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Illumination
Chapter I: Planetfall

The rain soaked the robes and hoods, revealing the rough features of what lay hidden beneath them. The Mark VII Aquila-Pattern helmets' lenses gave an eerie, red glow in the night, red eyes looking from underneath the hoods of the small procession that was marching to the night, leaving heavy footprints in the mud. While normally the arrival of Astartes would most certainly draw attention and onlookers, nobody had seen the group, and it was for the better. Coming home had never been so hard, for this time, there would be no celebrations to celebrate victories. This time, the Void Claws had returned home clad for war. Something had been going on on the surface of Mandorgan - yet nobody knew what was happening. From orbit, everything looked normal, but those that were left in the Fortress-Monastery, far from the rest of civilisation, had reported that something was changing - sleeper agents hidden within the feudal villages of Mandorgan, there to look for potential new recruits, had stopped reporting, and gone missing, while it was obvious that entire regions were mustering for war. Something had stirred up the primitive population of Mandorgan, and yet nobody in the Chapter was any wiser on what it was. The Void Claws had never shown themselves towards the population as anything other than a knightly order, who served only the Sky-Emperor. They had chosen to let the population of Mandorgan live in relative peace, without knowledge of what lay beyond their own little world, yet know, it would all end. For too long had the population lived in ignorance, and that ignorance could very well lay at the heart of all that was happening.
As the group reached the outskirts of the village they were heading to, they were halted by a group of men. Soldiers, clad in leather body armor, and with iron swords and spears.
“Let us pass, in the name of the Emperor.” said the robed Astartes that stood in front of the others. The reply he was given was short, and harsh.
“Which Emperor?”
“The God-Emperor of Mankind, whom you know as the Sky-Emperor.”
The men did not reply and, instead, tried to raise their weapons, but before they could draw their swords or raise their spears, Astartes combat reflexes jumped into life, and the townguards were killed by a combination of combat blades and adamantium fists. With a slightly faster pace, the Astartes continued their procession, walking towards the feudal town in front of them.

Company Master Antonius stared at the surface of Mandorgan. What had been going on down there? Why did the sleeper agents went missing? And, more importantly, What triggered what was going on there? There were no reports, and only confusion. Two hours ago, Brother-Sergeant Ryker had left, along with nine other brother Astartes, for the surface of Mandorgan, far from the Fortress-Monastery, hoping to find some more information on the situation on the planet. He was expecting a report within four hours. Four hours of waiting. Antonius longed to go to the surface himself, but he knew his place was here, in orbit of Mandorgan, in the fleet. He sat down, and sighed, staring at Mandorgan’s surface again.

The town’s walls were made of wooden poles, and so was the, closed, gate. Veteran Sergeant Ryker looked at it, and at the towers next to it. Nobody was inside of either of them, and nobody was there to open the gate. So be it. He kicked at the gate, his adamantium boot crashing through the wood with ease, leaving a wide gap in it. ”Bolters” he ordered, and the Astartes, as one, took their boltguns, who had been carefully prepared back onboard of the ships by serfs with sacred rituals and oils. The town was quiet and, despite the violence the Astartes had entered, still asleep. In silence, the Astartes walked through the streets, towards the chapel. There was no need to awaken the city’s residents. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets quiet and muddy as they paced towards the chapel where the Emperor was being worshipped in the town. The chapel was small, but made of expensive, carefully cut granite. Sergeant Ryker carefully opened the sturdy wooden door, and walked inside, followed by his squad. "Throne..."
On the alter lay the town's priest, nailed to the stone where he would normally give ceremonies from. His belly was cut open, and his entrails lay spread on the floor. On both sides of the chapel hung burned bodies, defiled in the same way as the priest. Judging by the state of decomposition the bodies were in, they'd been here for a while. While his brothers were muttering curses on the squad's vox channel, Ryker took several picts with his helmet, and turned around. Outside, a chanting grew louder and louder. Chanting in a language Brother-Sergeant Ryker didn't know, but it sounded faintly similar, and very, very malign. Was that? No. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be what he thought it was. The Astartes walked out of the chapel, and looked to the east, from where the chanting had been coming. With a gesture, the Astartes raised weapons, and opened fire on the Chaos cultists.

"This can't be true. It just can not be true."
Chapter Master Martius Arenar, Lord of the Void Claws, looked at the picts that had been sent to his Battle Barge by Veteran Sergeant Ryker. "I'm afraid it is, my lord. Once we left the chapel we were attacked by cultists, bearing the marks of the Dark Gods. We have discovered deep-rooted heresy." Lord Martius turned to one of the officers next to him. "Make sure nobody other than our brothers will know about this. We do not want the Inquisition on us." He turned to another officer. "Inform Brother Silos, I want his Ravens on-ground, standard issue bikes." Lord Martius turnd back to the vox unit, and replied to Veteran. Sergeant Ryker. "Move to the coordinates you've been sent, you will be picked up in eight minutes."
"Understood, my lord." The line crackled, and went static. Just as he was about to walk from the Strategium, a serf ran towards Lord Martius, knelt before him, and stood up again. "My lord, we have recieved new data, from Squad Gideon." Squad Gideon. Deathwing. "Proceed."
"They've sent this pict through, they said you would understand "
"Show it." One of the screens in the Strategium flickered, and displayed the pict. It displayed a cobble wall, undountedly in some sort of city. In blood, there was a single sentence written on it. Strongbourne has Fallen. Martius let the words run through his head. Strongbourne has Fallen. Strongbourne has Fallen. Strongbourne. Fallen. Fallen. Fallen. Fallen.
"Contact brother Attias. Tell him to prepare the Deathwing."

______
Writing up more now, though it seemed like this would be bigger! (two pages on Google Drive, counting just over 1000 words)

I have to say the first part didnt grab me, seeming like you wanted to set the scene, tell the intro, but discribe the general look of the character all in one. And tbh it came across a bit clunky and seperate from the follow on lines.

Here is a few ideas for you below to get the creative juices flowing. I took the libity of poaching a few lines from further down in your tale and put them in the first paragraph to get that mix you wanted as mentioned above. Hope this helps.

Lashing rain from the darkened skys above soaked the hooded robes of the figures, revealing the rough features of what lay hidden beneath. Mark III aquila armour whined and purred under the garments, as red eyed lenses, casting an eerie glow, peered out into the night towards the flickering lights ahead.
The small procession marched on, ignorant to the rain and the wind howling around them while they left huge muddy footprints in their wake as they drew closer to the town ahead, who knew not what stalked from the shadows. And where the better for it.