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Acharias turned around, ready to fight, but saw it was Aldric. Glad to see a member of his legion who would talk to him he said, " Very well, Let's go." They began walking to the command bunker, picking off any straglers they could. Acharias looked at the Master of the Forge and told him of the commander he had found, and maybe he could have something made to get information out.
They arrived at the base, finding it somewhat empty, mostly vehicles and the occasional marine. It was quiet here, the calm before the storm. He knew something was going to happen, he just didn't know what. Acharias turned to Aldric and asked him, " What are we to do now?"

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

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

So, are we at an agreement?"

The storm eagle dubbed "Nights terror" roared overhead, kicking dust up around the speeding astrates. The tremendous heat from the engines turned small particles of dirt and sand into glass, before they shattered against armour and steel. The ship flew low to the ground, expertly weaving between rock and bush. The ramp lowered suddenly, illuminating the night with flickiring green and red lights. Krieg jerked his bike back, slamming the front wheel onto the adamantium ramp, one by one, the rest followed. With a sudden burst of speed, Nights Terror cleared the narrow valley and hurtled towards the distant battlefield. Lights flickered like stars around the towering city.

"Spoils of war are still to be had, brothers" said Costanze, the oldest among the riders, as he grinned at the flickering pict screen.

With a hiss, Krieg removed his gore and dust covered helmet and grinned. "There are always spoils to be had, brother" he turned to see Varan slump over his handlebars. Krieg pulled his head back, and tore his helmet off with a flick of his powered fist. Half of his face was pulverised, bone and flesh smashed inwards. His one good eye fixed on Krieg, gasping and gurgling he tried to speak. Coughing blood and phlegm into his heavily oiled black hair.

Krieg put his heavy gauntlet on his shouldar. "Silence brother, preserve your strength, you will need it."

Darius sneaked behind the unsuspecting fool. The soldier was standing next to one of his comrades. The knife sliced through both their throats quickly, silently. They where dead in moments as the massvie marine dragged them back into the shadows cast by a tall highway. The heads he left on the ground. He soon had the two soldiers rigged with their own grenades and connected to tripwires. A nasty surprise for any of the enemy that moved through here. He darted away as he heard approaching footsteps. Then a yel. Running. Screams and an explosion. His grin widened. There was nothing better than a dead foe. His eyes widened as he saw from his vantage point atop a pile of rubble a man crawl from the shadows. He had no legs and a slick of blood spread behind him. The old warrior leapt, falling into a roll that brought him right next to the warrior. The man had spirit. The laspistol at his belt was soon in his hands and aiming at the warrior above him. The old marine lazily slapped it from his fist and knelt before him. He reached down and lay his knife at his throat "Why?" His voice tore from the helmet, the metallic tone filling the air. The soldier coughed "We..followed our orders" He screamed. Darius looked down on him and slid the combat blade through his neck, a quick, clean slice. As was befitting of a foe.He stood and heard the sound of gunfire and screams nearby. His brothers?

The tall skyscrapers sixth musty floor gave hima a good vantage above the fire fight. A group of men wearing armour emblazoned with the Imperial aquilia where firing upon a force of traitors. The traitors where winning. They where about a platoon a peice with las guns, but the traitors had a tank. Darius smiled wolfishly. Not for long the didn't.

The Krak grenade sailed through the air, catching a tank commander peeking from his turret in the groin. It had been thrown straight, by a space marine. Something crunched. Then that somthing was slagged and atomized by the massive explosion below. The tank was gone and a devil was among the men. The short sword sized combat blade cut through swathes of the enemy, smashing them down and slicing them up. The demon that was Darius turned the tide and brought the loyalists charging. The soldiers of the emperor fell upon their foes with bayonnete and sword, felling them left and right. The tall saviour that they would now follow till death fought with them, fire in his eyes and war in his blood.

Lucius looked at the stern, venerable Apothecary. His eyes stared straight through him, for he was a fully fledged Night Lord, a bringer of terror. Lucius glanced to and fro, trying desperately to avoid eye contact. He clamped them shut.

"Okay! It shall remain unearthed!"

Leonidus finally unstrapped him. Lucius stood on his feet, a faint hiss being let out as the pistons in his leg began to function. He took a walk around the stuffy, cramped tent. This was all the time he had to become accustomed to his implants before he had to enter the fray once more.

He took up his trusty Bolt Pistol and his gleaming Combat Blade. He clad himself in a suit of Carapace Armour, the lightness of it augmenting his ability in stealth. He placed a set of night-vision goggles on his head.

He was fear incarnate, striking from the shadows.

He was a Night Lord.

He was his nightmare made manifest.

He sprinted out of the tent, running away from the dank, decrepit Apothecary's tent. The less time he spent there the better. He leaped across trenches, literally jumping over the head of the traitors, too sly and fleet-footed to be caught by the slow and ponderous forces of rebels. His newly grafted bionic eye locked onto his quarry, an Officer who stood tall and proud, projecting orders to his men. He was clad in fine purple linen with a golden hem, plasma pistol clutched in one hand, swagger stick in the other. He rolled a cigar from one corner of his mouth to another as he belted out orders.

