Commissar Captain Bartek was desperate. Supplies were low, his position threatened to be overrun in a matter of hours, and his men were on the brink of revolt. The war on Mardregore was going quite poorly, most of the local Imperial Guard stationed on the planet had turned traitor when a Warp Storm engulfed the world, turning the once loyal soldiers of the Emperor into shambling horrors that sought out the flesh of the living. It appeared that whatever plague the local guard and PDF had contracted could be passed on to any living creature they injured. If this wasn't bad enough, a putrid cloud was passing over the entire world of Mardregore, spreading the infernal pox by simply breathing the deadly gas. Bartek rested his head in his hands, contemplating his next move. His head jerked up with a start as the proximity alarm came screaming to life. His vox blared with frightened voices and prayers to the Emperor. Looking out through the gun slit of the fort and out into the ruins of what once was Golgenna Hive, Bartek watched as the evil, fetid cloud drifted nearer to their position. Despite it's nearly impenetrable smog, he could still make out lurching figures in the fog. The remains of the citizens that had fallen to the plague. As one, they howled in an unholy song that shook the night, as one, they charged the fort. Heavy bolters and limpet mines chewed the shamblers to a gory pulp, but they kept coming. Those without legs still crawled forward with hungry intent. The first line of guardsmen opened fire with their lasguns, doing damage that would have easily dropped mortal targets but did little but reveal their location to the Warp-spawned horrors. The things fell upon the first line, their eyes glowing with pale green corpselight. They quickly began to feed upon the terrified defenders, their howls of triumph more terrifying than the screams of agony from their mortal victims. Bartek knew his duty, he unlimbered his bolt pistol from his belt and took point with a squad of stormtroopers as he left the safety of the fort. Despite the danger, he still needed to show his men he was unafraid. Firing wildly into the mob, Bartek drew his chainsword and charged headlong into the horde. Sawing limbs from torsos and spilling fetid innards onto the faux stone of the middle hive. As he turned to shear the head off of a horror wearing the uniform of a PDF trooper, he felt powerful hands lift him from behind. The hands squeezed, and Bartek cried out as he began to feel his ribcage crunch under the pressure. As he came face to face with his attacker, a phrase that would be his last escaped his lips; "Oh, feth me." The rotting Ogryn opened it's craggy maw and closed it's powerful jaws around Bartek's head. Crunching down on the commissar's skull and sending a jet of blood spurting out from it's jaw the Ogryn-thing pulled the corpse away, trailing Bartek's spine away from the rest of his body. Dropping it contemptuously, the hulking corpse lumbered off towards the rest of the stormtrooper squad. Before Bartek's corpse had even hit the ground however, it was seized by the undead mob and pulled apart, the things fighting over chunks of the commissar's body. After feasting noisily on Bartek's remains, the mob resumed it's charge on the fort. There would be no dawn for the defenders.
The Promethean 653rd had received a distress signal from the Moldovian 12th, who were in the process of quelling an uprising of some kind before Segmentum Command lost astropathic contact with Mardregore. The final astropathic relay spoke of monsters, and an unholy fog that had rolled over the entire planet. Lord Militant Kugelshrieber was quick to act, sending the Promethean 653rd and their Commissar General, Steve. Kugelshrieber actually pitied whatever was on Mardregore, they stood no chance against the unbridled rage of Commissar General Steve.
The drop pods knifed through the putrid roiling green clouds that covered Mardregore's surface, leaving holes in the thick atmosphere before a sheet of cloud would cover in again. Every Promethean, including their Ogryn, wore full environmental gear. If the briefings were correct, the very air of this world was lethal. As the drop pods landed in the ruins of Golgenna Hive and they disgorged their cargo, a voice, choked with phlegm and dripping with malice could be heard over the Hive's public vox; "Come invaders, and enter into our Grandfather's covenant. You and your Emperor are but blind children groping in the dark, your Corpse-God has vomited lies to you for millennium upon his rusted throne. But our Grandfather has judged you worthy of His blessings." As the awful voice spoke the word 'blessings', a horrific keening was heard, and thousands of hungry corpses charged the Promethean landing zone. The Prometheans opened up with their autoguns, sawing the undead in half with powerful manstopper rounds, but the dead continued their endless charge, smashing into the Imperials and tearing into them with their teeth. Through the hellish fog, rotting figures in guard uniforms fired rusty lasguns and chanted dreadful songs. "Are his gifts not wondrous? Do they not fill you with joy? Come and be transfigured in our Grandfather's image." The dark voice continued to speak over the vox system. A massive rotting Ogryn charged a Promethean commissar, swinging a huge sledge. The commissar easily stepped out of the way of the blow, and proceeded to deliver a flying kick to the Ogryn's head that sent it hurtling away with a wet rip. Commissar General Steve had made his appearance. Crunchy swept his ripper across the ranks