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The world burns in the fiery flames of war and misery. In the shadows of burning spires and the smoldering ruins that forms the vast and broken landscapes of Hagia Prime, a merciless battle rages.
Guardsmen, PDF and the few surviving members of the Sisters Of Battle order attempts to quell the flames of heresy.

It began when a heresy most foul was committed, many of the noble houses had fallen under the influence of the ruinous powers. Many a long night they spent mustering their countless minions and building supplies while hiding in plain sight. When they rose up and set the world ablaze in the flames of war, a call for aid went out from the remaining loyalist forces on the world.
Help came in vast quantities, several regiments of Guardsmen and tanks came alongside the Sisters Of Battle to aid the beleaguered Imperial world.

But when the ones who had set about the heresy revealed their gore stained hands it became clear it would perhaps not be enough, spilling fourth from the dark catacombs that run like a honeycomb beneath the world came the Sons Of Muspelheim.
The former guardians of mankind fell upon the guard with grim determination, and madness burning in their eyes. Soon the would be liberators found themselves in a cataclysmic struggle of life and death.
The traitor Astartes came to claim this world for their dark gods. And to anoint themselves in the blood of the loyal and pure.

It was unto this cauldron of suffering we came, the ship broke out from the warp in a multicolored display of energy. As the gellar field flickered and dissipated our lonesome ship hung in silent orbit.
Around us other Imperial ships made way for our coming, those who had survived the initial battle for the skies did not want to risk their life’s by obstructing our coming.
The brass bell calls us to the gathering hall where the brother captain anoints us all for the coming campaign before leading us in prayer.

“Father of mankind, thy who sits on Terra. Hold your guiding hand above your chosen sons as we cleanse the unfaithful from your realm, keep our brothers safe from harm and grant swift death to our foes. Grant thy blessing to those who will not live to see its end.” the prayer that is said in a unison choir of deep baritone voices.

We rise in unison as the brother captain is the first to exit the chapel. His footstep’s sounds like the tolling of the bell of lost souls, he is followed by his closest and most trusted battle brother. A giant of an Astartes who is clad in a suit of amour that has seen more battles than most of us will ever see.

Brother Captain Arkangle and his champion Mordred leaves their brethren to tend to their last duties before the squad leaders are summoned to discuss tactics.
As the two Astartes walk side by side, anyone observing them can see the close bond between the two warriors, the kind of bond that only centuries of war and countless hours spent sparring and training foster. Where these two tread their footsteps and shadow signal the demise of the enemies of man.

“Curse these incompetent fools for not being able to purge that accursed rabble on their own, Emperor give me strength if I ever have the displeasure of getting my hands on the worthless worm who commands them!” the captain says in a voice dripping with resentment.



His comrade in arms nods but dose not answer him. He is used to this, the great warrior seldom speak but when he dose the centuries of experience he has is revealed. It is as much for his battle prowess as his steely tactical outlook he has chosen to make him his champion. And ultimately the one who will be his successor to the role as leader of the proud second company of the Death Hand.

“My lord I believe we are not alone when it comes to aiding this rabble, I have received word that fellow Astartes are in system and orbiting this very world! But alas we seem to be cursed with the foul mongrels of the Salamanders.” Mordred says and his face reveals more than his words what he feels about his fellow Astartes.

“Calm yourself brother! It is indeed unfortunately that we are forced to deal with them. But I would rather have them die than any of our own brothers.” the captain says as they enter the armory.

As hey enter the smell of weapon oil and other cleaning agents assail their noses, and the sounds of the forge producing ammunition and tech marines tending to equipment. Scores of serfs surrounded them and await their commands. When ordered the servants begin the processes of arming and preparing the two giants clad in power armor.

He felt energized as he gripped the sword that had served him for over two hundred years, the blade hummed with energy as he grasped its decorated hilt. By the almighty emperor this was a weapon truly fit for the sons of the father of mankind he thought and took a practice swing.
The blade seems to emit a thirst for war, and soon that thirst will be sated.

Two hundred Astartes stand ready for war, two hundred souls stands in the defense of the imperium and that it represent.
Let the heretic, the daemon and the alien cover in fear. The hands of death draw near for their bloody harvest.


Shells rake the imperial lines as a tsunami of heretics spill fourth and hurl themselves at the guardsmen. Hundreds if not thousands are shredded by heavy weapon fire and massive explosions as the big guns of the guard rains death down upon them.
A lone storm trooper stands firm in the face of this madness, his weapon spits death at his foes and his lips curse them as they swarm over the barricades. he is all that remains of the regiment guarding the bastion but he dose not flee or cower in fear.
He looks to the sky and prepares to sell his life as his weapon is all but out of ammunition.
Above him he sees fiery objects hurl towards the ground. At first he and all others who sees them think that its an orbital bombardment. But the objects draws closer and it soon dawns on both loyalist and traitor that the angels of death comes down from the skies to make war.

As the drop pods slams into the ground a shimmer appears in the air, and with a thunderclap the brother captain and his finest warriors comes onto the scene.

Mordred rams his halberd into the guts of the foul traitor and tosses him aside with a flick of his wrist. His weapon in drenched in the blood of the enemy and his hate burns in his veins.
With one massive hand he grips the axe that a overall clad heretic swings at him.

“Die mortal” he growls and rips the arm of, and with a downward strike spills him in two. Foul liquids and internist sploshes down onto the ground but he pays no attention to it, swinging in a wide arc he cuts them down like a scythe might cut the wheat.
Looking around him he sees the chapter banner rise proudly over the churning mayhem of war.

For the other imperial forces it seemed that salvation had come when Astartes from two different chapters came down to make war. But when the dust settled and it was clear that the battle was won for now the ugly head of disagreement arose between the two chapters.

