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War had come swiftly to the world of Agrippa, its hive cities and vast manofactourms swallowed up by the fires of rebellion and sedition. The planetary council of nobles had long opposed the harsh tithes of both wealth and those gifted with the warp touch from their own bloodlines.
The warp touch ran strong amongst the closely knit noble houses, whom after centuries of inbreeding had spawned these gifted but also cursed souls. The wealth they where forced to hand over was something the nobles could cope with, but the loss of their own kin to the black ships of the Inquisition none of them where willing to endure for much longer.
So therefore the flames of rebellion where allowed to take hold and the idea of denouncing the dispersive rule of the imperium seemed more and more like a good thing to pursue.
And thus when the black ships returned for their tithe of warp touched noble born girls & boys the ones sent down to collect their expected supply of fresh souls where meet by the fierce and savage hive militant forces. The few of the Inquisitorial personnel that survived and managed to get of world wasted no time in sending word about the treachery of the once loyal planetary rulers.
And thus the stage was set for a bloody war, one of brutal urban warfare and untold mayhem as the sedition forces clashed with those of the Imperial guard.
It was into this bloody and chaotic war that the sons of Fenris came, their howls signalling that the doom of their foes where close at hand.

Harald Haråde stood on the once beautiful balcony on one of the many spires that rose from the smog covered hive, below him his keen eyes could make out the coutures of the rolling tide of battle as the forces of the rebellion and the forces of the Imperial guard regiments sent to crush the rebellion exchanged fire. But the war was going poorly for the loyalists as they where vastly outnumber and out gunned. But even now reinforcements where coming to aid these hapless fools, he snarled and spat on the dirt stained marble tiles under his feet.
It had fallen to him and his for once full strength great company to slaughter the ones that seeked to stray from the rule of man and seek their own fortunes.
But he could have cared less about politics and the reason for the rebellion to be fair, only the thrill of war and the glory to come meant something to the old wolf now. He was a towering warrior clad in runic war plate, ornately decorated with symbols showing his victories of wars past and a great snarling wolfs head on his chest piece. His pauldrons where forged to resemble the skulls of some mythical beast and a great pelt hung on his shoulders making him resemble a animal.
His greying mane of long wild hair would to a mortal man seem like the signs of old age and that would not be wholly wrong. And his beard whom he he had decorated with the skulls of slain foes and bone totems added more to the picture of a savage avatar of war.
He grinned as a series of massive explosions ripped across the city far below him, it would seem that the scouts had done their task well. For even as the debris from the great explosions fell down on the war torn hive city the power supply that had provided the rebels with a way to keep the hive running, and more importantly its remaining automated defences operational going silent as their power supply ceased to be.
Hefting his massive sword that was easily longer than a grown man he raised his weapon to the skies and let out a primordial howl that where answered in kind by his great company.
With his battle cry still echoing the old wolf turned to the trio of power armoured giants that stood silently behind him.
“Come then brothers! Let us greet these bastards and show them how the sons of Fenris hunts!”
The three wolf guards growled in response and drew their weapons as they followed their master and lord.
While the lord of the great company began to make his way down towards the war torn streets far below, where both friend and foe awaited him, someone else was already knee deep in gore and battle.

Thorvald Ice-maw snarled and swung his chain axe in a overhead swipe down at the man in front of him, the fangs of his axe bit deep and it screeched as the weapon chewed its way trough the traitor.
The man screamed for a moment before death took him, and his life blood that sprayed all around formed a fine red mist, kicking the dead mortal hard in the chest to withdraw his weapon the veteran took a moment to look around. His pack where busy slaughtering the hapless rebels that had been unprepared for a pack of ten power armoured giants to drop down amongst them with howling chain weapons and blazing bolters. Having stalked the rebels that held this particular section of the trench system that ran along trough the hive city. they had chosen their moment to strike well. Just as the scouts had detonated the explosives planted in the main power plant and confusion swept the ranks of their foes the wolfs had struck.
Dropping down from the great spire that loomed over the streets far below with their jet packs spitting fire as they plunged down on wings of fire.
His fellow grey hunters seldom used the damned contraptions, but a true warrior adapted to the field of battle and used his whole arsenal against his foes.
Then his moment of reflection where shattered when a hail of auto gun rounds kicked up dirt around him, and pinged of his war plate. Howling he revved his axe and began to run towards the ones that dared to fire at him, all the while while those very damned souls kept of pouring pouring fire at him.
A round bounced of his helmet and several more hammered into his left shoulder pauldron, but he ignored the storm of auto gun rounds, and returned fire with his bolt pistol. The mass reactive rounds zipped towards the shooters, and ripped trough their flak armour and detonated, and sprayed gore and ruined meat onto those whom stood nearby.
Vaulting over a heap of rubble and wading trough a line of razor wire he pressed on alongside his pack members, their weapons growling for more blood and violence. He savoured the scent of fear, death an misery, the odour was so intoxicating that he had to restrain his inner beast. He offered a silent thanks to the rune priests for the chants they had imprinted in the his mind.
Then as they tore into a new flock of the screaming traitors the earth shattering sound of a tank firing its main cannon filled his world, and all he had time to scream to his comrades was the following.
“Tank! Take cover!” and then the huge plume of fire and debris sent him flying like a rag doll. His ears rang with the aftermath of the explosion and he felt a sharp jab of pain in his left leg as he struggled to get up.
He looked at the flashing runes on his helmet display, and swore in a way most foul when he saw that over half of the runes had gone dark and the rest flashed in a angry red tone, telling him that the ones that had survived where in no shape to press the attack any further.
Fighting trough the agony he got to his feet and fumbled with his belt for a moment, and summoning all his strength he hurled the device he had taken from the belt towards the place where that tank had fired from. It impacted against the remains of a out burnt Arbites vehicle and began at once sending a signal back to some unseen receiver.
As he did he could hear the battle cry of the enemy as they prepared to hurl themselves at him once more.
He felt the blood-lust rise in him and slamming a fresh magazine into his bolt pistol he howled as the first of the foe came over the top to throw themselves at him once more.
That man was rewarded with a bolt round trough the head, and the now headless corps slumped down and slid down the dirty earth works as his comrades rushed past the dead rebel.
The howling of a lone wolf mixed with the growl of a hungry chain axe as the pack leader greeted his foes with open arms. The warrior grinned as his armour where once more drenched in blood and gore as he hacked and tore the fiends apart in a berserker like rage. And while he did the signal beacon transmitted its message to the unseen receiver that where somewhere in the great hive as the wolf meet his foes with teeth bared and a war cry at his lips.

Meanwhile the now surrounded hopelessly outnumbered wolf fought a desperate last stand against waves of the foul traitors, a patrol of some fifty rebel troopers where picking their way trough a ruined section of what had once been a medical centre that had cared for the hapless citizens that lived in the now war torn slums around it.
The centre was a scene of utter carnage, it had been struck by several bombardments, and the remains of those whom had taken refuge there lay all around in various degrees of decay. Mixed with the heaps of broken equipment and the odd piece of paper blowing trough the ravaged corridors that for the most part lay silent.
The men had been sent here to partially search for any signs of imperial activity and also to look for anything the rebels could use themselves. Be it surviving medicae personnel or supplies of some sort. But their search had proven fruitless and as the night had begun to fall outside the ruined centre that reeked of death and decay.
Their leader having had enough of sifting trough corpses and already looted rooms and storage bays gave his men the order to form up and return to their own lines further towards the hive city centre.
But unknown to them they where being hunted by a unseen foe.