Lucius galloped to him, placing his Blade in both hands, sprinting faster, jumping the final few yards, decapitating him in midair, his newly forged knife tasting the sweet ambrosia of tainted blood.. He quickly unloaded his bolt pistol into another rebel, his armour proof to the volleys of Lasgun fire he received.

Aldric turned towards the second in command and said. ''Welcome brother to our sanctuary, here we will consolidate our forces until we have enough to wage an attack on the capital. I would like to organize a war council with the higher circle if that is okay with you.''

Aldric walked off towards the apothecary tent. He saw lucius suddenly burst off and rush of towards the last trench line.
He walked inside and went very close to leonidas. Before he noticed it Aldric wispered into his ear. ''You should be more on your guard brother.'' He suddenly turned around and smiled. Aldric threw something towards him and when he opened his hands he saw a live human heart. He had a confused look on his face when Aldric said. ''A sign of trust. The heart represents the bond of the body, i hope we can cooperate in the future.'' He took of my helmet and smiled at leonidas afterwards Aldric walked out of the tent.

Acharias stood there as the Master of the forge walked away. It was getting dark, and that was where Acharias shined, pitch black. He walked around camp until he found what he wanted, an assault marine. He said, " Soldier, give me your jump pack." Realizing who he was, the soldier immediatly gave up what Acharias wanted. "This will be fun."
Acharias went and found Aldric saying, " I'll be back later." Acharias pulled out his power sword and split it into two blades. He started running off into the night towards the battle, turning on the jump pack and rocketing into the night. He landed with a crash next to a building filled with men. He let out a blood curdeling laugh, scaring the guardsmen out of their skin. The men looked outside, but saw nothing. Nothing but the piercing red eyes, and the lightning that danced across Acharias' armor and blades. With a screech he lept into battle.
No one stood in his path, all were destroyed. Cut into bloody little ribbons. He demolished every thing in the room. He walked out of the room, dripping in blood, and took off into the night.

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

Einer crahsed down into the enemy ranks, landing just behind the trench line, his flamer veteran landing beside him. He pulled his pistol, shooting a man before leaping down behind his brother, great orange fire racing down the trench, immolating men and ammuntion alike, the fuel packs exploding with concussive force. A massive Orgryn, toting a pair of heavy bolters, each wielded single handedly. A crude but dangerous bayonet jutted from under each. His brother flashed his rune, asking fo their pre-planned tactic. He acknowledge, and his brother shot up, leaving Einer to face the beast alone. The Ogryn opened fire, thousands of high caliber bolter shells slamming into the walls but none touched him. His armour would be nouse against its brute strength, and the skull would not cower it. As the Ogryn neared he fired his Jump Pack. Not hard or long enough to fly, but enough to propel his backflip over the creature, firing round after round into his enemies back and neck. The Ogryn stuggled to turn as he landied behind it, and he fired his pistol, leaving a single round in the mag. He doged the clumsy swing of the bayonet, and swiped his axe into the abhuman's shin, embeedding Darkhood's head in the thick bone, driving the Ogryn to its knee. A second blade punched towards him, he dodged with perfect ease and Nightmonger crucnhed against the creatures spine, the neck severed. The creature, unwilling to die, tried to scream. Unleashing Nightshredder, he punched his claws into the beasts face,. From behind him a autoround smacked into his pauldron, denting it onlyslightly. He glanced around to see and thin, skilled swordman, wielding a pair of power swords. The man was challenging him, his discarded autopistol on the ground. The man spun his blades, a dance of death that could match a space marine in speed and strength. His image wasn't sacring the man as far as he could see. Hewthdrew his claw, sheathing the talons and his axes were readied, Darkhood in one hand, Nightmonger at his hip. The man spun his blades again, trying to scare his opponent into making a mitake.
"You are an honour-"
He never finished, blown apart by Einer's last bolt round. The men behind him fled in terror as he reloaded and hoklstered his pistol. He drew his second axe, watching as the fleeing were incinerated, his brother sneaking around behind them. He turned to recieve the next charge, his 4 squad mates forming up on his position. The took of to the west racing down the tenchline, flamer in front, plasma pistoliers in the rear, him dead centre.

Sergeant Daston and his two remaining scouts were pinned down by an Autocannon team. The traitors were camped in a tower in the outskirts of the city. Daston had been trying to get help since they arrived planetside. A shell managed to find its way over the rock that they were hiding behind and into one of his men's heads, splashing brain matter everywhere. Daston was positive he could take the gunners out, but revealling himself would be his death.

At that moment, two plasma shots sailed over the pinned scouts and destroyed the tower's vantage point. Daston looked around for his savior, and Tocus drove his Predator along the ruined trench lines past where the scouts were hidden.

Renegade soldiers were all around Iscariat, milling like so many insects, easy to crush, but bothersome. Iscariat had suffered only a second minor wound to the ribs from a lucky grenade. Around him scores of soldiers lay dead in the mud and gore of the trenches, Iscariat's chainsword had clogged up long ago and it was more of a simple bludgeoning tool now, Iscariat not having the time to free the gore fromthe teeth with the reverse mechanism.