The Salamanders in following their beliefs had aided the guard while they withdrew, and failed to close the pincer that would have caught a large host of heretics between the two Astartes forces. This did not sit well with their fellow Astartes who had bore the brunt of the counter attack. Although none had died several brothers where severely injured and would not see battle again for many weeks.
But what made the tide of hate flow from the Death hands was the fact that their supposedly brothers in arms had chosen to aid the pity full guard instead of them.
The Salamander lord was greeted with noting short of barely concealed hostility when he meet brother captain Arkangle, the marine clad in pitch black power armor with silver colored trim radiated no wish to share words let alone discus anything with the stoic Salamander clad in green.
News about this reached the inquisitor and her retinue as they surveyed the aftermath of the battle.

Inquisitor Julia Everhearth stood surrounded by her retinue as the surviving Imperial commanders arrived for the joint briefing on the next stage of the war. She also noted the two Astartes commanders, one seemed to glare a wish for death for anyone foolish enough to approach let alone speak to him. And one stood and discussed the war with several officers.

The only man in the assembly who seemed to dare to speak to the towering Astartes clad in black was a equally unnerving man. He wore a long greatcoat and his gaunt features spoke of a long life spent fighting the enemies of man. He also had a bionic hand and a gas mask rested on his hip.
That man was equal to the devil she thought, curse the Ragnarokian regiment and their monster of a commander. But he and his men added something to their combined effort no other regiment present on this world could, and that was sheer weight of numbers and added to their expertise in dealing with such things as traitor Astartes they where a valuable asset indeed. No matter how unsavory they where.
Field-marshal Hendric S. Loki was a man who looked like he had been trough the warp, and lived to tell the tale. His body was a patchwork of scars and bionics. Only he could claim to be on a somewhat good footing with the less than pleased brother captain.

When the meeting ended she waited for brother captain Arkangle to leave before she approached him. She had not seen or meet an Astartes of the chapter this lord clearly belonged to, but something told her that they where far from common imagine of a heroic Astartes who would stand with his fellow servants of mankind.

“A moment of your time Astarte” she told him in a calm manner. The giant turned to face her and that was the first time since she earned the rosette she felt afraid.
His eyes radiated hate and barely contained fury, it did not help that his armor made him look like a black legionnaire, only the armor trim made him look different.

“Inquisitor” he says to her in a icy tone while his cold eyes gaze down at her. It is very clear to her that he thinks rather poorly of her. Knowing she needs to tread lightly she chooses her next words carefully.

“My lord Astartes, I am inquisitor Ambrosia. I come to ask for your aid in the continued liberation of this system. Secondly I noticed the less than friendly tone between you and the Salamander captain. I take it that it will not interfere with your effort in this war!!" she says in what she hopes is a firm but well mannered tone.

Her answer is as cold as the winter storms on Fenris.
“ No Inquisitor trouble not your head with affairs between Astartes! And to give you the answer you crave, yes you may count on our aid. But know this.... do not try to use us to further your own goals. I will not let my brothers waste time on running errands for a mere mortal.”

with those words he leaves her standing there alone in the damp hallway. When several towering warriors stride past her she realize they must have heard every word. She knows in her mind that those Astartes may be the source of a lot of headaches and worries.

As her second in command walks over she feels a tingling in her mind, and a voice that is marred by the passing of the centuries speaks to her.
“Excuse my Captain, he seldom plays well with others. Seek me out if you wish to speak with him when he is in a more favorable mood. Tell him that I Octavian sent you.”

And with those words she feels the pressure ease up and dissipate from within her mind. So the Astartes has a psyker with them it seems. Indeed this may prove a eventful task indeed.

"My lady? Are you okay” the man asks her and looks concerned for her well being, she waves him of and says to him.
“Tell me Andrew, have you ever been aboard a Space marine ship?

Very nicely written.

I love it, keep it coming! I like specifically the attitude of the Captain Arkangle. He is very solemn and I don't know if it was just me, he seemed to be the brooding type.

Thank you both, this story will reveal much about the Death hands as a whole. I will try to dig out the chapter colour scheeme to

Very, very, good. I like the way you described the vessel coming out of the warp and entering obrit, nice. If I have to pick a negative I would say near the end you made the Champion into a woman by calling him she lol, it was still good though and can't wait for more

Nice start - good to see the protagonists from your earlier work back once more. Will there be a coming to blows of the Death Hands ans the Sallies?

 Necroagogo wrote:
Nice start - good to see the protagonists from your earlier work back once more. Will there be a coming to blows of the Death Hands ans the Sallies?

Perhaps......I would not bet on everyone survining this before the last word is told though

The shuttle shakes and shudders as it draws nearer the immensely large ship hanging in orbit. Sitting in the passenger compartment the good inquisitor Ambrosia and her second in command Andrew sits strapped in.
The former sergeant of the 85th Gwendolyn sits quiet in his seat while the inquisitor vomits violently due to the turbulence. His pale features and neutral face reveals not a hint of emotion as he watches her hack and spit.
Reaching down he pulls up a bottle and hands it to her, she nodes a silent thank you and takes a long sip of it, the smell of strong liquor fills the passenger bay and she feels somewhat human again, emperor know she hates flying.

“Lady inquisitor, we will be docking in a few minutes” the pilot says over the intercom.
As the shuttle enters the designated docking bay the two pilots swallows hard and wipes sweat of their faces. None of them wants to admit it but docking in this flying fortress was a frightening experience to say the least, both men would rather fly missions over enemy held skies than to do such things on a regular basis.

She gets up and adjust her worn leather jacket and strap on her bandolier, she never goes unarmed or unprepared. Even when meeting supposedly friendly Astartes on board their flying fort. And Emperor knows she has heard enough things about this particular chapter that her skin crawls with ideas. In the two days passed since she met the brother captain she has spent pouring over data and old scrolls.
Those days spent researching the chapter she would be dealing with was time well spent she hoped.
What she had learned did not bode well, they hailed from the border marches near the Ghoul stars and supposedly they had played a major role in ages past keeping the horrors that lurked in the light of those pale stars at bay.
They also seemed to have been involved in several major campaigns over the last thousand years and still, over all those years not much was known about their agenda beside the service to mankind and the emperor.
But the few lines she had read on a partially ruined scroll had made her blood freeze, it was the ramblings of a fellow inquisitor who spoke of the hands of death reaching out for him. And the terror the man felt as the daemons of the dark hounded him. The last lines where noting more than the incoherent ramblings of someone clearly gone and with fear and paranoia.

