit over ahead. And knew he could do nothing to aide his beloved chapter from where he languished in the dark.
All he could do, was stare and wonder at what the fates of war would gift them all before nights end.

Is there really any reason this is in so many separate posts?
I did ask before but apparently you missed that...

Chapter :9 Forlorn Hope

Three days earlier, Chapter Master Detrus had called a council for his Captains in the plush Governors office where he had brooded behind locked doors with his bodyguard barring admittance to all. And none had passed it's doors until Detrus had sent for his Captains to discuss the next step of the campaign.
While his Captains stood, Detrus, lent back in a highly decorative padded chair of gilded silver and gold he had ordered replace the old, was barely able to support his armoured bulk as it groaned and protested loudly every time he shifted his weight to any degree as he conducted the briefing

The air was laden by the watchful presence of Andreas lurking in the darkened alcove that was dedicated to the Emperor, and had once served as a personal shrine to the now dead Governor as his senses where alive to any perceived threats to his masters while his helms targeting recitule scanned the weakened points of warplate as it danced amongst the assembled warriors while scanning for a place to set his blade.
Most Captains had left their helms on to shroud the disdain they felt at the implied judgment. Of a need to be watched in this manner. And they brooded darkly behind their face plates as they listened to their Chapter Master speak.

Detrus spoke with a hard edge as his eyes steadily shifted from one to the other for any hint of harboured malice or bitterness reflected in their stance or faces over Agathon. But they were unreadable behind their helms, or skilfully kept their faces neutral or their hummers balanced under his gaze.

'We have beaten back the xenos from the walls..Now is the time to gain the upper hand. We should turn our attention to Bashan, and not abandon it to it's fate.' There was a slight rustle of fabric from a few of the Captains cloaks as they shifted their weight uneasily at the news, but none dared utter the words burning in their hearts.
'Reports suggest that the first tier is under Imperial control...Fighting still continues for the second...I have need of a stout Captain to lead three companies to their aide...Who will enact my will?' Looking around expectantly as he finished.

'I would be honoured. My lord.' Piped up Darius immediately.

'Are you sure, Darius? Your loyalty is without question. You have nothing to prove to me. But if you wish it.....?' Letting the implied question hang in the air.

'It would honour me lord to be the instrument of your will.' His chest swelling with pompous pride.

Detrus's voice softened as he beamed. 'Ah, a true brother to depend on.' Quickly flashing a cold glance at Lycon and Ateus before continuing. 'You leave in two hours, brother. Take the 3rd and 6th companies along with half your supporting armour from your companies armouries...You may leave.' Dismissing them with a flick of his hand, and the three warriors saluted and left.

After watching them leave, Detrus focused his attention back on the remaining Captains to conclude the council with the hard edge to his voice returning once more.

'I will not suffer fools lightly. The late Captain of the 7th, may the Emperor curse his name, is testament to that...Serve me loyally and I will forgive any earlier, transgressions' looking purposely to the acting Captain Constantine who had been made the new commander of the 7th company. 'Do not, and you will suffer the full force of my wrath'. his eyes glittered as he spoke as if to enhance the threat. while eyeing his Captians'...Dismissed.'

The door eased closed behind the last of the Panther Captain as Andreas left the shadows to stand closer to his lord who had stood and walked over to the huge bay window that dominated the wall and afforded a grand vista of the palace and surrounding suburbs.

'Agathon is much loved amongst the chapter my liege. I fear there is trouble yet to come of this.' looking to the door, he ended. '...Especially from his friends, lord.'

'Then they will be doubly watched for any dissent!' his voice rising as he head whipped round to eye his Champion who bowed his head in submission before he gazed back out onto the hive and spoke again as his voice dropped low. '... And pay for it with their blood'



Captain Evander of the 3rd company rocked and jarred against his harness as the gunship cut a path through the flack and air bursting shells towards the landing zone ahead.
'Two minutes!' Called the Techmarine pilot over his shoulder through the cockpits open hatch as he fought the controls juddering in his hands.
Looking about the troop compartment at the twenty or so of his Panthers strapped in around him. Evander glanced across the Astartes sitting with their heads bowed as they gripped their seats handholds while they calmly waited for the deadly ride to end.
A scream of pressurized air rocked the gunship violently to the left as a shell burst close by, peppering the side of the gunship with white hot metal fragments. A shaft of light suddenly pierced the red gloom not six inches from his head where a piece of shrapnel had torn it's small hole. Causing him to look about the compartment as he tried to discover what had happened to the errant bit of metal.
A sucking sound drew his attention to one of his men making the wet gurgling sound from his rebreather grill before his head lolled forward as he slipped into unconsciousness while he bled out from a gaping wound to his neck.

The cry of Apothacary rang out, and Litus mashed at the release stud to open his harness. With two mighty bounds he was at the casualties side and releasing his harness to lay him on the deck for a better angle of the ragged wound while the two warriors bounced and skidded about the floor as Litus tried to fit a breathing tube into the torn flesh as the evasive movements of the Thunderhawk frustrated his efforts alongside the jarring from nearby shells, causing Litus to call out angrily to the Techmarine.

'Damn it pilot, keep her steady!'

'I can't sir, the barrage is too intense.' Empathizing his words, another shell burst close by, rattling those inside.

While Litus fought to save the brothers life, Evander peered through the ragged hole, curious at their progress. The air outside was alive with puffs of black smoke, screeching shells, balls of flames, and tracers dancing between his craft and the two other gunships in view close by. Even as he watched a huge fat grey shell exploded directly in the path of one. Vaporizing half the cockpit and armoured prow, instantly killing the pilot and co-pilot at the controls. The out of control gunship sharply lost altitude and plummeted to the ground trailing smoke and debris from the port side.
Further out a transport carrying two Rhino's took a hit to it's starboard wing and fell from the air like a rock to impact the ground in a plume of flame and smoke.

'30 seconds!'

With a amber glow now filling the compartment, he turned back from the somber view to see the now stabilized brother being secured into his harness and his men reaching for their war gear above their heads.

'10 seconds!'

Releasing his straps, he stood at the ramp bending his legs slightly in readiness for the hard landing while his men formed up around him. A bone rattling impact from underneath a few seconds later signaled a hard landing on abused struts that his enhanced fiseolegy withstood with ease as the light pulsed a sickly green in conjunction with the ramp clanging open with a wine, filling the interior with a blinding light that his helms optical lenses quickly adjusted to as he pounded down the ramp into the sub-hive of Bashan.

Bashan was a standard template Imperial city, dating back nearly five thousand years to when the planet had first been colonized in the early 34th millennium. Boasting no great spires or any vital manufacturies or infrastructure, the city had relied heavily upon the surrounding hives for most of it's necessities.
Once home to over 8 million men, women, and children, the hive was now an ashen graveyard. The ruined city was a husk of it's former self. Everywhere you cast your eye lay shattered buildings, burnt out vehicles and bloated bodies festering with corruption strewn in the street. While the sickly stench permeating the air smelled of death and burnt metal that hung on the breeze.

At the heart of the first tier lay a huge cobbled square dedicated to the Emperor and his noble sons with it's days of glory long gone, and now pock marked with craters, debris, and the stiff cadavers of dead men. Even the massive statue of the Emperor at it's center had not escaped the fighting. The fallen and desecrated images of his sons were rubble and dust about the once glorious statues half shorn features that would make any devout follower of the Imperial creed weep at it's desecration .

Into this hellish landscape landed the three companies on flaring thrusters, but not all. Two gunships and most of the transports had failed to make the landing zone having been blown from the sky by the gale still whipping around the departing Thunderhawks and few transports that had made it thus far. A third gunship had been crippled on it's approach into the cobbled square. It's nose gouging a line across the square as it's front strut gave out as it leaked lubricant from its tortured servos under the strain, and he tearing squeal of metal filled the air as it ground to a halt.

Exiting the ramp, Evander gave short concise orders in battle cant to spread out and establish a perimeter as the last of the gunships and the few armoured transports dusted off to brave the storm once again. Activating his vox to raise Darius, only static answered his hails, and he quickly switched to Captain Genndros of the 6th's vox frequency instead.

'Brother, have you comms with Darius?' A salty voice crackled into his ears in reply.

'No..And none of his men from his company have seen him either. We have to accept the fact that he may have been shot down if he's not among us. As senior Captain, command falls to you, brother.'

'So be it. Take up the right flank and set up barricades on the three roads leading into the square. I'll do the same here on the left.' Receiving two clicks over the voxs in acknowledgement, he turned to the cluster of squads from the 2nd company milling about close by.
'I want four squads over here on the North-east entrance! All other squads are to seek out Captain Genndros for further orders. Lets move! Lets move!'

The surviving members of the 2nd chivied to life sprung to their appointed tasks, glad to have purpose once again and a clear chain of command. The next five minutes were filled to bursting with bustling activity as the Astartes of the Panther's Claws fortified their positions with what ever came to hand until their defenses were as good as they could make them as they awaited behind their makeshift walls of twisted bits of metal, rubble, and molded bodies for the onslaught to come.

Another five minutes passed, and still there was no word from the Imperial forces inside the city even though sounds of fighting could be heard from all around.
Hunched down in a shallow crater that nearly straddled the westward facing road. Evander peered over the loose collection of rubble and masonry lining his position while contemplating sending a few brothers forward. his train of thought was interrupted from the line of reasoning by a figure sprinting into view from the corner at the end of the street. Quickly Followed by a dozen or so men and women casting fearful glances behind them over their shoulders as they ran on.
Unbeknown to the Panther's Claws, these were the last survivors of the cities garrison. The rest had sold there lives dearly in a last desperate stand upon the tiers battlements and in the surrounding streets from the walls until they had been dragged down by their foe and torn apart while they had tried to make a fighting withdrawal to the square. The scum that now hoved into view where the very same whore-sons who had abandoned their kin for the price of living just a few moments more.

The wild eyed man leading the pack of ragged Guardsmen never even slowed down as he tried to leap over the Captain of the 3rd crouched down in the shell scraping of dirt. But Evander would have none of it. A gauntlet blurred into motion, grabbing the forerunners tunic in mid air as he tried to leap the barrier and run on. Causing the man to savagely came to a halt with a pasteel gauntlet twisted into his collar with his feet swinging uselessly in the air.

'Report soldier, what goes on up ahead.' Jutting his chin down the road in the direction he meant.

'Let me go, let me go I tell you.' Pleaded the man trying to squirm out of his grasp until he broke down in tears and sobbed as he hung limply.

'Report!' Evander barked harshly, and shook the man like a rag doll.

'The city is lost, the walls are taken!'(sniff). 'Oh Emperor save us!' he wailed. 'Please. Just let me go. Just let me go.' Said the man in a pathetic pleading voice that made the Captain recoil slightly in disgust as he wrinkled his nose at such a display. And he threw the man behind him in revulsion when he started to paw at his grip again so that the wretch of a man landed in a heap that struggled to rise to his feet before hobbling on to thew base of the shorn statue where he fell to weeping.

Evander wondered how long he had to call for retrieval, but as the thought leapt to his mind, it was answered by beastral howls and rumbling stamps of thousands of metal shod feet drawing ever closer.


The first attack from the green tide was quickly seen off. Leaving numerous green bodies littering the street, since they had simply charged up the road recklessly as they shouted to the heavens as they paid for their foolhardiness with their lives. The second attack was more measured in it's approach. Pushing up one street then the next in what seemed little more than probing attacks at the hastily flung defenses in a effort to gauge the fire power of it's defenders with the lives of the hundreds of Boyz falling to the Panthers guns. The third attack was the real test though, and it would soon find them forced into a struggle to merely survive the onslaught cresting upon the roads that would see them spill into the square.

Peeking over the quaking rubble. Evander watched the crude but powerful Gretchen tank rumble into view around the corner at the end of the street, instantly followed by another. Reving their engines to a deafening roar that caused thick black smoke to belch from their exhaust pipes and billow into the air as they hammered the throttle open to speed the war machines down the road.
Crunching over the small heaps of green cadavers filling the street, the lead tank slewed to a halt to open fire a third of the way down the road. With a boom of the Auto cannon, the spray of rockrete showered the defenders from the ruins to their left as it's hollowed out shell collapsed around them, forcing them to extend their line.
Emboldened by the lack of an answer to their challenge, the tank crew ground their machine on again up the street over the carpet of cadavers of it's kin while the rack of Bolter's mounted to it's frontal armour spat bolt shells chewing chunks of rubble from the barricade as it sent a haze of dust into the air.

In calm measured tones of a seasoned leader, Evander keyed his vox to give his first command of the action.

'Missile teams, fire when ready.'

A flurry of Krak missiles coughed to life from their launch tubes to fizz up the six roads, leaving thin white vapours as they sped towards their targets of Orks and war machines.
The lead tank to Evander's front burst asunder with gouts of flame as it tore apart from within. Quickly followed by it's companion whose turret tore off with a screech to spin end over end back down the road and land with a almighty clang.
Hidden in the black smoke of their deaths, a solid wall of green flesh rushed from behind the smoking wrecks and barreled up the road firing wildly as they came.

UP rose the Panthers Claws from behind the barricades to hammer at the Ork tide with their noble weaponry barking their war cries and defiance as they spat their bolt shells hissing down range where the metal met the meat. Green flesh was torn and ripped apart in splashes of gore as skulls were turned to red mists of ruin when a well placed bolt shell detonated it's dome. Blowing what little inside to fragmented matter and bone. But the green tide held on. Even when a chorus of frag missiles and predator shells burst overhead cutting symmetrical holes into their ranks, they held on such where their numbers.

Astartes born he was. Equal to a hundred men and more, and each his brothers the same. But he knew they could not halt this tide. Ducking down to reload once more, he noticed three brothers already down. Filling him with righteous vengeance at such foul xenos killing his brethren. And he rose to his feet with the battle chant of hate on his lips as he picked his shots until his Bolter clacked dry and his vengeance slaked for now.
Ducking back down he activated his vox while changing his mag from his dwindling supply.

'Fleet this is Panther three, we need extraction. Do you read, over!'

For long seconds his ear piece crackled and hissed as he struggled to listen over his once again barking Bolter, then what seemed like a far away voice finally answered him.

'... Fleet calling Panther three, receiving transmission and understood. Pick up is on route, egress 8 minutes, over.'

'Received, out.' He stated not wasting time on preamble, and switched to Captain Genndros's channel where he had to shout into his vox bead to be heard over the high pitched wail of a chainsword cutting through meat and bone. 'I've called in gunships for retrieval. E.T.A seven to eight minutes!'

'Let us hope we are still here to meet them brother!' Genndros shouted back over the roar of his bolter this time. 'The ammunition's running low, and our lines are spread too thin to hold them at the barricades for long!'

'Hold for as long as you can brother. If they push us back we'll make for the center and fight as one until the gunships arrive'.

'And if we don't make it?'

'We stand at the Emperors side.' Evander stated flatly, receiving two clicks over the vox in reply as Evander turned his attention back to the fight at hand.

Sixty meters out from the barricade the horde ruggedly held on as they relentlessly steam rollered through the smoke and hell fire of war. Opening fire with his last mag, adding to the din of battle while metal spanked from his armour and shoulder guards, Evander only succeeded in slowing down the tide and delaying the inevitable.
With the horde nearly upon them, his Bolter clacked empty for the last time, firing it's last bolt into the face of a Boy climbing the barricade that sent it tumbling back into the sea of green filling his vision. He let his Bolter fall away on it's sling as he drew for his blade in time to cut down the first foul beast to leap the barrier and ignored where he fell. Stabbing at the eager flesh and hideously contorted faces on the other side of their hard pressed defensive line, he continued to shout out encouragement to those around him while his command squad formed an armoured bulkwork about their charge. Knowing that the weight of numbers would eventually decide the issue and force him from his position or force him to die defending it, he knew the time of choice was fast approaching.

Slowly but surely they were being pushed back as their numbers grew thin and were forced to relent the hard fought defenses to the hated enemy. With the Predator guarding their right flank anchoring the line destroyed by a suicidal Ork with a melta bomb, the time to withdraw had come.
Sending a quick warning to his comrades of the danger now at their backs as they pushed passed his exposed flanks. Evander and his men where forced to contract into a iron ball to face the foe now all around them.

Like a freshly opened sluice gate, the greenskin thundered into the square at a run, pooling around the small Islands of Astartes fighting their way towards the center and the salvation of each other. The remaining Predators of the task force valiantly ground through the press with every gun ablaze until the crews were dragged from their war machines and savagely hacked apart as their machinespirits were ripped out and smashed from within. Those who were forced to halt, fought to live just a little longer and make the greenskin pay as they took as many with them with them until they were borne over by the unrelenting press and hacked down as they were beset upon all sides, and swept away in the sea of green.
Several groups managed to fight their way through to link up at the base of the Emperor, and just over a hundred Panther Claws now faced off against the innumerable host filling the square.

Evander fought in a mechanical trance of muscle memory from countless battles and hate as his mind shut down, and he lived on instinct and skill alone. Time passed with no meaning as their numbers steadily shrunk, and the circle grudgingly contracted. His beloved squad was gone. Candus was the first to fall as they had slowly crossed the square to their brethren. Litus died fighting over the bodies of his fallen brothers in his charge until he was swept away in a sudden rush that sent him crashing to the ground where he spat his defiance into their faces as they worked upon his flesh like a slab of meat. Brenus, his champion and friend from old was the last. Gladly taking a thrust to his guts from a choppa intent for his lords exposed back, and with his last breath, he cut down his killer. Cleaving it's skull in two to fall side by side with his last foe in deaths embrace.

Waking from his trance, his vox suddenly crackled to life in his ear. 'Panther three, Panther three, are you still down there?, over' A voice said in his ear in the calm stressless tones of a veteran pilot

'For the love of the Emperor, yes! Where are you? Over!'

'Eight gunships are standing by for extraction. I'm doing my flyby now, over.' A gunship howled overhead at the words, dipping it's wings as the pilot took in the scene below.
'I have your position. Beginning strafing run now.'

In action of his words five Thunderhawks immediately came in low and fast from the west, spraying the cobble stones with every weapon they could bring to bear, churning up rockrete and green flesh as they went.
Using the attack run as cover the two remaining gunships that had held back came in to land in the ever shrinking circle of black. Hurriedly their ramps dropped down with two Techmarines standing guard at their bases, blazing away with their Stormbolter's to cover the withdrawal.

Evander stood at the bottom of the ramp ushering the war weary brothers inside, unwilling to leave anyone behind as he pumped away with his freshly filled bolter. Seeing a marine from the 6th company, he stopped him with a hand to his shoulder guard as he backed up the ramp. 'Where's Captain Genndros?!'

'He's dead sir, took a a sword wound to the neck and was tackled from behind.'

'Very well, inside, quickly now.'

'Captain, if we don't take off now we wont be going at all. Is there any more out there?' The gunships pilot piped up into his vox bead as he stared into the red lit eyes of the Ork hacking away at his viewshield, bellowing spittle onto the glass with every strike.

Taking one last look around, all he could see was a sea of green in front of him. If there were any more brothers out there, they were beyond his aide.

'That's it, lets go!' He yelled into his vox as he stepped back up the ramp with the two Techmarines as they fired into the wall of green flesh at any who tried to pull themselves inside or hang on to the lip of the ascending ramp.