If the tenches were soaked in blood then the seargeant was almost made of it. It covered him utterly, a result of dozens of visceral spray's coating his armour and parts of his face. Speaking of which his mouth was turned up in a firce snarl, a solid raor still eminating from him with every blow. The astartes was not tiring and the soldiers just kept moving within range. One managed to land a lucky blow with a lasgun in his armpit as he was going to fire his plasma pistol, Iscariat flinched backwards and it was with that moments hesitation that the mob of soldiers covered him. Piling on top of him trying to fight him down. But the Seargeant was not worried and simply activated his jump pack, charring dozens of the soldiers, and throwing dozens more out of his way as he rocketed upward.

His eyes quickly sought his target and he landed heavily next to the astartes command tent. And it was only then that he had time to discharge the gore from his chainsword. He brushed the tent flap aside and noted a SIC,
"Hail Brother, Brother Seargeant Iscariat reporting."

Aldric was resting inside the tent. He had found one of his predators was missing and he directly opened his vox. ''Rahl where are you? Report back to aldric's pride immediately we need you to provide some fire support against an incoming rebel attack.'' Just when Aldric wanted to get out of the tent he heard a vox channel open up. It was aria. ''Aria have you found the train?'' He replied. ''Yes sir but it was completely slugged. We can spot astartes grade explosives where used.'' Aldric's scream of anger could be heard all over the camp when he said his last words to him. ''Return to the camp and please do not fail me this time.''
Aldric got out of his tent he had discarded his servo arms and his helmet he was only equipped with his plasma pistol and power axe. He saw a marine running towards him while saying. ''An enemy force is approaching. We need to prepare ourselfs!'' Aldric pushed the marine beside and
he walked of into the darkness.

Aldric was laying on the ground. He could see the leman russ with the renegades. All the light they had was from the tanks search light. Aldric had a sickly smile on his face. When he began moving he stealthily moved towards the russ from its rear and when no one was watching
he jumped on it. They where still oblivious.
He opened the hatch softly and dropped inside. Their fear was so great they coudn't even scream. It was clogged in their throat with a silent slash i ripped 2 of the crew members open. Only the tank commander was left, Aldric could see he was trying to regain his fighting spirit but he never had the chance. His face was skinned by my power axe and with blood gushing out of his body. He fell to the ground.
He humped the bodies into one place and opened his vox to leonidas. ''Brother i have great news and a surprise. You will see, just don't shoot the leman russ alright? Don't shoot the leman russ!''

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

They would leave none alive.

Lucius smirked as he cut down the renegades, his geneseed beginning to take a hold of him. He impaled another soldier with his blade, now completely saturated with the ichor of his enemies. Several men run, dropping weapons. Others stood and fight. Each one had the same serpentine tattoo as the Tank Commander.

One of them fired a shotgun into Lucius' chest. It slowed him drastically, but it had only hit his cybernetics. He grasped the soldier's head and twisted it off, terrorizing the rest of the trench, forcing them to run. A barrage of lasgun fire followed their departure, firing their weapons on the run.

Sizzle.

Lucius' arm was burnt, the pain running like a torrent of fire through his veins. He walked again, propping himself on his blade to stop him falling over. He loaded a new clip into his Bolt Pistol. The enemy officer's head still hung on his blade hilt.

"Immolation this is command".
"Immolation here"
"Your "high value" target is lying, he is not on any of our records, dispose of him".
Kovar needed to give no explaination to Trogar. The giant marine, known for his stunning acts of strength, lifted the bloodied traitor by the legs. Trogar stepped outside and began swinging the panicked traitor officer as if he were a rock in a sling. With a great grunt and a twist of the body the officer was hurled towards the traitor lines. The officer screamed as he flew quite a distance landing directly in front of a packed trench in a mangled bloody mess.

Trogar let out victorious cry that startled the already disarrayed troops watching their twitching officer's body.

Sahaal listened as the chatter on the vox increased. He had gone silent since he had first deployed, making strikes in and out of defensive positions far in the city.
"What is all the chatter about, Adric?" He asked

The battle was going smoothly. The rebels where being massacred, the second wave was already underway and Adric was inside the tank.
The tank captain was starting to wake up. His face bloodied but he was a strong one apparently. Adric walked over to him and pushed his face very close to his and whispered with his metallic brain screeching voice. ''We are fear! We will eradicate you in the night! We are what hunts you! In the day you will live but in the night all of you will fall to the night haunter!''
The sergeant began to scream as hard as he ever had. Adric opened the tanks vox and amplifiers and the scream was heard on every channel on the military vox. He also made sure his fellow brothers could hear the screams of pain.
The scream of a faceless man dying scared for his live. The moral dropped significantly and that was when Adric began his action. He had swayed the machine spirit over to his side his name was titanus rex his powers where dormant but Adric had activated them. He let the power of the machine spirit take over and all the sponson weapons as well as the battle cannon began firing on the rebels. They where dying by the dozens as the ever lasting scream of the tank command continued. The rebels where all scattered when they ran away in fear of blood and dead and the scream that heralded it.
Adric began moving to the camp when he got out of the tank. he saw the marines with a confused look on their face. The tank captain was bound on a chain as he carried him over to his tent.
Just when Adric wanted to reequip he heard the captain on the vox saying. "What is all the chatter about, Adric?"
He returned with a message. ''Yes captain we have secured a camp at the second trench line. Adric's pride has been stationed here awaiting the all clear sign to begin the attack which we ofcourse still need to wait for because we don't have the info yet. But everything is going smoothly at the moment.''