She was brought back to the current time when the sounds of the engines died down and the pilot announced they had docked safely in the designated landing bay.
The inquisitor and her companion walked down the ramp and was greeted by a single Astarte.
But lone honor guard was clearly not a regular marine, he stood head and shoulders above them and in one hand he gripped the standard of his chapter. The other rested on a massive sword pommel while his hard eyes.

With a voice that sounded like thunder he spoke
“You now stand aboard the sacred vessel Judgment Of Sin! Know you walk in the very halls where the Emperors chosen has walked for millenniums. Do not shame them with your actions or words aboard this warship. Now come, my lord awaits you.”
while speaking the marine seemed to swell with pride and something resembling emotions one would not expect to see in an Astartes.

As they walked in solemn silence trough the immense halls of the ship they saw mosaics depicting the great battle and long bloody campaigns of old. Glorious last stands beside the men of Ragnarokian regiments and the death of venerated heroes of old.


After what seemed like a eternity they came to a stop, before them a massive set of brass covered doors barred the way. It was clear they had reached the destination.
And as by sorcery their guide seemed transformed, gone was the proud and noble warrior and before them a towering behemoth clad in armor with little to no love for the lesser beings standing before him towered.

“You will wait here while brother captain Arkangle is notified of your arrival. Keep your tongue in check human or this will be your final hour” the Astarte said and pushed the doors open and entered, but not before slamming them shut with a heave of his powerful arms.

Ambrosia felt uneasy, she was not used to having to wait for anyone to see her. The inquisitorial rosette normally speed such things up. But in this case it seemed the symbol did not have that effect.

But she needed not wait for long, the great doors open without a sound and the same Astarte appeared.
“My lord will see you now inquisitor Ambrosia” the warrior said and awaited their response.
They entered what seemed like a chapel, a high sealing rose up above them and standing guard where a score of marines clad in tactical dreadnaught armor. They where armed with halberds and massive hammers.
Their armor was pitch black with a shimmering trim of silver with the imperial eagle marked out in bronze on their chest. The dark lenses on their helmets monitored her and the man who accompanied her as they approached the throne that sat at the end of the chapel.

“So you come inquisitor, I take it you have a hard time remembering things said to you?” said Arkangle as he rose from his seat.

“No my dear, I do remember what you told me. However I come here after someone who you might know told me you seldom plays well with others. Octavian told me to send his regards” she said and waited for a less than polite scolding from the seemingly disgruntled warrior.

Instead she got something that unnerved her far more, a sinister smile that made her think of certain types of xenos who dwelled on space hulks. Chuckling in a low tone Arkangle walked down to her shadowed by a pair of his guards. He replied with the following line.
“Did he now? Well it seems he has time to play diplomat in between his tasks. Well then inquisitor. When my chief liberian tells you to seek me out I will listen....”

Time passed and after several hours Ambrosia when was escorted out of the chapel. Andrew who had been told to wait outside jumped to his feet when he saw her weary face.
“My lady, you look like hell.” he said and handed her the same bottle as she had drunk from during the flight up to the ship.

She said noting, only shook her head and stretched her weary limbs.
“Thank you for your compassion Andrew, but I am fine except for a throbbing headache. It seems we have achieved what we came for. The Death hands have agreed to aid us but they demanded that they be granted clearance to operate alone and unhindered..... I have a sneaking feeling they have an agenda that runs much deeper than a simple case of purging heretical cult members. Or pleasing the holy inquisition.”

They where lead back to their ship by the same warrior, but he seemed to ignore their questions or attempts at conversation. His silent demeanor indicated that he was not willing to break his silence or risk the wrath of his lord. Even for an inquisitor.

Arkangle stood beside his most trusted brothers in the chapel. His eyes rested on the form of Mordred who was outlying the tactical situation on the world below.
“Thank you brother for giving such a fine situational assessment. Your vigilance dose us all proud.”
shifting his gaze he continued.

“ As you all are aware of a puppet of the inquisition came calling, they seek to gain the knowledge we posses and guard from unwanted attention. But they also came bearing gifts.....The good inquisitor Ambrosia offered up a prize none of us would walkaway from. Even if it means to consort with lesser forms. She gave the last piece of the puzzle we need to find our prey, it seems the cursed warp spawn has chosen to lead his debased followers himself into war. With one strike we can end his heresy and claim his head for the chapter!”

holding to the stoic and iron discipline their chapter was infamous of his brethren revealed no sign of jubilation or joy. Only the facade of warriors trained for centuries in the arts of war.
The only one to speak was Mordred , he looked at his assembled comrades and spoke a few chosen words.
“We hunt brothers!”

As Ambrosia walked up the ramp and prepared to depart from the Judgment Of Sin she saw the lone marine who had been their guide approach her.
“Now the dice is cast inquisitor! I suggest you and your fellow mortals brace for the coming storm that will break loose upon the world you seek to reclaim.” he said to her and left her standing there looking at his back as he left the hangar.


As the shuttle cleared the immense ship and began to make its way down to the war torn world below Ambrosia pondered how the next phase of the war would go about, it was clear that the two Astartes chapters present would not work hand in hand. Yes they needed to be kept apart unless their rivalry spill out of control and trow the war effort into disorder.
She would contact the Salamander’s and warn them about the Death Hands and the devil that lead them.

Aboard one of the Imperial navy ships orbiting the world and keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding space warning klaxons suddenly blared into life, navy staff and tech priests where thrown into a almost chaotic scrabble to find what had set the alarms of.
It was a lowly navy tech adept who did so. “I detected a warp signature, no several signatures! Unknown contact emerging from warp transit!”