The two gunships took off in a aura of blue flame, scorching any nearby and underneath to cinders and ash, and climbed away from the square to the safety of the irradiated clouds. Casting a few foolish Boyz that had tried to cling to their stubby wings.
Scanning the gloom, Evander counted twenty six Astartes filling the seats around him or slumped on the deck. And a quick vox transmition later found that the other held only nineteen.
Throwing off his helm angrily to the deck where it bounced with the turbulence, he slumped into the harness holding his head in his hands as the gunship sped towards the capital.

Chapter 10: Shadows in the Dark

Hanging in orbit above Tygun sat a powerful array of vessels of black hue displaying a clawed paw stamped on their hulls announcing their noble heraldry. At it's head two behemoths prowled the void radiating martial strength. Protruding from their heavily armoured skin squatted several large bulbous turrets, that if fired planet-side, would bring forth the depths of hell-fire to scorch the earth clean for many square kilometres with rolling plasma flame, turning all to ash and glistening glass.
Along side these fearsome concoctions or war stood numerous lance batteries and hundreds of flack turrets ready to cut the dark with their distilled light and razor sharp fragments, with torpedo tubes awaiting to give birth to it's children of death if the chance arose.
Suspended in the void nearby were two huge cruisers possessing the ability to launch a legion of Interceptor's to aide each of their single bombardment cannons and the few weapons batteries in their protection. These thick skinned craft were both fast and maneuverable, and not to be under estimated even if seemingly alone.
Four escort frigates followed suit behind them who protectively swept the blackness with lance turrets mounted on reinforced plating as powerful engines drove them forward from their aft. These Remarkable craft were able to take a surprising amount of punishment for such a average vessel before sure-coming to grievous wounds, and was deadly if cornered.
Six destroyers of a quick and nimble design guarded the small fleets flanks. Armed only with a single weapons battery and torpedo tubes, it was more suited to the fringe of battle as it's light armour made it vulnerable to a heavier class. But it's long torpedo range and hit and run tactics normally kept most of the Emperor's enemies at bay.

On the lead Battle Barge's bridge, Fleet Captain Katius sat brooding on his command throne as he looked out over his small kingdom. Katius had been a Captain for more years than he cared to remember, and he had the scars to prove it. Under his black and grey tunic and battle dress was a network of scars etched into his skin accompanying the slivers of metal from his long and loyal service to the Emperor. His right hand was long gone. Replacing it was a gleaming metal augmentation from when his original was taken by an over loaded plasma pistol some 20 years ago fired from the very chair he now sat upon. An injury as a junior rating marked his flesh from thigh to shoulder, and ran the length of his arm to encompass the left side of his body with a mess of angry red and purple scar tissue gifted to him by a exploding conduit that had scared his flesh with electrical burns. The following infection had nearly claimed his life, and had required many painful skin graphs to sleeve his tortured body anew to serve the Emperor once more. But to look upon him you would never guess the pain he bore daily with out comment or complaint in his continued devotion to duty. But today the phantom itch of his hand had brought his temper to the fore, and his crew suffered for it. He snapped commands in surly clipped tones, and his gaze was a icy glare that brooked no challenge while roaming predatory about the bridge as if in search of prey.

While sub-consciously itching his metal hand he called for the vox operator to report on his findings with more a parade ground bark than a summons. The nervous crewman came to attention in front of Katius trying to keep his eyes averted from the tic of his hands. Knowing that if he was seen to stare it would not bode well.
'Report.' Snapped Katius.
'Sir, the Lightning Bringer does not acknowledge our repeated hails, and the rest of the scouting force are equally silent.'
'Have you checked your equipment for any faults?'
'Errr...' The sound caused a scowl to cross Katius's face at such slackness, and the crewman visibly blanched.
'That's a no then.' Katius's low and dangerous tone growled. 'I'l give you five minutes to report back to me with worthy news, and you better have something, for your sake...Go.
The vox operator gulped nervously and retreated from his glare as fast as his spindly legs could carry him back to his station, praying to the God-Emperor and any Saint listening for his Captain to be merciful.

Five minutes later Katius was still waiting. He stopped his thrumming fingers on the arm rest to stand as he straightened his tunic, and descended from his command throne with angry footfalls. Walking stiffly over to the vox station eight meters away, he shook with barely suppressed rage as he scattered nervous crew from his path with venomous looks until he reached the cause of his ire. The crewman from earlier sat with his back to Katius at a blinking array of machinery listening closely to his headphones, and had not heard Katius' approach. The stern authoritative voice at his back made him start and turn guiltily to stare up into a face made of thunder.
'Well!' Said Katius with his patience running thin.
'The ships voxs castor checks out sir, but there's still no answer from any of the scouting force.' Seeing his Captains anger rising visibly rising, he knew the target for that molten rage would soon be vented on him. Quickly he added.
'B-but a squadron of Interceptors say they have spotted the Hunters Bow and the Lightning Bringer in quadrant 5 drifting slowly towards the fleets position.'
'What!, how is this possible, and why do they not announce themselves?' Arching his brow in his confusion.
'I don't know sir, but the Interceptors say they do not answer their hails, and say the lead vessel is flashing a friend or foe ident with it's void lamps stating their vox caster is inoperable and they're heavily damaged with numerous casualties on-board.' He cocked his head slightly as he listened to the voice in his head set. 'The message repeats sir'
'Have the Interceptors flash a message back for them to dock with the Martis, and have the medicae ship Last Hope lay along side. Also tell the senior officer to report to me at their earliest convenience.'
'Yes sir.'

Katius returned to his throne, climbing the dais to sit in comfort and ease his pained body while continuing to itch at his phantom hand. Fifteen minutes passed on the ships chronometer before he got his first look at the two crippled vessels, whose vagueness and distance made him shift forward in his seat as he used the control panel on his throne. The view screen fuzzed an opal white before snapping to a fifty times magnification zoom that brought the two stilettos into sharp focus.

The first, which could only be the Lightning Bringer judging on it's sheer size and bulk, was a shadow of it's former self. The whole prow was simply gone, and it's inner decks where exposed to the unforgiving void. Where it's crew had ate, slept, and worked, now kissed the coldness of space, with sparking control panels or cabals lit up the destruction wrought to it's once noble frame. It's hull was a mish mash of torn armoured plating and huge gaping holes that went several decks deep, with scores of asteroids lodged in it's puckered skin.
The Hunters Bow looked equally pitiful. Everywhere Katius cast his eyes he could see bomb impacts and twisted plating that defied belief that anyone could still alive on-board. A near image of the Lightning Bringer, if not worse.

He glanced over their hulls trying to reconcile what he saw with what he once knew, marveling that the destruction. Oddly that the void lamps still flashed their signal. Which sent a chill down his spine. Their message had been received and a reply sent back via the Interceptors who followed at a safe distance to avoid the trailing debris that followed in the two vessels wake, but still they flashed. Remembering his days as a junior rating, Katius recalled his training in it's archaic arts. With a little nostalgia and a half smile, he focused on the flickering light to begin to decipher the message for him self.
Having come to the same conclusion as the Interceptors he was about to dismiss it's incessant flashing, when he noticed a extra letter appear at the end of the message that piqued his interest once again. He watched the repeating glow to see if the errant letter would appear once more. Instead a new letter took it's place. With growing dread he mentally spelt out the following chilling letters. F..I..R..E.
As realization set in, he stopped his itching tick to mumble. 'Oh my God.'

A bridge officer at the tiers railings turned his head from the viewscreen questionably towards the sound of the whisper. Seeing it belonged to his Fleet Captain staring fixedly at the screen with a face playing host to several emotions vying to express themselves all at once, he asked. 'What was that sir?'
Katius' head snapped round at the officer like a whippet shouting. 'Launch all Interceptors and fire all batteries!' Shooting to his feet and pointing at the two ships animatedly and frantically.
'Sir?' Asked the bridge officer with utter confusion creasing his brow while looking from the viewscreen to his Captain and back again.
'It's a ruse, a charade, a deception.' Katius spluttered. 'Now carry out my orders or I'l have you shot for Insubordination!' Backing up his words by slowly drawing his hand towards his holster.
With out another word the man leaned over the command tiers railings and shouted out at the top of his lungs. 'ALL BATTERIES OPEN FIRE!'



Hanko sat in the Tempered Blade's pilots mess in his flight gear dozing lightly with a half full recaff mug slowly slipping from his grasp as he awaited his appointed time to go out on patrol.
He was a slightly built man, more sinewy than thin, that more than one trooper had found out to their cost. Sandy blonde hair dotted his scalp, and a set of brown eyes peered out from under a pair of bushy brows. A square set jaw sported a rasp of stubble, and his overall appearance gave the impression of a younger man than his years of forty-two.
Warning alarms wailed from the mess speakers as the lights flashed a pulsing red of battle stations, causing his eyes to dart open and the recaff in his hand to spill from his grasp and smash onto the deck. Spilling it's black liquid contents onto the gun metal grey griddled floor.
Wide awake in a instant, he grabbed his helmet from the table in front and rushed out the door into the throng of crew filling the pale green hallway. Most made way for his passing, knowing that soon enough his skill could make the difference between life and death, and he pounded the grilled floor towards the launch bays as fast as his bulky matt black flight suit would allow.

Nearing the the launch bay that housed his squadrons Wrath pattern star-fighters, he found himself jostling along with a dozen other Interceptor pilots. Some still struggled with their flight gear as they ran while others blinked away the fog of deep sleep they been jolted from by the call to battle. Up ahead the bays grey blast door lay open where an array of sounds spilled forth into the corridor already echoing to the sounds of booted feet. More pilots rushed from the opposite direction to race through it's jagged maw, and he pushed his body into a last awkward sprint through the awaiting opening. Inside, the Interceptors launch bay was a controlled chaos of noise and movement. Servitors and deck crews darted and ducked between launch cradles housing the pilots war machines putting the final touches to their black sleeked forms, or manned fuel bowsers filling the clawed emblem embossed fighters .

Making his way through the press towards the Enemies Gambit, Hanko locked his helmet into place and climbed the metal ladders held in place by a expressionless servitor to slide into his grav seat with practiced ease. He hammered the canopy close button and began the process of strapping into his harness as it sealed closed with a loud hiss overhead. Running through a shortened pre-flight check, he gave the thumbs up through his cockpits glass to the deck crewman at the controls of the cradle who skilfully guided the cradle to the launch ramp with what seemed like agonizing slowness before there was a familiar thump underneath. The wine overhead signaled the cradle retracting it's hold on his Interceptor, and he offered a final prayer to his Emperor. Powering up the engines, he gripped the flight stick with both hands as the ignited after burners hurtled him along the launch ramp and the launch bay to disappeared in a rush of grey to be replaced by the blackness cold of space.


Lance batteries spat glowing orbs and fingers of light reaching out across the void to boil away metal, and score huge grooves into armoured plating. Macro shells tore deeply into the inner metal flesh of the first traitorous vessel as they worked their way deep into the Lightning Bringer's bowls with their armoured jackets brushing aside any and all obstacles on their way towards the vessels engines core.
Thirty seconds after the first salvo, the Lightning Bringer was gone. Disappearing in a silent volcanic explosion that showered molten fragments the size of habitation blocks spinning away into the dark.

Plowing through the expanding debris came The Hunters Bow who would not be so easily vanquished. Using it's traitorous sisters demise as cover. It made a B-line towards the Martis on a trajectory making it impossible to fire upon without risking a stray shot hitting the Mechanicum's vessel.
The foolish greenskins simply did not know or had forgotten that even the Mechanicum had teeth, and the Martis bared hers to the foe.
Weapon ports rumbled open, and huge mag guns on rails slowly protruded from their housings to open fire. Quickly making a mockery of it's armour plating, and putting the Hunters Bow to task.
Even as it died, a score of asteroids detached from it's hull and arced toward the nearby Martis. Followed by hundreds of tiny figures that leapt from the holes torn in the sides of the Hunters Bow on pinions of fire from their rokkit packs.

Flack batteries hurled clouds of shrapnel into the path of the cluster of green shapes and rocs departing the dying vessel. Tearing their bodies and stone to shreds and dust. Crimson jets of blood froze in irregular fountainus sprays even as it was spilled into the vacuum of space to accompany the six score bodies popped like balloons thanks to the scything arcs of lance batteries slashing back and forth.
Many more made it through the barrage though to land on the Martis' hull along side two-thirds of the asteroids. Out came a mob of Boyz from each roc, and with their rokkit pack brethren in tow, swarmed over the Martis' skin towards a dozen access hatches and air locks. Using crude breaching charges or sheer brute strength to gain entry to the outer decks of the red planets vessel to begin the killing among it's decks and crew.


The distraction had worked like a dream, and now the Ork Warlord played his next hand. Coming from the shadows of the planet into the rays of the sun came a dense cluster of ships proceeded by many hundreds if not thousands of fighta bomma's like a gleaming crest of metal. How they had been able to come so close with out detection none could say, nor did it matter in that moment. Only what mattered now was how to deal with the very real threat at their backs.
Caught off guard by their enemies sudden appearance, the Imperial ships reacted sluggishly that outwardly projected their shock and surprise at this turn of advents. Slowly they turned to face the enemy fleet breathing down their necks. The only thing that saved the battle from being lost in those first few moments where the Interceptors. Gallantly they turned and sped towards their on rushing foe to engage them in a duel of wits, cunning, dexterity, skill, and above all, courage in the face of near certain death.


Hundreds of Wrath pattern Interceptors formed up into the classic naval formation of the crescent moon between the two fleets, and sped towards their fate. The distance between the two groups of star-fighters rapidly shrank, but even at full power it still took several minutes for the two forces to close for battle. Enough time for Hanko to contemplate his own mortality and a slow suffocating death in the coldness of space as his oxygen reserves slowly bled away. His hands began to tremble on the controls of his fighter as the full magnitude of the task ahead set in, and he reached above him to grasp the golden Idol of the Emperor on a silver chain hanging from the rear-view mirror to steady his nerves. He took the chain down to wrap around his right fist so the Emperor could guide his hand in the coming struggle, and flipped the switch on the control panel to arm his missiles as he watched individual details became apparent on his closing enemy. Picking out his first target, he waited for the order to fire.


Varro had worked non stop in the Martis' forge for the last three days repairing the chapters war machines sent up from the surface. Stripped to the waist and glistening in sweat from the heat and his efforts, he hammered at a new piece of adamantium plate with all the love and affection only a master artificer could achieve. The wearer of this new plates shell crawled with tech priests close by, anointing it with fresh holy oils of the Ommish as they recited soothing prayers to the Rhino's machine spirits wounded heart. The rumbles through the deck from the gun decks on the port side made him pause in his hammer strokes and wonder what in the name of the Omissh was going on and why no one had informed him of the drill on his wrist vox. The blare of battle stations and the accompanying decompression alarms wails soon changed his mind, and he left his unfinished work on the anvil to run the length of the forge towards it's mighty doors. Leaving behind cowering tech priests in his wake emitting terrified blurts of binary as they fled deeper into the forge.
Varro approached the huge doors at a dead run. Letting out a coded squirt of binary from his metal grill that had replaced his bottom jaw to open the thick armoured doors, which swung open soundlessly at his coming. Passing under it's eves he passed by the gene bulked gun servitors with glowing red eyes shinning from their alcoves as their weapons spooled up in readiness and adrenal glands pumped battle stims into their veins. With another coded squirt over his shoulder as he ran by, the doors closed with a soft clang as he pounded along the corridor with his forge hammer still in hand.

The air was cooler out here, making his skin prickle into goose pimples at it's touch. But he ignored such a trivial matter as his enhanced hearing picked out decompression bangs from the outer hull over the constant thrum of the vessels engines.
Picking up the pace down the corridor towards the sounds of an air lock being wrenched open nearby, his echoing footfalls were interrupted by a scream of terror up ahead punctuated by a series of hard bangs that afterwards only silence reined.
The sound of gun fire had made him pause in his stride and slip into a shadowed maintenance alcove to the right of the other wise bare red and grey corridor barely able to accommodate his frame, and he waited for his prey who now audibly drew closer.

By the sound of their footfalls he counted five greenskins clomping along the deck, and he waited for them to come close enough to strike with his hammer. He stilled his breathing and griped the haft tighter with both hands. Holding it close to his chest as first one, then another Ork passed by without a glance in his direction, until all five had almost passed his shrouded alcove. The last greenskin to pass glanced into the the alcove though, and did a double take at the glowing green eyed glistening warrior poised in the shadows. It opened his mouth to shout a warning to his comrades, but Varro never gave him a chance to cry out. Punching the flat top of his double headed forge hammer up into it's face, he crushed bone and teeth with the blow that drove the nose into the brain. Instantly killing the trespassing xenos.
At the sound of it's lifeless body flopping to the ground, the other four turned in time for one to catch a hate filled over headed hammer strike to the chest intended for it's skull. The surprised greenskin looked down at the ruin of it's chest and up into the face of it's killer in bemusement. A split second later the hammers head was wrenched free with a sucking plop drooling gore and flecks of blood flicking from it's face, and with a spasm of pain the Ork fell dead at Varro' feet.

Looking up from their dead kin, the three Boyz slid their choppa's from the sheaths on their backs and leapt to the attack over the body with snarls of hate. Varro deflected six attacks in quick succession, making it apparent to him that to fight a defensive battle would be the death of him. Letting go of the hammer with his left hand, he backhanded a Ork in the face to his left. Crushing it's eye socket and braking it's jaw as the momentum of the strike sent it crashing into the bulkhead finishing the job.
Spinning the hammer with his right in a underhand arc with a dexterous twirl of the wrist, he planted it under the chin of another. Separating it's head from it's body in one clean stroke and rocketing the head down the corridor end over end flecking blood from the ragged stump.
The lone survivor took one look at the sudden carnage wrought to it's friends and took to it's heels in the opposite direction as fast as it could while casting looks of fear over it's shoulder at the warrior splashed in crimson blood.
Varro planted his right foot forward hefting his hammer above his head with both hands and threw it with all his might aided by a explosive grunt of effort after his fleeing foe. The forge hammer spun through the air head over haft to land in the small of the Orks back. Snapping it's spine with aloud audible crack, and he Ork fell to the deck with a pained cry.
Retrieving his hammer, Varro walked over to his downed enemy agonizingly dragging his useless legs behind as it clawed along the deck in a vain and pathetic attempt to escape it's killer. Varro wasted no time in stamping his boot down on the back of it's skull. Brutishly ending it's savage life, and bent down to wipe his hammer clean on it's leathery jerkin.
Stepping over the bodies of the brief skirmish, he carried on down the corridor in a slight crouch with his hammer hung low in both hands in search of more prey. A faint stutter of auto fire from somewhere ahead told him he wouldn't have to wait long for the hunt to begin once more.