Taric heard a noise, it was a huge group of Conscripts lead by a Commisar. There's got to be at least 100 of them. He heard the commisar talk:

"Conscripts, have you heard anything?"
The Conscripts replied simultaneously "No, sir."
The Commisar nodded and continued walked unsuspectedly in a trap.

Suddenly, Taric raised his hand to open fire. The sounds of bolter fire and screaming filled the air. The Commisar screamed "Come on fight back, let's show them what we think of scum." They continued shooting their lasguns. Taric finally ordered the charge, the Terminators charged shooting and screaming curses while Taric remained silent. The Commisar screamed "Hold the line." The Conscripts looked like they were white with fear but they did not want to retreat in fear of being gunned down. The Terminators started butchering left and right with their power swords, many Conscripts were being slashed apart left and right. There were cries and screams for help. Gore and blood swished everywhere. There would be one hell of a feast for the Carions tonight. A Conscript yelled "We got to get out of here! He started fleeing with the rest of the group." They were shoot down with the sheer weight of fire from the Stormbolters. Only the Commisar remained standing he screamed at Taric "Come on Coward 1v1." Taric stood foward aceepting the challenge, the Commisar drew his chainsword and ran at Taric but before the Commisar could even react, the power sword had already sliced the Commisar in two. Gore covered tarics armour Taric had to hurry to reach the city and the trenches in time for the fight. He started to run as fast as he could.

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

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

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

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

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

Sergeant Kovar unleashed another burst of fire. This time it found its mark, ripping a troopers arm off. For some time the Bearers of Immolation had been pouring death into the trench lines in front of the ridge. Troops unlucky enough to be caught in the open were quickly put down by the never ending barrage. Their barrels glowed red hot and the floor was littered with shell casings. However the rebles had already planned the demise of the marines on the high ground.

Smoke rounds were first dropped directly onto the bunker to test the aim of the artillery lining up on them. Rorick found this tactic predictable of the Imperial Army.
"Immolation, pull out of there you have incoming" voxed command.
Damn rebels had to spoil our fun, thought the sergeant. Unfortunately they had not left quick enough and the shells began falling around them. They ran down the back of the ridge towards the landing forces, sliding down the muddy slope. In any other case Rorick would have braved the firestorm rather than give up ground to such foes.
Suddenly Mirosa disappeared in an explosion of fire and mud which threw up into the sky. The rest of the squad were luckly spaced out enough not be caught by detonation. As the smoke cleared the young marines body was seen hanging of the side of the fresh crater. From the chest down he was mangled into twisted form of flesh and entrails. His helmet blow clean off revealing his youthful face, eyes closed never to see another battle.
There was no time to mourn him though as the shells were now picking up in frequency and accuracy. Seth threw his mutilated brother over his shoulder covering himself in Mirosa's mess. The pounding behind them continued lighting up the ridge in spectacular explosions. Rorick swore the sheer firepower had moved the ridge a few klicks. He was glad though that they were worth such an amount of ordinace and had probaly warranted it after harrasing there troops for so long. They made their way back to newly formed command trench following a path of impaled heads which marked a way through the minefield. The HQ seemed to be under heavy fire and looked like they needed their help.
"Command we are coming in, hold your fire to the south"

Lucius slumped in the trench, weakened by the shot. He grasped his cybernetics, sparks flying out.

"I shall fear no death." he whispered to himself. The quiet clicking and whirring of his admantinium frame soothed his troubled soul. If he was going to die today, he would not die retreating. He was terror.

Lucius threw himself up over the trench lip, sprinting towards the plasteel bastions that jutted from the great walls the enclosed the capital, unloading his Bolt Pistol into the traitor scum. Some ran away, some stood and fought, incapable of touching the graceful Night Lord.

Then a squadron of Leman Russes appeared, rearing their mighty hulls in the clouds of choking dust. Disgraceful icons violated the beauty of the tanks, the Commanders wearing the same purple lilac and bearing the same serpentine tattoos on their faces.

On each tank there was a curved idol, coloured bright purple and lined with pure gold.

Acharias rocketed through the ait, landing on top of scattered rebels. In the distance he saw the apothacary with a spine in the air. " That looks like some fun, I'll join that battle." Acharias turned his direction, rocketing into the night, the lightning on his suit flickering in the night. He landed next to the apothacary, " Brother Leonidus, how is the killing?" Rebels fleed in all directions scared of apothecary, scared of the night lords. " The straglers are mine. Acharias started a run, the ground tremling under his feet, and jumped, landing right in front of a rebel, with a quick move ment he smacked his hands together, crushing his head in between, his head exploding everywhere. Acharias let out a howl of laughter, causing all the nearby rebels to fall to the ground in fear. He grabbed one and threw him as far as he could, a little football in the nightsky.
This was Acarias' domain, the night. This is where he felt at home, where anything was possible. He let out some shots from his plasma pistol, the lightning blue plasma chasing a rebel that got up and ran. No one stood in his path. And what happened next made him laugh even more, the one thing he loved even more than night, especially when it happened at night. His favorite thing at night, was when it started to rain.

