Doros flexed his arms as he watched the pouring rain sputter and drip from the fingertips of his hardened gauntlets. The veteran sergeant looked down at the frowning Commissar with a reassuring shake of his head. "A perilous task though it may be, such is my duty as a servant of the Emperor to undertake this responsibility..." Despite his brave and rousing tone, Doros fell silent for a few seconds before murmuring another utterance as he looked back toward the castle gates. "...No matter how daunting the enemy may be." As Doros surveyed his surroundings once more, the castle being crowded with guardsmen and vehicles of war, he felt somehow that it was his destiny to die here upon these battlegrounds. It was not a possibility that Doros disagreed with. Death was a servant of the rightous afterall, and he'd cut a swathe through the legion of heretics before they got to him first.
Doros held his head up high towards the darkened clouds above. "Let us hope that the vehicles of Chaos are also stuck in the dirt. We may even find ourselves fighting half a battle." There was a slither of optimism in the Space Marine's tone, but within his mind he knew the battle was going to be terribly bloody, regardless of what advantage the weather had given the Emperor's faithful. He continued to follow the Commissar to the castle keep. There was little time to waste.
---Cicero's View---
The Chaos Champion scratched the shaft of his alien weapon in thought, until an answer had crept it's way within his mind: "We should make ready to move our troops upon the land where this defence has been raised almost immediately. We will then split into three scouting parties: Yourself, Me, and Hermes." The lowly cultist raised an inquisitive brow as he had unexpectedly heard his name called, let alone remembered. He gazed at the orange chaos champion from the distance, hoping that simply looking at the chosen of the Gods would not warrant the ire of his bodyguards. Porthos was less than amused however, placing his blood red gauntlet upon the winged pauldron of his master.
"Do you not have faith in me Champion Cicero?" The Chosen Berzerker challenged with a hiss of hatred over Cicero's left ear. "You place your trust in those with agendas that conflict to yours, yet I, a loyal servant of the Gods' chosen, am cast aside in the place of whelps and mortals. You would be better off choosing me, My Champion."
But Cicero objected, and retaliated with an arguement of his own. "You are a World Eater Porthos; A wayward son of Angron. Your loyalty means as little to me as anyone else I have enlisted into my debased ranks. The bloody actions of Kharn the Betrayer have given me proof of the Berzerker's disloyalty. The impetuousness you and your brothers share would turn this scouting mission into a total failure. I know the time to prove worth, but now is not yours." Cicero spoke with an adult sincerity to his lieutenant, as though he was lecturing a child on how to behave (In spite of Porthos' advanced age). The Chosen Berzerker was sour and the lust for blood left him unable to find the words to counter his lord. After a few brief moments, Porthos eventually turned his back from the group with an unearthly snarl and stomped back to the ship in a tantrum.
With that out of the way, Cicero returned his attention to the fallen Inquisitor. "We can proceed immediately, should you choose to do so." The Champion stated.
Doros held his head up high towards the darkened clouds above. "Let us hope that the vehicles of Chaos are also stuck in the dirt. We may even find ourselves fighting half a battle." There was a slither of optimism in the Space Marine's tone, but within his mind he knew the battle was going to be terribly bloody, regardless of what advantage the weather had given the Emperor's faithful. He continued to follow the Commissar to the castle keep. There was little time to waste.
---Cicero's View---
The Chaos Champion scratched the shaft of his alien weapon in thought, until an answer had crept it's way within his mind: "We should make ready to move our troops upon the land where this defence has been raised almost immediately. We will then split into three scouting parties: Yourself, Me, and Hermes." The lowly cultist raised an inquisitive brow as he had unexpectedly heard his name called, let alone remembered. He gazed at the orange chaos champion from the distance, hoping that simply looking at the chosen of the Gods would not warrant the ire of his bodyguards. Porthos was less than amused however, placing his blood red gauntlet upon the winged pauldron of his master.
"Do you not have faith in me Champion Cicero?" The Chosen Berzerker challenged with a hiss of hatred over Cicero's left ear. "You place your trust in those with agendas that conflict to yours, yet I, a loyal servant of the Gods' chosen, am cast aside in the place of whelps and mortals. You would be better off choosing me, My Champion."