Hanko pressed the firing stud firmly as the the Ork fighta swung back into his cross-hair, sealing it's fate. He felt a moments rush of exhilaration at his enemies demise before scanning the chaos around him to select his next victim. The duelling fighters played cat and mouse in a deadly game all about him, but he only had eyes for his rear mirror and his jinksing new foe in front.
The enemy pilot was good, if not reckless, as he put his machine into a series of twists, dips and dives. It was useless of course to escape his impending death, and Hanko egarly pressed the firing stud once again to bring his kill tally to four.
His few missiles were already gone, and his wingman was vapour and ash spread amongst the stars. But no matter. His death had already been avenged.
Dull impacts on his aft quadrant signaled his danger even before he stole a glance in his mirror to see three contacts dogging his every move. Causing the spider once again became the fly in this unequal contest.
Yanking his throttle to full power he headed deeper into the growing debris to skirt in and out of the shattered hulls by the skin of his teeth while his servitor rear gunner spat back buying precious time. A quick glance told him they were still there even if the impacts from their shoota's didn't, and he wondered what else he had up his sleeve as the missile alert pinged to life scattering his thoughts.


The bravery of the Interceptor pilots had brought the much needed time for the fleet to face into the storm of enemy ships bearing down on them, and now they pressed into the fray. Auspex sensors tasted the dark, feeding the data gathered back to the loading tubes of the Panther's Claws fleet who gave birth to their children of death from their wombs. With tails of blue flame they sped through the blackness.
Closing the distance rapidly, the enemy turrets mounted on their irregular hulls sent out a wall of lead as a few Fighta Bommas gamely chased the children of death through the gloom.
Some were inevitably taken down by luck or even skill to disappear in blinding flashes, but most, praise be to the Emperor, held their course.
Through their scopes, the Imperials watched a series of blinding flashes blossom from nearly twenty enemy ships who blinked from their sensors never to appear again as they were consumed by nuclear fire.
A cheer erupted through the fleet as word was spread from deck to deck, but it was short lived.

The E.M hash played havoc with their sensors, blinding them to the return salvo that inevitably came next. Frantic arcs of fire from the matte black fleet were a testament to their need to meet the crude torpedos galloping towards them, but it was never going to be enough to stop them all.
The Ariston shook from one impact to it's port side, it's armour taking the brunt of the blow. While the Hammer lurched from the battle line spilling tiny figures into the void from the hole blown in it's upper decks.
The two fleets held their collision course, soon entering weapons range, and battle was truly joined. Individual ships now began to duke it out in exchanges of volleys from their batteries and turrets with fingers of light accompanying massive shells creasing the void as the vessels drew ever closer.

The ballet of void combat now played out over the vast distance of hundreds of kilometres as each vessel tried to seize the advantage as they swam between the graveyard of wrecks from the previous battle in orbit. Most ships fought in isolation cut off from one another by the mighty fleets clashing in the debris that surrounded the 2nd planet, scattering any thought of a battle-line when the intensity to survive the moment took over when the enemy vessels broke upon the black skinned fleet.
While some danced with their prey, others simple charged at each other. Firing prow batteries into the face of their foe before drawing along side to unleash devastating volleys into their bowels, and shattered hulks quickly began tumbling from the fray.

The Ariston and Caius reaped fiery death from their powerful arsenals at the heart of the struggle as their gun decks boomed and rattled to the drums of war while they exchanged salvoes with numerous contacts drawn to the bounty of blood around them. The Iron Might and Tempered Blade worked in tandem to avenge the Lightning Bringers death with their wrath boiling forth from lance and gun batteries to punish the greenskins for their earlier transgressions. The glowing cones of their engines and the multiple batteries of lances on blackened hulls signalled the presence of the three remaining frigates searing the dark with molten plasma as they cleansed the xenos with the Emperor's light. As Hunter Destroyers stalked the fringes of battle or bolted in and out of the swirling mass of ships. Darting in to finish off the crippled and maimed, and any that showed their weakness or stupidity in this deadly contest.

Slipping from behind a bulk cargo hauler it had used for cover, The Dantis bisected the Assault boat cruising on the edge of battle like a vulture. Claiming another tally with it's battery that caused it's prey to spill it's green cargo into the black. The crew let out a cry of triumph, and Captain Andros let the moment slide knowing that any battle zeal right now was a gift from the Emperor himself.
Knowing the element of surprise was gone, he rattled out a string of orders for it's dawdling engines to be fired up and the lance battery recharged as it swooped after the companions of it's kill while attaining locks for it's tubes.
The three vessels never knew death had come to call as the Dantis reared up on their afts spewing molten plasma and two children of death into their blind side. Two disappeared in silent balls of flame while the last added to the tally of it's single lance battery who cut through armour plating and decking to ignite it's core.
Andros joined the cheer that erupted spontaneously from their throats, but quickly chided himself for such behaviour. Reminding himself the need to stay detached from the fever of battle.

Scanning the tactical layout displayed on his bionic left eye he selected the next promising candidate, and set his crew to the task of computing vectors and calculating firing solutions.
Stealing up on it's prey the crew egarly anticipated the kill to come, and thus, were blinded to the monster bearing down on them.
Their doom was sealed when the green beam of plasma scythed through their prow like a skilled surgeons knife parting skin like butter, and their prow shot away on vents of explosively decompressed air from it's shorn decks.
The mortally wounded Dantis drifted dead in space as it's engines spluttered and died and electrical fires fueled by oxygen rich flames ravaged it's intierer, hungrily devouring metal and flesh as mournful cries echoed along smoke filled corridors. The Dantis's executioner arrogantly sauntered towards it's crippled form to stare it's kill in the eye and savour the moment of anguish before blowing it away. The Dantis's lance battery spat it's defiance into the face of it's killer, earning it a quick death for the souls on-board at the hands of the massed batteries of the Space Hulk.
A blinding flash from it abused engines moments later, signaled it's obliteration.

With this fiery sacrifice to it's feral Gods, the Space Hulk announced it's arrival and intention to all. Friend and foe alike shrank back from it's shadow as if an invisible buffer moved ahead of it's bow. Any wreckage in it's path was simply brushed aside or absorbed into it's bulk to add to it's already gigantic frame of cramped corridors and tomb-like chambers were untold wonders and darkness the mind dared not dream lay. To venture inside it's inner spaces was to risk insanity.
To stand against such a singular force glistening with death was an impossible task or a madman's hope of victory, but still duty and honour held the black fleet to resist this near unassailable foe.

With the rest of the fleet engaging it's lesser cousins, the Iron Might and the Felix led by the Casius dared to challenge this monstrosity belched forth from the warp.
Into hells teeth they charged, firing their mighty guns that would have broken a lesser foe long ago. Exchanging shot and shell with the beast that unleashed a tempest in reply. The shrinking distance between the trio and the beast shone with a mixture of greens and reds, with new birthed suns dotting the void to and throw. Marco cannons howled, and rail guns rumbled, as flak turrets and multi-lasers kept up a constant tattoo of metal and light. Hull plating squealed in protest as it tore asunder while other sections fizzled and glowed as it melted, and still the Imperiums warships soldiered on.

The Felix was the first to bow from the charge. It's upper decks aflame, and it's bridge a crater of melted steel as it's engines drove the out of control ship into the atmosphere where it streaked across the sky in a ball of flame. The Iron Might followed shortly after when it's armour finally giving out as most of it's life sustaining air vented to the void as it listed from the fight.
Alone now, the Casius charged on into the growing tempest. Bombardment and macro cannons pounded, lance batteries slicing, and gun batteries battering at the Space Hulk in vain. The beast drew relentlessly closer, answering every shot to it's hull with four of it's own that with every passing moment diminished the Casius's reply.
Finally the inevitable happened. The noble ship broke under the strain. It's gun decks fell silent, and her engines stuttered and died. Leaving it at the mercy of the enemy. But there was to be no mercy. Or quarter given. Nor dignity shown to a worthy foe. Only the massed broadside into oblivion.

Katius wanted to rip out his eyes and tear the hair from his scalp at the unthinkable horror he had just played witness to. Women wailed and men wept openly about the bridge at such ancient relic from their past so completely destroyed before their eyes.
Though it pained him to give it, he ordered the retreat from Platya, and the fighting withdrawal began.
For two hours the battered fleet manfully held the jackals at bay until finally the Orks vessels gave up at the fifth planet after watching their prey escape into the warp.

Apparently it is important it's in so many separate posts...

Chapter 11: A Warrior Reborn.

Watching the flickering lights die behind the clouds. Agathon turned his face from the sky to the dark of his cell with a look of sorrow deeply etched into his face.
People say the Astartes do not feel emotion the way that a normal man would. That they are forever separate from the beings they are sworn to defend and protect. But the tears that streaked down his face put payed to the lie.
He wept. He wept because he knew that there could have been no other out come then the one he had feared. The fire in the havens had been unmistakable. Nothing less than a Battle Barge meeting it's end in the upper atmosphere.

For long minutes he simply sat on his cot, weeping in silence with bitter tears staining his cheeks.
Slowly his anger and smoldering hate burst to flame in his heart. His tears of sorrow boiling to molten rage that ate into his soul like the bitterest of poisons finding purchase in flesh.
His fists found the shapes of murderous balls of death as he rose to stalk the distance towards the barred thick metal door barring his path to vengeance.
The thick slab of solid metal groaned as it shook and juddered in it's hard pressed frame as it's smooth facing buckled under the feral striking blows. Causing the brother outside the cell to appear at the small barred window.

Agathon was deaf to his calls to still his rage and center his humors. Only the click of a Bolt pistols hammer drawn back penetrated his red fogged mind, and his gaze flashed up from the blood stamped metal into the yawning barrel of steel grey cradling a faint glint of brass at it's base.

'You would kill me brother?' Agathon' baritone voice rumbled in accusation from the dark.

'I would.' The Panther answered levelly.

'Then tell me, brother, why?'

'I swore on my honour.' His optical lenses staring back impassively into the green flecked eyes eyeing him with a flicker of banked flame. Looking closer at the markings on the warriors shoulder guard told him he was a warrior of the 2nd company.
Agathon realized it was the same brother who had stood watch outside his cell these past days before he continues.

'Does your Captain hold your honour so cheaply that he banishes you to this bitter watch alone?' Goading him slightly.

'I am charged with this task until relieved by another.' His voice still level, but a tinge to it suggested at an undercurrent of emotion.

'Then where are your brothers?' Looking around theatrically as he spread his arms to mock him further.

'Dead.' The grief at the word shining through the barely perceptible crack beginning to appear in his voice.

Agathon' checked anger suddenly dropped away at this single utterance to be replaced by genuine shock.

'What fresh madness is this you speak of? Has Darius sent a madman to guard his Masters shame?'

Ignoring the barbs, the warrior lowered the barrel and turned away, holstering his pistol.

'What I speak is quite real brother, and no mad man's delusions. The 2nd is...no more, I am the last of my company.' This last comment came as if spoken through a mouth of broken glass, with pain clearly lacing the words.

On impulse, Agathon Reached through the bars, placing his hand gently upon the warriors shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

'I need no pity.'

'I offer none. Only a tonic for the soul to ease the bitterness from your heart.'

'What do you know of the pain I feel, are you my chaplain now!?' The bitterness ringing plainly aloud for all to hear.

'No. But I am your brother still.'

'The pain feels all too near to speak aloud' He confessed. 'I can not speak of it.. Not yet.'

'More of our brothers will die for this madman, brother.' Trusting the warrior not to paint the cell with his brains at these mutinous words dared spoken aloud.
'The future of our Chapter is in our hands, brother.. Release me.' Putting is hand on his shoulder once more, to which the warrior allowed it to console him.

After a long pause filled by the inner torment of the Space Marine marred in pain and guilt. The Panther let out a slow breath, and turned back to the figure standing in the dark.

'What would you have me do.. My Captain?'

'Release me. Let us seek out ones sympathetic to our pain. Others can see the sickness that lays at the heart of our order. We must be as one, or be as nothing.' To which the armoured warrior simply nodded. Turning the lock that held the door fast to it's frame and pulling it open with a loud grating drag as the battered door protested at it's opening. The warrior bowed to the Captain, his hands forming the Aquila upon his chest as he awaited his new lords first command.

'Before we go you must tell me your name, brother.?'

After a long pause, the warrior in the doorway answered 'From this moment forth I shall bear no name. For it died with my brothers. I will bear the shame openly, until my companies honour, and my own, are avenged.'

'Then what shall be your name warrior?' Agathon persisted.

'Dedecus.'


Moving quickly through the adjoining corridors and chambers careful to avoid the roaming patrols of Guard, and the less infrequent squads of their brothers. The two Panthers stole through the maze of opulent rooms and statue lined thoroughfares that seemed the mainstay of the spire they moved through in their quest for a downward passage.
Coming to the more populous areas, their progress became slower still. So it was many hours before they could say they had left the spires in their wake with any certainty.
Slipping along the dizzying heights of bridges suspended over the cityscape, and stealing down dank maintenance accessways traveled by blank faced servitors who ignored their passing. They eventually reached a two way junction low in the bowls of the first tier, and the end of their twinned flight.
No words where past between the two warriors, for there was nothing more to say. Instead they simply leaned in to clasp hands in the time honoured tradition of their order, and took to their separate paths that would decide the fate of their beloved Chapter.

**************************************************************************************************************

Ateus watched his men toiling under the rising sun as they sweated alongside the numerous labour gangs conscripted from the populous to flatten the vast network of trenches before the outer wall. Pyres of green cadavers dotting the landscape still smoldered into the sky, staining the dawn with there greasy wisps that stank of burnt fat and charred bone.
Standing on a small rise yet to be plained smooth by the few monolithic machines the Mechanicum had managed to bring down from orbit. He surveyed the sweating figures hard at work around him with is cloak drawn behind him in the breeze.
The vista was still a jumble burnt metal and blood soaked mud, but by days end, the land will have been swept clean of the filth that had lingered here for too long. The thought bringing a smile to the face of one who had not felt contentment for many days.

'Your brothers honour the Emperor well with your steadfast loyalty, Captain.' Said Brother-Chaplain Janus. Earning a non- committal grunt from Ateus. Who had grown tired of being drawn into testing conversations hidden with meaning with his, as late, ever present shadow.

'You do not agree? Pressed the junior Chaplain. Shifting his emblem of office from a loose two handed grip to rest upon his right shoulder.

'Not at all Brother-Chaplain; lied Ateus. 'But I would rather fulfill my duty to the Emperor, beloved by all, in the cruchibal of combat'.

'If your hands turn in his name, what does it matter of the task to hand?' Earning a backwards glance from Ateus over his shoulder before he returned his gaze to watch gargantuan cog stamped Goliath pushing hundreds of tonnes before it with its's huge plough.

'I grow tired of your hidden questions, brother. Your brethren may enjoy the sport of sparring with words, but I do not. There is no taint or corruption for you to perceive here.'

'That remains to be seen, does it not? For why else would I accompany your footsteps so closely?'

'The ninth is not deviant to the will of the Imperium, brother. Never question that.' And in the silence that followed, he could feel the eyes judging him at his back.
'Speak' Ateus allowed.

'The loyalty of you and your men to the Emperor of mankind, blessed be his name, is not why I'm here, Captain.'

'Speak plainly Chaplain.' Still not turning from his view.

'I am here to watch only you, brother. Our Master doubts your skill to lead. I am here for if, or should I say when, you do fail our Lord.'

Ateus snapped round at the implied insult to his honour. Ready retort a diatribe of insults at this insolent cur, and his whelp of a Lord, when he had spotted a warrior moving purposely over the undulating ground towards them.
Janus sensed the hesitation on Ateus's lips that would have been all he would have needed to remove him from command, and turned to see what had halted the bile he had goaded.
Both men now waited in silence for the figure to draw near.

'Greetings Captain. Chaplain.' Said the brother before them. Bowing low and forming the Aquila with swift hand movements over his chest.

'Brother.' Intoned Ateus. Thankful of the interruption to his ire.

'I bring word from our Lord. He requests Brother-Captain Ateus' presence at his earliest connivance. I also relay a message to you Brother-Chaplain, to oversee his command function until his return.' Earning black looks from Ateus's Command Squad standing close by.

'Lead on brother.' Said the Captain. Grateful to be away from the brewing animosity that had grown between himself and Janus over the past days.

Passing by the men, women and children bent double in the mud watched over by the hash gang masters with multi-tongue whips in hand, the two Panthers walked in silence to the western gate ahead.
Sensing the warriors unease, Ateus gave voice to the doubt niggling at the corners of his mind.

'Detrus didn't send you to find me, did he?' To which the helmed warrior stumbled slightly to the side as he shot the Captain a searching look in return from behind his helm.
Ateus halted his stride at the reaction to face the faceless warrior. 'Who sent you?'

This time the brother did reply. After looking around to see who was in ear shot, he spoke in a low sub-vocal burble through his helm.

'Captain Agathon, Lord. He wishes to speak with you. And others..in private'

Ateus hid his surprise with a Question. 'Others?'

'Captain Lycon of the eighth assault company, and Captain Evandar of the third tactical company that I know of for sure. But there maybe more.'

'What is Agathon thinking, is he insane?' Hissing his response as he pitched it low.
'
I believe he is the only one speaking sense, Captain. But you can ask him yourself in a short while, my Lord.' Seeing the next question pressing at the Ninth Captains lips.

Time ticked by as Ateus weighed the words that had already past between them. His mind working to Discern if this was another ploy of Detrus to remove him from command, then dismissed the notion.

'Lead on then, Brother.' Holding out his hand in the direction of the yawning gate where the two Panthers soon passed beneath it's looming shadow on their way to the secret council.

If you double click a post (or click the edit button in the top right corner of a post) you can edit the post.
Use this to copy and paste the subsequent posts into your original post.
In future try to keep it in 1 post (obviously you have separate posts for each part/chapter etc) and break it up with paragraphs.

Chapter 12: Shadows and Flame

Deep down in the under-hive, the smell of the Ork permeated every crack and crevice of the haphazard under-slums. The air was rank with their xenos odure, and their scattering of barbaric scrawl and totems offended Ateus's senses as Brother Dedecus lead him ever downwards. Squads of masked Guardsmen roved the caverns and crumbling shafts, putting any spores they found to the torch with their bulky flamers hosing out sticky gout's of flame. And the whoosh and hot tang smell of promethium was never far away.
Since entering the city, the warrior ahead had remained silent as he lead the way, not once casting his gaze backwards at the Ninths Captain following behind. Leaving Ateus to speculate on what, and who lay ahead. His mind was awash with the conflicting thoughts and questions that resisted his desire for clarity. And try as he might, he could not banish the creeping sense of guilt at his decision to follow the silent Panther into the hives depths.
At length, the silent guide halted by a rough hewn enterance in the bare rock, gesturing inside with an out stretched arm and a respectful bow as he stood aside. Leaving the warrior to stand guard over the doorway, the Panther Claw Captain stepped over the threshold and into the shadowy chamber, gripping at the pommel of his power sword in one hand, and the combat knife mag-locked to his side in the other.

The chamber was circular in it's design. Carved crudely like the enterance, with stone columns spaced evenly about it's edge. Leaving a broad colonnade running along it's circumference, where the few glow globes there were, gleamed weakly from the walls that left the room in varying degrees of shadow. Stepping slowly into the middle of the chamber, Ateus scanned the darkness with his helms sensors. Flicking his optics from gamma to infra to pick out several heat hazes emanating from behind the columns close by. Drawing his Power blade in a slow rasp, he thumbed the activation stud, lighting the nearby darkness with the spike of pale blue as the blade hummed with an electrical charge while he addressed the hidden specters.
'I grow tired of these theatrics, brothers'. Bringing his weapon up to the the en-garde position and stared expectantly at the nearest heat bloom.
Instead of rushing forward like he expected, the specter slowly slipped around the pillar of rock, followed by two more from the nearest shadows.