The were completley surrounded by human soldiers, lasgun round after lasgun round hammering their armour. Amazingly, but not surprising, not one of them had fallen. All but Einer himself have taken a score of wounds, and one of his brothers should be all rights be dead, a pair of lasrounds punched in his chest, centred perfectly over both hearts. Still they fought, the traitors more afriad of their commissars than them, a feat best described as enraging. The Night Lords were fear uincarnate, and the Talons of Dusk would not betray this reputation because of these louts. He stepped up, leaping onto the battleent of the trenchline, activating the sonic disruptor in his neckplates. A wailing screech caused everyone there, marines and humans, to cower in fear, and pain in the case of the marines. The marines recovered quickly as their autosenses and Lyman's Ear filtered the noise, as did one commissar. Clearly a veteran of his regiment, his bright red trim marked him out as a Lord./One particular man turned to flee. The Commisar lord executed him, a defiled bolt pistol sending a single round into the coward's chest without looking. Einer knew thwe men wouldn't flee with him at their fore. He decided to do the one thing he knew could scare bind even the most rugged marine or Ork warboss, and these treacherous dogs would be begging for forgiveness before he even finished.
He reached up, taking of his helmet, the humans staring with interest, his marines shielding their eyes from such horrifc sites, knowing what was coming. He ook of his Deathmask, revealiong the exact same image underneath. His skin was flayed off by an ork flamethrower. Seeing even the Apothecaries revolted by it, he ordered his entire cranium be skinless, and bleached a stark white. He lolled his head back and growled, leaping down in front of the commissar, who, to his credit, stood tall, and defiant. Einer stared down into the commissar's face, seeing the tiniest morsel of fear in the deep receses of storm grey eyes. He unleahsed his Lightning Claw, pressing it slowly into the commissar's flesh, his ribs and spine grating against the admantium and power field. Einer's talon's closed around the man's heart, and ripped it out of his chest. The body fell limp. He was still alive. Now for the part Edvard despised. He opened his mouth wide, bringing the still beating heart to his his teeth. As the commissar took his last breath he watched as Death Incarnate ate his still beating organ, in two bites. The soldiers wailed in fear, and fledwith all haste, trmapling those who had not been fast enough. He screamed in the highest pitch voice he could manage.
"Stay or you shall suffer the same fate!"
This brought each and every one of them to a halt. Then lined up, each on one knee, begging for forgivness. He felt the hot blood running down his chin and wiped it away. He counted along the ranks, taking each tenth man out, putting him in a corner. The squad followed, removing bayonets and ammo clips from the guardmen, sidearms and combat blades too. As he reached the end of the line, he turned, shouting instructions.
"This men here," he cried, indicating the group of tenths, "are to be beaten to death. Use your fists, boots and rifle buts. Kill them all. Any who refuse shall die with them!"
He loved this method of torture. To kill a friend in error is one thiong. To slay dozens of your fellows to survive is mind breaking. These bastards had no qualms though, setting upon the group with fists, bots and even rocks, bashing their comrades to death, even catching ome of those that joined them in their attack. The brutallity and barbaricness of it was unbelievable, and within minutes the small group was a ruddy red stain on the ground.
"Go, run! Spread word of what we have done. Tell all who will listen! we are coming from you!" He voice snapped as he screamed thelast word, ruby blood welling up in his mouth, and he sprayed it over the gathered guardsmne, who resumed their maddened stampede of sheer terro. he replace his helmet, but not before vomiting up some heart meat. He rejoined his squad and set off at a run, resuming their attack towards the capital. As they neared the third trenchline they saw a tunnel, partly concealed, heading of towards the city. They saw the gate was unblemished, so no hostiles would be inside. Slicing open the grate, they made their way inside, heading south.

Miles into the city, Sahaal came to a square where a large crowd of conscripts and soldiers were gathered in an organized formation, a commander stood on a balcony with a massive vox system, shouting words to increase moral, and make the soldiers have new vigor and courage. Sahaal felt a spark of amusement, and decided to test a few things Adric had modified into his suit of armour. As the commander spoke into the microphone his voice became quieter and quieter till suddenly it was replaced by another, deeper, more deadly, fear inducing voice. "Hello" It spoke through the vox system.
"I am the voice of the Night Lords, you cannot hope to resist. I am the voice of death itself, the herald of darkness... and your doom. You have made a grave mistake, you cannot hope to survive, surrender now, and your death shall be quick."
The voice cut off, the men looked extremely unsettled, some on the verge of weeping, some clutching their heads, trying to remove the voice. "Remain calm," the commander spoke into the microphone, though he stuttered and shook, "We mustn't allow them to-"
The words were never finished. The vox message turned into an ear shattering, stomach churning scream, and the commander's head exploded.

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

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

The scalpel drawing close, he begins his grisly work.

"Display servo-skull vid feeds beta-sigma-four through alpha-seven-bravo," croaked the Priest-Marshal from his command throne several metres above. His voice was harsh and metallic. Despite the holy unguents and smoking censers hanging from the ceiling high above, tended to by fluttering cherubim and maintenance skulls, the place was still filled with the stench of oil. Jenna shuddered at the thought - the servant constructs of the Adeptus Mechanicus always gave her the creeps. To her, they were as wrong and debased as every single order she had carried out over the past few days. Helping cause the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians and loyal soldiers, now the Space Marines were here - the Emperor's Angels of Death. They surely couldn't resist them, could they? Though they were, albeit just barely. She had been one of the first to see the trickle of field reports come in. She had watched them become a flood as the death count rocketed skyward. So much death; unnecessary, terrible. She had shed silent tears as the names of the dead had flickered across the screen. At first, she'd tried to read each one, then every dozen or so, but now they just blended together in one long blur of Imperial retribution.

