The days were long on Dellos, but when night fell upon the spires and sands an eerie silence descended as the citizens retreated into their homes. They knew well the stories passed down by their elders, tales of creatures who stalked the shadows, preying on those who wandered into the open. And unlike many of the myths of the galaxy, this one was true.

They’d taken Sergeant Grix just the other night. One minute he was patrolling the walls of Loken Fortress, the base of operations for the Arkan XVII regiment and the military hub for the whole planetary system, the next he and half of Platoon Bannick were gone. Now the entire installation was in lockdown, the Generals stationed there from the Imperial Army hidden away in bunkers guarded by auto-turrets and a legion of warriors inured to pain and fear by the hideous artistry of the Ordo Biologia.
Only a few dared run the gauntlet and explore. Among them was Lorkar, a young priest attached to the retinue of Lord Investigator Kekro, dispatched by the Adeptus Heretica to hunt out the creatures and purge them. As they stalked into Macharius Square and came face to face with the statue of the great General who had liberated this world from the separatists of yesteryear, the conclave of 10 paused. The psychic warning from Merterion, the group’s strongest sorcerer, arrived just in time as a shadow flew past the space the Investigator’s head was just about to be. Silently, power fields flickered to life around the group’s weapons and the guns of the Skitarii tech-slaves loaded up.

These creatures were degenerates who had betrayed their oaths to the Empire, their minds obliterated but their bodies preserved as mindless, loyal slaves to the Investigator. They were armed with weapons no man could hope to wield alone. The heavy rifle wielded by one fired fist-sized bullets at an astonishing rate in a hail of fire nothing could hope to survive. The second was armed an experimental-pattern gravity cannon which could transform an area into a zone of immense gravity, crushing all who were unfortunate to be caught in it. Also among the group were 2 Guardians, whose shields had been psychically charged to deflect almost any strike and whose Covenant Hammers had smashed aside many foes that fell upon the anvil of their shields. These individuals were fiercely loyal to the Heretica Adepts, and would lay down their life before a single blow fell upon their charge. The final members of Kekro’s retinue were Assassins, drawn from the death world of Phaedron, who could kill with their twin blades faster than a blink of an eye. Yet all of them were now paralyzed in readiness for the oncoming assault. They did not have to wait long.
With a keening wail more akin to the scream of a dying animal, the first creatures descended. The first crashed against the Guardian’s shields and were swiftly crushed by a well-timed swing from their hammers. The second was cut down in mid fall by the curtain of bullets from the Skitarii. 2 more were dispatched in short order by the blades of the assassins, using the shields as springboards to launch them into melee. The first wave had fallen in the space of a few rushed heartbeats, and the young priest gripped his weapons tighter as he realised how dangerous a foe this world now faced. And then the second wave stormed from the shadows. A blast of light from Kekro’s Psycho-stave momentarily illuminated and blinded their attackers, and the image was burned on the minds of all who witnessed it.

These monsters had been human once, that much was clear. But they had descended into heresy, mutated beyond all reason by powers unknown until they were near unrecognisable. Where fingers had once been, now infinitely sharp talons resided. Their eyes had turned a sickly yellow, and their pupils blazed with hatred. Their skin flickered to match the light they were caught in, darkening again as the brief respite of light faded away. Righteous fury welled up inside Lorkar, and with a booming voice he cried

“In the name of the Imperator, purge the unclean!”

And with that, the guns opened up, mutants falling in droves as they were mercilessly slaughtered. Lorkar’s own pistol roared as it cut down any who dared challenge him. Flames and lightning arced as the psykers of the group unleashed their sorceries on the mutants. Any who survived were met with an uncompromising shield or were contemptuously cut down by the myriad weapons of the conclave until the streets ran red with mutant blood. The group killed and killed until there were simply no more left within range to kill, at which point they moved to where they could. However, it did not all go their way. An Assassin was disembowelled when a mutant somehow ducked a decapitating blow. The graviton Skitarii was left defenceless, and so was abandoned to the horde. No one escaped without at least a dozen flesh wounds, but in the end the mutants were broken and fled for the shadows from whence they had come. The conclave relaxed for a moment of triumph, and the Investigator knelt to collect a sample from one of the mutants for Biologia analysis. It was nearly the last move he made.
Humanity was not alone among the stars. Scattered across the galaxy were a multitude of alien races. Some were friendly, and the Imperial Army had often employed alien mercenaries on worlds deemed too inhospitable or when a new tack was needed. However, many were not, and this majority had fought against mankind from without and within many times. The xenos on Dellos were categorised by the Adeptus Heretica as Lytheans, ancient humanoid creatures with an appetite for striking terror into Imperial hearts. Many scholars suspected they were once disillusioned humans who had opened themselves up to mental and physical mutation. They were faster than any human, never appeared to age, and seemed to feed on fear and suffering. It was they who had infiltrated the night-terrors, posing as gods and convincing them to rise up against the Dellosians. It was they who had orchestrated the attack on the Investigator’s cadre, picking off weaker members and feeding on the panic caused. And now they had deemed the time right to strike.

With a blade that appeared to flicker in and out of reality, a female Lythean sprang down the Macharius statue in an attempt to decapitate the Investigator. It was pure luck (or the blessing of the Imperator upon Kekro, as Lorkar believed) that saved him as the dagger deflected from his oversized shoulder pauldrons. The sorcerer Merterion was not so lucky, and screamed in agony as a second Lythean removed his lower arm at the elbow with a near-surgical precision, only to be silenced as the same dagger was thrust into his neck. Lorkar thumbed the launch switch and was met with a gratifying rumble as the chainblade in his hand awoke from its slumber, hungry for xenos blood. He ducked and rolled away as a Lythean with a gladiatorial spear sparking with electricity launched himself towards him. Something in the back of Lorkar’s mind recognised it as a Volkite Spear, able to stop a human heart on contact, and he winced as a Guardian was impaled on the heretical weapon. Before long the Assassin was engaged in a dance of death faster than the eye could follow with the female who attacked Kekro, the Investigator was defending himself from an onslaught from the Volkite Spear, and the Skitarii was left incapacitated by the remaining Lythean. Within a few more heartbeats Lorkar found himself face to face with Merterion’s killer. The Lythean was stunningly beautiful, her face perfectly sculpted. Yet this beauty belied her threat. Her eyes were cold with hatred, her mouth contorted into an arrogant grin, and her lower arms were covered in gauntlets with shimmering blades protruding along either flank. These were the dreaded Viper Gauntlets, their edges capable of disassembling its victim molecule by molecule, and Lorkar knew full well that he would be dead if these weapons landed a blow. Muttering a litany of preservation that grew into a booming battle cry, he charged, pistol firing and chainblade screaming.

The young priest fought like a man possessed, wielding his weapon two-handed to block the Lythean attack. His pistol quickly clicked empty, and was discarded as the xenos came again. However, it was for naught, and before long he found himself gravely wounded and close to death. The last thing Lorkar saw was the sky above burning as ships streaked overhead. The war for Dellos had begun in Macharius Square, and it was far from over…