But Cicero objected, and retaliated with an arguement of his own. "You are a World Eater Porthos; A wayward son of Angron. Your loyalty means as little to me as anyone else I have enlisted into my debased ranks. The bloody actions of Kharn the Betrayer have given me proof of the Berzerker's disloyalty. The impetuousness you and your brothers share would turn this scouting mission into a total failure. I know the time to prove worth, but now is not yours." Cicero spoke with an adult sincerity to his lieutenant, as though he was lecturing a child on how to behave (In spite of Porthos' advanced age). The Chosen Berzerker was sour and the lust for blood left him unable to find the words to counter his lord. After a few brief moments, Porthos eventually turned his back from the group with an unearthly snarl and stomped back to the ship in a tantrum.
With that out of the way, Cicero returned his attention to the fallen Inquisitor. "We can proceed immediately, should you choose to do so." The Champion stated.
The keep was a panic as men moved to and fro, carrying ammunition and weapons to now reinforced and hardened rooms. The men and women of the 14th were working hard, putting their reputation on the line as well as their lives. They were making this keep a deathtrap. The men and women of the first squad of the 13th were waiting in the feast hall for Grim. The Commissar stopped and looked at his men before smiling, "Ready for war ladies?" He asked, great coat fluttering as he stopped. His friends and brothers and sisters nodded, getting their Hell-Guns and charging them. The Comms woman, now without her pack, looked up at the Commissar and smirked.
"If we make it out of this, you owe me dinner," she said quickly smirking at him. The Commissar rolled his eyes and smirked back. Then adjusted his coat and walked out, not before saying however.
"Sure, I will get you all a few ration packs after we are done.... and a few celebratory bottles of Rotgut,".
The Major was at the center of all of the Chaos, directing and ordering, giving messages to people to pass on to the checkpoint Lieutenants and sending orders to them. The old battle scarred man rubbed his chin as he looked at a roughly drawn map on the Kings old dining table.
Varus' View
The Inquisitor looked at Porthos with a detestable frown. "Detestable blood spattered fool of Khorne, your rage may be endless, however it makes you weak. your mind is focused on the fight and not the preparations before it," She chided as well, and once the Bezerker stomped back to the ship like a scolded child, she laughed loudly. Then, once he was gone, she turned and looked at her men. "Scatter, begin your scouting, Doom Sirens, Blast-masters, and Sonic blasters should be deactivated at all times... and please make haste,"
"If we make it out of this, you owe me dinner," she said quickly smirking at him. The Commissar rolled his eyes and smirked back. Then adjusted his coat and walked out, not before saying however.
"Sure, I will get you all a few ration packs after we are done.... and a few celebratory bottles of Rotgut,".
The Major was at the center of all of the Chaos, directing and ordering, giving messages to people to pass on to the checkpoint Lieutenants and sending orders to them. The old battle scarred man rubbed his chin as he looked at a roughly drawn map on the Kings old dining table.
Varus' View
The Inquisitor looked at Porthos with a detestable frown. "Detestable blood spattered fool of Khorne, your rage may be endless, however it makes you weak. your mind is focused on the fight and not the preparations before it," She chided as well, and once the Bezerker stomped back to the ship like a scolded child, she laughed loudly. Then, once he was gone, she turned and looked at her men. "Scatter, begin your scouting, Doom Sirens, Blast-masters, and Sonic blasters should be deactivated at all times... and please make haste,"
While the imperial army sought to fortify the castle, little attention had been payed to the chambers below the stone structure and surrounding grounds. Why would they? The only entrances were in the castle basement and a church a mile away. A network of catacombs existed there, tombs to the Kings and lords of past generations. The hastily constructed entrenchments had nearly exposed them.
It was where the defensive lines had come the closest, the dirt to the subterranean walls the thinnest, that the disappearances had occurred. The tomb walls had been broken through from the inside, and soldiers had been dragged down through the dirt one or two at a time.
By now those same damaged walls had been quickly repaired. The created sink holes mostly hidden. It was not a perfect system, as keen searching could still have revealed the walls... If one thought to dig. And quick repairs meant weaker ones.
That was why the group responsible for the abductions had also taken care to target points the furthest from the chamber they were now in. It meant a pitch black maze to navigate.
There were nine cultists in the room, though at a glance they looked just like any other of the planets residents. They could have even passed as refugees who had sought shelter in the halls of the dead, if one were so inclined to overlook the eight kidnapped imperial soldiers.
That in itself may have been difficult to do, as they had all been stripped of their armor and gear, then been gagged and bound over piles of collected skulls. Their positions seemed oddly reminiscent of one awaiting the executioners axe. They were arranged in a ring, their heads toward a large armored body in the cemetery of the room.