"Station-officer 329B-zeta, operator first-class Tynarth. Do not make me repeat my orders," the Priest-Marshal hissed down at her. She shivered, glancing at the cold, lifeless servitor plugged into the station next to her. They had replaced all but three of them with those dreadful, soulless things as soon as the rebellion had been declared. It was only a matter of time before they decided she was of no further use to them and when that time came, well, she was loathe to imagine the consequences. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck - this place was hot, far too hot for her liking. Maybe it was the coolant systems malfunctioning again, or perhaps it was the tangible tension and fear smothering the human occupants of the control station. The Priest-Marshal didn't seem to notice either way.
"O-of course, Priest-Marshal," she stammered as her hands hastily raced over the holo-controls in front of her, "Vid feeds should be appearing through your hard-link now."
The background hum of the computers working rose to a noticeable level as torrents of information from all over the planet was fed directly into Priest-Marshal Vorath's cranium via the dozens of cables connected to the cable-ports deep within the back of his skull. The room was silent again - any respite from the harsh, grated voice of their new dictatorial machine priest superior was a god-given gift to be cherished. Short lived, as usual, for mere seconds later the bionic synth-vox in place of the Marshal's original neck droned out yet more words as cold as a glacier.
"Vid-feed and logisticer speculation show the bulk of the Legionnaires Astartes are assaulting our frontal trenches. Two-thirds of our outer garrison have been overwhelmed. Third garrison coming under hit-and-run attacks. Issuing mobilisation orders to the Dirge of Annihilation - praise be to the Omnissiah for such magnificent constructs!" The Priest almost sounded happy. In truth Jenna thought he was absolutely insane. The priest was completely off his oil-washed cogs, but then, that was hardly surprising for a member of the priesthood of Mars. However, she had seen just how deep Vorath's fanatical devotion to his machine God and insanity ran. A young lad, who had worked as a servant-boy to the station workers, by the name of Worgen, had come to see if they needed anything on the first day of the rebellion. In his eagerness to once again try and impress Jenna he'd tripped over a servo-lead. For that, Vorath had him bound and taken away to the depths of the facility for it. She never did find out what happened to him. In truth, she'd seen his polished skull floating about the place for two days now, though of course she would never have recognised what had once been an otherwise nice young boy.
"Attention! Hostile units moving towards this position. Sentries under suppressing fire. Result: they will not hold," Vorath explained from high above. A computer-generated voice spoke through hidden wall speakers and though it was monotone it was still identifiably female.
+++Hostiles within designated threat parameters: executing precautionary protocol XIV: deploying servitor defences+++


Morias hacked down another guardsmen, the reverse swing cutting another in twain. Kurnar torched several rebels who were attempting to flank them, their death cries as demoralizing to their few remaining comrades as were there burning bodies; their flame-enveloped flesh turning charcoal black as blood vessels pulped and their nerve systems overloaded. A nearby Marine from Lazevar's squad was cut in half by weight of fire from high-powered shots whilst an assault marine stumbled; a stray shot finding its way through his leg armour. With a growl, a flurry of shots cracked off from his pistol, ending the lives of the momentarily lucky sharpshooters.
"Your time has come, traitors!" came a noticeably human shout from nearby, as a soldier marched down from the far end of the dug-out, his las-rifle on full auto, mowing down his erstwhile allies in the back. Having finished betraying his 'allies', the man ran over, only to find a dozen bolt weapons aimed at him.
There was a moment's pause, before he spoke. "Private Maverick, at your service m'lords," he introduced, with a curt salute. One by one the weapons aimed at him lowered.
"It is good to find a loyalist amongst these traitorous dogs," Morias commented.
"Anything to help get Torayo back under decent control. The last few days have been hell sir, millions have died.. good soldiers, loyal soldiers.. civilians even, women and children.. I.. I helped them do it. I had no choice.." The man mumbled despondently.
"He's no better than the rest of those scum, he should be lying with them!" Navren insisted, "Not only is he a traitor to the Emperor but a traitor to his own brothers in arms! Worthless, gak-ridden piece of--"
"Easy Navren," Morias implored, placing a reassuring hand on his tenacious brother's pauldron. He turned to the soldier before him. "You may be a traitor, private Maverick, but perhaps you can yet find salvation in glorious death upon the battlefield. Fight with us or die with your comrades in the filth. The choice is yours."
Maverick didn't seem to believe he was being offered a traitors execution. He stuttered for a second, then composed himself, saluting again. "I'll fight to the death to reclaim my world, my home!"
"We shall see just how deeply the warrior's spirit runs within you," Morias replied, walking past the comparatively small human and heading towards the vast jamming station. His rag-tag force behind him. He looked the five-metre doors confronting him over.
"You'll never get in there sir, those are sealed tight. Take an artillery shell to even make a dent on this place, and a bloody miracle to get inside!" Maverick exclaimed.
Much to his confusion, the bulky Astartes sergeant simply knelt; head bowed in prayer. "If all we need is a miracle to open these doors, then faith is the key we already possess."