Another adept with his eyes fixed on a fast flowing screen of information called out the nature of this new arrival.
“Unknown ships match the description of Astartes war ships, six in total. They match the identity of known Death Hands vessels, flagship known as Pallida Mors !”

Like a flock of sheep the lumbering navy ships began to make way for the wolves who had appeared in their midst.

The newly arrivals took up orbit around the Judgment Of Sin, now the full might of the second company was present and woe to their prey.


“My lord the company awaits your command! What would you have us do?” Asked Mordred and looked at his lord while looking somewhat impatience for bloodshed.

“We will strike at them like a hammer blow, begin preparations for a full scaled assault on the following coordinates. And do warn the fodder to keep away. I would hate to land on a stinking guardsman.”

his champion grinned as he left his lord to gaze down upon the world below. Finally the end of the long hunt was drawing closer. Yes run traitor, you will not escape this time.

I liked this next chapter but maybe you could have a proof read and iron out some bits. There is a bit where you are discribing the Marine come to greet the Inquisitor and you stop half way through a discription.

I'm starting to like your Captain your fleshing him out good, keep it up because I'm hungry for more

Another excellent entry. I like the Captain too. He seems like a cool dude.

As the full might of the second company prepared for deployment grave news reached the Imperial commanders. During the previous night a tsunami of traitor guard, cultists and a large contingent of traitor Astartes had delivered a crippling blow to the loyalist forces. While under the cover of a massive bombardment they had struck. Penetrating the lines and completely routing or killing most of the present guard forces save for those from the Ragnarokian regiments who had by some emperor sent miracle managed to cling on and launch a partially successful counter attack by employing chemical weapons and massed bombardment from their heavy siege guns but they too had suffered horrific casualties and would need to be withdrawn much to the dismay of their leader.

Earlier that night had found Field-marshal Hendric S. Loki wandering alone along the front lines, his men saluted him as he passed by but he waved them of. He did not need to be saluted each time he passed a man who was busy with disposing of the enemy.
But this was not to say he enforced a harsh and brutal manner of discipline upon his regiments.

As he exited the final section of trenches and walked upon the muddy ground in the rear areas he noticed that his ever present Skiitari and storm troop security was already right behind him. He smiled behind his skull faced gas mask as they formed a protective form around him.
As they where about to enter the former administrative building he happened to look to the sky, and he realized what was about to happen.
Up high a series of blood red flares slowly drifted down towards the ground and illuminated the trench system beneath.

“INCOMING ARTILLIRY FIRE!” he screamed over the vox net and with a forceful heave he almost hurled the two nearest storm troopers into cover, when all hell broke loose.
All along the lines a tempest of heavy guns opened up upon the defenders, massive shells screamed and slammed into the ground hurling earth, men and equipment into the air.
Hendric himself was hurled into a storm trooper who was knocked out could by the impact. Struggling to get up while grabbing hold of the man and dragging him to safety he cursed his lack of caution. In his mind he poured fire and brimstone over himself and his lack of foresight. He should have expected an attack after several days of noting more than minor probings and the odd assaults on strong points in the lines.

Standing tall he yelled a order at his vox operators who covered beneath the tables and seemed to tremble with fear.
“All regimental commanders be advised! Incoming enemy assault imminent! HOLD THE LINE AT ALL COSTS!” was the message he barked into the already busy vox net with fiery hatred and a wish for vengeance burning in his voice and body.
He could hear the other regiment s from other worlds falling apart or dying gloriously as they took the enemy with them to their grave.
“On your feet men! We have a battle to win.” he said to his bodyguards and stormed out of the command center witch was by now a swirling but controlled chaos of the activities that was common during the heat of a battle.

His men fought like the devils they where, all along the ragged battle line a fierce and well lead attack by the forces of the arch enemy had gained a firm foothold and was beginning to push back the Ragnarokian troops.
Along the lines the causalities for the imperial guard where immense. But it to be noted that most of the regiments that survived the first initial attack managed to put up a stiff defense before several of them where overrun and wiped out.
Most notable of these brave bands of brothers where the remaining PDF regiments who inflicted such horrific casualties on their attackers that they managed to break out of the closing noose around their necks and link up with friendly forces. But for their heroic will to press on when faced with certain doom they payed a very high price. Of some thirty thousand men and women only five thousand was fit for duty when they reached friendly lines. This was the grim fate of the last of the original defenders of this once bustling hive world. In due time these battle tested soldiers would be given the honor of being the chosen few to stand watch at the monument erected to commemorate the fallen heroes of the battle of capitol ridge.


Hendric S. Loki ducked as a shot speed past and slammed into the hull of a tank somewhere behind him, he stood surrounded by his closest officers and regimental honor guard.
The regimental standard flew in the strong wind and as he surveyed the battle he felt a slight tingle of worry.
For all his skill and worth as a commander he knew his men had to hold, if not all would be lost!
“Give me a vox line to what remains of our siege gun batteries!”
he was handed a head set and told it was open and the battery commander waited for orders.

“ Commence chemical bombardment! Lay down your fire as close to our lines as possible. Coordinates are being transmitted now! If you do not hear from me in one standard hour presume us dead, if so bury this position in ordnance and sell your life’s dearly! Emperor guide your aim soldier!”
The gun positions who was already swarming with activity now begun the task of preparing and firing the chemical ordnance, servitors and gun crews hauled the volatile shells onto the loading platforms and hoisted them into the breach. All this happened at a very high pace and when the guns where ready a thundering salvo shook the earth and rattled the teeth of the gun crews.