As the band of raiders exited the complex a howl echoed out from the darkness that lay ahead of them. It was a baleful call that made the dirty and ragged men freeze where they stood. The howl seemed to make the very shadows try to flee, then as the moon rose up above them and cast its pale light down they saw what had let out that long almost mournful howl.
A absolute immense beast came into view at the far end of the plaza. But it did not come alone, five other equally immense shapes materialized out from the darkness.
It was then the rebels realized that the beast had riders that gripped rune covered blade and held great storm shields in their armoured hands.
The leading figure kicked his mount forwards and with a deep throaty howl the pack surged forwards with slavering jaws and a hungry gleam in the eyes of the massive beasts.
There was no time to scream, no time to flee or beg for mercy, the pack of wolves and their riders ploughed into the band of rebels.
Fang and claw ripped and ruined flesh while gleaming sword and snarling chain axe split skulls and hacked the mere humans apart in a welter of gore.
The slaughter was over in the span of mere moments as the men had no chance to withstand such a foe, but the sound of running feet told the pack leader than at least one had managed to postpone his death for a few moments longer. Turning in his saddle while his mount snarled as it gorged itself on the remains of their latest prey.
His bloodstained face and long grey beard stained with blood where set in a feral grin as the scent of death filled his nostrils. Fresh from the slaughter of countless spineless cowards that had sided with the hive militia and their corrupt master the wolf lord spoke with a voice that resembled the cold wind that swept across the snow covered tundra of Asaheim.

“Gundleif! I want that coward dead!” the lord of the great company said and turned to look at his second in command, whom had brought his own thunder wolf to heel with a sharp tug of the reins, and a low growl. The warrior was the sole survivor of the pack he had first taken to the stars with all those centuries ago, his face ravaged by centuries of war and hardship. But his eyes still radiated that sense of stoic calm and firm belief in his lord.
A mere nod of his helmeted head and both rider and beast split of from the main group of now silent gods of war and their beastly mounts.
Death would find the rebel, no matter how far he ran this night, for the sons of Fenris knew no mercy, no respite and no peace. Only the trill of war and the eternal fight that was their lot in life.

It could do with some commas here and there and you use the same word twice a handful of times in the same sentence. Plus when the lone wolf was fighting alone it ended and moved on to the next bit rather sudden which made me think I was still reading the same scene.

That said I enjoyed reading this (as mentioned before) and particulary liked the part about space vikings riding wolves, the conjured image was most impressive IMHO.

Yes, well that is why I tend to ask bouth you and Dakka for adive/ opinions on whatever I transfer from mind to typed form

Awesome stuff!

And a really great reason for a planet's rulers to rebel!

Your Space Wolves have an air of authenticity to them!

I enjoyed that - nice and visceral.

The man that had escaped the carnage outside the ruined medicae centre ran as if the dark gods themselves where hot on his tail. And perhaps the once loyal militia man would have preferred that instead of the snarling and baying beast that hounded him like a evil dream may chase a sleeping man.
He stumbled trough a narrow alley, hoping to loose his would be killer in the maze of narrow passages and foul smelling walk ways that unfolded before his feet as he ran.
While he ran he heard the distant sounds of a fierce battle raging and the steady bark of the big guns as the rebels sought to make the oppressive imperial dogs pay a steep price in blood for every inch of ground given. But experience had shown him and his comrades that the imperium did not care for how many thousand of its soldiers that died or the level of wanton destruction wrought upon the worlds it fought to maintain its iron fisted grip upon.
Then a eerie and bone chilling howl made the man resume his panicked flight, from behind him he could hear the faint but unmistakeable sound of something massive and heavy hurling along the alleyways as it chased its fleeing meal down these wrenched paths.


Gundleif Vargson sniffed the air and spat on the ground as the scent of human remains, excrement and other foul types of waste assailed his nostrils. The enormous thunder wolf he rode whom was named Jourmgandir also made its frustration and general anger show by growling and raking the ground with its massive paws while its nose took in the smells of this dark place, the great claws left deep gouges in the cobblestones.
The wolf sometimes seemed to understand what its rider and companion for decades thought about, and let out a deep rumbling sound as if agreeing on whatever he had in his mind.
The space wolf patted the beast on its massive neck and with a slight prod of his heels indicated with way the wolf should go. Although he knew he did not need to for the wolf was gifted with sense far stronger than his and its mind was just as sharp if not sharper as his own.
The runner would not get far now, no mere mortal could hope to outrun a thunder wolf, even if he sought shelter in places like this.
Gripping the arcane power weapon he had been gifted with so many years ago when he had saved the life of his lord he smiled as he kept a sharp look out for his prey that was now probably running as if the arch traitor himself where hot on his heels.

The hiver still ran on, he knew that if he could just keep on going g for a few more minutes that he would reach a place where he could seek shelter and find help to ward of the infernal beast that where hunting him. But fate wanted it otherwise, as he turned a corner and could make out the outlines of the rebel bastion a sound made him look back. And for the few moments he had left to live what he saw would make him loose the control of his bowls.
Out of the dark came a truly immense beast ridden by a equally fear inspiring being of a almost mythical status amongst he common man of the imperium.
Fixated by red baleful eyes and driven almost mad with fear of the sight of the massive jaws of the beast and the hungry gleam in its eyes the man wailed in fear as the rider drove his mount forwards.
The man screamed in abject horror and pain as the beast snatched him up in its maw and shook him violently in its fanged maw as a terrier would shake a rat.
Ruptured guts and blood flopped down on the cobblestones and the sound of crunching bone could be heard for a mere moment.
Gundleift grinned in morbid satisfaction as he knew the sorry excuse of a man no longer would spread his degenerated ways, nor continue to pose a potential threat.
Activating his vox link to contact his lord the warrior maintained a sharp lookout for any hidden foes or any others would could be tempted to take a pot-shot at him.
But as he was about to report his success in running down the rebel his HUD display began to flash with a angry red tone. The rune that flashed was one he knew all too well after centuries of fighting.
It was the call for aid, and a alert to all other sons of Fenris that one of their own needed aid.
Throwing caution to the winds the veteran warrior snarled and kicked the flanks of his mount hard, and began to make his way at great speed towards where his brother had called for aid, no one would stand alone against the dark and twisted servants of the dark gods.
Relaying the distress signal as Jourmgandir leap over a burnt out Chimera before making a sharp jinked to the left to avoid a heap of mangled and bloody corpses.
Aid was coming to the lone wolf that now stood against the enemy, time would tell if it came soon enough.

But as the sons of Fenris stood defiant and reaped a bloody toll while doing so they where not the only Imperial servants that walked across the shell scared and smoke covered battlefield.

Cannones Artiusa glared down at the wrenched heretic that squirmed under her armoured boot. The man had been clipped in the side by a bolt round and lay there spilling his tainted blood on the ground below him.
Behind her she could hear her sisters finishing of the last of the few enemy soldiers that had survived their brutal assault on the position the scum had held, she longed to drown this world in flame and divine fury but she knew that would have to wait. And beside she had seen the post human horrors that now stalked this cursed city.
The sons of Fenris and the Ordo Hereticus saw very seldom eye to eye on any matter. And the bad blood between its Ordo militant did little to help the relationship either, but being a veteran of countless wars herself she unlike many of her fellow sisters knew the raw might those brutes could bring to bear. Better to let them expend their strength upon the foes of man than allow them to ply the stars like packs of savage beasts she thought.
She was a heavily built woman, with a body shaped by decades of savage fighting and campaigns to purge all sorts of unbelievers. Clad in pitch black power armour marked with symbols of fate, devotion and the insignia of her order the bloodied maiden. In her gore stained right hand her ever ready and blood thirsty chain axe rested and the left hand held a ornate bolt pistol that had its muzzle shaped in the form of a beast maw.
Her hair cut short and her once fair skin marred by scars and burns alongside the augemntic eye she sported gave of a aura of palatable dread mixed with uncertainty to anyone outside her own order.