'Peace, brother.' Rumbled Agathon quietly. Holding his palms outwards to show that he carried no weapons as he came to a halt close to glowing tip of the Gladius, dressed once again in his battle-plate. With his sword brothers Evandar and Lycon, similarly armoured, halting at his back.

'Brother.' Giving him a shallow nod and a level stare as he lowered the blade, but not returning it to it's sheath, Ateus answered. 'I had not thought to see you for sometime.' Earning him a thin smile from his friend.

'Let us not dance around the issue at hand. You no why I called for you, Brother'

'You dare to call me brother when you stand on the edge of a plotted mutiny! Do you hold my honour and our friendship so cheaply!' His voice rising with every syllable he spat. The quick tread of booted feet through the doorway at his back caused him to whirl round and level his crackling blade at the silent helmed warrior with his own weapon in hand. But the voice over his shoulder stayed any clatter of blades.

'Put up your arms Dedcecus, our kin is only venting his anger.'

'As you command, Lord.' Returning his blade to it's sheath with a nod and returned to his vigil outside the chamber.

'Are you here to kill me, brother?' Asked Agathon when Ateus had turned to face them again. Looking meaningfully at the pale sword held low once more. Causing Ateus to glance down, and with a momentary hesitation, sheath the now dull blade.

'I had thought to come here to talk you out of this madness.' Letting out a heavy sigh. 'And beg you to return to your cell before you are missed.' His eyes pleading now instead of the coldness from before.

'It's far too late for that my friend.' Smiling mirthlessly. 'With the fate of the Chapter hanging by a thread. You know how this must end. It's future will be written by the blood flowing in my veins, or the madman's tipping my sword. It can end no other way.' Ending with a finality to his words.
Ateus saw the conviction in his long time friends eyes, and knew there would be no turning back for him. For good or ill, his rudder was set upon his course of action, and looked to the two other Captains behind him, who had remained uncharacteristically silent through this whole exchange.

'And what say you, brothers, are you in accordance with all of this this?' Gesturing with his outstretched arms at the chamber they stood in where the weight of fate hung heavily upon the air

'We are.' Said Evandar. Answering for the both of them. 'If there were another way we would take it kinsmen. But I see no other path but the one we tread before us.'

Ateus turned aside and walked a few halting steps away as the loyalty built into his gene-seed warred with the cold logic of his mind, and after awhile spoke without staring at the three figures watching him intensely. I can not turn you aside?
'No.' Stated Lycon, finally giving voice to his views with this single word. '...We need you brother.'

'Then so be it.' Speaking with heavy somberness lacing his words as he strode from the room.

******************************************************************************************************************

Hanko watched the patrol of crude fighters drift by as they scoured the debris field for a good scrap and some trophy's to adorn their fightas. Inside a blackened hollow hull of a inter-planetary liner, his matte black Interceptor was perfectly camouflaged amongst the twisted soot stained metal. With a last glint of metal, the enemy disappeared from his view and off his powered down auxpex as he let out a clouded breath into his cockpit from under his helmet stained with hoarfrost.
He had played cat and mouse about the broken hulls haloing Platya ever since escaping the pack of fighters intent on his blood. And he was loath to recall the indecent all too fresh in his mind.

'Oxygen reserves at 12 percent.' Chimed the crafts machinespirits synthetic voice from his helmets ear piece and console in unison, bringing him back to the presents grim reality. He had one hope, one hope alone if he was to survive at all. Causing him to suck in his breath at the enormousity of the task, which caused another cloud of breath to form in front of his face at the thought.

'Oxygen reserves at 10 percent.' Chimed the synthetic voice again minutes later. Forcing Hanko to slow his breathing that had begun to come more rapidly as his body released a shot of adrenalin into his blood stream as he forced down his fears.

Gripping the Idol of the God -Emperor tightly in his fist to calm his nerves, he began to power up his Interceptor for the head long charge into the atmosphere, and hopefully his salvation. The craft came to life around him as he slipped from his hide on gusts from his retro- thrusters on his stubby wings. Angling his sleek prow through the wreckage into the void proper, and skirting close to the dead hulks tumbling in the Exosphere of the planet below. He tried to blend in with the debris by taking a chaotic vector as he nosed his craft down towards the grey/blue orb. Trying to seem for all purposes like a piece a wreckage that had lost it's battle with the gravitation of the planet now filling his cockpit.

A sensor blip on his control console forced a cold sweat to sheen his face, and practically bathe his brow when the blip became five more auspex returns as they drifted closer into range. Scanning the black frantically with a fearful expression that shifted to terror when he spotted the unmistakable outline of the fightas up above and to the left of his view. He threw caution to the vacuum and he fired his main drives, pushing his joystick down hard so his Interceptor took steep entry vector and approached the speeds of near terminal velocity to make himself a blur in their recitule.
With the blue afterglow of his engines like a beacon on the black, the enemy fightas quickly fired their own drives to close the distance to chase down their fleeing prey.

His heat shield began to glow a reddish hue, and the flames sparked from underneath that licked at his cowling. Causing true sweat to drip from his body under his flight suit as the temperature rose inside. But he ignored this distraction as the gun servitor counted down the distance between hunter and prey that accompanied the machinespirits count down of his dwindling supply of oxygen.

'Opening fire.' Announced the lobotomized slave, letting loose with corralled beams of light trailing from it's twin linked guns at the chasing fightas. Scoring a hit to an exposed fuel tank that exploded in Hanko's rear mirror.

'Warning, weapon blooms detected.' Said the machinespirit at near enough the same time, seconds before he felt there impacts on his aft armour plate.

'Well thanks for the heads up.'He grumbled to no one in particular, and watched in surprise as a Grot eyed him accusingly as it shot by his canopy at the controls of a crude missile.

'What, the, frak?' But more impacts and a clank of something coming loose stole back his attention.

His controls felt sluggish in his hands this deep in the atmo as he tried to jinks away from another strafe, and struck out at the speaker on his console as it told him his oxygen reserves was all but spent.
Crackling to life seconds later, he raised his fist to strike the now sparking speaker again when he thought it was about to mock him with a read of zero, a deep baritone voice spoke instead.

'Unknown Interceptor. You are entering a prohibited air space. State your identification and intentions.'

'Lord, this is flight officer Julan Hanko, aboard the Enemies Gambit. Currently being pursued by a squadron of enemy fighters on route to the capital. He stated in a rush of sound.

'We have you on our scans. Maintain course and vector.' Replied the calm gravelly voice on the vox in blunt tones as if he had never mentioned the fightas before he cut the link dead.
Hanko complied with the order even as he felt more impacts from behind, leaving the link to the rear gunner hissing static into his ear when it took a direct hit to it's view screen and blew the slave about it's bulbous turret in ragged chunks.

He prayed behind closed eyes in what he thought was his last few seconds of life as the controls bucked in his hands with the hits from behind. Screaming aloud as his Interceptor shook violently in what he took for the crafts final moments as it came apart at the seams. Opening his eyes only when the same gruff voice spoke over the vox again.

'Ease down Enemies Gambit, picture is green.'

'Praise to the Emperor!' Ending in a whoop of joy and kissing the idols feet wrapped around his fist before keying the vox. 'My thanks, Lord. May th-'

'We will escort you to landing pad, theta 4. Do not deviate from your designated flight path, or you will be declared hostile, and shot down.' Said the Techmarine in tones that left no doubt as to the seriousness of his words.

'Affirmative my Lord. He croaked weakly as two thunderhawks appeared from the clouds, forming up on his wings and tracking their guns to sight his Interceptor. And the three craft cut through the dawn tinged clouds to the Hive below.

Apart from spelling and formatting it's not so bad.

Chapter :13 A Reckoning

While the work parties toiled endlessly in the midday sun beating upon their sweating bodies. High in the domain of the first tier, a small band of warriors approached the twisted gates of the Governors Palace with purposeful strides. Their numbers were few, but still none dared to bar their path with words or drawn blades. And they quickly ascended the broad steps to the doors under the upturned gazes of the Guard bowing in their wake.
The small band pressed on without pause through the splendor of the palace in pursuit of their combined goal, until reaching the statue lined corridor of the long dead rulers of the world. Who's marble eyes marked their passing to the darken doors ahead where a lone armoured figure calmly awaited before the doors ahead of their advance.

Resplendent in armour overflowing in silver and golden stamped scroll, depicting his many acts of valor and feats of arms over the centuries. His laurels gleaming brightly in the light from the globes hanging from the ceiling, and oaths of moment stirred gently in the breeze of the corridor, spoke of a warrior born in the fires of combat. And as the two groups drew closer, the lone figure shifted his weight to heft his storm-shield onto his left arm he had been resting upon the ground. Slowly drawing his long sword from his jewel encrusted scabbard while raising the top edge of the the now charged shield in level with his eyes as he widened his stance.

At such a war like footing by the lone warrior, the small band drew up out of range of the crackling power weapon held ready in his grip. The silent tension of the moment only broken as the Astartes at their head stepped forth to remove his helm to the enragement of the lone figure barring the door.

'You?!' Andreas spat. 'What trickery is this?'

'This is no trickery brother'

'Brother!..Brother!. You dare to call me your kin when you spit on our Chapters honour by your mere presence here. Be gone from my sight, cur, or knell to bare your nape so I may present your head to our Lord.'

Uncowed by these harsh words, Agathon retorted. 'You speak of the honour of our Chapter when you serve at the whim of this madman!' pointing behind Andreas to the doors at his back.

'Do not speak to me of honour, dog. You barely know the concept. Your actions speak of the disdain and fouling of the word you proclaim to to hold dear.' The sneer behind his helm all too evident in his words.

'What I must do now to reclaim the glory of our beloved Chapter, I do so willingly. With the blessing of my fellow Captains.' indicating his retinue with a backwards sweep of a hand. 'I will not allow it gutter and die on the pyre of this world.'

'You can not pass while I still draw breath, traitor. Let us not bally words when steel shall suffice.' Taking a step back to into the deep arch of the doors to narrow the frontage he would fight on while eyeing the warriors around him as they drew for bolter and blade.

'Stay this madness!' Cried Agathon aloud. Not once unlocking eyes with the Chapters Champion as he reached a open hand behind him to stay the rasp of folded steel from scabbards that would see many of his brothers dead or gravely injured before they could take down the power house before them.

'Coward! you would dare not fight me?!' He snarled from his rebreather grill with contempt.

'I am not here for you brother.' Agathon replied calmly, before drawing himself up to his full height. 'I claim the right to Vindicetis'

'You have no right to claim such a thing.' His stance and voice wavering at the ancient word.

'Have I not my fellow Captains at my back! Has our Lord not done questionable things while our battle doctrine rails at us to fight this war as we were meant to do, as we were born to do! Do not lie to me Andreas, you alone have seen the cancer at our heart, and done nothing!' The tension stretching forth again for long moments until Andreas spoke.

'I have taken oaths to protect my lord, and you would ask me to stand aside so you can strike him down. I can not.' His voice darkening at the mere thought.

'But what of the first oath you uttered, or have you forgotten so soon? You swore an oath to your brothers, Andreas. You swore to defend us above all else.

The silence that followed told of the inner turmoil churning inside the Champions mind as bonds of brotherhood raged against oaths of loyalty. But in the end it was a simple matter. Each warrior before him had bled countless times upon the alter of sacrifice. Each had shown the willingness to lay down their immortal lives in an instant for victory. But he could not say the same of Detrus.
His oaths to his lord railed at him to search his mind for a honourable deed or a heroic feat of arms to stay his actions, but he could not. Even as a lowly Captain he had sent better men to die in his stead. And his heart darkened at the thought that he had served someone so lacking in honour for so long.
When he next spoke again, the bitterness on his tongue was all too clear.

'Honour has demanded much of me of late. Leaving me impotent, and my blade un-bloodied as I watched my brothers wage war among the cosmos. Haunting a shadow as it slowly tainted me with it's cowardice while guarding against imagined footsteps. But by the Emperor, no more. Come my brothers!' Sheathing his long blade, he rested his shield against the nearest arch and pressed his hands to the brass handles at his back. Flinging the doors wide with a rolling boom, he stepped over the threshold to enter the brightly lit office with the small band of warriors following in his tread.

The sound of the doors flung wide caused Detrus to look up with a start from the data slate displaying an array of tactical readouts in his hands, before frowning deeply at the intrusion to his sanctum.

'Andreas, what do you think your doing man? I left orders not to be disturbed unless the enemy had been sighted. And who is that behind you?' Standing up from his gilded throne and gesturing with a sweep of the hand to the warriors behind his Chapter Champion. Where his eyes locked with Agathon's when their gazes met.
'Agathon?; surprise clear in his tone before he shifted his attention back to Andreas. 'Why do you bring this traitor before me? What mutiny is this?'

Agathon stepped past Andreas and began to unseal his gauntlet as he spoke while pacing towards the dead Governors desk. 'You know why I am here Detrus. I have come to claim the right to single combat of the Vindicetis, and a end to your insanity.' Dropping the plasteel fist in front of the Chapter Master.

Detrus was shocked into silence for a few seconds as he looked down at the matte black gauntlet, before his ire and contempt for the warrior before him burned anew when their gazes locked once more. 'You wish to kill me Brother-Captain?; Snatching up the gauntlet in a heart beat and slinging it at Agathon's armoured chest where it made a dull clang before it fell to the ground at his feet. 'Let us dance you and I, and see whom's blood tips whom's blade' He said while stepping from behind the desk until he stood chest plate to chest plate with his once so called brother.

'We shall see,my lord'; giving a sharp shove to Detrus's shoulder-guard so he could retrieve his mailed fist, and stepped away to hand over his helm and reseal his gauntlet. Leaving Detrus to sneer at his back that quickly found the shape of a maddened grin.

The two combatants unsheathed their blades as they made their way to the center of the room. Swinging the blades in looping swoops to loosen the muscles that would shortly decide life or death. While the small band of warriors formed around the soon to be arena as the fighters squared off in the middle of a loose circle with Andreas stood between them to act as adjudicator.

'I'm going to kill you Agathon; Detus taunted. 'And throw your head from the walls so the greenskins can feast upon your flesh. I wonder how it will taste.' And sneered again in an attempt to unsettle his opponent. But Agathon simply smiled back with a cold glint in his eye that spoke more than words ever could. And it was left to Andreas to start the rites of combat for the challenge as he raised his sword arm.

'This ancient duel of honour sets aside privilege and title. Demanding that each warrior be armed with a single blade and stripped of all others. Each must bare their throat to the blade, for no one can issue Vindicetis unless willing to cast aside their helm to stand eye to eye. None may interfere or offer aide, for it is to the death. The vanquished body shall be left to corruption where he falls, and his name stricken from memory never to appear on the rolls of the honoured dead of our order.' With a downward sweep of his arm he issued the word that set the duel in motion. 'Begin!'

With the word given, the two Astartes launched themselves forward at speeds that would seem a blur to mortal men, but not to their surgically augmented senses. These once brothers of the swords met in a clash of tempered steel. With Detrus dishing out a a rapid secession of near feral cuts and hacks onto Agathons faultless guard while he grunted aloud or snarled with unleashed hate and rage. A direct contrast to the cool headed warrior deflecting his attacks in silence, or with the odd grunt of effort when their glimmering gladius's met in flashes of light. With a final clash, the two sprang apart to begin circling the impromptu arena with blades held ready to renew the struggle and their movements in step to the other.

'I must admit, I have wanted this for a long time, brother.'

'Do not call me that, we were never so.'

'You have always worn your disdain for me openly, I know how it rankled you that Octavius choose me his successor. Admit it, you thought it should have been you he named.'

'No Detrus, I only wished for the burden to rest upon another, one ready for such a role. Never to such a whelp like you.'

The two clashed more furious than before, each drawing blood from several shallow cuts sliced through armour by power swords easily making light work of it's protection. Earning a rest bite to the clash. And the circling of one another resumed once more as Astartes blood oozed from damaged plating to drip onto the emerald green carpet under foot.

'Don't die with a lie on your lips dog, speak aloud the truth so all may know that you wanted to be Chapter Master and I will make your ending quick.' Panted Detus

'You talk to much, Detrus.' Replied Agathon equally out of breath, and the duel continued.

Renewing the fight as the attacker, he drove his opponent back across the room. Forcing Detrus to parry desperately with his failing guard that was broken by a neatly timed repose. Forcing Detrus's blade wide where Agathon could deliver a downward blow to his wrist, severing the hand and the weapon it held from his control. The two objects fell to the ground with a muffled thud onto the blood spotted carpet, fast becoming drenched with blood from Detrus' half cortorized stump which quickly slowed to a trickle as he clutched at his wrist with his remaining hand and sank to his knees to accept the death blow, closing his eyes for the end.

'Get up,brother, and retrieve your blade. I wish for you to see your end.'

To which Detus smiled at what he thought was his opponents foolishness. Making a show of reaching for his severed hand to prize the still activated power sword free of his cooling fingers that burned at the carpet from where it fell with its electrical charge. Instead he grabbed at the hand holding fast to the weapon. Driving the blade up in a move intended to enter through Agathon's cod piece, and exit through his skull.
Agathon side-stepped the blow, plunging his own strike deep into Detrus's chest where it passed through armour, flesh, bone, and on into his primary heart and lungs to protrude from his back.

Detrus coughed gout's of blood from his filling lungs onto his chest plate, where it sizzled on the blade embedded there. Looking up with shuddering, jerking movements wracking his body into the eyes of his killer, he tried to speak a curse, but only bloodied spittle and bubbles of froth formed on his lips in place of words.
With a twist of his wrist, Agathon withdrew the smoking weapon. Watching the light die from Detrus's eyes, and let the cadaver slump to the floor before turning away to stride from the room without a word to the assembled warriors watching on in awe as they stared from the dead Chapter Master laying in the pool of black soaking into the carpet to his retreating form before following suit.

Chapter 14: A Healing of Wounds


In an unremarkable part of space, not too distant from the Platyan system. The blackness of space was suddenly and violently torn asunder as an array of colours boiled from several tears in real space by a cluster of warp gates, that over the next few hours, belched forth a battered flotilla of ships.
This once proud force was sorely reduced in power and might. With many bearing grievous wounds from the battle from which they had barely fled with their collective lives. But like a charm around their necks, sat the near unblemished hull of the Martis at their heart. A rusted red amongst the blacken craft suckling hungrily about its frame in a rush of activity.
Repair crews and servitors worked feverishly to replace melted hull plating and repair shattered battery guns that lay still smouldering in their housings.
Thousands upon thousands of tiny figures and repair craft dotted the void, or crawled along the cassums of decking blown wide by enemy shells. But still the fleet lacked the numbers to swiftly see it back into the fight.