As combat servitors filled the room, servos whirring and laser trackers continuously scanning the room for pre-programmed targets. Several dozen marched raggedly down the entrance corridor. They would stand like statues by the main doors, not seeking of cover or fearful of intruders breaking through and killing them. They had no fear and they had no thought. She supposed this made them the best and the worst soldiers to have. A small corner of her display screen showed the vid-feed just outside the building where almost two dozen, dark-blue armoured giants stood, seeking to gain entry. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. As she exhaled she shuddered frightfully. She felt the back of her throat dry and coarse. Painfully aware of the consequences of what she would do in the next few moments, she sighed and gazed down at the screen as her hands expertly danced over the holographic controls. Damn, that fething priest has written-in a dozen new security protocols, she thought, tapping away furiously.
+++Warning. Warning. Unauthorised access of complex command functions detected+++
"Locate," Vorath said simply; coldly.
They were on to her already?! She hastily wrote in several lines of false information directly into the blasted computer's bio-neural cortex. She hadn't worked at this place for eleven years without learning her way around the system.
"The personnel making unauthorised access of command protocols will identify immediately and submit for arrest and execution," the Priest-Marshal demanded, his servitors moving towards the three remaining human workers and dragging them from their stations, one then another.
"Let me go, it's not me, it's not me!" Squealed the first, desperate to just make it through another day.
"It's her, it's Jenna!" The second shouted, the fear in his tone accentuated by the wet patch forming around his groin as he was manhandled by the brutish servitors.
She cursed profusely under her breath, still typing furiously as a servitor clasped her arm in its powerful grip. With her free arm she reached into her back pocket and produced an old Las pistol - her father's old service weapon. Pointing it into the servitor's face, she squeezed the trigger three times. The mindless creature, more machine than man now, slumped to the floor with a metallic clang - a smoking hole imbetween its eyes.
"This will not stand!" Vorath screeched, rising from his command throne; cables snapping out from his skull and spine, snaking away into the floor as if fearful of their master. It seemed even he could still feel anger. She slammed down her finger on the execute key and the command was sent, just as the screen exploded in a firework of sparks, causing her to scream and leap out of her seat. A second bolt round left the Priest-Marshal's bolt pistol, his augmetics compensating for the previous mis-calculated shot and the round slammed into Jenna Tynarth's shoulder and she collapsed back with a yelp, her own hot blood coating her face as she sagged down to the floor. Tears streamed down her face as a tendril scythed through the air from Vorath's back, impaling her through the gut and lifting her effortlessly face to face with the red-hooded Priest.
"What.. have you done?" The priest grated.
Was that.. fear in his voice? The machine-man felt fear? Jenna smiled, grinning in the face of death. She laughed even as she spluttered up blood. Sounds of a firefight echoed down the entrance hallway as the priest looked around fretfully. Vorath looked deep into her weeping eyes with the cold, impassive red lenses where his would've been.
"You have doomed us all!" He screeched.
Jenna coughed up blood over him, raising the las pistol still gripped in her hand and shoved it into the mechanical features of the priest-marshal and fired. Pink mushy brain coupled with a plethora of wires and cables blew out the back of Vorath's head, splattering on the floor as the last breath left Jenna's body and the two collapsed, side-by-side.


Blessed Emperor above,
Who gave us all that we are and ever will be,
I ask of you in this moment of our need,
To look down upon your sons and bless us!
Cast aside this obstacle which blocks our righteous path,
And in return we shall deliver your fury,
To those who dare oppose you, our father, our lord.
The collected marines, and Maverick, stood in silence for a few seconds. Nothing happened.
Sergeant Lazevar stepped forward, looking down at his younger counterpart. "Morias, why do you insist on wasting precious time with your false prayers to a man who is no more a God than our own primarch!" The aged veteran was wise, understanding even.. but he had always been impatient and indeed openly scornful of Morias' faith. He stood apart from the traditional Night Lord ways.
"Waste, brother?" Morias asked rhetorically as he stood to his full height. He shook his head sadly. "Someday I hope you learn the importance of faith, sergeant."
Lazevar was about to retort, his expression one of anger and annoyance, when there was a loud thunk behind them. Sergeant Lazevar watched in surprise and bemusement as the massive, twenty inch thick adamantium doors groaned open.
"Come brothers, for the Emperor!" Morias shouted, chainsword raised. The assembled astartes, and indeed Maverick, roared a deafening battle cry that seemed loud enough to be heard on Terra itself. They charged, Morias leading from the front, Lazevar and Navren by his side; Kurnar and Tyceus close behind. A wall of heavy calibre shells flew at them almost instantly, a dozen servitors staring impassively at their attackers even as they were mercilessly cut down. One equipped with a multi-melta reduced a valiant marine to sludge, the man still yelling the war cry until his lounges disappeared and even for a moment after. Space Marines, Night Lords especially, were known for being fearless, terrifying opponents. If the servitors still had emotion, they would've collapsed to their knees and begged for mercy, though none was to be had. They were all caught up in the surge of faith that had captured the heart of each one when those doors had opened after Morias's prayer. They surged into the command hub, gunning down the sluggish servitors before they could react. It was over as quickly as it had begun.
"Rejoice brothers, for faith has carried us to victory!"