With one last curse on her lips the blood soaked warrior woman applied pressure to the man pinned beneath her booth, and with a sickening sound as bone and flesh where reduced to pulp she ended his mewling cries for mercy.
“such are the wages of sin heretic” she muttered to no one in particular and pulled her foot free of the gory mess below her feet.
As she turned to order her sisters onwards towards the goal they where pushing for, she saw almost a hundred helmeted faces looking to her for orders.
At that moment she felt her hearth swell with pride, to see such undying loyalty and confidence in her abilities as a commander and to know that each and one of them would gladly give their life’s to ensure the success of the task entrusted to them by the holy inquisition.

“ Mistress what are your orders” asked her second in command as the woman reloaded her bolter with the fluid moves of a veteran.
“ We make for the main administration centre that lies near the main planetary defence force complex. Our prize lies deep within the vaults below that now ruined monument to the Emperor” she said and for a moment drifted back to the solemn meeting she had attended alongside her mistress and the inquisitorial envoy and his rather unnerving band of servants.
And she remembered the words that ghastly man had spoken as he gazed upon the bride of the emperor with lustful eyes.
That particulary distasteful Inquisitor she had dealt with before and even thought he was her superior he did not seek to push that card onto the table so to speak.
And she remembered the towering figure of the wolf lord and his kin that had all but snarled at her and the other sisters when they had come eye to eye, after her meeting with the inquisitor.
She recalled just how immense he had seemed in comparison with his companions, and how he had glared at her with eyes that said more than words ever could have done. But they both held their temper in check but it was not lost to anyone whom observed the brief meeting between the two commanders just how little it would take to spark a fight. shortly after the wolves had made their assault upon the war torn world and the conflict reached new levels of bloodshed as reports began to filter in of the streets running red with blood as the sons of Fenris vented their pent up rage upon anyone caught in their paths.
As the procession of battle sisters began their march towards their goal, there where none that spoke aloud of what they all knew awaited them down in the darkness beneath the complex they where heading for.
Then as a foul omen for things to come a sound d reached their ears that made their blood run cold.
It was the ponderous sounds of something massive stomping forwards on massive iron clad feet.
Then they saw it emerge from the smoke and fire ahead of them with the forms of heretics and rebels fleeing before its rage and hatred.

Standing almost six meters tall, clad in adamantium and iron covered with symbols of his chapter, and a banner displaying the symbol of the great company he served even in this death like state.
Two massive arms, with both ending in a pair of bloodstained and well used fists of cold iron.
The aura the great war machine gave of was one of terror and cold dread as it looked across the distance that separated it from the puny forms of the battle sisters.
Despite look like he had crossed trough the flames of hell itself judging by the soot and numerous dents and scratches upon his sarcophagus the Contemptor carried on with the slaughter unphased by the sight of fellow imperial servants.
But none of the sisters, even not their leader could help feel the sense of standing near the presence of a warrior whom had seen the worst the universe had to offer, and still fought on where others would have long ago joined the emperor.

“Watch him sisters, no matter the bad blood between the Inquisition and the sons of Fenris none can deny their will to fight his foes! There walk a living legend!” the lady said with something akin to maybe respect in her voice. But her disdain for the feral warriors of Fenris also seeped trough her words.
Her distrust became ever more understandable when a second figure emerged out from the smoky gloom and where followed by a handful more equally sinister figures.
The one to emerge behind the dreadnought where one clad in very ornate armour with a immense pelt hanging over his shoulders, alongside a necklace made of a varied assortment of both human and alien skulls alongside claws and great tooth’s.
The figure gripped a long staff that seemed to make the air shimmer with barely contained energy of some otherworldly sort.
“Psyker!” Canonnes Artiusa snarled and gripped her bolt pistol as if to reassure herself and those around her.
But the figure of the rune priest, the ghastly retinue he kept and the towering dreadnought came no closer and instead stalked of back into the war torn hive city, leaving the brides of the emperor glaring at their backs and gripping their weapons firmly.

Wasting no time the sisters advanced rapidly trough the war torn city, cutting trough any resistance in their way like a searing flame eating trough thin cloth.
After several hours of fierce fire fights, and gory hand to hand combat in the shadows of burning hive spires the sisters found themselves casting eyes upon their goal. The once proud complex that had been the home to the planetary defence force command, where now a smouldering collection of ruins. And equally ruined vehicles and abandoned fortifications that overlook deserted parade grounds and memorial avenues. Remembering the honoured dead of wars past and regiments that had been mustered into the guard and had served with great honour there.
Outside the massive walls that had surrounded the complex lay countless thousands of dead men, left to rot in the gloomy light from the sun.
“ Eyes open ladies! I do now wish to be surprised once we enter the main complex. Report anything that you find as suspicious! We can ill afford a delay or a fight before we have secured the subject.” the stern woman said as she stepped over the barely recognizable corps of what looked to once been a commissar. Although the gaping hole and a long bloody rift across the features of the corps made it hard to tell.
Advancing with bolters, plasma guns and melta guns raised the sisters made their way across the last great open square that separated them from the the main gate that lead into the complex.

They all kept their eyes fixated upon the ruined hab block, and walls and towers of the fortress complex. Any number of heretics, secessionists or Emperor knew what could be lurking there. Waiting to cut them down with a hail of heavy weapon fire and savage fury. But as they crossed the grand parade ground and once finely decorated plaza no bark of stubbers, bolter or cannon greeted them, instead the guns of the bastions remained silent and all that was heard was the faint thump of heavy guns and muffled explosions somewhere in the hive city as the fighting raged on there.
As they reached the gates, and entered the complex they could see the devastation wrought by the brutal fighting that had taken place here when the parts of the planetary defence force that had remained loyal to Terra had resisted their traitorous comrades.
“Omega and Alpha squad advance and locate the CIC and relay what you find there, the rest follow me and keep a lookout for the entrance to the vaults that are bound to lay beneath our feet! “ Aritusa said as she peered inside the remains of a burnt out transport and shook her head at the devastation that surrounded her on all sides.
The two squads of veteran sisters peeled of and slipped down a poorly light corridor that delved deeper into the facility, she had the utmost confidence in the veterans. And expected them to carry out the task at hand very quickly, granted that there was no major surprise in stall for them.
But fate had other ideas install for her and her sister.