of the dead, blowing meaty chunks out of the plague-born. Captain Desetch lashed out with his chainsword, shearing heads off off rotting bodies, while Private Stansfield fired wildly with his lasgun. The psyker Alpharius blasted the things with purple-blue lightning, melting the flesh off the bones of the damned. Marshaling the troops was Lieutenant Commissar Rudiger, firing with his plasma pistol and slashing away with a single set of lightning claws with a mounted double-laceration pattern chainsword. Through the fog cloud could be seen a massive shape, a stench that soaked through their gas mask permeated the landing zone. A morbidly obese monstrosity lumbered into view, it's entrails dragging on the ground behind it, a massive corroded cleaver in it's sausage-like fingers. Antlers sprouted from it's scalp, and a long bile-dripping tongue lolled obscenely from it's much too wide mouth. It laughed, a horrid, phlegmy rasp of a chuckle. The corpses renewed their attack, causing the Promethean line to falter. "STAND YOUR GROUND!!! DON'T LET THAT FAT BASTARD INSIDE THE LANDING ZONE!!! SHOW THESE HUSKS HOW PROMETHEANS FIGHT!!!" Shouted Steve, and the Prometheans fought with renewed vigor, unloading several Kriegernaut tanks,which immediately opened fire with their mega-bolters, liquifying the dead things in their advance. The Great Unclean One moved with a speed that belied it's immense bulk, swinging it's massive cleaver through the Promethean ranks, sending limbs and bisected Soldat tumbling throughout the landing zone. Commissar Steve performed a running leap that propelled him at incredible speeds toward the Daemon of Nurgle. Catching the things' antlers in his gloved hands, Steve brought himself to a halt, jerking the Daemon's head back with a loud crunch. The beast tried in vain to swat the Commissar off it's mouldering pate as he clamored from the antlers to the top of the Great Unclean One's head. Bringing back one hand, Steve plunged it into the thing's brain case, grabbing chunks of maggot-ridden gray-matter and ripping them from their container. The Daemon screamed, a most unearthly sound that caused the shamblers to cease their attack. It's fatty body crashed to the hive street, it's impact throwing up a huge cloud of the noxious gas. "Please, spare me, and Nurgle will shower you with gifts and favors unending." The Great Unclean One spoke in a phlegmy, pleading voice. "
HIS GIFTS WOULD BE NOTHING BUT POXES AND ILLS!!! YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE A DISEASE AND I
AM THE CURE!!!" Steve bellowed as he yanked at it's horns until they were torn messily from the Great Unclean One's flesh, showering the street with blood, meat, and pus. The skin of the Daemon's head was flat, deflated, as the antlers carried the things skull away during their untimely exodus. The corpses and the rogue militia retreated at seeing the embodiment of their god lain low, firing parting shots at the Prometheans as the vanished into the fog. "SOLDIERS OF PROMETHEUS ADVANCE AND SHOW THEIR PUTRID 'GRANDFATHER' WHAT
IT MEANS
TO FETH WITH PROMETHEANS!!!" At this, the Prometheans cheered, and began to advance steadily through the fog-shrouded hive.
Commissar Rudiger cleanly sawed the head off of a putrescent PDF trooper, sending it's head bouncing off the street, it's skull cracked and maggoty. Twisting to avoid a near fatal blow from a rotting cyclopean horror, Rudiger fired point-blank with his plasma pistol, sending a beam of brilliant starfire at the Daemon of Nurgle, immolating it and sending it's ashes to drift in the ever-present gangrenous fog. Chief Psyker Alpharius had located the source of the vox transmissions to the hive's main vox station, and the Prometheans were in route to silence the hellish voice. They could see the tower nearby, guarded by a mob of the unquiet dead. Commissar Steve charged the enemy lines, killing the dead in the hundreds before punching the vox station's doors off their hinges. Killing as he whent, Steve entered the main vox caster. Lit by the glowing lights of the consoles, a rag-draped figure was hunched over a mic, his liquid voice still singing heathen songs to a carrion god. Steve lifted a chair from a nearby desk and prepared to fling it at the heretic, but strong hands caught his hand. Steve turned to behold an abomination. Once, one may have called such a being an Astartes, one of the Angels of Death, Humanities' finest. Now, none of those monikers could be applied to the monstrous specimen that faced Steve. It's power armour was corroded and rusted, strange black ichor oozed from the joints of the traitor's armour. "I am called Nurnoth, that is the last name you shall ever-" Steve heaved the warrior of the Cleaved over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. Bracing his leg on the chest of the traitor marine, Steve ripped the power armour shod arm of the Cleaved out of it's socket, spraying dark infected blood and ichor into the air. Wrenching the helm of the renegade from his head revealing the Cleaved's rotting visage, Steve sank his gloved fingers into the soft jelly of his opponent's eyes, popping them like pus-grapes. The traitor was truly screaming now, futilely trying to push Steve away. Commissar Steve pressed down with his foot, pinning the traitor to the ground, with his fingers still deeply embedded in Nurnoth's skull, Steve yanked up, unseaming his neck with crimson arterial spray. Discarding the head, Steve turned to the chair. The heretic had fled.
Continued in The Jackboot Of The Commissar
Ravenous Angels 
Tomb Kings 
Protectorate of Menoth 