When the first shells begun to land their deadly payload begun to drift over the battlefield. It was according to one officer from a unknown guard regiment as if a veil of sickly yellow mist had appeared, and covered the battlefield in a blanket that snuffed the life out of all who did not wear protective gear, or wore power armor.
He further described how he had seen a man weep and scream for mercy as the gas destroyed his eyes and in the end made him choke on his own vomit as he succumbed to the horrid effects of the gas.
The barrage lasted for a full hour and when it ended only the dead and dying remained of the enemy force, those who had survived had fled the field and left their fellow brothers and sisters to die in poisoned gas clouds and pools of their own vomit.

If any observer where to look at the imperial lines he or she would see the ghost like shapes of Ragnarokian troops moving back into the recently blood soaked battleground that had been their homes for the last few weeks.
First to search and cleanse out any remaining pockets of resistance was the storm troopers and grenadiers.

Armed with cold steel, flamers and hell guns they dispatched those whop had yet to die and waited as the rank and file troops hauled the ones who had died out of the trenches and threw them onto massive bonfires who was set ablaze with promethium and other flammable materials at hand.



Brother Captain Arkangle looked at the devastation shown on the holopic transmitted to his ship fro the world that burnt below him.
Curse the foul dregs of chaos to force the pious sons of the emperor to employ such weapons. He swore he would drench the ground with the blood of the mongrel who had been the cause of all this mayhem.

It would seem a drop pod assault would not be the best tactic now. A more subtle approach to the problem would indeed be called for. In his mind countless options was brought up.
After a few minutes that seemed like centuries he knew what had to be done to secure their prize.
Signaling to a chapter serf and giving the man the required instructions he left to go seek out hs champion and the one warrior he knew would always follow him.
The two veterans discussed the plan that had formed in the Brother Captains head and agreed it would be the best approach.
Sometimes stealth and a more careful tactic was called for. Even for the Adeptus Astartes, although some chapters seemed to think this way of thinking as a waste of time.

As the combined fleet silently drifted forwards a formation of Thunder hawks departed and set a course for the no mans land that lay behind enemy lines.
This spearhead would localize and identify their prey then signal their brothers who awaited their summons in the skies above.
And emperor willing a rain of fire, zeal and fury would rain down upon the foul heretics and their daemonic master.

As the last of the massive gunships departed they left almost two hundred Astartes standing clad in pitch black armor that had been given a new coat of paint. Gone was the traditional silver trim, it was now replaced with the paint that was only applied when the chapter hunted one of their two eternal nemesis’s. Either the deep brass tone for when the foul xenos known as the Slaugth was their opponent.
But now as they hunted the daemon lord that had once been a fellow brother they wore the unmistakeable symbol of the Ordo Malleus upon their shoulders. Woe to those who crossed their paths this night.

When they begun to move not a sound was heard as they crept forwards trough the ruined landscape that had once been a bustling part of the massive hive city.

The first ones to die by their hands was a small patrol made up of low hive cultists. As the heretics walked down the ruined street and made no attempt to hide their coming they all felt a familiar and dear voice call out to them in their minds, it promised them glory and power if they only followed their dear friend into the rubble strewn alley.
When they walked into it the voice disappeared, but out of the darkness came the looming figures of the angels of death. They raised their weapons and prepared to fire but not a shot was fired. Massive hands gripped them and strong hands twisted their necks or drove massive knifes into their filthy bodies and spilled their guts onto the ash below.

“Enemy contact silenced my lord” was the only words spoken by the psyker as he reported to his lord.

“Well done brother, continue the sweep and report any contact you make. Leave no survivors, tainted or untainted behind!” was the reply that came.

“As you command sire” he said and signaled for his fellow warriors to follow him.

Death stalked no mans land this night, and blood would be shed no mater the cost.

Oh my lord. I LOVE THIS MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE!

Wow, that was great the guard battle bits were epic. Yes more, for sure more, great job.

Damn, this entry was badass. If it were a Transformer, it would be Optimus Fine.

This is going to be a tuff act to follow, I bow to a master

Inquisitor Ambrosia and her acolytes watched in silence as the Ragnarokian regiments make the final preparations for a large scaled attack on the enemy, they stood in the ruined remains of what seemed to have been a chapel but it was impossible to tell. After months of war and countless bombardments the whole world was more or less in tatters. And no ground was so fiercely fought over as the main hive city. Here lay the enormous star port and other vital installations for both sides.

To aid her she had been given two troopers from the man commanding the Ragnarokian troops. One was a disturbing woman who wore a pitch black form fitting uniform. Her whole demeanor screamed assassin. And that impression was enforced by her eyes, those soulless pits of damnation and bloodshed roamed all around searching for only she knew what was.
The woman was armed with a assortment of blades and ranged weapons. A curved sword hung on her hip and a pair of bolt pistols rested on her chest. She also carried a pair of daggers that rested on her inner thighs.
Her long unkempt hair gave her a almost feral if not predatory look. She was indeed a nightmare to have come after Ambrosia imagined.

The other soul granted to her was the opposite of her companion, standing tall and with a face covered in scars and a pair of eyes that blazed with hate for all around. This one was dressed in heavy duty carapace armor and gripped a bolt gun in her hands. Her armor was devoid of any insignias or imperial markings as the rest of her equipment was. The only thing that made her look imperial was the tattoo she sported on her left cheek. The two headed eagle surrounded by barbed wire adorned her ravaged face.
If the other simply looked mad and unhinged this woman looked like a stalking hunter that followed her prey with keen eyes and a willingness to do anything to secure her prize if need be. Beside her main weapon the woman was armed with an electro maul and a stub pistol. All of whom showed clear signs of heavy use.
When these two had seeked her out and handed her the documents that explained their new assignment a shudder had past down her slender spine.