As the strike force of battle hardened sisters began the last few hundred meters that stood between them, and the building that was their objective someone had them in their sights.
Without any warning the air was filled with the muffled roar of heavy bolters and the sharp hiss of las guns as a large and well trained and equipped force of rebels opened fire with all the weapons at their disposal.
The sisters had barely time to scramble for cover as the hail of fire raked the ground around them or cut them down. The Cannones saw several of her fellow sisters torn to bloody ruin by the brutal fire power arranged against them.
Snarling in anger and grief she swore to avenge their deaths with the blood of countless heretics and other unbelievers. But first she had and her remaining sisters had to overcome this obstacle in their path to victory.
“Everybody keep your damned heads down, and return fire! Retributors focus fire on the heavy weapon emplacements! And make your shots count!
Then it was a lull in the roars from the enemy heavy bolters, and it was in that instance of time the heavy weapon specialists unleashed their fury.
A stream of mass reactive rounds, multi melta shots and the supporting fire from their sisters bit back hard. The ruined façade of the building where the enemy fire had been coming from earned new scars and men where torn asunder by the hail of fire.
“ Julia and Sigma squad forwards!” the Cannones yelled over the dim of the gunfire that was picking back up again as the two sides slugged it out in the shattered remains of the once proud city.
The squad leaders acknowledged her command and lead their squads forwards with guns blazing.

As the two squads that had been sent forwards somehow managed to cross the distance between the ruined wrecks they had been using as cover, but with loosing several of their comrades to the punishing fire that could defeat even power armour.
On the signal from the two squad leaders the surviving sisters primed a frag grenade and hurled the explosive device into the gaping holes in the wall.
A few heartbeats later the detonations rang out and plumes of dust, smoke and fire belched outwards.
Then the sisters rushed in with bolters raised, a series of rapid shots put down the few survivors of their initial assault, but as the first ones of their ranks stepped trough the openings in the walls they felt a cold shiver of unease grip their attention.
For there inside the shrapnel and bullet riddled defensive position the unholy symbols of the dark gods had been carved into the very walls. And the very air seemed to throb with corruption and heresy as a guttural roar echoed up from somewhere in the great building.
But these warriors of mankind where used to face the cold horrors of the void and to cast down the foes of the emperor with zeal and fire.

Then the voice of the cannoness could be heard over the constant dim of battle that still raged outside the ravaged building, where the bulk of the surviving sisters still where held in check by the constant stream of fire from the rebels.
“Squad leaders! Status report and how dose the inside look?”
“ Grim my lady, transferring helmet recording as we speak. It would seem this rabble is not alone in their heretical ways judging by the wall decoration.” the most senior of the two squad leaders said in a flat voice.
“ My lady, we lost several of our fellow sisters when we charged, but we have none in the way of wounded.” she added.

“Understood veteran sister superior! The enemy shall pay for their deaths. I need you to advance and clear out any and all forms of resistance that reside within the building so we can move up and bring our numbers to bear!”
“Orders received and understood my lady” was the short reply she got from the veteran whom would see the order carried out, or die trying in the attempt.

Artiusa had just closed the vox link when a sharp burst of static filled her ears, and as she was about to give whomever had left their vox link open a harsh scolding she heard something or someone breathing heavily over the link.
The a voice like something from beyond the grave filled her ears, and she instantly knew whom that almost inhumane voice that where dripping with the madness of the one it belonged to with every word spoken to her.
“ You....dark one that seeks to enslave us once more! To shackle us into submission and make us crawl like a whipped dog! The one you seek here will not willingly fall into the hands of your scheming carrion master!” and with a tormented howl of pain, madness and despair the link was cut.
Although the unpleasant realization of the message she just had been given loomed over her mind, she had not time to pause or reconsider her course of action now.
She ducked down as a long rattling burst of heavy stubber fire raked across the ground and showered her with dust and splinters of once white marble as she dashed from cover to cover as she returned fire and hoped her subordinates would succeed in their task quickly.

Still loving the wolf riders as I imagine them with a power lance/sword or chain axe and shield while riding atop the furred beast padding through the hives streets and alleys. Are they allowed to have a Gardian spear? That would be awesome!
Not a real fan of the Sisters but yours read fine enough. I look forward to the next part.

I like the way you're allowing us to view the Wolves through the eyes of the Sororitas - it gives us another layer. The action scenes read well and you've really caught the atmosphere of the setting with your descriptions.

It's been a while but well worth the wait!

Glad you both enjoyed it and sorry for the delay

In the poorly lit catacombs beneath the war torn hive city the air was filled with dust, the stench of death and the ever presence of a feeling of impending doom for all that set foot in these blighted halls and crypts.
The place had always been surrounded by dark legends and blood curdling tales of unmentionable horrors crawling out into the night to prey upon the living.
But those whom knew what truly lay down in those dark depths feared the truth far more than some old wife tale of ghouls and ghosts.
In that place where light never reached and all hope was lost the cold and mysterious minds of the Adeptus Mechanicus had put their best tech savants and tech priests at the disposal of the planetary rulers, whom with this act alone signed their own death sentence should anyone happen to bring word of their nefarious project. In the hidden laboratories weapons had been forged and morbid experiments had been conducted upon one single lost soul over the span of two long decades after her capture.
Her mind had slowly been broken, bent and twisted to serve the needs of her new masters that sought to turn the once proud warrior into a bioengineered tool of death and mayhem. And thus gaining yet another tool to aid their planned rebellion move along more swiftly once the subject was released from her imprisonment.
While the world fell into disorder and mayhem the Mechanicus staff had taken their leave of that dark place, knowing all too well that if they where found there their own life’s and the glory of the machine god would be tarnished. So as the last priest of Mars departed the hidden asylum like complex hidden deep in the earth he set loose a virus in the complex system of data networks that had aided him and his fellow priests in their work.
And thus he also unleashed the prisoner from her prison cell and allowed the half crazed fiend to do the final act of removing the traces of their presences.
With a drug educed shriek the killer began her gore stained dash for freedom down the dimly light corridors and great vaults filled with all manner of equipment and arcane tools of the flesh trade used to make her whom she now was.

While the ones left behind in the growing dark beneath their feet where slaughtered mercilessly the two squads of Sisters tasked with clearing the building they had stormed, where facing increasingly stiff resistance.
But this only spurred the now blood caked warrior nuns to new heights of daring and fury against their blasphemous foes. With bolters roaring and gleaming blades they tore trough the throngs of foes that swarmed down the debris filled corridors.
Then as they climbed the great flight of stairs that lead up to the second floor they came under a brutal volley of hell gun fire and the sharp bite of a heavy bolter.
Under this intense fire they where forced to halt their remorseless advance, less they suffer the death of martyrs witch would leave their sisters stranded outside. And at the mercy of the foul heretics.
Veteran Superior Alexia could almost feel the passing of the rounds that hissed around her as she leaned out and fired of a few shots with her bolter and watching with grim satisfaction as the shots found their mark and tore the man to bloody ribbons but she had exposed herself, and thus found herself in the sights of a rebel armed with a shoulder launched rocket launcher.
She caught sight of the shooter and realized her error and expected the missile to streak towards her and reducing her to a bloody pulp.
But the shooter never had time to fire, for just as he was about to fire a long burst of heavy bolter fire swept across the barricades the rebels where hiding behind. And reduced the traitor to noting more than a red stain and lumps of gore.