Each guard had company. One cultist each, bearing now the weapons of their victims. The ninth member, a young woman, stood by the corpse in center ring. Her name Cassandra, and she was the leader of leaders.
Each cultist present had previously lead a smaller grouping of eight members. They had been the 81. Those that had formed the ring of the serpent.
She did not openly criticize their savior, the giant of blue and gold that had spared them the gnawing voice of the planet; The sorcerer from beyond that ended their dreams of blood and violence. He has come into each of their lives and changed them. Some had followed for what he did. Others for his promises of things to come. But she did secretly disapprove of the cults last two members. They did not fit, and she was glad they were left at the temple.
Over the last three years she had witnessed it eight times. No one returned from those accursed temples... Except their savior. She viewed it as a culling of the weak. Those that could not do what was needed... Those incapable of handling that which they sought.
Now was to be their time. Their task lay before them, literally. All they had to do was wait, and when the time was right, despatch the enemies of her master... And she would finally understand everything. He had promised her this.
It was where the defensive lines had come the closest, the dirt to the subterranean walls the thinnest, that the disappearances had occurred. The tomb walls had been broken through from the inside, and soldiers had been dragged down through the dirt one or two at a time.
By now those same damaged walls had been quickly repaired. The created sink holes mostly hidden. It was not a perfect system, as keen searching could still have revealed the walls... If one thought to dig. And quick repairs meant weaker ones.
That was why the group responsible for the abductions had also taken care to target points the furthest from the chamber they were now in. It meant a pitch black maze to navigate.
There were nine cultists in the room, though at a glance they looked just like any other of the planets residents. They could have even passed as refugees who had sought shelter in the halls of the dead, if one were so inclined to overlook the eight kidnapped imperial soldiers.
That in itself may have been difficult to do, as they had all been stripped of their armor and gear, then been gagged and bound over piles of collected skulls. Their positions seemed oddly reminiscent of one awaiting the executioners axe. They were arranged in a ring, their heads toward a large armored body in the cemetery of the room.
Each guard had company. One cultist each, bearing now the weapons of their victims. The ninth member, a young woman, stood by the corpse in center ring. Her name Cassandra, and she was the leader of leaders.
Each cultist present had previously lead a smaller grouping of eight members. They had been the 81. Those that had formed the ring of the serpent.
She did not openly criticize their savior, the giant of blue and gold that had spared them the gnawing voice of the planet; The sorcerer from beyond that ended their dreams of blood and violence. He has come into each of their lives and changed them. Some had followed for what he did. Others for his promises of things to come. But she did secretly disapprove of the cults last two members. They did not fit, and she was glad they were left at the temple.
Over the last three years she had witnessed it eight times. No one returned from those accursed temples... Except their savior. She viewed it as a culling of the weak. Those that could not do what was needed... Those incapable of handling that which they sought.
Now was to be their time. Their task lay before them, literally. All they had to do was wait, and when the time was right, despatch the enemies of her master... And she would finally understand everything. He had promised her this.
Doros had entered the castle's dirty interior. His body protruded above everyone else in the room, making his presence painfully obvious. The rain that had splattered upon his armour trickled down onto the blood stained carpets, and as he stomped, large wet footprints covered the area that he moved across. There were a few confused looks from the Imperial staff, some were in awe, others dishearted. 'Glorytheif.' A few disgruntled guardsmen whispered among themselves as they leered at the Veteran Sergeant's hulking strut. In truth however, Doros was far more interested in his own redemption rather than hounding prestige.
Various thoughts passed his mind, and Doros couldn't help but wonder what the Foruscians had done with the citizens of Sipang within a few mere hours. Whether they had been safefully herded away from the testing grounds by the Guardsmen, or had been put to death on suspicion of heresy was a curious question, no matter how irrelevant at this perilous time. Not to mention about the unholy magics he and the Commissar had previously seen take place. He was smart enough to know that the battle with the Kingspawn, the strange voices that enveloped his mind as he ran through those dark corridors, and even the tendrils that had blocked his way before their clash did not occur through mere chaos worship.
For the moment the Space Marine had chosen to block the terrible thoughts from his mind, but this bulwark, though fortified was not properly cleansed of Chaos. Doros felt in his heart that such Daemonic filth could potentially rise again during the battle. To neglect the cause would be a terrible disaster, and turn this fortified castle into easy prey for the heretics that will soon besiege it. It was in that knowledge, Doros' speed grew quicker as he stomped across the interior. His very footsteps made the spoiled chandeliers shake terribly. He slammed open the door to the dining area with great haste, making his way to the Major as he entered.