Looking at this ungodly pair she wondered if she had offended the emperor in some way for being granted two such loathsome blood maidens. But she soon saw the value of having these two in her service. The day after they had disappeared without a word only to return with a score of heads and after a short but fierce debate about the correct means of communication they had lead their new master to a charrnel house.
They had lead the good inquisitor down into the bowls of the ruined hive, and deep down there they had shown her what they had done. Lying there was almost two hundred traitor guardsmen and a similar amount of mutants.
When questioned on how only two women had managed to preform such a act she had been treated to noting but a cold stare and the few chilling words.
“My lady, my sister posses many hidden talents. Killing disloyal fodder and slaughtering heretics are but a few, hate what you do not know Inquisitor ! Tend to the hate and lets its tendrils embrace your mind!”

as they resurfaced after their journey into the hearth of darkness below she felt beads of cold sweat run down her neck and collect on her moist breasts, how she hated the under hive and all those who dwelled there. But more worryingly was the words spoken to her by the tall and clearly very, very dangerous woman.


As she stood there and felt weariness set in the same woman approached, she looked transformed somehow.
“Feeling the pressure get to you girl? Before you speak let me explain and apologize for sounding hostile down there. As you may have noticed me and my sister are not what you would define as normal. You have most likely understood that my sister is a plagued mind and rather unhinged for the most part. But she wont curl a hair on anyone loyal. And as for me... well I am not what you would call perfect or well behaved at all times.”

pausing only to let out a sigh and draw a Iho stick from her belt witch she light and drew a deep puff from she continued.
“I wont have any issues with answering whatever you may ask me, nor wont Hendric if you ask him in private! But there is one thing and one thing that is of limits. Even for you, and that’s my sister. I took a blood oath long ago to watch over her. And Emperor have mercy on those who seek to abuse her skills or mind.”

Ambrosia felt taken somewhat unprepared for this wholehearted and clearly rather discomforting explanation from the warrior who stood in front of her with only parts of her scared face illuminated by the faint glow of the Iho stick.

“I see well I appreciate the honesty and your ability to get right to the issue at hand. However I would appreciate if you do not make any more promises of a violent death to anyone without my blessing to do so.”

Her newly acquired warrior servant only glared at her and nodded in silent agreement as she starred beyond the inquisitor and out into the night beyond her. As she walked of she heard a low voice whisper to her. Looking around and seeing none she continued to walk but placed one hand on the hit of her blade.
“Inquisitor lady to busy to speak eh? To busy to say hi!” said a feminine voice and a dark shape dropped down in front of her and rose to her full height.

Ambrosia felt her blood go cold. In front of her stood that infernal sister, her long black hair fluttering in the faint breeze and her cold eyes that reflected the madness within ran all along her slender form. Steeling her nerves and regaining her sense of security she took a step backwards and answered her.
“No not to busy but I am not accustomed to people dropping down from above to simply say hi. They tend to have more pressing wishes about shooting or stabbing me when they do so. Beside child, should you run about alone? Wont your sister get worried?”

The mention of the sister seemed to trigger a train of thought behind those portals of madness.
Slowly sinking down onto her haunches the slender form rocked back and fourth.

“Beside I do not know your name child” she said and looked with a rising sense of curiosity at this wandering instrument of death.
“Oh yes, Andrea she calls me. Sister is named Valeria, she is a bad girl. Pretty inquisitor should watch out so she don’t get undressed and taken!” Andrea said and seemed to smile before she got to her feet and with a elegant move disappeared the same way she had come.
Only her voice reached down to Ambrosia.
“Andrea likes you, you not mean like last inquisitor was. Not want to end up as he did nonono” the almost childish but still dangerous woman said as she once again seeked the company of her sister.

Damn, nicely done.

Thanks for comments guys, glad you all like my work.

i really do enjoy the story here. Nice description and detail, but enough room for imagination. I enjoyed it.

Nice new characters, I like the sister in the carpace armour can't wait to see her in action. The 2nd sister is fugging weird isn't she, I expect she's the split personality type and to ask a question then straight away answer herself in a different tone. Will we be seeing more from the sisters?

If you liked the sisters you have a good time coming. If you wonder about their background I recommend reading one of my previous works found at this link. They go by different names in that work, but in essence they are the same two persons.

http://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/473345.page

It will be interesting to see the crazy in action and how she fights.

The signs of the battles fought at the outbreak of the war littered the ruined boulevards and ruined city squares, human remains and burnt out vehicles littered the ground and a stench of death hung in the air. It was trough these foreboding surroundings Brother Captain Arkangle and his brothers walked in silence and hidden from sight due to the cover of night.
So far they had encountered only a single patrol, this alone made his hairs stand on edge. For a place like this there should be many more patrols. It was as the arch enemy had withdrawn or focused its forces somewhere else. Just as he was about to order a more rapid advance the silence was broken when an inferno of shots rang out from countless hidden emplacements.
Unknown to the Astartes they had walked into the very hearth of a enemy staging area, and now with their cover broken countless thousands of heretics and worse would come bearing down upon them.

“Return fire brothers! Show these fools their folly!” he called over the vox net. All around he heard the sharp barks of bolter fire as the stern guard picket of enemy gunners. From the flood of information being feed to him in his helmet he knew a head on assault would not end in a favorable result.
“Omega and Taurox squad circle around and flank the heavy weapons set up on the far end of this plaza. Eliminate all enemy contact as you advance!” he called out to the respective squad leaders.

The two squads broke away from the savage firefight that had now developed into a swirling close quarters battle where flamers, grenades and growling chain swords all added to the cacophony of sound dimming out the world around them.
The lead Astarte kicked a partially collapsed steel door down and entered a partially lit room where the sight of several renegade guardsmen where operating a heavy bolter greeted him.
Not bothering to aim, firing from the hip he sprayed them with a gout of flaming promethium that cooked of ammunition and sent showers of sparks flying as it detonated.
Traitors screamed in agony as the burning liquid melted their unwashed bodies and set their hair on fire, one crawled away from his comrades while screaming for mercy. A brutal kick to the head silenced the man as he slowly burnt and a stench of cooked flesh filled the room.
The stern guard signaled the all clear and his brothers entered and passed the smoldering human remains on the floor without breaking their stride.