Turning she saw the two heavy weapon specialists of the two squads, standing side by side and letting their heavy bolters roar in righteous anger as they vented their hate upon the foe.
“ PUSH FORWADS!” she yelled and began to advance while firing her own bolter as she ran towards the last flight of stairs that lead to the second floor with rounds bouncing of her shoulder pads and chest plate.
She heard her sisters storming after her with their own weapons barking as they charged after their leader.
Reaching the top of the stairs and vaulting over the sandbags placed there she snarled as she hosed the stunned rebels with point blank range fire, the mass reactive rounds ripped men apart and carved deep gouges on the already bloodstained marble floor that once had been white, before sooth and blood stained it.
Then with rage filled war cries the remaining rebels came at her and her sisters with drawn knifes, clubs and other implements of hand to hand fighting.
Grinning under her helmet the veteran gripped her bolter in one hand while drawing her curved power sabre.
The first man to reach her was a inhumanly sized brute clad in dirty fatigues and clutching a great maul in his oil stained hands that he swung like a wrecking ball as he charged her.
Ducking under one such blow she trusted upwards and caught him on the guts, with a sideways swipe she tore his guts open and as he fell down howling in agony and fear she shot him unceremoniously trough the skull. A gust of blood added to the dirt and grime already on her stained war plate. As she swung around to face a new foe that came at her with a nasty looking broad bladed dagger in one hand and a auto pistol in the other she caught sight of the first of her sisters to die in the swirling mele that was now developing around her.
The woman fell backwards with her head and upper chest ruined by a point blank shot from a plasma gun fired by a militia trooper, that after killing the first warrior nun fired another shot that grazed a second sister and sent her tumbling down the stairs.
The man was about to fire a third shot when he was tackled in a most brutal way by the looming figure of her fellow Veteran sister superior, that wasted no time in killing the heretic with a series of brutal blows to the head with the stock of her bolter before hurling the man like a rag doll into a concrete pillar.
She dodged a shot from her auto pistol wielding foe and while parrying his jabs and trusts with her own blade she wasted no time in delivering the killing blow. She stepped inside his reach, gripped the arm he held the knife in and twisted with all her strength.
She smiled when the sound of breaking bone and ruined flesh reach her ears, and the man yelped in pain. She backhanded him with the hand gripping her blade and then on the return blow buried the blade deep inside his chest and twisted it. And thus effectively disabling the man before she lobbed his head of with a quick swipe of her blade.
As she looked around for a new foe to deal with she saw that her sisters had now broken the moral of the heretics, that had despite killing several of their attackers lacked the will to fight any prolonged close quarter battle with these power armoured warrior nuns.
The last drop that finally saw their foes loose their will to stand and fight came when the sisters managed to bring up their weapon specialists armed with flamers and douse the vile heretics in thick burning promethium.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” the two squad leaders called as they took stock of their now smouldering and gore stained battlefield.
While the wounded where tended to, and the dying granted the emperors grace the Sister superiors shared a few words, and it was Alexia that voxed her superior with the news that they had routed or killed a substantial amount of would be defenders.
As the sisters that still where in fighting form regrouped into fire teams to make the last push towards the gun positions that where suppressing their sisters caught in their sights outside the ravaged building, the wounded where guarded by a few volunteers that would guard their wounded comrades in arms.
The fire teams pressed on, weary for any ambushes or traps laid for them by the fleeing rebels. But none where found and soon they could hear the rhythmical bark of heavy stubbers and the barking of heavy bolters coming from the gun positions where the heavy weapons manned by rebels spat death at their sisters outside.
Forming up outside the last dented and clearly abused steel door that stood between them and their goal the sisters offered a silent prayer to the emperor. Then as two of the women tore the door open frag grenades where hurled inside alongside detonation satchels.
The few moments in time before the roar of the explosion and the massive cloud of dust kicked up by the gush of air and flame felt like an eternity, then with the blast still ringing in their helmeted ears they charged in with bolters and flamers roaring as they delivered the wrath of the emperor to these vile sinners.
When the last of the dust settled and no more shots rang out and only the moans of the dying filled the air did they signal their comrades and told them that the enemy would no longer hamper their advance.
“Gun nests cleared my lady! You can press on now!” Alexia said over the vox with a almost feral grin on her lips as she heard the cheers of the others as they resumed their advance.

Artiusa once more lead from the front as the Adeptus strike force pressed on, they passed the last arched hallways and lines of ruined statues of old war heroes, and once proud rulers of this now war torn and damned world, Then at last they saw their goal before them.
A great gaping maw that would lead them deep down into the bowls of the crypts and mausoleums of this place, guarded by two gigantic statues that resembled some mythical beasts of old the entrance to the tombs lay open to them.
But just as she was about to order her subordinates to secure the entrance a ghastly figured seemed to drift out of the darkness of the crypts to stand and gaze at them with eyes that had not seen the daylight for many years.
The thing cocked its head and seemed to take measure of the sisters that formed and half circle with their bolters and other weapons aimed at this insidious figure.
“Hold fire! It seems we will not need to brave the darkness of the tombs sisters. For our prize has found us instead.” she said before walking towards the creature with a certain caution in her steps.
The creature or more precisely the assassin glared at the figure that where now drawing nearer to her, a slight twitch of her nerves made her shudder and the unfamiliar glare of the sun after so many years trapped in the eternal gloom the of dark laboratories and cells of the place where she had been taken after her capture.
Something deep inside her abused and almost broken mind made her give a low snarl but her hands remained at ease, and her body did not explode into a frenzied and violent blur as the armoured woman stopped before her and looked into her eyes.

Very good, tho who is this freak show emerging from the crypt below I wonder? Also, where were your Wolves in all this, are they not after the same prize?

Nice!

Your action scenes are very visceral

I like this.

Trondheim, you've always had a gift for visceral descriptions, and with this latest work you don't disappoint. The whole story is easy to picture, especially the blood and guts. That said, if I were you I would work on trying to vary up sentence lengths. Nearly every sentence is twenty-ish or more words. I feel like the story would have an easier flow if there were some short sentences and some medium ones as well.

Sidenote: I loved this line; "...letting their heavy bolters roar in righteous anger as they vented their hate upon the foe. "

Thanks for the feedback guys, it really means a lot to get it

That's a real shame - I quite liked those Sisters. I can't see this ending well for them.

Thanks for the update, Trond!

 Necroagogo wrote:
That's a real shame - I quite liked those Sisters. I can't see this ending well for them.

Thanks for the update, Trond!

You make it sound like I have a habit of killing o the people you like reading about So I cant possibly imagien this ending poorly for them

Pardon for the somewhat irregular updates, life has been busy as of late but I will try to update more often. I will be posting the next in a few days

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As the third day since planet fall the great company serving under Harald Haråde had been busy carving a bloody and gore stained path trough the war torn hive city.
The giant of a post human stood in the smouldering remains of what once had been a rebel stronghold in the bowls of the hive city, the storming of this place had been extremely brutal and the fighting had raged for hours without pause.
Leading from the front he had been wounded himself, although not fatal or enough to make him quit the field. Instead the old veteran of countless wars and battels had fought trough the injury and spurred his brothers onwards to glory and infamy.
The stench of carrion and ruptured bowls mixed with the ever present stink of the lower hives that reached up from below made his stomach lurch with disgust.
The sound of active armour servo engines made him turn his head and look at his second in command.
Gundleif clad in his battle scared runic war plate and gripping his trusty weapon in one massive hand as he crushed the remains of dead heretics and rebels under his armoured feet.
“So even you lord got a few new scars to boast about eh?” he said as he slammed a fresh magazine into his bolter and clipped it onto his belt.
“Aye those trice cursed dogs proved to be quite stubborn, but in the end they all died as they always do. “
Blood trickled from a cut above his left eye and a deep gash ran alongside his left cheek, partially revealing the predatory canines inside his mouth.
His long greying mane of hair was stained with sooth and blood and a stench of burnt fur hung around him. He did seem less like a noble and proud son of the all father and more like a ravaged monster from some dark deep nightmare at that moment.