All this and more, Varro contemplated as his standard template shuttle weaved an unsteady course through the chaotic but ordered traffic of personnel and supplies towards the Battle Barge ahead. Where upon arriving in one of its vast hangers he would be ushered into a rail tram to meet with the Fleet Captain to make his somber report.
Sat in the rear of the boxy reddish craft stamped with the cog of the Ommish. His train of thought dwelt heavily upon the skirmishes aboard the Martis and the running battles among its decks.
Lost in the resent past, his left hand slowly traced the flowing pattern of the forge hammers head held in his grip. Ignoring the dry flakes of crimson blood falling upon the deck until his train of thought was broken by a voice of another.
'We've been told to land in bay three, my lord. The ones on this side of the Battle Barge are too critically damaged to accept any craft. Five minutes until touch down.'Spoke his senior Techmarine as he hunched over the controls made for a lesser man.

'Very well send our acknowledgement and proceed, brother.' He rumbled while he stood in a hunched crouch and made his way forward so he could watch their approach from the crafts veiwsceen.

The shuttle angled it's trajectory downward to pass close to the under keel of the Battle Barge. Giving Varro the opportunity to inspect the damage wrought to the vessel for himself. And he was far from comforted by the sight afforded him.
Numerous gun emplacements lay wrecked, or had simply ceased to exist as balls of plasma had boiled them away, while enemy shells weighing hundreds of tons had punched through amoured plating to gouge at the decks beneath. But the worst was yet to come.The fouling of the barges hanger bays was self evident as flames ran rampant it such combustible environments.Towering flames hungrily feed upon ruptured fuel lines and spilled lubricants spread along the deck. So that the vast hangers continued to burn as damage control crews battled the heat and the smoke to dampen the flames as he watched them through the hangers shields.

Varro had seen all he could bare, and returned to the rear of the shuttle to wait out the remaining voyage. After a several silent contemplative minutes the small shuttle passed through the protective barrier holding out the killing vacuum to touch down on the Ariston's battered decks.
Stepping down the ramp, Varro's senses were immediately assaulted by the strong smell of heavily laden chemical smoke, burnt metal, and cooked flesh. The last much stronger than them all, as the cause smouldered not far from the foot of the ramp in its singed overalls and blackened skin. Stepping over the burnt cadaver he took in the scene around him.
The air was thick with rolling banks of smoke chasing the damage crews before them as they stumbled from their smokey grasp in fits of splutters and coughs. Cables sparked and danced with there intermittent electrical charge as they dangled from the roof spaces. As walkways squealed overhead in the gloom, or lay crumpled about the the debris of the bay in a haphazard fashion.

Seeing a tram come to halt in the distance, Varro took it as his que to cross the smoky environment with Arkon in close step behind as he boarded the tram that speed off as soon as they took their seat. Ten minutes latter, the tram halted at a set of imposing metal doors guarded by a score of Imperial Guard. Who eyed him with suspicion until he held out his left hand for DNA sampling, and his gene code was verified. With a crisp salute the Captain of the Guard pressed his own palm to the doors scanner and the thick armoured slabs slid up into the roof to reveal a iris hatch that quickly rasped open to reveal the main bridge in all it's glory before him.

Sitting wearily atop his command throne, Katius's scared features had a haggered, haunted look about them. Showing the strain of the of the last hours that his professional veneer could no longer hide.
Casting his gaze about the bridge from tier to tier, the sight that greeted him was one of despair. With it's smashed work stations splashed with blood, and bandaged crew grimly trying to replace fused circuitry. The air still held a wisp of smoke that settled involuntarily at the back of the throat. It was a disheartening sight.
An apologetic cough from behind made him aware of two imposing shadows looming in the gloom of the emergency lighting. And it took several seconds for his tired red rimmed eyes to recognize the features and the names belonging to them.

'My apologize Master of the Forge Varro, I did not hear you enter.' He spoke while making an effort to stand to show his respect, but was waved back into his seat.

'It is I who must apologize, Fleet Captain. For I must ask for your attention on certain matters..in private.' Shifting his gaze to the nearest bridge officer who was trying to act deeply engrossed in his work while eavesdropping on his betters.

'Very well, Lord. Shall we retire to the war councils chamber?'

'Lead the way Captain Katius.'Said Varro with a shallow curtious bow, and followed him to the far door of the tier.


When the doors closed behind them, Katius took his customary place when the Chapter Master was not aboard at the head of the table in the high backed decorative chair, and indicated that Varro should sit. While Arkan took station at the controls of the hololith to begin the process of feeding his Lords data into it's circuitry.

'I trust the Martis has the required resources to our needs?' Began Katius.

'That and more. We shall not want for supplies. Though I can not promise any miracles delivered from the hands of the Emperor himself as to the rate of repairs. The Martis's entire ships compliment of adepts, menials, and servitors have already been dispersed around the fleet. Though I fear we still have too few to hand.'

'What are their projections on the task of mandatory repairs?'

'Far from encouraging. Estimates range from a few days for some. Many weeks, perhaps even months for others without putting in to the nearest Imperial dock. Some twenty-two weeks to spinward.'
'But the Chapter, Varro..we can not abandon them. There must be another attempt to drive the Orks from orbit!'

'I agree with you Fleet Captain, but all I can do is offer the facts as they are.' Which did nothing to improve the darkening mood of Katius.
'There is one option we could consider, though it is far from assured that it will succeed.' Offered Varro.

'Which is?'

'If we pool our resources and personnel into a few ships. We could have a small squadron available for a minimal action in a little over one standard week.'

How long exactly?'

'A hundred and eighty- two ship hours would see us with a force of three hunter destroyers, a frigate, and our two remaining cruisers.'

'And what would be the purpose of this force exactly? For even you can see it will number too few to offer direct battle to the Orks sizable armada.'
'Indeed Fleet Captain. Though I believe the holoith can offer the answers you need.' And nodded to his senior Techmarine who began to manipulate the controls.

Over the next few hours crammed to bursting with tactical displays, vessel schematics, projected orbits, and trajectories. Katius brooding expression slowly began to brighten into a devilish grin as the daring plan was laid before him.

Dear lord what an impassible wall of text! So far it looks good but I would very much like it to have a bit more air in it. It would make reading a whole lot easier.

If not email it to me and I will read and comment afterwards.

Chapter 15: Inner Strife

High up in the heavens of Platya, a new moon rose over the horizon. But this was no native of the skies long seen by the inhabitants of the world below over the eons of time. For this was the harbinger of doom, and the sign of the end times yet to come. As it hung there like a jewel in the night. It cast its kin into the darkness, burning with vengeful flame as they came. And the final assault of Platya began.


Far below in the capital city Tygun, the surviving ranks of the Panther's Claws had gathered in it's entirety. Since Agathons shock reappearance and his telling of the fate of their late Chapter Master. Tension between sworn brothers had been stretched to braking point as the two different factions emerged amongst their once united order.
Some had spoken in praise of Agathons swift actions in riding them of the blundering fool who would have seen them all to the grave. While others had argued that it had not been his place to have played judge, jury, and executioner. That he had acted unjustly, and without cause to challenge Detrus.
Brother had turned from brother, squads had been fractured by dissenting views. While whole companies now eyed one another with mistrust. Leading to flared angers and fists, that were mercifully bloodless thanks to no actual weapons being drawn in the brawling. But still, it was all too clear the chapter had effectively split in two.

Before these two factions could brake out into open war, First Sargent Philo had called the two sides to meet away from prying eyes in an abandoned work shop of a war torn manufactury on the second tier. Its huge open spaces and remote location had been been ideal for a meeting place. With little chance of discovery, the chapter could could come together to heal open wounds, or rip it's self apart with little risk of outside interference coming into play. And so the two bands stared at each other across the room with open hostility. Each watching the other for the first sign of treachery as a few undecided brothers stood between the two sides while their Captains sparred with words over the fate of them all.

Mindful of the warriors around them watching on, the six Captains kept their movements measured, and their hands away from weapons mag-locked about their armour as they argued back and forth.

'You mean to tell me you did it for the sake of the Chapter Agathon. That you only wished to cut out the cancer in our midst. That you not once thought take Detrus's place. You lie poorly brother.' Said Captain Marius of the 5th company as he addressed the gathering while he walked back and forth in front of the warriors gathered on his side of the work shop floor. Only turning to look over his shoulder accusingly when he spoke his last words.

'If you believe that Marius, then you are a fool.' shot back Captain Evander of the 5th. Stepping forward and rising to the bait. Forcing Ateus to put a restraining hand on this shoulder guard to forestall any further out bust. Leaving Evander to glower at the Astartes as he retook his place, which earned a smug smile from Marius in return.

'If he does not wish it, why does he not answer for himself.' broke in Captain Remus of the 10th. Who had taken up position in between the two factions with First Sargent Philo and the four Honour Guard veterans who had kept their own council thus far.

With all eyes now upon him, Captain Agathon of the 7th now took center stage.'I voice it here and now to all that I have no wish to take on the mantle of Chapter Master. I-'

'Then who would you have. Chapter Master Ateus? Lycon? Evander' cut in Marius accusingly with a mocking tone. 'I see your mind. You would have one of your own play puppet as you pulled at their strings from the shadows.

'You Dog!' Exploded Lycon. 'You may be able to think of such conniving, but do not taint another's tongue with that snaken hiss rasping from your throat! You want the title for your self!'

'And why should I not? Who else would you have lead us?' And a silence fell as all present pondered the question at hand.

'What of Argon.' Said a voice from the crowd. 'Or First Sargent Philo.' Quickly said another.

Voices began to murmur in support and derision alike for the two candidates until the air was filled with competing shouts and calls. Any sense of order quickly broke down into shouting matches above the din.
The two sides edged closer as they argued, while in the middle of it all Evander and Marius were already being held apart by First Sargent as he gripped their throat guards to stop them from coming to blows. His tactical dreadnought armour easily holding them at bay as he tried to shout them down in vain.
Agathon could see the situation fast becoming to a head where mere words would not be enough, and blades snatched in anger would be drawn. He readied himself for the moment willing it not to happen, but knew his wanting's would be for naught.

Stepping into the middle of this rising insanity came a runner from the newly appointed General Giunus headquarters, with tidings of the of the enemy ships landing over the horizon. But as he entered, he stopped short at what he saw unfolding before his eyes. And quickly tried to back peddle in fear and escape what he thought would soon become a bloodbath.
Agathon saw the man enter along with a few others who swiftly began to spread the news that a mortal was in their midst's and playing witness to the chapters inner most thoughts. In an instant a quiet descended, and the terrified runner froze as he found himself under the scrutiny of hundreds of Astartes staring on with a mixture of emotions playing across their faces.
Not know wanting to come any closer, or who to address. The man piped up in a shrill voice.

'The enemy is upon us again my Lords. They fall from the heavens even as I speak. My General asks for the Panther's Claws to aide us once more.' Sketching a hurried bow then like his name sake, the man took to his heels with his message now delivered. Not once stopping in his head long flight until his veins bulged sickeningly under his skin and his breath the taste of copper as his legs stiffened with internal fire.

In the silence that followed the messengers departure, the two sides drifted apart with an unsaid uneasy truce between them. With Marius leaving with some two-hundred warriors under his banner along with a few squads from the first company, together with Honoured Veteran Sargent Argon and his fellow Honoured Veteran Valatine.
Seeing the Honoured veteran Quintus, Philo and Captain Remus of the 10th come to join the warriors now under his banner was heartening to to Agathon indeed. Lifting his spirits from the depths they had sunken to over the passing days. And took each into a warm embrace to show his joy at their show of kinship in siding with him and fellow Captains. Each sharing a brothers greetings with hearty laughs and slaps of the backs to dispel the foul mood still tainting the air. It was Lycon who was the fist to bring up the need for action.
'
What do we do now brothers! The enemy draws near and I am in need of shedding xenos blood! He asked in amusement, looking around at his fellow Captains, but it was the host that answered him.

TO WAR! TO WAR! TO WAR! And the call was taken up by one and all until it shook the walls with its basso roar echoing from every crack and crevice as they marched to the beat of their stamping feet to war.

No need to apologize, and as long as you try your best no one can demand anything more. I thinkits great that people post such things here on Dakka

Chapter 16: The Tide Returns

Captain Faustus finished rounding off his briefing to his NCO's from his new command and walked off into the night. Some of the faces he past he knew from his old company, while most were fresh faced, and green to their new calling. With many looking far too young to stand beside the hardened veterans of this war. But when a Whaargh of Orks burns across your world, the ages of the men and women around you cease to be an issue, he mused.
What remained of his old company and that of two others, had been reformed into the 12th he now called his own. His surviving troopers had become first platoon, while the rest of the company consisted of shaken troopers and green kids still marveling at being trusted with a laz carbine and something sharp and pointy.

With a sigh, he began to walk the broad section of wall entrusted to him and his company. Staff Sargent Kasander strode at his side with two battle hardened veteran troopers following in their steps. Passing jittery soldiers peering out over the buttress wall, crews manning the few Heavy Weapons emplacements and the long range artillery and mortar tubes that dotted the wall cocooned in their sandbagged and rockcrete emplacements. He shared a conversation or joke with those he knew, and the odd word of encouragement or advice to the newer blood to judge each squads mood before moving on down the line.
He could see most where putting a brave face on their inner feelings. Some tried not to show the terror welling up in their guts that reflected his own inner fears in the faces he passed, and he tried to ignore the overheard whispers trailing off into silence at his approach.

Their mood was grim thanks to their orders sitting ill with the company and the other defenders entrusted to hold the line in the face of the insurmountable wave of greenskins set to break upon the very walls they now stood upon. But the orders had been explicit. Hold the line until the last possible moment, then fall back to the second tier along specific routes to avoid the thicket of molly wire and sea of anti personnel mines that accompanying the boxier anti tank mines now littering the first tier in their tens of thousands.
Trip wires had also been laid, fastened to clusters of grenades strung as a nasty surprise in the bottom of shell holes and doorways, or any other place that a charging Boy would try to seek shelter from the few pillbox's commanding impressive arcs of fire over the broken terrain.

His and a dozen other companies totaling two thousand souls from the rearmament of Tygun's once massive army had been given the task of anchoring the bands of militia making up the bulk of the outer defenses meat shield. The other half of his Regiment and the remaining reserve along with the rest of the Militia had been held back behind the second tier to act as the main fighting force of Tygun while his band of unlucky hero's were given the task of whittling down the enemies numbers before they breached the city once more.
There had been a few raised voices at the officers briefing as to where the Panther's Claws were to be deployed in the line of battle when Guinus had tried to dismiss them back to their units without once mentioning them in the order of battle. And it had taken all of the Generals skill to deflect the matter and keep the rumours of the Astartes in fighting from becoming common gossip and destroying the moral of his men. After a great deal of grumbling, the officers had returned to their commands with promises of the Chapters support to those hard pressed by the waves of attacks to come.

The board had been set, and the last pieces of the Imperium remaining in play now awaited the final battle and arrival of their adversaries before their walls to decide the fate of the world around them.
Only one would emerge victorious from this titanic struggle for the the soul of Platya. The loser would be shown no mercy as they're ground into the ashen dust by the heel of the victor, never to rise again.
All that was left to do for the Emperor's faithful manning his final bastion of this world was to watch the distant horizon, and await the coming storm brewing in the darkness.


High in one of the second tiers launch bays holding several squadrons of the cities remaining fighters, Hanko lounged despondently against the Enemies Gambit on a stool surrounded by half a dozen recaff and food containers.
Since his head long flight through the clouds to the landing bay where he had been immediately surrounded by a squad of Guardsmen and escorted into the Chapter Masters presence to report on the action in orbit. He had been hounded by a gaggle of PDF fighter pilots eager for him to retell the dog fight in orbit over and over as they hung on his every word in the hope of gaining new knowledge to keep them alive. But after a while though he had taken to ducking their attention and disappearing into the background of the ground crews so he could tend to his war machine and find a replacement sevitor for his rear gunner.
Even in a sea of people he still felt isolated and alone in this strange city.

When he wasn't tending the Gambit or searching the bays, he often found his thoughts drawn to the fate of his strike cruiser, The Tempered Blade, and the fleet at large, and had taken to sleeping in his Interceptor just so he could hold on to a comforting connection.
What snippets of information he had been able to glean from his battle logs and overheard conversation of the siege had been far from encouraging. And now he found himself on the brink of a another desperate battle soon to be fought among and between the streets and spires of the last free city of this world.

Downing the last of the god awful recaff they said said passed for portable, he rose to cross the expansive bay humming with the low activity for repair crews and other personnel. He barely made it twenty paces before a wall of people came spilling through the blast door he was making for and spill across the bay in a flood.
Dropping the mug he grabbed the nearest pilot by the arm and promptly received a right hook to his jaw for his troubles that sent him sprawling to the floor. He sat there more stunned than hurt as he rubbed at his jaw where he felt the bruise beginning to form until a hopper screeched to a halt behind him and the driver hurl a stream of obscenities at his back and turned to hear.

'What the feth do you think your doing numb nuts, get the fek off the deck and get to your ship! If I had time I'd beat the living gak from you! Move it you!'

'Whoa there,'; said Hnko as he rose back to his feet. Confused at the frentic activity and silent alarm.'Mind in telling me what the hell is going on?

'What do you think is going on you fething idiot! The Orks have been spotted crossing the hills onto the plateau, now get out of my way gak for brains!' To which Hanko raised his hands in surrender and stepped aside to allow the crazed hopper driver to whizz by.


A short distance from Tygun out in the foot hills before the vast plateau where the last free city sprawled. The Warboss Garn and his vast host crawled across the land, shaking and churning the earth with their iron shod feet and war machines belching forth huge plumes of soot and black smoke that hung over the advancing tide below like a swarm of crows hungry for the taste of deadman's flesh.
Their numbers were endless, and their thirst for conquest unquenched even in the face of a world burned to ash and a billion souls sent screaming into the warp.
In the dead of night the black host poured from the hills onto the plateau illuminated by the lights of trukks and looted wagons stabbing the darkness with their glaring beams that thankfully hid the true existent of the tide that came behind.
The air resounded to their tramping feet, breastral roars, engines and clangs as they encircled Tygun in an iron grip under the fearsome gaze of their Warboss.
Flanked by his cadre of bodyguards, he marshaled his forces for the coming assault with a calculating eye.
The clanks, rattles, and squealing gears of war machines, guns, and smaller pieces artillery manned by mobs of Gretchins easily carried over to the walls. Adding to the building terror and growing dread of the defenders until a growing silence enveloped the air when all had been set, and the last shell loaded.


Back atop the wall, Faustus tried to calm his nerves as the tension stretched the air to breaking point. He clasped his hands behind his back to hide the shaking fingers and clammy sweat that had taken hold when the enemy had been spotted upon the plain. His mouth felt dry, and his brow was pricked with beads of a cold sweat as he stared over the host before him.
The men and women either side him were equally apprehensive. Some whispered in small groups, or stood in silence gripping a golden or silver Idol of the God-Emperor and chosen Saint in mute prayer.
With a silent prayer of his own, he watched the opening salvo flash out in the gloom from the massed guns as it rippled along the greenskins line.

'Take cover!' He managed to yell over the rising rumble signaling the hot lead and explosive charges hurtling into the air to spread death and ruin amongst the defenders.

A high pitched whistle from the sky grew closer, heralding the in coming shell cutting an arc towards his position. Sending him and those around him diving to the floor. A blinding flash followed by the concussive blast later saw bits of masonry, fragments of bone, and slivers of metal accompanied body parts into the air from the impact of the shell to an artillery emplacement close by. Reducing the gun to a peppered wreck, and it's crew to splattered gore and rags of meat covering the unfortunate nearby.