"Please forgive me for coming on such short notice, Major." Doros muttered apologetically. "But I must warn you. When the Commissar and I battled the Royal spawn earlier, terrible and unholy things occured. My path was haunted by the ghostly voices of the King as I delved within, and tendrils that seemed to grow from nowhere had blocked my path. It was only thanks to the Commissar's actions that I am here before you now." The Veteran sergeant explained as he covered the bolter's muzzle that was hooked beside his waist. It was obvious that the Marine was paranoid as Doros placed his hand upon the map. "I beseech you Major. Please send a squad to find the reason these warped events happened, lest we face disastrous repercussions."
---Cicero' POV---
Cicero stood quite haughtily as he gestured his hereteks to return to their corresponding ships. "Then... it is settled." The Champion hissed as he removed 'Screaming Death' from the dirt, with the cultist Hermes quickly approaching curiously. Cicero turned his head to a retinue member: A chaos space marine armed with a desecrated lascannon. "We will leave immediately. Gabriel, have Porthos wrest castle Caritaigne from it's ruler and have it be a secondary base, just in case our plan falters." The Marine left with no words for his master, albeit a nod of respect as he made his way back to Tartaros.
"Whether it takes the slaughter of the entire populace, castle Caritaigne and it's King will bow before Chaos-" Before Cicero could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the Tzeentchi cultist, of all people. "I-I am afraid that won't be entirely neccesary." Hermes' voice waned and stuttered in the presence of the mighty Champion. "T-The King of Caritaigne is... well-"
"Spit it out, boy! There is no time to waste now." The Champion cut through the cultist's weak speech with a daunting shout and made him cower in fear. "What is wrong with the King!? Not that I care in all honesty."
Hermes' whimpering voice resumed it's talk: "The King and all his noblemen are well... dead. The Prince turned into a Chaos spawn and started devouring everybody, including his own father, then ate and drove out the populace. After that, it came to our scouting squad and tore us apart before I had somehow slain it. I am all that is left of that group, and I can tell you for certain my lord, castle Caritaigne is derelict; master Porthos would encounter no resistance. I did not tell you earlier because well, to be quite frank, I didn't think you'd care."
The Champion took his singing spear and drove it's point in the direction of the Tzeentchi worshipper. It's tip barely met Hermes' chin, and his jaw dropped in total fear; he was utterly speechless. "You are correct." Cicero scoffed as he swung 'Screaming death' back to his breastplate, and left Hermes to regain himself. "I like you, man of Tzeentch. Make yourself ready, for you lead a scouting party once more." Hermes made a few too many loud, deep breaths as the Champion walked to one of the readied transport fleets. Leaving Porthos to take the empty castle regardless. So it was that the scouting mission would now begin, the Champion and his pilot took to the skies.
---MEANWHILE: a few miles off of castle Sipang: Within the ruined forest---
The violent storms of rain had hammered down onto the trees. What was a day ago: a terrible forest fire that had engulfed a certain skirmish that had taken place was now a cluttered and dismal ring of forest destruction, polished by the water that would soon flood the area. Tall, lithe humanoids bearing garbs of red lurked there however. They surveyed the battered hulk that had exploded during the skirmish. In fact, they had watched it take place, nevermind that they had previously shot down the pilot beforehand, though it was only now that they had come to check the spoils after the Imperials had been ambushed.
A Seer of Saim-Hann stood directly inside the ring of decay, staring blankly toward the sky. "...I see them..." His calm and cold voice whispered, yet he had piqued the attention of one of the rangers: "My Seer, what do you forsee?" The ranger inquired as he approached. "More Mon'Keigh still to come?"
The Seer nodded blankly, still enveloped within his own visions. "Yes Althran. They will come... Twisted, carriers of the plague of chaos. The dreaded servants of She-Who-Thirsts will soon arrive to scout the bulwark. They may pry at and inspect these ruins in preparation for the dreaded battle they will soon face-"
The Seer was interrupted by his bitter fellow. "Is their leader the murderer of Farseer Raelor? Is he the very creature who slew him and took his soulstone and Singing Spear as mere trophies!?" Althran's demanour was angry as he was reminded of the unjust death of his master.