With skills honed over countless years the two squads swept the ruined hab block and excited it at the roof tops. Looking down they had a clear line of sight to parts of the enemy fortifications and strong points.
Not saying a word they moved on, crossing the ruined rooftops slowed them down, but not for long. Soon they stood side by side and gazed down at their objective, a swarming courtyard filled with traitors.
As they moved into position one of the foul dregs happened to look up and saw a dark shape moving. He was about to yell out a warning when his voice was drowned out by a sudden eruption of bolter fire.
His last image of this world was a flash upon the rooftops and then his head exploded in a shower of gore.

But in engaging their foe they had revealed themselves, now hundreds of guns turned up towards them and a new firefight broke out. But their goal had been reached, to disrupt and hamper enemy defenses. And with several heavy weapon sites destroyed and their crews dead and gone the way now lay open for the rest of their brothers.
The first Astartes to fall is struck in the head by a well aimed shot fired from a sniper that had the warrior square in his aim. Another dies as a rocket detonates and shreds the once pious brother to fragments that is carried away upon the wind.

Faced with these looses the two squad begin to fall back while pouring bolter fire down upon the traitors.
A shot hits a young woman square in the chest and the hellfire round detonates her wiry form into a crimson red shower of gore, another is caught in the blast caused by a grenade and watches as the bleeding stumps that once was his legs are all that remains before death claims him.

But by this time the main Astartes force hits the weakened defenses like a hammer blow, leading the charge across the ruined plaza Arkangle vaults the sandbags and lands in a trench filled with human waste and spent shell casings.
Pressing the activation rune on his blade he quickly joins the already swirling chaos that has enveloped the battlefield.



At the same time the Astartes cut a bloody path trough the heretics someone else was also on the hunt. Inquisitor Ambrosia, her acolytes and the two sisters crept onwards true the ruined under hive. Down in those dark and damp tunnels and passages they searched for the lair of the foul traitors. As they walked in silence all of them sensed the vast amount of loyal citizens that had been put to the sword by the fanatic heretics and their infernal traitor Astartes masters.
They passed by countless signs of heresy and several foul totems to the dark gods.

Leading the party onwards was Valeria and her sister who ran ahead with a almost hungry grin on her face. The two women formed a formidable due and on several occasions they had flushed out hiding heretics and butchered them with a almost casual style.
As Ambrosia watched them form the scouting part of the party she felt a urge to thank the Ragnarokian commander for lending her these two, although she did not see how two such oddballs had been allowed into the regiments from said world in the first place.

“halt! Andrea get back here! NOW” Valeria said in a firm but low voice and waited for her sister. The woman in question appeared out from the shadows and grinned at her sister, she almost looked amused as she waited for her to catch up.

“Why big sis so angry eh? No wobly wobly with pretty lady” she giggled and ducked under a halfhearted attempt to smack her in the head.
“Stinky boyzs down that way, and one big meanie with a big glovy thingy” she continued and now her face went from cheerful to a cold mask of hate and loathing.

“That big meanie, how did he look?” Valeria said and awaited the answer with the infinite patience of a older sister.
“Big, mean an his plate is like yours but it looks fringing heavy and its painted red and silver.” her younger sister answered.

Just as she had finished speaking a thundering boom rang out and a cloud of dust was kicked up as the poorly aimed shotgun blast hammered into the wall beside them.

“CONTACT” Valeria answered and returned fire with her bolt gun. She fired several shots and did not wait for them to make contact before springing after her sister.
She snapped of several more at point blank range into the face of a bloated and fat man clad in dirty overalls that tried to grab her. Ducking under a knife thrust she slammed the weapon stock first into the offenders groin and fired a single round into his abdomen.
The heretic fell down gurgling blood and fell silent soon enough.

Her sister however did not use ranged weapons, instead she drew the sword that hung on her hip and vaulted into the midst of the attackers. Coming up blade leading the way she caught one in the leg and tugged at the blade partially ripping the limb of in a svelter of gore and bone pieces.
Giggling like one possed she hurled the blade at a man that was trying to run away. When she wheeled around a brutal punch connected with her face and sent her sprawling to the ground.

She hated it when people hit her, drawing her twin daggers she plunged one into the foot of her offender and the other she buried in someones stomach and with a ferocious scream she lunged up to her feet. Becoming lost in that comforting red haze she struck like a wounded beast.
Again and again she killed and savored the feel of the warm blood against her hair and skin. But not all she experienced while in this dreamlike state was good, memories about a childhood ruined and being abused by people she though she could trust and depend on drove her further into the realm of madness. Alongside her smiling face tears welled down her cheeks as she claimed life upon life.

When she finally came to herself again she looked around and saw the bodies of the dead laying all around. Kneeling beside her was sis, the one person that never left her nor betrayed her.
The stern faced woman pulled a piece of cloth from her belt and wiped the blood and gore of her siblings face with a gentle and tender touche.
“Come on, lets find that Inquisitor” Valeria said and pulled Andrea to her feet.

But they did not need to look for the Ambrosia for long, she and the others had heard the gun fire, the howls and screams of pain. Fearing the worst they had come rushing into the corridor where the two had meet encountered what seemed to be yet anther band of heretical rabble.
As the inquisitor prepared a lecture on the importance of using the vox net something far more pressing happened.
Right before she had a chance to speak a deep and terrifying voice rang up towards them from the tunnels ahead.
“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!”.

The voice was followed by the sounds of heavy boots thundering across the ferrocret floor.
“Oh Emperor guard us" she whispered as the source of the voice came into wie.

Nice, that crazy is really fugged in the head, why doesn't she have a gun? and your right I did like the chapter.

Are you trying to teach people your language Norsman by slipping it into your stories (not a bad idea that). At the end there you said wie but I think you meant view.

Damn, that was one helluva fight.