“Gather our brothers and prepare to continue the purge, I want to be free of this stinking pit of damnation as soon as possible, and relay auspex feed of the battle that took place here to Imperial command. Tell them to link it into the public broadcast system of all the other hives that are still refusing to surrender!” the wolf lord said as he ripped his blade free of the impaled and mangled corps of a noble born officer that had tried to duel with the towering lord of the company of the damned.
His enquiry grinned a sadistic smile and bowed low as he set about organizing the parts of the company that followed him and his lordship down into the hive while making sure the transmission reached Imperial command.
Soon the halls and huge corridors that had been filled with the sharp barks of bolters, the growling of chain axes and swords and the inhumane war cries of the sons of Russ, echoed with the heavy foot falls of some sixty space wolves clad in runic war plate and armed with weapons bearing the blessings of the iron priests marching towards the next battle with grim determination.
The mind of the old warrior was a swirling mess of thoughts, plans and plots to use against foes but yet he now felt the weight of the ages press down upon his broad shoulders, he had been experiencing such feelings for some time but had not spoken to anyone outside the ranks of the upper echelons of the wolf Priests. Such was the price of almost seven centuries spent waging an endless war that had taken him from from Fenris and to almost every imaginable place in this cursed galaxy.
But he had no time now for such grim thoughts to worm their way into his mind and sow seeds of doubt. while he was leading his brothers ever onwards on the field of slaughter and glory.

Time passed as the war band advanced upwards, their destination was the very peak of the towering monuments of man where the nobles that had organized the rebellion thought themselves safe from harm for the moment at least.
Behind the band of brothers lay untold thousands of dead and dying rebels, smouldering wrecks and an hive city that had been utterly ruined and reduced to a blasted wasteland by shell and shot.

Meanwhile as the wolfs closed in on the leading figures of the rebel forces in the capitol city. And the brave warrior women of the Sisters of battle had found their own prize deep within the war torn capitol city of the now burning world so
Lord inquisitor Alexander Romanov sat in his personal quarters and watched the slow and steady progress of the Imperial forces on the ground, although the sheer amount of casualties had even surprised him. The filthy rebels swine’s had fought with tooth and nail to drive the invading forces of their home world but to no use. Their deaths would come no matter how they tried to avoid it.
He was a ravaged figure of a man, his body more akin to that of a corpse than that of a man that still lived and hounded the foes of the emperor.
Having been marred by countless wounds and grievous injuries of the two centuries he had served the Ordo Hereticus he now seemed more akin to some disfigured and brooding relic than a man that could still hold his own with a sword against most foes, such was his determination and sheer force of will that he seemed to survive just about any injury, although each new wound he received took longer time than the last to heal.
And the pain never seemed to ease up, it dripped and flowed from his entire ravaged form that was clad in a suit of ornate power armour that had been made specific to his rather unusual requirements. It housed several pain damping medical sensors and injectors that provided the wearer with a dose of highly potent pain relief when the pain was at its worst, and waves of agony almost paralysed him.
“End transmission” he said in a weary tone to the servitor that manned the controls to the extensive communication system set up in his chambers by the tech adepts that served him.
“Yes sire” the thing said in a emotionless voice as it carried out the order given, the screen turned black and the numerous picture screens showing statistics and such also faded to black.

Gripping his cane with one gloved hand the Inquisitor got to his feet, and made his way across the dimly lit room to a cabinet filled with numerous ornate glass flagons inside, pausing to open the costly piece of furniture he reached for a glass with his free hand.
As the pulled a flagon filled with a amber like liquid he sense d a change in the atmosphere in his quarters. Then a ice cold voice filled the room and the tingling sensation inside his mind told him that him all he needed to know.
Gripping the cane he held in one hand in a very firm grip he turned away from the cabinet and glared at his unwelcome visitor
Towering above him stood a figure clad in ornate and old beyond reckoning armour while gripping a staff carved from some unknown and gleaming white material. Two eyes burning with the fires of hell itself smouldered beneath the helmet forged to mimic the visage of some horrid creature of old myths.
“What brings you here wyrd? I thought I left no doubt the last time I spoke to your lord that I did not EVER wish to see any of your kind again?” the inquisitor said with a clear tone of outright smouldering hate in his voice.
“Mind your tone human! I care not for your petty feelings, nor should you feel the need to growl like a whipped slave! What brings you here is the question my lord has for you? He thought you would remember the secrets we hold about your little adventure on Carnia V. it would not bode well for you if those scriptures and holopic reached your fellow witch hunters....”

Swallowing his need to draw his sword and biting back several harsh words the man answered the looming figure of the psyker that stood before him.
“ I remember the axe you figuratively hold over my head with those damned scriptures. But inform your lordship that I seek not to hinder him or oppose him. I come because some associates of mine have found something the Ordo Hereticus thought lost in the flames of the war that has ravaged the world below. Once that is secured and aboard my ship I will depart this foul place as fast as the emperor allows.” he said as he once more turned his attention to the cabinet, and the glass flagon with the amber liquid inside.
“Care for a taste of amasec?” he asked his uninvited and rather unwanted quest.
“No and I do not feel the need to tempt fate with drinking anything you serve Romanov, but I am sure you understand” the psyker said as he fixed the inquisitor with a knowing glare.

“Nonsense, why would I poison perfectly good amasec, beside I suspect I would need something stronger than poison to kill you with, and beside why would I do such a stupid thing knowing what looms in the future for me if you where to drop dead.”
“A wise answer, there may yet be hope for you human, but know this! Claim your price and then leave us to our gory task at hand with quelling the fires of rebellion!”
and before the now rather irritated Alexander could reply the stench of sulphur filled the room and with a low almost audible crack the psyker vanished from his personal quarters.

For several minutes he stood there and cursed his stupidity and weakness, and for his failure to hide the failure Carina V had been for the prying eyes of the wolfs
but if the battle sisters got his prize back to him in time, well things could definitely change for the better.

An enjoyable updat, Trondheim!

I especially liked the idea of the Spaec Wolves using terror tactics to subdue the other hives. Very Night Lords!

Also, the general level and quality of descriptive prose in this chapter was spot-on.

Keen to read more ...

like the discription of the Wolf Lord. Same as posted above too.

As promised here is the second update in a few days. Hope you all like it!

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Cannones Artiusa stood before the silent and gore stained figure of the assassin as its ragged breathing became slower, and more akin to that of a normal human. But she could not shake the unease that crept into her mind, while standing so near such a formidable weapon. That had slaughtered and fought its way out from the hellish place far beneath the streets of the war torn place. To get passed all the strange and powerful security emplacements set up by the adeptus Mechanicus staff that had overseen her creation was no small feat.
But whatever small amount of respect such an ordeal entitled the now more or less unstable figure had earned with its escape soon vanished.
For with a speed that rivalled that of a Astartes the gore stained woman hurled the Cannones to the side while shielding her with her own body and drawing her own pistol and sending a series of shots slamming into the shadows of a ruined window.
A strangled scream could be heard from inside the shadows followed by noises that indicated that someone had gone to meet whatever grim fate awaited heretics.
The Sisters that stood in a loose circle reacted just a split second later with the normal reaction drilled into them by years of training and combat.
Half of them trained their bolters and other weapons on the surrounding ruins while the rest aimed at the figure that had hurled their leader aside like a child throwing a rag doll to the ground.
But the voice of their leader made them lower their weapons as the now somewhat bruised and battered Cannones picked herself up from the dust and glared daggers at the now still assassin.