"No... The Champion of Chaos takes another route." The Seer held the ranger's shoulder tight in reassurance, and his tone became softer. "Do not frustrate yourself, child, we shall avenge his death soon enough, but now is the time of rescue. We cannot allow Farseer Raelor's soul to fall into the maw of She-Who-Thirsts."
"Then what is our mission?" Another figure slipped his way into the conversation, this Eldar was a Striking Scorpion who had volunteered to rescue the Farseer. Although all Eldar dwarf the lesser races in size, this being seemed to tower over his kin like a giant.
"We must wait for the Mon'Keigh to make their way here, once all is done, we shall follow the path they had came from. Perhaps it will be there we will confront the Champion of Chaos." The Seer explained as the rain poured down onto his elongated helmet.
"And what of the bloody battle to take place here?" The Ranger questioned, his temper somewhat loosened. "Are we to leave this planet to the Bloodthirster, and willingly allow the approaching genocide you warned us of beforehand?" The Seer calmly nodded his head, before leaving the centre of the forest ring. "That... Is a problem the Imperials have been doomed to deal with Althran... Not the craftworld. The followers of Chaos will soon approach, make haste within the forest my brothers." Before Althran was able to ponder of the Seer's actions, he had already left the ruins. With all said and done(and a sigh of dread from the ranger), the three Eldar returned to the safety of the far trees, regrouping with their small squad in the distance. Thanks to the Seer, they knew the Mon'Keigh would not be far behind.
Various thoughts passed his mind, and Doros couldn't help but wonder what the Foruscians had done with the citizens of Sipang within a few mere hours. Whether they had been safefully herded away from the testing grounds by the Guardsmen, or had been put to death on suspicion of heresy was a curious question, no matter how irrelevant at this perilous time. Not to mention about the unholy magics he and the Commissar had previously seen take place. He was smart enough to know that the battle with the Kingspawn, the strange voices that enveloped his mind as he ran through those dark corridors, and even the tendrils that had blocked his way before their clash did not occur through mere chaos worship.
For the moment the Space Marine had chosen to block the terrible thoughts from his mind, but this bulwark, though fortified was not properly cleansed of Chaos. Doros felt in his heart that such Daemonic filth could potentially rise again during the battle. To neglect the cause would be a terrible disaster, and turn this fortified castle into easy prey for the heretics that will soon besiege it. It was in that knowledge, Doros' speed grew quicker as he stomped across the interior. His very footsteps made the spoiled chandeliers shake terribly. He slammed open the door to the dining area with great haste, making his way to the Major as he entered.
"Please forgive me for coming on such short notice, Major." Doros muttered apologetically. "But I must warn you. When the Commissar and I battled the Royal spawn earlier, terrible and unholy things occured. My path was haunted by the ghostly voices of the King as I delved within, and tendrils that seemed to grow from nowhere had blocked my path. It was only thanks to the Commissar's actions that I am here before you now." The Veteran sergeant explained as he covered the bolter's muzzle that was hooked beside his waist. It was obvious that the Marine was paranoid as Doros placed his hand upon the map. "I beseech you Major. Please send a squad to find the reason these warped events happened, lest we face disastrous repercussions."
---Cicero' POV---
Cicero stood quite haughtily as he gestured his hereteks to return to their corresponding ships. "Then... it is settled." The Champion hissed as he removed 'Screaming Death' from the dirt, with the cultist Hermes quickly approaching curiously. Cicero turned his head to a retinue member: A chaos space marine armed with a desecrated lascannon. "We will leave immediately. Gabriel, have Porthos wrest castle Caritaigne from it's ruler and have it be a secondary base, just in case our plan falters." The Marine left with no words for his master, albeit a nod of respect as he made his way back to Tartaros.
"Whether it takes the slaughter of the entire populace, castle Caritaigne and it's King will bow before Chaos-" Before Cicero could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the Tzeentchi cultist, of all people. "I-I am afraid that won't be entirely neccesary." Hermes' voice waned and stuttered in the presence of the mighty Champion. "T-The King of Caritaigne is... well-"
"Spit it out, boy! There is no time to waste now." The Champion cut through the cultist's weak speech with a daunting shout and made him cower in fear. "What is wrong with the King!? Not that I care in all honesty."
