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Originally written and posted as a battle report, but decided that this was a better place on the forum for it. More fluff than tactical report- enjoy!

Awakening slowly, he allowed his senses to adjust to the room, adding details before opening his eyes. He could not tell how long it had been since he was last conscious. He could hear voices, their accents foreign.
“His holo tags identify him as Hus-sar, of the Star Dragons, the only survivor we found.”
Several thoughts raced through his mind at once- Where was he now? What had happened to his battle-brothers? Was he in the hands of the enemy? He focussed, listening intently for clues amongst the new voices. Assessing his physical situation, he detected that he had been heavily drugged, even his remarkable metabolism was struggling to keep him sober. One voice quickly drew his attention, an edge of assured authority, commanding the others. In a heartbeat he opened his eyes, simultaneously reaching out with his right hand for the throat of the man he sensed was in charge. There was no satisfying crunch as the windpipe collapsed, no gurgling final breath. In fact, nothing seemed to have happened at all. With a sense of puzzlement he noticed that his right arm was missing from the shoulder down. Furthermore, despite opening his eyes, he could see nothing.
“Ah, welcome back brother Hus-sar. Just lay back please, there’s no need to struggle,“ came a reedy voice from his left. There was a mechanical wheeze to his breathing, indicating some augmentation. The dominant voice cut in,
“I am inquisitor Iago, and you are aboard my ship, the Mercurius. We found you on the surface of Delphus. I believe you to be the only the survivor of the battle fought there against the World eaters action against this system.”
Scanning his memory, he sought to recall, but only blurred images, a piercing cry and the shouts of his squad dying in visceral agony reverberated in his skull. Despite it all, he simply could not place himself, nor the veracity of his keepers. His voice manifesting as a bass rumble, he replied,
“I know precious few mortals, none of them inquisitors. Your words are nought but dust. Prove yourself “
“I’m afraid I haven’t the time for protocol brother. If we are to stop these treacherous hounds from putting the entire system to the blade then I must act quickly. Forgive me this intrusion. “
Even drugged and restrained, the warrior’s mind was like granite to his mental touch, an implaceable will that, despite a lack of latent psychic ability was difficult to penetrate. Sharpening his focus, Iago prised open his defences, exploring his most recent memories. Taken aback by the ferocious onrush of images he fought to maintain control, wading through the tide of pain and fury that had been his last waking moments. Slowly but surely he found his way back, starting with what looked like his deployment orders.
_Before_
“We need to shore up our lines, the hounds have broken through in several places, and we must cut them off before the salient bites too deeply. Captain Dra-sur, take 2 squads and deploy in a gunline, we’re expecting an isolated unit, no more than 1 squad, probably in a transport. Teach them to fear our weapons at range before they can close.”
Hus-sar looked around at the 20 other marines he called brothers, not knowing that this would be the last time he would see them all alive. Splitting up, they made for the thunderhawk, which swiftly deployed them ahead of the World eaters advance. They split further into 4 combat squads, the shorter range plasma gun teams ahead of the rangier lascannons behind.
As expected, a lone Rhino burst from the saddle of the 2 hills beyond, swathed in grizzly trophies and symbols that were strangely unnerving to look at. He shook it off, sensing the suit delivered stims light his blood on fire in anticipation of the battle to come. Hugging cover the rhino swerved left, dodging the murderous las-fire, erupting from behind a long since ruined building to disgorge its cargo under cover of smoke. With clinical accuracy the lascannons struck again, strobing through the smoke to destroy the tank, leaving its occupants no choice but to advance on foot. Judging by the inhuman cries issuing from the gloom it seemed his enemy was not distressed...