'Medic! Medic!' He yelled through the ringing in his ears as he struggled to stand with his detail of bodyguards along with his vox operator and standard bearer now holding aloft a half tattered banner.

'Sir! Here they come!' Shouted one nearest the wall as he spied the wave of green rolling forward under the cover of the intense barrage pounding the wall around them.

'Vox! Get me command!' To which the Operator began to shout into the voice pick up over the din.

'Command, sir!' Replied the operator a few moments later, handing over the pick up to his Captain

'Command, this is Gama 12! x-ray is on the move! we are engaging! Repeat, we are engaging, over!' He shoved the device back into the vox operators hand and brought both his hands up to cup his mouth.

'Open fire! Open fire! All batteries engage!'


With a staggered response, the Imperials let fly with their heavy weapons of Las batteries and chattering Heavy Bolters struggling to make enough noise to drown out the crumps and thuds of their long range artillery firing from their mountings on and behind the wall raining death out onto the plain. The weight of fire hurtling back and forth in the sky between the two sides was immense. Leaving the whole vista bathed in the shimmering lights of explosions and glowing shells chasing the tracer rounds through the air .that mingled with the crafts spewing from the second tier to counter the fightas hoving into view over the hills.

Wading through this firestorm the invading horde soaked up the in coming fire with their endless ranks. Thousands where cut down every second by the shear weight of ordinance falling on their heads that only intensified as they sped into range of the Las carbines spraying their ruby rain form above.

Around the shattered gates and the remaining gaping breaches, kilometers of molly wire had been lain, and mines sown to protect the trenches manned by condemned souls that had been given the chance of redemption for their crimes. These suicide squads now faced off against the Whaargh rumbling towards them. Fighting such abandon it even gave the enemy pause. And few where those that would make it out alive from such forward positions.

As the Orks reached the fields of mines, the first few mobs to cross this deadly ground never saw it to the other side as they were cut down by the mines under foot or the guns from the trenches ahead. In answer to this obstacle they sent huge mobs of Grots out into the field to clear a path for the Boyz behind. Those that made it to the trenches hurled themselves at the defenders with a rusty knife in hand or teeth bared and claws splayed wide as they jumped through the air onto their prey.
Following in the wake of the ever increasing numbers of Grots streamed the bigger mobs of Boyz and Knobs towards the forward defenses. Turning the battle for the trenches into a slaughter as Orks choppas and other crude weaponry craved a bloody path that stained the mud a glistening red. Leaving only a few hardened or bloodied squads to retreat into the warren of molly wire and mines of the outer tier where the Orks would be forced to once again fight them on their terms.

With the gates and breaches falling into enemy hands, the general retreat was given over the vox to the companies that had held firm along the wall in the face of the scaling Orks.
Leaving the wall to been taken, those with enough time spiked their guns and laid a few trip wires to buy time for themselves and comrades to run for their lives.


Standing near the arch at the bottom of the wall that lead upwards to the now abandon section. Faustus urged his men on as they emerged into the cool night air, reminding them to stick to the safe paths through the vast minefields that would lead them to the second tier.

'Stay on the path! Follow the man in front! Quickly now, quickly! Their right behind us!' A sustained burst of Las fire and stubbas from the stairwell told them he told no lies. Grabbing one of the last few troopers to run by, he asked.

'Where's the Staff Sargent and the rearguard units?'

'Right behind me, sir. Him and a few lads are holding the last landing to give us more time.'

Looking into the archway he let go over the troopers tunic and urged him to follow the others without looking back. 'Get going trooper, I'l wait for them.'

As the man ran off he took up position near the enterance hugging the wall, and pointed his Las pistol up the broad steps falling into darkness as they curved up to the landing above.
A minute later the thudding of feet upon the steps echoed down to him signaled the arrival of Kasander and the others. The twenty or so men barely slowed as they thundered past him down the track. One caught sight of their Captain and shot him a warning over his shoulder as he ran on.

'Run for it sir, them greenskins aint stopping for gak!'

A few seconds later Kasander and five other troopers came into view. One bleeding heavily from a wound to his guts, moaning horribly as his two mates carried him towards safety as his Sargent and the other two troopers drew up upon seeing their Captain.

'Faustus? What the hell are you doing lad?'

'Waiting for you.'

'Run for it you fething idiot, those grenades we lobed behind us wont slow them down for long.' And grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him down the path marked out with spots green.

Head down and breathing hard, he ran for all he was worth while following the boots of the man in front. Every now and then throwing a backwards glance into the shadows behind.
'Keep...going...don't stop...just...a little...further.' He wheezed in encouragement to the those he ran with. A series of explosions sounded in the dark and he knew that they were now being hunted with loping strides from their pursuers following the path they where now on.
They ran on for perhaps another five minutes before the first few shots began whipping past their heads from the wild shots of their hunters closing with every footfall. When the bursts of whizzing metal became too heavy they dived to the floor and began to crawl to safety. Their only saving grace came when a pillbox up ahead swung their twin barrels to their defence. Pinning the Orks or cutting them down where they stood, and sending a few out into the minefield to their deaths.

Looking back, he could see the greenskins advance had stalled. 'On your feet! GET MOVING!' kicking those too slow to stand as he ran by until he came to the two troopers from earlier who where carrying another to safety. What's wrong? get up and get this man to safety.'

'He's had it sir, he'l be dead in the next ten minutes.' And pointed to the black blood oozing from in between the dying man's fingers who was clamping his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the waves of pain.

'Right get moving, I'l take care of him.' Earning a hateful look from the two men before they left, which he chose to ignore.

Kneeling in the rubble next to the moaning man, he gently shook his shoulder .'Easy there son, it's ok. I'l make the pain stop.' And leveled his pistol at the man's head and gently pressed the cool metal to his temple.

Hearing the words and feeling the barrel caressing his skin the the man's eyes shoot wide. 'No! Not like that! How will the Emperor greet me to his side if I die like that.' The man shot out his hand to grip Faustus' wrist. ' Please, sir. Let have a carbine and some grenades. Let me die fighting instead of being put down, like, like that. Looking fearfully at the pistol with his eyes rimming with tears before staring imploring up at Faustus who relented to his request.
Pointing to the nearest of his bodyguards crouching nearby, he ordered the woman to give the mortally wounded man her carbine and a grenade from her webbing. With a final nod, he set off for the second tier.

Aided by the scattered pillboxes manned by the men and women who would sell their lives dearly. The Imperial units made speedy progress over the undulating ground of the first tier as the horde was held at bay.
Crossing the war torn landscape, the companies began to mingle in with other units as the paths began to merge the closer they came to the gates. With the wall taken, and the tier lost, the last few troopers scrambled through the gates before they rumbled closed.
It was only then that the voices were raised in anger at Guinus' earlier pledge. Where were the Panther's Claws? Have they abandoned us? Do they even care? Where most common of calls from the populous and soldiers thronging the streets. Little did they know that the Panther's Claws had been fighting their own private war among the first tiers spires and bridges misted in the clouds.

Its rather good, I like your descriptions of the Ork shelling of the column particularly. And yes its Andamantium. But I highly recommend using a text program with some form of spell checking.

Chapter 17: The Shadows of Treachery

Tapered torches illuminated the alfresco passageways and hall of a particularly exquisite villa abandoned during the first days of the war where Marius had lead the two-hundred Panthers after council.

Serfs had cleared the hall of dust and clutter, and set sturdy furniture for their lords into long rows where black clad warriors now conversed and ate.

The hall sported many trappings of high status. Evident in it's superb architecture, fine paintings and mosaic floor. Intricately designed to draw the eye towards the grand mural depicting the first days of the colony rendered into heroic snap shot of early life.
.
Seated at the grand table, Argan and Quintus debated back and forth over their limited options as Marius toyed with the totem around his neck.

It had barely been twenty four hours since he had been drawn to it's presence. And it's hold on him was already complete.
Finding it lying in the governors office, he had seized it from the the floor out of curiosity.
It's etched carving, and four small stones woven into the braided leather had seemed primitive at first. But the more he stared at it, the more it seemed to appeal to his tribal nature.
Raising it to his eye to study the crudely etched pattern is the last thing he remembered. The next was on the threshold of the darkened room, peering expectantly back into it's blackness.
The trinket now hung from his neck, though he had no knowledge of putting it there, nor why he had taken it for his own.

Turning to leave, he instead found himself taking an involuntary step into the pitch black.
He tried to resist, and found he couldn't. And by the time he was lost to the fading light of the passage, the doors where already easing closed behind him.

'Why do you suffer these bickering fools.' Whispered the soothing disembodied voice, only Marius could hear. Jolting him back to the present.

'Look at them. Bowing and scraping for the scraps from the Emperor' table like a thousand others over the millenia.
All for a being they will never see or even show he cares for the countless sacrifices heaped in preservation of his stagnant empire. Every hour wasted serving the puppet voices of a husk rotting in his throne is folly.

I ask but one thing in return for lifting shackles that have bonded you to slavery.
You know what trifle I speak of, Marius.
You know what the dealer of fates wants for her devotion.'

He did, and the knowledge carried out to fruition would seal the purchase of his soul, and forever chain his will to the dark god of contrived fate and greed.

Then now is the time of sacrifice. Now is the time to show your god your devotion to her cause, with blood.
A squeeze of metal, a tightening of the finger is all it would take.
Show Slaneesh your worship. Offer her your devotion with the blood of these fools and all you have ever wanted is yours.....Do it!.'

His hand moved of it's own accord before he allowed it to ease the pistol free from his side.
The sounds of the room died away as the slab of metal rising from beneath the table in his hand became his everything.
Its textured gip, reassuring weight, Gothic overtones, and fully loaded sickle mag, completed its aesthetic nature that drank in his awareness with its matte black enchanting beauty.

Straightening his arm, he placed the cool metal rim against Quintus' temple, and pulled the trigger.
A rush he never knew he could feel crashed through his body, causing him to squeeze the trigger for the second time through an endorphin haze.

'Ah treachery, the sweetest devotion.'

Those seated nearby lept to action in an attempt restrain him, and where gunned down at point blank range. Toppling back over their chairs and tables from the explosive kick of Bolter rounds.

A shout to his left, pierced his hazed mind.

'Bastard! You bastard!' The voice cracking into meaningless shouts and grunts from the enraged battle brother tossing laden tables and armoured figures barring his path as he steamed towards the target of his hate.

Marius' Champion interceded between the Astartes intent on murdering his Captain, and with a downward swipe of his sword. Signaled the halls more rapid spiral into madness. The hall dissolved into savage brutality and utter carnage. Full of squealing metal, pounding fists, and shattered furniture bludgeoning skulls with their wet thumps. While Bolters stitched a hail through the packed hall.

A Panther dived through the air to tackle the champion from behind as the attacker bounded from a table top. Slamming the blind sided Champion face first into the ground in front of Marius and plunge his combat knife repeatedly into the downed Champions half turned face and neck until a volley of shots rang out from Marius' Command Squad.

With minimal pause they fired on the crowded tables around them at anything resembling hostility from their once brothers. Causing havoc to erupt in the hall as they indiscriminately sprayed the crowded tables of the other companies rushing forth or turning them over for cover.

Blood drenched the the combatants and flecked the walls. Coating the floor in spreading pools where hacked limbs and ropy entrails gathered in there droves. Mingling with entangled foes still battling with bloodied hands and clotted blades.
It was a scene of such barbarity the conjured mind of normal men could never grasp it's sickening ferocity, and vile deeds done in the name of survival.

Into this confused maelstrom Marius willingly stepped. Chasing the high of a new endorphin rush, soon finding himself at the heart of the deadly brawl in its last gasp. Blasting armoured figures off their feet and laying his sword about with little finesse. Uncaring if they where friend or foe.

He immersed himself in the slaughter. Reveling in the dying screams of his victims as he licked his lips clean of artreal spray that would see him relive their dying moments through their eyes for many hours to come.

When the fighting had abated, barely thirty of Marius' war band had survived. Some now where combing the ruptured and twisted bodies for signs of life until a rasped breath drew their unwanted attention.

The renegades converged on the sound, probing the bodies with their feet until they had found the source.

'Is he alive?' Asked Marius, who had returned to his chair to rest and sip his blood mingled wine while his men had carried out their grizzly search.

A probing blade, and another pained rasp from the ground confirmed the answer.

'He's alive.' Said the owner of the blade. Bending down and drawing his knife as he lifted the bloodied skull from the floor by a tuft of hair to place the sharpened metal under the chin in anticipation of the command to end the gravely wounded battle brothers life.

'Shall I finish him?'

'No! Bring him to me. I have another purpose in mind for this one.'

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Agathon protruded from his Razorbacks pintle mounted hatch watching his company march behind it's sheltering form while half rode in their Rhino's down to the fourth tiers main gate.
Two Preditors rode ahead in the vanguard as two more brought up the rear of the column as they forged along the roadway to bolster the defenses of the second tier under attack from the forces of the Warlord Garn.
A few inhabitants braving the odd shell looking for scraps among the ruined buildings brought down by shelling paused in their search long enough to watch them pass by, before they continued in their search for food to feed their malnourished children.
A few roving packs feasted on greying flesh of those dug from the rubble, and fought for the bones fled at the rumble of engines in search of more dead mens flesh.

His mood had been somber since the impromptu council. The words exchanged between the two factions sat ill in Agathons thoughts at the mere notion of having to fight his fellow Panthers. But how else could the confrontation end if not in open war.
With a growl he shook off his thoughts, angry at his recent indulgence at his letting his mind drift in a war zone.

A blinking icon appeared in his HUD signalling a pending transition. And he was surprised to see Captain Marius's intent signal attached to the link.
With a blink he activated the icon and listened to the pre-recorded message relayed to his ears by his helm.

'Captain Agathon, apologies. I humbly request an audience with you, to heal the rift between estranged brothers. I am willing to work together for a speedy end to this campaign, and forget our indifference's. If you ac-quest to my request you will find me at this location within one hour.

The end of the transmission sent a set of coordinates flashing in his retinal display, highlighting an icon on a lay out of the fifth tier high in the southern most facing spire before the link died.

Sensing deception, he voxed his brothers.

************************************************************************************************************

The sounds from the battle below, reduced to dull flashes and low rumbles through the clouds, played on the wind swept wind.
Amongst the gusting clouds and hammering rain lending a wet shean to the scene, several Astartes squads followed their Captains out onto the bridge suspended between the spires of the hive that was to be the meeting place of Marius.

Instead of the expected retinue awaiting them. The bridge was strangely empty. Agathon had expected someone, but they were alone on the casam shaft of suspended metal. Adding a sense of caution that caused a flow of battle stims to coarse through their veins when their warplate had detected the surge of adrenalin and added pace of their bio-metrics as they switched to combat ready

Weapons scanning the vista yawning below and the air above lost to the clouds, they slowly advanced across the bridge until they drew to a halt to await Marius and his followers with the storm worsening overhead stirring their cloaks.

Unclasping his neck seal, that signaled the lowering of weapons. Agathon removed his helm to bare his face to the driving rain. Relishing the feel of it's icy cool stinging caress upon his skin . The sound of rain was a constant patter in his ears without his helm now hanging at his side, but not so loud as to miss the soft vox clicks being exchanged between his companions.

'You have something to say on this meeting brothers?'

The cold glow of two emerald lenses turned to regard him as the suits speakers grated Ateus' response.

'How can we trust his word. Did we not speak enough at our last meeting?
He has made it clear he is opposed to us.'

'How does he hope to survive divided.' Chimed in Remus shaking his head. 'I had always counted him as a sound and trusted brother I could share my thoughts with.
But now, I doubt if I knew his mind at all.'

Thunder rumbled in the near distance.

The death of Detrus had marked a strange change in Marius. Seeming distant and cold before the council. As if some unforeseen change had suddenly took hold, and now held sway. Agathon mused, keeping his thoughts his own.

'They're here.'

Cursing his wondering mind, a halo of light from the far spire drew his eye to where Marius strode bare headed out onto the bridge and into the gusting winds tugging at his cloak.

Hefting a Storm Shield upon his left arm flanked by two squads of legionaries from the 4th armed with Bolters, his pace was unhurried, almost a stroll as if he enjoyed provoking his brothers ire, wanting to prolong the moment.

A smile flickered at the corners of his lips as he gazed almost mockingly into Agathon' eyes. Telling him the sincerity he had heard in his earlier communique had been a lie.

'My brothers. How good it is to see you again.' Spreading his arms in greeting. 'I am honoured that you have accepted my invitation.' Adding a short bow on par with his smile.

'Speak quickly Marius, we are needed below. Time is too pressing to waste on these false pleasantries.' Snapped Ateus, earning a patrician scowl as Marius straightened from his bow.

'Is it, my dear, Ateus. Very well, I shall speak plainly. I am here to arrest Agathon for the murder of Detrus.' He announced grandly as if to an audience. 'All those that helped facilitate in the deed are to be held accountable. You will surrender your weapons to my men. Those I deem loyal amongst you I shall spare, and you will swear fealty to me as your Chapter Master.'

'And if your demands are not met...?'

Marius simply shrugged in response. Smiling coldly as a bolt of lightening struck a rod high above. Sending the scene into contrasts of glistening surfaces and long shadows while a deafening peal of thunder filled the air.
The patter of rain and rumble of thunder dying off into the distance filled the silence that followed.

'Ar-are you insane! Spluttered Remus. Argan and Quintus have agreed to this?!'

'Sadly I could suffer them no more. I had to, shall we say, dispose of their company along with a few others.'

'Your own brothers!? But why Marius?' Gasped Remus.

'They had served their purpose.' He smiled.

'End this madness Marius.' Demanded Remus. Raising his Bolt Pistol in line with Marius' head in a blur of movement to fast for the eye. 'or I shall end this.'

Marius chuckled in response.' Oh I think not, Remus. You haven't the balls I fear.' Giving him a false sympathetic look before it changed to a flinty stare.
'Kill me, if you have the mettle for the role of executioner. I do.' Causing Remus' finger to tighten wantingly.

He never got the chance.
His helm exploded from a high vilosity round puncturing his eye lens into his skull, where the explosive core detonated in a flare of heat and casing. Blowing fragments of bone and globules of grey along with sticky chunks of plasteel onto those nearby before the sniper switched his aim to the nearest brothers to score two wounds and another head shot.

'Sniper, get down!' Yelled Leon, pulling his Captain from the line of fire behind his Storm Shield deflecting the incoming rounds as Ajax raised his own in defense of Ateus to form a protective shield for their Captains from the volley of shots ripping through the rain as several Panthers went down from the sniper above as the others pressed themselves into cover behind the half pillared lighting supports dotting the bridge as Vadas and Iason dragged the wounded into cover.

The shock was so total that it took several heartbeats before anyone answered back with their own bolts.

'Take out that sniper!' Shouted Agathon as the return fire barked back.

Hunting the far spire with his scope the lead scout suppressed the rifles trigger. Causing a muted cough from it's muzzle.

'Target naturalized.' Reported the scout as a distant body flopped into the air as it fell from a landing pad that had been it's hide.