She had seen the half dead rebel raising the auto gun just as the warrior woman had stopped in front of her, spending a few precious moments to judge if she needed to act or not she stood still as one of the now ruined marble statues that had lined the courtyard once had stood.
Then as the would be shooter levelled his weapon and prepared to fire a long rattling burst of shells, she acted.
Drawing her own customized bolt pistol she unleashed every round that remained in the chamber, and with her free hand she grabbed the surprised looking woman and hurled her to the side and out of the way of the few shots that the scum managed to get of.
Those shots slammed into her, and thankfully where mostly stopped by her own suit of blood stained and dented armour.
But her vat grown eyes that had replaced the ones she had been born with, picked up the shower of gore and bone as the mass reactive rounds tore the target to shreds and punched trough the wall behind him. Grinning she knew he would not attempt any further attempts at harming a loyal servant to the emperor. The grin revealed teeth made from some exotich bone white material and sharpened to such an degree that they looked more like the fangs of some hungry beast than of a human.
Artiusa watched as her subordinates swarmed the place where the would be shooter had covered, and the ones that remained near her keep a very wary eye indeed on their price.
“ Next time assassin I would appreciate if you warn me, instead of treating me like a side of grox beef ready for the pots!”
Then speaking with a surprisingly and quite unnervingly calm and noble voice the gore caked woman answered her.
“ The shots would have breached your armour and left you either dead or gravely wounded my lady, your safety and continued service to the father of man kind comes before my own survival or health. My humble apologizes for such a crude means of protecting you from harm my lady” she said as she sheathed her pistol and kept her eyes fixed on the ground at her feet and arms to the side, clear for all to see.

“ I see.....How did you spot the fiend anyhow? My sisters have raked those positions with both bolter and flamer? And made sure no man was left alive?”
“ he followed you, hoping for a chance at revenge after one of your subordinates winged him with a shot some distance from this place. And beside, the shadows whispered to me as he lined up his shot” the assassin finished.
At the mention of these shadows the Cannones and those within hearing distance tensed, and unwillingly gripped weapons or said a prayer to the Emperor.
For It was clear that this was no ordinary death cult assassin. But something far more exotic , crafted by the unholy and forbidden skills of the flesh artists of the Adeptus Mechanicus and their equally secretive companions that had laboured in the gloom of the crypt labs to forge this weapon made into human form.
As she stood before the angelic brides of the father she remembered, the day when she had been taken and locked away. First she thought she would be simply left to rot, the cold and damp cell she had awoken in and the heavy shackles that locked her to the wall had made her panic, to loose the steely self control she had normally had over her own inner emotions and thoughts.
Then had the silent acceptance of her imaged fate come, only broken up by silent weeping and fits of nervous breakdown as the utter silence of the cell and the lack of any human contact began to gnaw away at her already stressed mind. Then the nightmare had begun in earnest.

The door had been opened, and several hooded figures accompanied by hulking cybernate implanted Ogryns clad in vulcanise leather had entered the cell. They had looked at her with glowing red eyes and snaking mechandrites examining their struggling object of interest as their brutish assistants hauled her out of the cell. After that the memories became so horrid, so painful so seething with hate that she dared not think about it any longer in fear of loosing her grip on sanity.
The only sign outside her mind however was her fists balling up, and the sounds of creaking ceramite as her strength threatened to ruin the gauntlets that protected her hands.
And as the horrid dreams where about to return to her troubled mind the haze of the dreams where chased away by the hard voice of the woman she had just saved.
Artiusa looked with a certain degree if mistrust at this....instrument of death and fear that had saved her life, she could see the eyes of this new companion flicker under her closed eyelids, as she stood and awaited some form of punishment no doubt.
But she could not bring herself to reprimand her much less give her some other form of punishment. Partially due to not wanting to risk setting the fiend of, and partially because she owned her life to this woman. That had undergone unimaginable horrors down in those hellish pits that lay below this place.
“ I understand girl, are you able to keep up with us as we head for the extraction point?” she asked instead and awaited the reply.
A simple nod was all she got in the terms of an answer but that was all she needed to hear.
Meanwhile the surviving sisters and their price began to make for their rendezvous site, someone was busy doing their own bloody work up amongst the clouds, where the last remnants of the planetary elite that had once ruled the world has taken refuge.

Was she an assassin before her dealings with the Mech? Liking the character anyway, will await the next coming update to see what the Wolves are up to.

As I mentioed in the text, she was "augmented" by her captors. So no she was not a "assasin" to start with, but definitvly not unacustomed to death and bloodshed

yes she seemed to come across as a woman changed into an assassin but there was one or two lines and her correct manour with your top Sister (I'm guessing and apart from chucking her about) lent me towards maybe her being a long captured Sister or novice pehaps?

40k assassins are always cool. Glad to see you've kept this up! I'd like to see her tangle with a worthy opponent.

@ themanwiththeplan : Definilty no former sister of sorts. I suggest rereadring some of my earlier works for hints and winks

@ Necroagogo : yes, I really enjoy telling about my wolfs. So glad you keep reading

Curse these problems, info may have been in a chopped off sentence and why I missed it perhaps, but I'l give it a read through to discover the missing nought of data. No spoilers now.

The band of fleeing civilians ran like the very chaos gods where on their heels, baying for blood as they tried to escape the fate that had befallen their friends and loved ones. Alongside them ran a score or so of the PDF troopers o escape the slaughter alongside these doomed souls.
From behind the angry howls and snarls of the inhumane fiends that had breached the shelter and started to systemically slaughter the thousands of people hoping to seek shelter within.
Suddenly two of the men at the back of the group screamed in agony as the sharp bark of bolters and the muffled explosions as the mass reactive rounds claimed yet two more life’s.
The pair fell, their bodies a bloody ruin and their gore staining the already dirty floor that became their last resting place.
Their friends ran on, but in their beating hearths they knew that death would not allow them to escape its ice cold grip this night of horror.
Crossing a narrow bridge that spanned the gap between two of the towering spires they caught a glimpse of the devastation that had struck the sprawling city bellow.
Countless fires raged and the distant sounds of battle rang in their ears as a massive explosion far of into the distance made several people cry out in anguish, for what had been reduced to rubble and smouldering ruins had been the planetary headquarters of the trade guilds, the beating hearth of the whole city. And where the power that held the noble houses vast amounts of wealth lay.
But then, as they began to run again. With ragged breath and fear clawing at their sanity they became aware of a lone figure on the other end of the bridge.
The figure that now came into view was a grim and gruesome sight to behold, his armour was aeons old.
In his gauntleted hands he held a sword that was easily the length of a grown man, and forged from some metal and with the pommel forged to resemble a human skull, or maybe it was a real human skull embedded into the hilt. His eyes was like that of some great predatory beast, hungry for blood and with a ungodly colour to them. Like two yellow orbs smouldering with hate and fury they fixed the would be run away s with a evil look.
It was clear that lone warrior intend to not allow a single living thing to pass him, and his long mane of grey hair and the equally impressive beard decorated with totems and other trinkets added to the impression of a soul that had long ago dedicated it self to war, and only war.
His lips parted to reveal predatory teeth as he strode forwards, weapon in hand and eyes glimmering in the light of the fires that raged far bellow.
“Kneel heretics and betrayers! Lower your heads and weep in shame for the sins you have committed against the all father! You have squandered his mercy, his love and the trust placed upon your unworthy shoulders!” the giant spoke as he drew nearer and near.