Sahaal's voice hissed through the vox as he opened a link and spoke to Lucius, "I have found the governors mansion, it is heavily fortified, and what is left of the defense force in this city is mustered here. I need you to get to the position of the coordinates I have sent you, the governor will be executed publicly by you, however, do not kill him until I give the word, this mission and these specific orders are of the upmost importance, the group will be gathered for a speech in 2 hours, do not be late, Sahaal out."

Acharias rocketed through the rain, closing in on a guard outpost, the men sitting around guarding a weapon stash. This was the time to strike fear into their hearts, and the rain would help nicely. The man on the edge of the out post went first. Acharias grabeed him, flaying his skin off. He grabbed the body dripping with blood and flew above the command bunker of the out post. With one throw the skinless man went through the roof, breaking the table the commanders were sitting at. The commanders fell backwards in fear, the sweat already dripping down their faces. They looked through the hole in the roof, but Acharias was gone. The beast in the night. It wasn't long before the screams started, only 9 men left 4 commanders, 5 of their guards, one already dead. This would be fun. Acharias closed in on another guard, the last thing he saw was the red eyes, burning into his vision, a slight shriek the last noise he made. He disembowled the man, leaving him hanging from a roof by his organs. The other guards went quickly, spinning in the rain, firing their las guns, they never saw it coming. Two of their heads rolled into the command bunker, one left gripping his bleeding throat on the ground. The last man ran into the command bunker to warn the commanders as they sat in the corner, The man ran in only to have a pair of claws come through his stomach. The commanders tried to run from the hulking beast, the red eyes and the moving lightning. Acharias caught a commander and took off, dropping him to the ground, a thud followed by a splatter of gore. He ripped the head off another and cut the third in half. The last, the over all leader took his comrades skull to the knee, shattering it. Acharias caught the man, hobbling away and laughed. The commanders blood boiled as he covered his ears to hide the noise. Acharias took the man out into the battle, finding another group of guardsmen. He dropped the jawless commander in the middle and flew away, laughing as he escaped into the rain.

Dark wrote:
Traitor vehicle fleet:

[first vehicle of each cohort is command vehicle]

- Command cohort: Annihilators
-- Baneblade - Dirge of Annihilation
-- LRMBT - Pride of Torayo
-- LRMBT Vanquisher - Hunter at Dusk
-- LRMBT Vanquisher - Eagle Eye
-- Chimera (with elite soldiers) - Lilith
-- Chimera (with elite soldiers) - Tanner's Joy
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit

- Cohort #1: The Indomitables
-- LRMBT Vanquisher - Lion's Teeth
-- LRMBT Executioner - Blazing Fury
-- LRMBT - The Stoic
-- LRMBT - Victory
-- LRMBT Exterminator - Prowler
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit

- Cohort #2: The Unrelenting
-- LRMBT Demolisher - Relentless
-- LRMBT Annihilator - Destroyer
-- LRMBT Annihilator - Ferocious
-- LRMBT Annihilator - Fargo II
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit
-- Chimera Mechanised Infantry unit

The order had been given. Though the comms-link with the command station had been cut mere minutes after the order had been sent, it mattered not. The order had been re-relayed throughout the force and the engines of dozens of giant iron beasts roared to life, rising to a cacophony that could only be the sound of massed tanks. It was reassuring to those men still fighting in the third trench - they faced unknowable terrors, but now the might of the Imperial Army was here, lead by the surely undefeatedable baneblade - the aptly named Dirge of Annihilation. As one, the 1st and 2nd cohorts surged towards the lines, shells flung far and massive explosions racking the landscape even as bright beams of energy incinerated man and Marine alike. Heavy bolter shells filled the air as large bolts of steaming plasma incinerated several of the Astartes fighting in the trenches.

Over at the field base set up by the Night Lords, an entire section disappeared in an incredible fireball as the ferocity of the baneblade's main cannon was unleashed. Mostly claimed were the few wounded Astartes who had been taken back to wait for the apothecary to administer his care. Things seemed bleak as the astartes were forced back, squad by squad under the torrent of shells and firepower, the likes of which evil the Angels of Death would be unable to match. That did not mean they were defenceless however. In response, their own armoured might moved forward, the powerful Land Raiders rolling forward, their blessed hulls resisting all that was thrown at them - certainly thanks to the Master of the Forge - as a dozen Land Speeders roared overhead, heavy bolters and multi-melta's unleashing hell on the tanks below. Several Leman Russ tanks went up in fireballs, even as a trio of chimeras were blasted apart, the infantry inside leaping clear, their bodies alight as they fell to the mud. The Space Marine vehicles were far more experienced and skilled than the majority of the enemies they faced, however weight of firepower soon took its toll. Though they reaped almost twice as many as they lost, two predators and a land raider's burnt out hulls soon joined the mass vehicle graveyard forming. As the titanic metal behemoths fought above, thousands of men and women fought desperately against towering Angels of Death.

The battle hung in the balance, both sides suddenly even and losing valiant warriors and proud battle tanks with each passing second.

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

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