It was no time for celebration though. Revving chainblades where announcing the imminent arrival of the charging renegades.

'Here they come!' Shouted Kalen over the stuttering bark of his Heavy Bolter that claimed a trio of renegades, and pitched another over the edge before a mass reactive round gouged out his shoulder and warplate in a bloody crater. Sending him slumping to the ground with a pained cry.

'They're attacking us!? Are they all mad!' Was Ateus' response to this.

'Indeed brother.
Iason, Vadas! Take Remus' squad and get our wounded out of here! Watching the seven scouts ignore the dead and help the Apothecary's with Kalen and Galar before turning to the seven Astartes around him. 'The rest of you, with me! Snatching out his power sword as others about him did the same. Adding the sounds of low hums and their own spinning blades to the skirmish.

Strength and honour! He yelled, hearing the heavy footfalls of his foe and pushed himself to his feet in time to deflect a whirling chainblade aimed at his face and cut down it's owner with a reverse swing across the chest.

With a clash of showering sparks from opposing energy fields, a renegade Sargent pushed himself through the scrum to furiously trade blows with Agathon.
Launching a feint to his midriff the traitor struck out with a gauntleted fist. Sending a hay maker crashing into his face, and spurting rich red blood from a crushed nose and loosened teeth.

Stunned he was powerless to stop the follow up disarming strike that saw his blade lost to the air and another freight train slamming into his already bloodied face.

He fell as if through quicksand as time slowed to a fraction of it's span.

In this lasting moment of time he could saw Markus grappling for ownership of his pistol and blade, rolling with his foe on the walled edge.
Ateus ramming his glowing blade through the torso and out the back of another. Spraying blood from the half cauterized wound.
And Herlerion braced for the kick of his Melta as a violet orb slowly left it's muzzle.
All seen in a blink of an eye from his periphery as he helplessly watched the descending sword intent on piercing his primary heart.

Normal time returned as he hit the ground. Speeding up the conclusion to the sights he had seen. Markus slipped over the edge with his foe.
Ateus freeing his blade to take the traitors head in a coup de grace.
And Herlerions ball of harsh violet consume another in nerve jangling screams as his warplate and flesh melted and bubbled.
And the sword arced towards his chest in a blur.

A Storm Shield charged into the renegade Sargent. Propelling him the two meters hard into the bridges walled side from the shields electrified front.
With a quick bound Leon stomped forward to plunge his jeweled sword through the rising traitors heart and helped his Captain stand in the calm that now reined with his death.

'Hows the jaw?'

'I'l live. Markus?'

Leon shook his head.

Scanning over a dozen bodies at his feet for Marius he came up empty in his search.

'Where is he?'

'The coward fled with a few others and left this fodder rest to die in their stead.' Prodding the traitorous Sargent with his boot.

'By the Emperor, I'l make him pay for his crimes.' Looking up from the dead warrior and along the bridge to the open door at it's end.

'Incoming at 10 o'clock!' Warned Ateus. Pointing off to the left, drawing all eyes to the skies to spy a black smear moving through the storm clouds towards them
Forked lightening split the backdrop a few seconds later, bringing the smear into the crystal clarity of hard angled edges and glistening wet metal of a Thunderhawk gunship.

'Run!' Was the shout from Nafalen that sent a stampede along the bridge for the safety of the spire with long looping strides.

'We'll never make it!' Someone said half way to go with the whine of engines rising above the storm. Agathon looked back to see the gunship beginning it's attack run.

'Get down!' Diving to the floor as the Thunderhawk opened fire with it's Bolters, chewing up rockcrete plasteel and flesh as it swept by.

'Covering fire, he's coming back around!' Shouted Ateus pulling a battle-brother to his feet and firing on full automatic with his Stormbolter pushing the brother ahead of him.

A fleeting look to his left was all he had before the krak missile struck nearby to devour a section of bridge and hurl him nearly five meters through the air to miraculously land amongst his men, bowling them to the floor.

He awoke to find himself being carried, and ordered them to halt

'Where's Captain Agathon?'

'I don't know sir. One of them answered. 'But we have to get you out of here, that bastards coming back around.' And began to jolt along again as they started to run.

'Stop!'

Shrugging off their hands he stood of his own a accord and took a few faltering steps before he broke into an unsteady run.

'Captain!'

'Get going.That's an order, damn it!'


He remembered the explosion, and a sense of falling as he slid through the hole that had appeared at his feet before his hand had found purchase on an outcropping of rockcrete that had arrested his fall. Now he hung from it like a bauble, swaying in the wind. Too weak to pull himself to safety, yet the desire to live, too strong to let go.
If it hadn't been for his gauntlet locking into place he would of already fallen to his death.

The outcropping cracked ominously above him, which the pragmatic side of him accepted this as he heard the Thunderhawk banked overhead in the clouds for another run when it had detected a heat signature.
He was about to let go to deny the satisfaction of his death when another hand clasped his own with eagerness. Looking up he could see Ateus straining to haul him back onto the bridge.

'Leave me, there's nothing you can do.'

'I'm not going anywhere, now give me your hand!'

The familiar whine of engines heralded the return of the gunship seconds before it opened fire.

'Oh gak.' Uttered Ateus before he flung himself sideways and hugged the wall as 75 calibre bolts tore through the space he had just been.

Crawling back to the hole he was relieved to see Agathon still clinging on for dear life.

'Praise the Emperor, give me your hand Agathon!'

Swinging his free hand up to grasp Ateus' forearm, he hauled himself up with the help of his brother to collapse face first on solid ground panting heavily.

'Come on brother, we're not out of the woods yet.' Encouraged Ateus, manhandling him to his feet and swinging an arm over his shoulder. Forcing him to brake into a run.
Agathon slipped in his exhaustion. Sending them both splashing to the floor.

The engine whine of the gunship made them look up, raising their weapons skywards in defiance more than any way to bring the flyer down.

The Thunderhawk dipped from the clouds to pounce on the two helpless Panthers. Taking care to line up it's kill shot with it's missile and Bolters that would see them atomized or a tumbling rag doll through the kilometers of open air to the ground below.

A muted cough lost in the storm sent a speeding jacketed round to form a spiderweb crack in the swooping gunships windshield, and a second millimeters from the first, crazed the glass. The pilot strained on the controls in desperation, but too late to dodge the third that punched through the screen and his helm. Sending the gunship veering sharply as the pilot slumped over the controls and impact the spire hundreds of feet below.

Surprised at the turn of events, the two Captains looked along the bridge to see a scout in carpace armour standing from his knelled crouch to sling his rifle at his back as he walked towards the two Captains still laying in the the puddle of rain.

Snapping to attention in front of the rising Panthers staring from the burning gunship protruding from the spire below to the scout. The scout hid the grin forming on his face from his handiwork.

'What's your name Brother?' A slightly enawed Ateus asked.

'Echolus, sir!'

The pleasure is all mine, but I can not point out how much better it is to use a computer when making these kinda things. And its much easier on the eyes now. Keep it up

Not sure what is new, but it seems solid enough. And its much better to read now.

Chapter 18: A Grey Dawn Rises

Lifeless ships hazed with cadavers belched from their torn inner decks which had ejected them to the black, floated amongst vast sections of shawn starships sailing by to collide with smaller pieces of debris from ships and fighters as they hung close to the planet in the grip of Platya.

Nestling in this dense throng of bobbing, jostling, and hurtling metal, sat the bloodied and crippled Frigate (name). Her main and auxiliary systems offline, and dozens of sections of the ship airless or inaccessible due to blocked corridors choked with poisonous fumes from ruptured piping gushing carbon monoxide and other toxins flooding through it's accessways.
It's pitted and scared hull missing huge chunks of plating along with half a dozen spires that had been obliterated was nothing compared to the plunging gulf near the engineerium on its aft flank. Spanning hundreds of feet and delving to depths of several decks in places, the exposed bones of the (name)'s buckled superstructure shone weakly in the Platyan sun.

Breached sections had been welded and sealed against the cold touch of space, and the survivors had shifted to restoring weapons, drives, and their life support systems.

Canus's fugged and concussed mind floated free from the nothing of the black abyss into the consciousness of light, feeling his cheek resting on something solid and cold, and his body shivering as he prized his eyes open to find himself looking along a step to his dais. Making him frown with confusion until he remembered the skreich of falling metal overhead and the blow to his head that had sent him sprawling before he had blacked out.

Probing his surroundings from where he lay with his eyes by the light of the emergency lumes flickering dully on the walls intermittently about the bridge enabled him to make out the two crewmen pinned under the fallen support. Wedged where it had smashed through several consoles and command stations of the command tier, spraying machinery and glass in all directions like a grenade while crushing the unfortunate two.
Giving a muted prayer to those that had been pasted underneath, he tried to rise to a sitting position. Instantly he regretted it as a stabbing pain bloomed in his ribs and the cut above his right eye that had begun to throb, forced a sharp breath into his lungs filled with noxious smoke. Causing him to retch from his stomach as his concussed senses violently protested. Emptying his guts digested contents onto the steps and grated decking where it trickled and pooled while steaming in the frigid air.

Spitting out the last taste of recaff and rearmament of his last meal, he pushed himself onto his back with a teeth clenching groan and growl of anger at his weakness as the grating ends of his broken ribs ground in his chest before he lay back on the steps to support his spinning head.

Rolling smoke pushed along by weizing gusts from complaining air vents, wafted past his face and along the decking, watering his eyes and letting him see little of his surroundings while his mind fought back the black tinge to his vision.
A vague shadow imposed it's self on the coiling orange tinged wisps to his left, making him fumble for his pistol before one of his officers materialized from the smoke wearing a rebreather tank on his back while sucking on the masks life giving air he held clutched in his hand easing his nerves.

Seeing name staring up at him pleadingly, his body vibrating with chills. the man instantly rushed to his side to aid his blue lipped captain.

'Captain!' shouted the man taking the mask from his face and shouldering the tank from his back to remove his tunic.
Quickly he knelt next to name, fixing the mask in place over his mouth and covering him with his garment as he fiddled with the rebreathers dials to increase the mixture of oxygen before reaching to support his captains lolling head.

'Captain! can you hear me!'

Names response was a chattering croak, his tongue too thick in his mouth and dry. instead he could only shake his head as he clutched his broken ribs, making him wince.

'Stay still, Canus.' restraining his hand away from his injured side under the tunic and gently pulled it free to feel for a pulse on the wrist before twisting round to shout over his shoulder.
'Someone get a medi kit! Tell the surgeon to get up here, I don't care whos under the fuggers knife! Get him here now!

Turning back he saw names eyes begin to flutter as the black tinge stole away his sight once more.

'Stay awake, Captain!' Gripping his and squeezing it tightly until it brought names eyes open again as they tried to focus on his face.

Tramping feet rushing up from the lower bridge signaled the three medics bursting from the smoke who practically fell on the captain as they went to work, pushing the bridge officer aside in their haste.

'Stay with me sir, stay with me.' said one producing a small needled device which he injected into names neck before reaching for a handheld lume clipped to his belt and shone in names eyes back and forth as the other two strapped up his chest and bandaged his forehead as they hooked him up to a series of medical equipment carried in their knapsacks that started to chitter in time with his bio-rythems as others spat internal data onto thin sheaf's of paper that they quickly read and discarded.

'Server concussion.' said the first as they began talking amongst themselves while they assessed his condition.

'I've got three broken ribs here.' said the second, listening intently to his breath sounds with his ear pressed close to his chest as he tapped one area of sternum and then the other. 'Punctured lung on the left side. Breath sounds, thready and laboured.'

'Bio-rythems dropping.' said the third reading the machines. 'Wheres that gurney! he shouted into the vox on his cuff.'

The last thing name remembered was a feeling of weightlessness as he was lifted onto the gurneys cushioned surface before he blacked out.



**************************************************************************************



Through the last of the night and the greyness of a misted dawn, the Warlord Garn' million strong host scoured clean the outer tiers desolate streets.
Through the uncontested breach now alive with innumerable hordes of toiling Gretchins, an unending tide sprang forth to battle and chase fleeing Imperial squads through the moon misted terrains bust up rock and metal. while screens of twin barrel pillboxes dotting the ravaged landscape. Stuttered hot lead into the blood drunk, salavating horde. Checking the vast multitude a while, while allowing harried units to slip away while the buckling screens held back the tide.

Mornings drizzle of ash and rain over the cities soot streaked glass and metal greeted the resting habs, silent manufactories and dormant administral hubs that teetered and clung in the low grey clouds to the feet of the towering spires of hive Tygun.
Below, whisps and fog banks drifted and spun in the becalmed lower hive where roved over the ruins amongst the mist.


Servitor gun turrets, pillboxes, emplaced artillery and a small maze of trenches built to house a battalion of Guard stood watch over the raised mound of rockcrete and earth rising thirty metres high, and flanked by two redoubts that squatted against the arches above.
Sharpened metal had been driven into the earth by back breaking labour, now glistened in the grey dawn along the slopes strewn with regimented bands and tangling coils of molly wire where seeded mines littered the approaches from the kill zone of leveled earth that stretched for a kilometre in either direction from the gate.
Beyond. Mounds of rubble and shelled out hollows scarred the landscape with there jagged appearance into the distance.

Lowering his binos from the vista, Faustus let loose a low-born curse at what he had seen.
If ever a hammer stroke was to fall, here would be the place. he thought.

Turning from the break in the fog bank he hurried after his generals inspection tour of the gates various defenses and emplacements.
Rounding a number of dog legged corners of trench, he found his general paused on the firing step with his gaggle commanders and senior staff following his every gesture with their binos or scribbling furiously with their quills as he moved off down the trench towards a nearby squad hurrying to their feet.

Bowing his head and paying little heed to the flow of conversation ahead discussing the differing range and munition of the mortar tube the troopers had been dialing in as their General had strolled up. His mind drifted into the boredom of inaction as his eyes wondered over his surroundings of woven sandbags, dirt and rockcrete with a rasp of two day stubble.

The crowd around the General once again moved off and he followed the fresher stamps of boot prints along the trench, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his minds fugged state, but it did little to soothe his weary bones or his taxed minds senses.

The last few days had seen his skin take on a pallid glow, highlighting the hollows carved under the eyes by his lack of sleep and fitful dreams waking him in the night which left him unable to return to his slumber.

The strain of the days without sleep weighed on his shoulders and showed in his shifting expressions and uniforms unfilled frame.

Shutting his eyes he tried to stave off the repetitive sequence of memories that had begun to trouble him as of late over the days, but his exhausted mind continued to conjure the vision and sounds of war from the weeks and nights before to plague him.
Vision wavering, and a blurred outline haloing those around him. He tried to focus on the hand resting on the earthen wall that had arrested his fall onto the duck boards.

'Captain, are you alright, man? You seem a bit pale back there.'

The question penetrated the swirling fug like a bolt. Sending his head up and an embarrassed expression to cross his face at the sight of his General and staff staring back down the trench as they eyed him with a mixture of contempt and concern.

'Yes, sir. fine, sir.' He lied while fighting back a state of collapse.

'Hmm, I see. Was names reply as he eyed him suspiciously. See to it that you take some rest when you get back to the company.You'l be held in reserve for the next coming twelve hours so your Sargent Major can handle a little command experience for a few hours while your medic gives you something to sleep.'

'Yes, sir. I mean. No, sir... But-'

'And besides Faustus...I'd like you to live long enough to enjoy that promotion of yours. Pointing to the new rank affixed to his collar......So they'l be no excuses in future for such laxity at any future briefing. Shifting his gaze down to cover his dust filmed tunic.
Your dismissed,Captain.'

Saluting his company Captain, the PDF commander strode off along the trench before Faustus could even twitch to return the gesture as the senior staff and officers hurried after the General.
Alone but for a few sentries and blank faced slaves, Faustus issued a foul curse from his lips as he savagely pinched his thigh in swift punishment for betraying his weakness.
The thought of any of them offering him anymore that the sympathetic and contemptible looks they had already given him, shamed him deeply.
Beginning his long walk back to the company, he vowed never to allow his weakness to show to another again.

I see, well here is something I noticed after a second read trough. I suppose you know what a super nova is? Having one on your world would be bad. very very bad indeed.
Giunus is sounding more and more like a certified bad ass. But 50.000 guard + militia? That sounds rather high for someone who has been rammed up behind by orks though

Chapter 19: Shifting Shadows & A Decision Made


The sun having fully risen, brang no warmth with it's rising. Climbing the sky, it's pale disk shinning vaguely through the thickening clouds, signaled the global shift that had forever changed the planets surface. With it's days growing dark, and the chilling wind howling long into the night of a nuclear winter.
Rain clouds drizzling mixture of sleety ash and rain from a continent away, washed in from the west. It's deluge sweeping the plain as lightening split the horizon as the storm grew ever closer to hand for the watchers of the tempest fury, raging it's bolts and balls, and peeling thunderclaps upon the galling wind.
Stomping from this earth tempest fury, came another storm stirring. An earth quivering tread the rumbling clouds now over the hive drowned to nothing, til only the gathering puddles spoke of the coming dread.
Mighty stark white flashes from the heavens, lightening the hills, saw revealed the lumbering forms moving in the darkness. The back-lit shifting shadows caught between the stark white flash from the sky, and the pitch black of the hollows, cloaking the hills, made their ungainly shapes unnaturally shift and jerkingly move out onto the plain.

A ripple ran through the host. A murmur built. Quickly the sounds rose into raised shouts and chanting calls for, Gork and Mork, as the gloom parted to reveal the looming Gargant and it's kin of Goff Stompas and Mek. Pitching the already seething masses into greater frenzy as they sent the echoing boom of drums and the beaten clash of metal wildly into the air while parting before the stamping metal mob, charging their wield-patched guns or charging their clawed limbs with an electric crackle and hum of activation.
As the barely heard klaxon of alarm spread new waves of terror through the beleaguered hive..the last great battle for Platya had begun.


**

As the mag-lift punched through the clouds on it's plummet down the spires extierer, with the wisps whipping by and the rain beginning to splatter the soot streaked glass.
Inside the weather stained open topped platform ringed with a three stripped rail pinned by unseen bolts to the plexi-glass, a heavy silence reined on it's drop away from the point of embarkation, to the waiting Rhino below. Its three occupants gazing fixedly, watching the boiling pops and stuttered flashes from the second tiers wall, reaching out into the blackness, while the blacked out hive racing up to meet them, grew in size and distinction.

Staring through the plexisteel glass, past his blood dribbled reflection. The bruised and bloodied figure of Agathon grasped the power blades wire grip sheathed at his side tightly, while his mind silently chanted a mantra of concentration. The loss of Markus still all too near for the rites of mourning. The pressing needs of the chapter all but consuming in there demands upon attention, denying him any rest-bite or recuperation. For in truth, he craved the need for solace and space. A sense of clarity on his inner crisis, with needed answers for the bonds of brotherhood that lay forever shattered and broken, along with the bedrock of his beliefs instilled in him as a child, tested and found wanton. He now dwelled heavily upon their hollow words in his mind.