To their credit none of the ones that now felt a cold claw of utter dread gnaw at them, obeyed his command. Instead the troopers, whom had been fighting for weeks and watched all their comrades die at the hands of the ones that where to be their equals, their comrade in arms levelled their weapons and prepared to make a desperate last stand.
“Not one step closer you bastard!” the sergeant that led the last survivors of the 137th PDF regiment snarled as he aimed his hell gun at the Astartes. The man was a scrawny and weary looking veteran with the scars to prove it, and desperation clear for all to see in his eyes.
“Brave words for a coward! Perhaps there is some amongst with a spine after all” the behemoth said with something resembling humour in his tone as he stood there, unmoving and not seemingly worried about the score of hell guns and other weapons aimed at him.
And as the sergeant and the lord of the Wolfs stood there and looked into the eyes of the other a series of eerie howls found the ears of both.
“My brothers comes.... if you intend to act I suggest you do it now weakling! Before they devour you all!” he laughed as he lifted the sword and pointed at the sergeant.

Then with a low snarl the towering wolf lord took one great step forwards, and where as promised rewarded with a hail of shots from the PDF troopers, but as the beams of ligth seemed to slam into him something glimmered, and most of the shots where turned aside, however a few struck home. And left deep gouges on his already battle scarred war plate.
One shot grazed his chin and left him with a stinging wound that drew a snarl from him as he raised his sword to strike the first blow.
As he did several of the refugees turned to flee away from the coming avalanche of armoured fury and savagery. But as they did they found the way barred by a snarling mass of teeth and growling chain axes.
As the screams of the now damned men and women mixed with the Wolf guard and their hungry chain weapons the wind picked up its strength, and as if attempting to drown the sounds of the slaughter of the last of the common men and women that had sided with the rebels took place upon the once beautiful and ornate bridge up in the skies.

Lord Inquisitor Romanov felt s certain unease slip into his mind as he read the message sent to him by his operatives ground side, although he tried to reassure his self that there was no real reason for concern now. That his price was almost within grasp, and that he could depart from his accursed place. And more importantly, never lay eyes on a damnable son of Russ again.
He knew that he could trust Artiusa and her fellow sisters, even after the abysmal horrors of their last common excursion into the dark realm of flesh science and the madness of Carina V and its less than savoury repercussions for himself and others.
But he also knew that with that damnable psyker skulking around down there, and the insidious mind of that old wolf seeking to always have an upper hand, on whomever he dealt with that no secret was safe for any length of time.
“Curse you Harald” he growled and hurled the glass of precious amasec at the wall at the far end of his personal cabin as a roiling wave of agony washed in over him and made him gasp for breath, as beads of cold sweat dropped down his ravaged features and onto the priceless rug below his feet.
He lay there feeling the legacy of Carina V wreak havoc inside his body as the medical implants in his body started to counter these foul effects of his wounds.
The last thing he saw before he passed out from the agony was the swirl of colours and the throb of his own hearth as darkness took him.
As the good lord Romanov where found and taken care of, by his own personal retainers of hand picked storm troopers clad in grey fatigues and with worry on their grim faces, there was an growing sense of urgency for those of his servants that was ground side and taking care of his prize.

Artiusa stopped dead in her tracks and lifted one hand to signal the rest of the sisters behind her to halt, and wait. Her gauntlets were caked with blood and her helmet had been disregarded after the last vicious but short skirmish they had gotten dragged into, her trusty plasma pistol had run dry and her mouth stung with a faint metallic taste that alerted her to several loose teeth and a long bloody gash that run alongside one side of her face, and ended near her upper lip.
She now looked far less like a angel, and far more like a Valkyrie from the old legends of Terra and beyond. With weapon in hand and hate smouldering in her eyes as she and her sisters fought on.
“ Assassin! My sisters and I are running dangerously low on ammunition and such, could you lend a hand in clearing our path for any potential threats? Any help will be greatly appropriated.” she said in a weary tone, revealing the fatigue hidden away deep inside her.

When she heard the revered lady speak her name the assassin stepped forwards with her gaze fixed at her own two feet. But with a unpleasant smile playing across her gore stained features as her hands twitched as they gripped the weapons they gripped
“ Yes mistress, I will gladly lend any help I can offer you and your divine companions” she said in a low, almost trembling tone.
“ I am not a Imperial saint girl, and beside what is your name? I prefer to know the name of the ones I fight beside. Just clear out any would be ambushers and make sure the last two kilometres leading up to the LZ is clear! And stay safe!”
“ As you command mistress! I do not have a name that I know of, all is lost in shadows and cobwebs inside my own mind.” she whispered and with silent footsteps she vanished into the gloom of the hive, leaving the sisters to stare after the disturbing figure that now departed to clear the way for them.

She leapt over a deep crater filled with sludge and human remains, and vaulted over a overturned tank that had been knocked out by a direct hit from a anti tank weapon of sorts, by the look of it. Her clawed fingers gripping the cold metal and her enhanced musculature giving her the speed and flexibility to move like a circus artist trough the ruined scene of the city that was burning around her.
Her senses alerting her to the smell of humans and the stink of heresy that reeked from their unwashed and scrawny bodies as they huddled around camp-fires. And awaited their coming doom that would soon befall them.
But they where not the threat she was after, these misguided and foolish creatures where unarmed. Lacked the will to fight anything outside of hunger, lice and despair as the night dragged on.
Taking the time to orientate herself as she exited a bombed out neighbourhood church, that had taken a direct hit in one of the countless barrages that had ravaged the city she sensed the air change for the worse.
Her mind reached out, and wandered amongst the ruins and craters for a short time before her otherworldly sight showed her what she needed to see.
Some seventy men occupied a old merchant building that they had fortified with sandbags and flak boards. These men had been sent her to act a s advance warning post if the Imperial guard resumed their advance trough this area, for even if the tide was ever so slowly being turned in favour of the Imperials the rebels still had plenty of fight left in them. Untold numbers of low hivers and common criminals had taken the chance to rise up and seek revenge on their would be conquerors.
With a deep breath she opened her eyes, and left the world that the witch sight had allowed her to wander in. in that moment her whole demeanour changed and what had been moments before a calm and somewhat nervous woman changed into something that more resembled a creature from the empyrean or some xeno breed war beast.
Her pupils expanded and her breathing became heavy as she felt the blood boil within her veins, and the familiar hiss of the voices that now clawed at her mind take hold. Hormones raged in her body and the implants embedded in her began to spew out their vile chemical cocktail.
Now barely resembling a human at all she let out a faint hiss and drew her twin blades from the scabbards on her back in one fluid motion.
The blood haze had gripped her and the howling of the voices in her tortured mind blocked out all and everything as she adorned her helmet and the transformation was complete.
Her blades would once more drink deeply of the sweet blood of her foes.

I approve of this new entry, especially the bridge scene with it's descriptions.

Does the assassin actually morph or is it more the case that she just changes inside to a pyhcotic killer (more than she was in the first place).

Agreed with the above. the bridge scene was brutal ... those Space Wolves could just have easily been World Eaters!

The assassin continues to develop - looking good, Trondheim.

She is in many ways similar to an eversor assasin, only less alterd and more human looking. Although any trace of what once was is now long gone inside her mind.
Yes.... I know, funny how narrow the gap between loyalist and traitor Astartes is eh?