The savagery of the shouting increased, accompanied by the thundering of footsteps, preceding the charge of the now frenzied berserkers. As a relatively junior marine, he had never seen action against the traitor legions, not being prone to advance this far into the sector. He was, in hindsight, unprepared for the brutality of his enemy, taking scant seconds to shake the momentary hesitation in his limbs. Glancing left he saw that the other squad’s forward team had likewise taken a moment to adjust. Alas, it was all the time the wretched marines needed to close the gap and they descended on the combat squad in a clamour of monstrous screaming and growling chainaxes. So ferocious was the assault Hus-sar could scarcely believe that they had once been anything other than the beasts they now were. His mind jarred by the animalistic rage with which his brothers were being butchered, he struggled as the world in front of his eyes seemed to shimmer. Was his mind fighting the truth of his own vision, or was something else at hand? It was to prove even worse than any psychic obfuscation he could fathom, the very material of reality of rending itself open like wound to birth a chittering brood of daemon allies for the blood soaked traitors. His sight seemed to un-sync with the rest of his senses, their movements jerky and lightning fast as they engaged the remaining loyalist still fighting the berserkers. Beset on all sides they succumbed swiftly in a flurry of hacking blades and dripping claws. To his horror the daemons continued to defile his brothers, feasting on their corpses until only scraps of armour remained. Sensing more prey to kill and skulls to take for their bloody god, the daemons’ eyes turned on the 2 combat squads nearest to them.
Rallying his remaining troops, Captain Dra-sur bellowed fire orders, desperately seeking to whittle down the savage tide that would soon break upon him. Withering streams of bolter, plasma and lascannon fire raked the ranks of daemon and marine alike, felling 6 so that each stood at half strength. It was not enough. Barrelling through the midst of his gore spattered bezerkers, the leader of the enemy squad issued his challenge to the Captain, singling him out with a thrust of his screeching chain axe. Dra-sur, newly promoted, ignorant of his enemy’s identity, rose to meet the charge of his attacker, Kharn the betrayer. Hus-sar’s own squad looked on in grim determination as the daemons own howling fury surged forward toward them. Knowing that to falter here would be to die, Hus-sar and his battle brothers unsheathed their own weapons to match the vile and hooked instruments wielded by their daemonic opponents. Equal in strength and skill but unequal in number, the bloodletters fought with bestial rage that saw their sergeant fall. Avenging their mortally wounded comrade, Hus-sar and his inherited squad brought the remaining daemons low and returned the debasement of their brothers in kind, dismembering the bloodletters in visceral, arcing swings of his gladius.

Dra-sur, faltering before the furious might of Kharn’s charge was butchered abjectly before he could raise a hand to Khorne’s champion. Swelled by a consuming blood lust and spurred on by the pathetic challenge the Captain had offered him, he turned his blade on his remaining berserkers. Now numbering only 2 in face of the fierce resistance the loyalists had offered they fell as wheat before the scythe, leaving Kharn encircled by his enemies. Like a chain-blade revving up to full speed Kharn spun, bifurcating one of the Star dragons, spraying the others in crimson arterial jet. Another caught the pommel of his backswing before incinerating in a searing ball of sun-fire as the blood god’s chosen discharged his plasma pistol underneath his stunned opponent’s chin. Like jumping into a blender, Hus-sar dived into the fray, hoping to find a gap he could exploit as Kharn slew his brothers around him. It was to no avail as the whirling downswing of Gorechild found his shoulder, removing his sword arm. The return arc took his legs from under him and his vision spun, coloured red by his helmet’s warning signals or his own blood he couldn’t be sure. His mobility now lost, Hus-sar could only brace as an armoured boot smashed his face to pulp, the crushing blackness descending into unconsciousness.
_Now_
Iago staggered back, his synapses searing from the mind link. Hus-sar spasmed briefly and his eyes rolled back as he slipped under again.
“My Lord? What did you see? Where are his fellows? The enemy?” blurted the now distressed medicae, torn between his master and the clearly stricken astartes.
“ I-I can’t see how it ended, so many questions. There was, K- Kharn. We have to inform the fleet, “ Iago stuttered, his mind still reeling from the download of memories that were not his own. It was clear to him, however the rest of the battle had played out that the threat Kharn posed could not go unanswered.