Out of the dark came a throng of cultists lead by a towering shape clad in battle worn armor. The former loyal servant of the emperor lead his minions with unholy zeal burning in his eyes and with unholy litanies of hate and destruction upon his lips.
The dark apostle looked at the pious Inquisitor and her companions and his eyes seems to burn even brighter with the fires of hatred for the loyalist dogs.
“Go fourth my children and wash these halls clean with the blood of the servants of the corps god” he bellowed and with those words a tsunami of crazed traitors came thundering towards the faithful.

Valeria was the first to act, raising her bolter and taking aim she unleashed its full might, she kept the trigger pressed hard and with the experience of a seasoned soldier she begun to reap a bloody toll. The fragmentation shells shredded the targets that was hit and sent other to the ground with limbs shredded by the shrapnel.
The other acolytes and inquisitorial storm troopers did not wait either, lasguns and hellguns blazed in a hail of fire that took a bloody toll.
But she knew that the heretics would overwhelm them in such a confined space. Her fears was proven right when the first ones reached their own lines and hurled themselves at the imperials.
It was at this time Andrea sprung fourth from the shadows like a cat striking a mouse, her growling blade and iron hard fists rained misery upon the foe that tried to harm her sister. Moving almost like a shadow she cut a bloody path towards Valeria who was busy keeping her own ground.

When the first bastard came at her, he was greeted with a punch that could have dropped a grox. The reinforced knuckles on her fist broke bone and ripped open flesh when they struck like a hammer blow. Drawing the long serrated blade she had on her hip Valeria rammed into the the neck of a scrawny young woman and yanked it hard downwards, blood and gore sprayed against her but she did not relent. Pulling her stub pistil she shot a traitor square in the face and pulled the acolyte who had been pinned beneath the now dead traitor to his feet.
Accepting a blow to the shoulder instead of blocking it gave her a chance to claim yet another life as the offender had his throat crushed by a brutal blow followed by a single shot to the skull.
All around the firefight had evolved into a swirling chaotic close quarters battle.
It was clear they soon would all die if noting did not change the odds in their favor.

Ambrosia buried her power sword in the head of a mutant and kicked another in the lower regions, sending it bowling over in pain before she hacked its head clean of.
Sidestepping a blow from a deranged man she headbutted him and tossed him over the rails and down into the dark abyss below them.
But suddenly as she was wheeling around to face a new opponent a blow sent her reeling to the ground, and her left arm felt numb.

Looking up she saw a nightmare made manifest. The towering form of the dark apostle stood over her with a bloodied axe in one hand and fiery hate in his eyes.
The traitor Astartes raised his weapon to deliver the killing blow, but he never managed to do so.

Coming like a bolt of pure rage Andrea hammered into him, it was now Ambrosia realized what sort of warrior the strange woman was. Her left hand crackled with arcane powers as she reared up and squared of against the demagog. She drew first blood when her clawed fingers drew a bloody line across the face of her new foe.
“Foolish child! Striking me is a wish for death!” he roared and came at her with a almost frenzied look upon his face.
She did not reply, instead she jut came at him with sword and fists leading the way.
Roaring as he swung at her the Astarte hoped to split her like a piece of rotten fruit. Instead when he struck a stinging pain jabbed down his leg, that damned whore had the nerve to pierce his war plate!

Andrea however seemed lost in the blood haze and danced around her opponent. Striking like a viper she inflicted small cuts and wounds only to slip away when the next blow aimed at her came.

“Time to die baddie!” she giggled and with a burst of speed rushed at him, slipping under his guard and springing up she buried her sword in his neck and raked his face with her wickedly sharp claws.
After what seemed an eternity for Ambrosia she saw the arch traitor collapse with a finale chant on his bloodied lips.
She breathed heavily and a slight case of dizziness set in when the zealot finally fell. Oh how she gated to fight traitor Astartes, they always took a long time to die when you did not have the strength to simply cave their head or rip them limb from limb. Picking up her dropped dagger she looked around and saw heaps of dead cult members and other bit’s and pieces of humans remains. The Inquisitors acolytes and her storm troopers where fewer in numbers but they lived.

But what mattered the most was that her sister still lived. When she looked upon the her older sister clad in that scary armor of hers while holding her weapons, she almost felt as a saint was gazing into her soul. But she knew her sister was far from a saint.

Valeria spat and cursed as she light up a Iho stick. Feeling the soothing effects of it she turned to look at the mess that surrounded her. Veritable mountains of dead cult members and mutants lay all around, in one way the narrow halls had given the heavily outnumbered imperials a distinct advantage. It had allowed them to focus their weapons on the choke point and such heavily thin out the throng of traitors. But it had still cost them dearly, none of them where in any shape to continue the search.
But as the ravaged servants of the inquisition stood there they became aware of something or someone drawing closer with heavy footstep’s.

One storm trooper who stood near a tunnel opening was suddenly grabbed by the neck and hoisted into the air, with a crushing blow the unseen attacker drove his snarling weapon into the mans head and split him in two.
When the two half’s fell to the ground and the blood flowed his killer stepped fourth.

“LOYALISTS!” the towering form growled and revved his weapon while stalking forwards his a almost palatable hunger in the red lenses on his horned helmet.
A acolyte fired a long burst of auto gun shots at the giant but this seemed to only irritate him. Without a warning he came rushing forwards while the horrified survivors looked at him.
“RUN!BLOODY RUN” yelled Andrea and began to storm down the damp and bloodstained halls.
Her companions alongside Ambrosia did not wait for an invitation as more of the deranged bezerkers poured out of the tunnels and took up the chase.

Andrea seems almost as crazy as the Dark Apostle she just killed. Wouldn't wanna mess with her.

Nicely written Trondheim.

Oh gak, they're screwed now lol. Nice chapter, still lovin the sisters

Thank you LL and Theman. Yes I dare say they are in for quite the merry chase indeed. Who knows who will survive before the next chapter ends

It's easy for constant battle to become repetitive and boring. I admire the way you're mixing up protagonists and giving us lots of personal insight and character development to break up the action scenes.

It reads nicely and remains fresh.

And I, also, love the sisters.