The Panthers had long shunned the idea, so propagated by the faithful masses, of The Emperor being The Almighty being of the Lectodivinicus. Yet, still they paid homage to their gene-father, the well spring of the Primarchs, as the pinicule of mans achievements in it's strive for wisdom and knowledge. Holding him above all others, as the the man whom had O so nearly tamed the warp, and curbed the fickle will of mans uncertain future.
But alas, brother had descended upon brother. New false Gods had come forth from the warp, and once again the galaxy was torn asunder.
The Emperor, whom had stood ready to usher in a new age for mankind, was struck down by the one he loved and left bereft of future glory. Bound to the Golden Throne in a fools hope of keeping mans place among the stars.
A great man, yes. But yet, still a man...Or so he had thought.

Against the wayward splinters of mankind, the never ending Wharrghs of Orks, and the countless xenos like the elusive Eldar. The Chapter had lacked the unity of spiritual faith which now bonds the dispersed strands of humanity in it's unity.
Having suffered long past the age of Heresy and the subquant galactic wars, where foul xenos had devoured unaccounted worlds and the unsleeping eye had spread. The people had fallen upon the crutch of the Lectodivicus. Leading many whom had lived through such dark times to believe that only through it's faithful teachings had the Imperium survived the unending horrors and the deep root of mistrust that had once again gripped men's hearts.
But the Panthers hearts had stayed cold to it's touch. Dismissing it as hokum and the crutch of the weak...But was it?
Now all he could see was his forebears had chosen poorly in their unknowing ignorance. Condemning the Chapter for being found lacking for this very crime.

He shifted uneasily at the thought. His mind drifting further afield and into the recent past to dwell upon the moment when he could truly say Detrus had failed temptation, and took the root of this evil tale for his own. For from that moment on the creature lurking within the stones had worked upon his mind. Whispering, twisting, mocking. Grinding upon his resolve whenever he had dismissed it's whispered mutterings while befuddling and misdirecting his mind, until his will had broken, and he had fallen to it's demon accursed lies.
Even now this very same evil was at work upon Marius, who was surcoming to it's will, it's power, it's lust. Just as it had fed upon Detrus' soul, turning it black til it had all but consumed him, and puppeted his whittled away mind.
Having seen it's devilry adorning Marius' neck upon the bridge, he knew the truest evil of this world had yet to be faced, his grip on the banded wire, tightening at the thought


Shifting his weighted thoughts from the unknown onto a more pressing matter, one he could turn his intellect to with a more greater certainty than the spiritual world, or the demon unknown. he focused thoughts on the plight of the second and third tier.
Increasing panic from the lowest held tier where thousands of refugees had clustered against the great third wall in their depraved squalor, had caused many to seek the sanctuary of the upper hive in a bid to escape the rampant crime which had followed them up from the under-hives depths.
What had begun as a simple refusal to the odd haggard band or low born cur had steadily grew into full scale riot as the desperate numbers grew, and turned turned on those barring their path.
Guardsmen assigned to patrolling the streets had been ambushed. Their weapons and wargear stolen, and past amongst the crowds to turn on those who'd earlier dared bar their passage.
Those manning the accessways to the tier above, even now, fended off the masses where gangers flush with new arms battled against them in their own private and self centered war.
Dozens of these underworld gangs had clawed their way out from the perpetual darkness. Claiming habs and districts, and whole swaths or stalled utilities as they fought one another bitterly, while carving out their territories and fiefdoms.
The thinly spread PDF assigned to the task bravely battled against them, in a grueling meat grind of unending block wars, that had already claimed numerous lives.
Scores had been killed in the clashes, and yet more blood it seemed would yet be spilt.
Having dispatched two squads of his own to remedy the task and temper the Guards response in keeping the peace, even this had been judged futile in light of the scale of the disorder. The two squads doing little but adding to the fray, pacifying the wayward, in an area spanning hundreds of square miles of metal maze, bound in a 3D dimension that demanded he send more of his men to die.

A vox chime chirp broke his line of concentration, drawing the attention in the mag-lift to the blinking blue rune lighting his gorret.
With a neural command, he activated the channel.

'Speak.' he said dispondantly.

'My lord.'

'Dedecus.' he replied. recognizing the voice.

'I've found the location of Marius' followers....Though there is no sign of the traitor himself.'

'Well done, brother. I'l be-.'

'-Lord...there is something else.' Dedecus cut in, the hesitation clear and troubling. Putting him on edge.
'They, are... dead.'

'All of them?!' Shocked at the news.

There are hundred of bodies here, Captain, but not all I think. Some have taken flight with their new master and took to the spires of the hive

reading the truth and stress in the vox crackling voice, sent his own pulse rate racing, even as he tried deny what he had just heard.
He focused his spinning thought with a question while choosing to ignore the dismayed looks his was getting from his brothers as he replied.

'Do you have a count on the missing?'

'I'm still counting the remains of some..but it looks like dozens are missing, perhaps more.. Even this though I am uncertain.'

The question indeed focusing his mind, but the news was far from untroubling. Quickly he sent an alert to Echolus to hunt for signs of the traitor, diverting him away from his previous task.

'Are you alone, Dedecus?'

'Aye, Captain. though Vidan' squad is on patrol nearby. I could have them here within five minutes-.'

'-Good. Have the Sargent secure a perimeter and contact his Captain. Tell him he'll have an update for the rosta of the Chapter, then take him into our confidence as you impress upon him the need to speak to no one of this. Not even Ateus. It can not be spoken freely of..not yet. To do so will undoubtedly shatter our shaken morale if handled poorly. Do you understand?'

'..Yes, Captain.' He replied after a pause.

'Where are you?'

and
now, brother?'

'Fourth tier, sector nine. Two clicks along the western road in the gamma district.'

'Report any shortfall in numbers to me as we arrive at your location. ETTA eighteen minutes, stay strong, brother. Strength and honour.'

'Strength and honour.' and the link went dead.


**

Deth Kannons, Gatlers, screaming rokkits, and a Gut Busta tore into the mauled second tiers commercial districts and habs, where avalanches of rockcrete and steel fell away as rain from the puffing impacts to crush any and all beneath, as the Goffs past the cleared breach in the outer wall, and came on into the face of a faltering resistance.
Glimmering auras co-i-lessed around the Gargant and Mek. Their shields bubbling into solid ripples and impressive sparks from the solid impacts and plasma charged beams which burst upon their shields in a shower of spent metal and dissipating crackles, as lightening touched down from above, and the two giants strolled on while the Stompas began their towering climb. Digging their clawed limbs into the grey weathered rock as they slowly ascended it's shear surface.

With a rhythmic clank and a piston wheeze the Stompas dug their clawed limbs into the grey stone of the hive, punching holds and booting makeshift footings, til the first red rust painted clawed hand appeared above the parapet, and descended with a quaking shudder upon the wall. It's mighty clawed fist enclosing around the buttress, bracing to haul a studded hammer into view.
With a clank and squeal of unoiled metal the hammer fell with a rush upon the nearest tower, turning the multi-decked turreted spur of metal to crumpled ruin and smoke pluming debris as the hammer ground further into it's wreckaged remains, and jerked to secure it's footing as the Goffs head and shoulders powered into view. Releasing thick gout's of flame from it's jagged maw as thick clouds from it's pipes that sprung like a thicket along it's back, darkened the air above it's crown with a thick grease of black smoke hiding the tips of horns.

Pausing to detract it's Hamma from what remained of the tower, the Stompa jerkingly rose above the hissing flames with a planted foot which saw it rise atop the wall, wheezing it's steam and coughing it's thick foul smoke as it raised it's clawed fists and hammer in a two handed challenge to the hive, and with a roar, it lept into space. Its multi-tonne hammer already demolishing the nearest structure as it landed with a earth shattering boom and cloud of brick dust. It's mighty pistons squawking as they absorbed the shock with vents steam and squeals of metal, before the chassis rose from its hunched crouch, and the Stompas engine powered it forth into the hive


**

Head down, chest heaving from his pumping legs, he inhaled the grit and dust vying for position amongst the raindrops, as he ran, splashing through the thickening rain towards the fallback position somewhere ahead as he sprinted amongst a thin crowd running for their lives
With a dull boom and wail of terror, the hab to the end of the street collapsed in a falling rush and looming shadow, tumbling to engulf those below too slow or too terror struck to flee it's yawning clutches, as it collapsed along the street in a girder screeching, nerve jangling roar. Sending Faustus dodging an avalanche of bounding, rolling boulders cartwheeling through those struggling to out pace it it's merciless momentum as the Ork Titan shouldered it's way through the remains of the corner hab, and let rip with it's horned cry.

Dodging aside the grinding crush, he scrambled for the burnt out buckled tram laying derailed on it's side, and ducked behind it's protection. Cringing into it's bent chassis until the clamour and dust had abated, and he watched as the titan traversed the settling mound through the thinning haze, and stomp after the surviving crowd beginning to emerge from amongst their new jumbled surrounding and barge it's way through the criss-crossed raised mav-lev tracks and scattered spanning foot bridges between the habs, as it continued it's rein of destruction.

Turning his back to the scorched trams buckled side, allowing a small stiff groan to escape his lips as he slid down it's knobled surface to the puddled floor. He produced his boxy silver grey auspex from his wet fatigues leg pocket, and examined it for incautious damage. noticing a few nicks in it's casing, but nothing that would effect it's functionality and he punched in his command code to activate it's smoky blue panel and dialed in his companies vox when the screen activated to his touch.

'Able 6, this is Prime. How copy, over'.....static....
'Prime calling Able 6, Are you receiving, over?'....

'...Copy, Prime. Able 6 receiving. Signal is green-five, over.'

'Thank the saints,' he spoke aloud before keying the relay button on the side while whipping away a wet lank of hair. 'Status?'

A new voice came over the channel having snatched the pick up away from the operator to begin giving him gak down the line in his hard bitten salty tones as the Sargent Major burst onto the line. ' Prime, this is Geta. Where the frack are you lad? I've got the General himself giving me snot because of you. You better get here quick my son or it's my balls I'm serving him for breakfast.

Using the remaining surrounding towers to triangulate their respective positions based on signaled strength while repressing a smile from the mental image, he replied. 'About a block over, due north of you. Give me ten minutes to work my way round, I've got that Titan plus a few Greenskins more than likely to dodge.'

'Fug that Captain, We can't wait ten minutes, we can't even wait five. We've got our arse hangin' in the breeze down here. Most the companies have fallen back or are doing so. It'l not be long before my attempts at stone-walling the boss don't cut no more ice, then we'll have to fallback with the rest. ..I wish I could wait for you lad, but we might not have the luxury. Vox has the Greenskins pouring into the city.'

'Understood. Fallback and regroup. Take command and rally them to fallback one. I'l try to join you there. If not....' Letting the unfinished sentence hang.

'The Saints go with you. Good luck, lad.'

'And you Kasander. Out.' Ignoring his subordinates brake in protocol as he powered down the devise.

With the screen shutting down and the street now quiet except for a soft moan from under the fresh rubble, he placed the auspex back into his wet fatigues sodden pocket and set off once again through the rain and into the storm.


* *


Eighteen minutes and forty-two seconds later. The Rhino' tracks skidded as they locked. Crunching as they loosened the roads surface with it's spiky treads as it halted. It's promethium engines throaty chugs continuing a few seconds more before the sounds died with it's deactivation to be replaced by the ramps servo whine lowering the adamantium slab to the ground that gave slightly under the weight and spidered the paved floor in cracks.
With the multi clump clump of metal on metal proceeding from the red lit intierer and down the ramp from the three passengers emerging into the nights air to walk the short distance towards the two Brothers standing slightly bowed with a fist pressed to their chest. Agathon was the first to speak.

'Show me.' he said, returning the salute offered by the two Panthers and followed them inside the sizable mansions encircling wall.
With quick steps the trio and two additional warriors past along a series of unkempt garden paths, glimpsing here and there a black specter doing the circuit of the grounds until they crossed the threshold and padded their way through the plush corridors towards the main hall, where the familiar rich stink of Astartes blood grew until it's powerful smell was all but consuming, tainting their very breath with it's aroma.

Entering the butcher stained brown walls they barely registered the stumped limbs or the strewn bodies about the room, for this was not what drew their attention.

'Throne!' Hileron hissed in shock, while the others stared in muted silence at the grotesque spectical suspended by thick chains from the ceiling

Staring up at the mutilated brother covered in archaic symbols who dripped blood in a slow tap tap onto the floor scrawled with his blood from the tightly knit runes and script. Agathon' long checked emotions spewed forth like molten rock.

'Why haven't you cut him down!?' Rounding on Dedecus and breaking the disgusted silence.

'But, but, lord. ...He is tainted.' Vidan interjected over Dedecus' shoulder, whispering the last words with a guilty look up at the suspended figure.

'Cut him down!' Rounding on the Sargent instead who straightened under the verbal blast and quickly called for two of his men to enter the hall to release the chains from there brackets.

'At once, Captain.' Vidan saluted and waved the two men from the door forward and ordered them to release the chains from the brackets on the walls.

'Easy! Lower him gently.' he said. Seeing the brother grimace at the uneven decent and buck with a silent scream as he walked forward to help lower the warrior to the floor and cradle his head as he whipped the sweat from his brow, careful to avoid the the scrawl of letters there that his bile rise.
The Astartes stirred at the gesture. Working his mouth to voice his gratitude, though only succeeded in producing a dark stain of blood from the corner of his mouth that pooled into a rune on his cheek.

'Rest, brother. Regain your strength.' He said with a forced smile, knowing it was nothing but a lie as he looked over the wounds spread across his body and tried to hide his judgement.

The Astartes tried again to speak but coughed instead which turned into a spasm that wracked his entire body as Agathon held him tightly and watched on as his eyes began to lose their focus and begin to flutter.

Go to him.' He said simply, and the Astartes face became more peaceful as his breath shallowed and his eyes rolled back and his beating hearts ceased their sporadic rhythm.

Having no words for the anguish, sorrow and pure hate flooding his senses. He tipped back his head to the rafters and released an animalistic mournful roar that ripped from his throat as he rose from his knees, clenching his fists, until the sound died with his head sinking in a bow and his eyes streaming wet tears as he gazed upon the dead warrior before he next spoke again.

'Gather the dead.'


* *


Faustus silently cursed as he watched the scout through the crack in the store front wall, stilling his breath while the Ork sniffed the air suspiciously. Snuffing the air from side to side, it's torso swaying with the motion as it crouched low to the ground and went back to examining an unseen trail.
Faustus, continuing to watch him through the crack, eased his pistol from it's holster with a soft shuck from the barrel on the tan leather as a guttural burble came from out of view. The scout answering with a single grunt as it's eyes swept the nearby shop front and dis-used stalls lining the sidewalk as if he knew he was being watched.
The burble spoke again to the scout, who rose from it's hunching crouch, pointing away down the street and warily moved off in that direction, eyeing it's surrounds suspiciously while a mob of Boyz followed in his tracks.

Awave of relief past through his body as he exhaled into his sleeve, returning his pistol to it's holster as he retreated further into the empty store, long cleaned out by looters, to take refuge behind it's high counter top and took out his auspex to dial in his companies channel.

'Able six, this is Prime.Do you copy?' He whispered with a fugitive look over the counter to the blown out store front and peppered wall before ducking back down when the response was an immediate hash of noise and distorted rumbles. Sending him fumbling for the volume control as the sounds of a skirmish blared out over the speaker.

'Prime. Geta. We're being overrun. Fallback one has been compromised. Repeat, fallback one is a no go...wait one..' The sound of a laz-carbine firing quick bursts followed by a squeal punctured the airwaves before the Sargent Major returned to the line. '..We're in route to fallback two. Do you copy, over?'

'Reading you in the clear, Geta. Understood on last. Can you make it to fallback two, over?'

'They're all over the fracking place... But we'll make it'. Grim determination lacing his words.

Inspired by his subordinates confidence despite his predicament, he couldn't help a small smile creep onto his face as he replied.

'That's afirm, Sargent Major. I'm mov-' A stringy globdaul of saliva dropped onto the auspex's screen as a low rumbling growl came from above.

'Say again, Prime. Repeat your last, over...Prime do you copy..?'

Slowly he looked up into the two tusked face of the scout he had seen in the street, now crouching over him from atop the counter with a pendulum of spit hanging from it's glistening tusk, and the scout bellowed into his face as their eyes met. Spraying spittle from it's sharp fangs as it's glowing red eyes savoured the moment of pure terror adorning his face.
Inching his hand towards the pistol, jerking it free when the Boys eyes strayed to the gesture, he rattled off four wild shots in it's direction as he sprang from the floor and sprinted for the backdoor. Firing behind him with his pistol outstretched as he ran, ducking a series of rickoshays from the empty shelves and the floor as the Boy emptied it's weapon in a rattle of throaty chuggs and set off with a bound from all fours after the PDF officer, kicking in the backdoor onto the alley as he once again ran for his life.
* *


Watching his men arm themselves or stood waiting for serfs to finish refitting or re-tuning their plate, they moved with a pleasing swiftness, aided by the tinkering and the prayed mutterings of a dozen Techmarines, fiddling with things too technical or delicate to touch as he walked through the small two floor storehouse that had become the ninth's temporary store and home.
He walked from room to room claimed by the different squads gathering updates and strength returns he then added to the scrolling data on the slate in hand, detailing each squads returns as he continued to pace through the structure towards the floor below as he gained the final tally of the ninth's battle ready seventy-three.
On his stride through the structure cleared of it's normal stores, now largely empty. He shared a moment pause with those ready and waiting, passing words with those who seemed distant or in need or distraction from the last few days when a priority vox flashed in his display.

Turning away from the consolement of a brother, he had expected a familiar face or voice to greet him. Anything but the vision which now greeted him of the piled dead interlaced with broken furniture to act as kindling.

'We are betrayed', said a voice.The live images were replaced by stills of the Astartes held chained to the ceiling which switched between close up views of the chaotic scrawl and symbols daubed on the floor as the voice continued over the slides.
We have been betrayed, from within... And for our sins, we have paid for it..' the voice ended with a bitter sigh as the images stopped, and the feed switched back to the trans-human mound. Leaving Ateus blood burning with the thoughts of vengeance.

Only in the fires of purity can we continue to claim the tittle of the righteous.' the voice continued. 'Only then, can we claim to be the righteous hand hand of our Lord.

The religious fever gripping the words were intoxicating as his mind conjured up pre-conditioned feelings and emotions to fire his heart and soul as he found himself unconsciously chanting a litany of hate.

The angle turned away from the bloody view to the Panther stood at the speakers shoulder who held his bulky flamer in his meaty hands which sprouted a gush of flame as the image bobbed once and the liquidized jet of promethium spewed a stream of hot flames over the the make-shift pyre. Hosing the mounds surface until the consuming flames caught had taken hold and it's flickering light now danced and wavered about the hall.

Looking from the pyres flickered flames to the Panthers around him he was surprised to see one then another bow their heads or take to their knees in prayer.
It was only then did he realize it was a vox wide broadcast ,and every brother in the chapter would of paid witness to the images he had borne witness to.

'Brothers. my brothers.' continued the voice over the crackle of the flames. 'Too long have we waited and watched. Too long have we took to the shadows, and done nothing. Too long have we sat idle while pious men have fought and died for our lord....No more!
Rise my brothers, rise. Rise and show me the meaning of devotion. Rise, and show me the meaning of vengeance. For vengeance is mine said the lord. And we! Are his avengers!