Hermes' whimpering voice resumed it's talk: "The King and all his noblemen are well... dead. The Prince turned into a Chaos spawn and started devouring everybody, including his own father, then ate and drove out the populace. After that, it came to our scouting squad and tore us apart before I had somehow slain it. I am all that is left of that group, and I can tell you for certain my lord, castle Caritaigne is derelict; master Porthos would encounter no resistance. I did not tell you earlier because well, to be quite frank, I didn't think you'd care."
The Champion took his singing spear and drove it's point in the direction of the Tzeentchi worshipper. It's tip barely met Hermes' chin, and his jaw dropped in total fear; he was utterly speechless. "You are correct." Cicero scoffed as he swung 'Screaming death' back to his breastplate, and left Hermes to regain himself. "I like you, man of Tzeentch. Make yourself ready, for you lead a scouting party once more." Hermes made a few too many loud, deep breaths as the Champion walked to one of the readied transport fleets. Leaving Porthos to take the empty castle regardless. So it was that the scouting mission would now begin, the Champion and his pilot took to the skies.
---MEANWHILE: a few miles off of castle Sipang: Within the ruined forest---
The violent storms of rain had hammered down onto the trees. What was a day ago: a terrible forest fire that had engulfed a certain skirmish that had taken place was now a cluttered and dismal ring of forest destruction, polished by the water that would soon flood the area. Tall, lithe humanoids bearing garbs of red lurked there however. They surveyed the battered hulk that had exploded during the skirmish. In fact, they had watched it take place, nevermind that they had previously shot down the pilot beforehand, though it was only now that they had come to check the spoils after the Imperials had been ambushed.
A Seer of Saim-Hann stood directly inside the ring of decay, staring blankly toward the sky. "...I see them..." His calm and cold voice whispered, yet he had piqued the attention of one of the rangers: "My Seer, what do you forsee?" The ranger inquired as he approached. "More Mon'Keigh still to come?"
The Seer nodded blankly, still enveloped within his own visions. "Yes Althran. They will come... Twisted, carriers of the plague of chaos. The dreaded servants of She-Who-Thirsts will soon arrive to scout the bulwark. They may pry at and inspect these ruins in preparation for the dreaded battle they will soon face-"
The Seer was interrupted by his bitter fellow. "Is their leader the murderer of Farseer Raelor? Is he the very creature who slew him and took his soulstone and Singing Spear as mere trophies!?" Althran's demanour was angry as he was reminded of the unjust death of his master.
"No... The Champion of Chaos takes another route." The Seer held the ranger's shoulder tight in reassurance, and his tone became softer. "Do not frustrate yourself, child, we shall avenge his death soon enough, but now is the time of rescue. We cannot allow Farseer Raelor's soul to fall into the maw of She-Who-Thirsts."
"Then what is our mission?" Another figure slipped his way into the conversation, this Eldar was a Striking Scorpion who had volunteered to rescue the Farseer. Although all Eldar dwarf the lesser races in size, this being seemed to tower over his kin like a giant.
"We must wait for the Mon'Keigh to make their way here, once all is done, we shall follow the path they had came from. Perhaps it will be there we will confront the Champion of Chaos." The Seer explained as the rain poured down onto his elongated helmet.
"And what of the bloody battle to take place here?" The Ranger questioned, his temper somewhat loosened. "Are we to leave this planet to the Bloodthirster, and willingly allow the approaching genocide you warned us of beforehand?" The Seer calmly nodded his head, before leaving the centre of the forest ring. "That... Is a problem the Imperials have been doomed to deal with Althran... Not the craftworld. The followers of Chaos will soon approach, make haste within the forest my brothers." Before Althran was able to ponder of the Seer's actions, he had already left the ruins. With all said and done(and a sigh of dread from the ranger), the three Eldar returned to the safety of the far trees, regrouping with their small squad in the distance. Thanks to the Seer, they knew the Mon'Keigh would not be far behind.
The Commissar moved and rested with his men in the town and and watched the quick training of the conscripts of the men and women of Sipang. Those that the Priests had determined free of corruption. A lot of them were ex military who had come back from some of the cities campaigns women, and even a few older children. The rest were, Against Grim's wishes, put to their deaths by Lasgun fire and any others, not corrupted were put into the cities treasury and then locked inside and well fed and watered, including the little girl Grim helped earlier. The Conscripts measured about 1500 bodies for the line.
Within the First Squad, most people were eating laughing, getting a wee bit drunk, Grim didn't mind, he never did. Though it was obvious he was dreading the fight. The first was not being put on the front line of battle, they were being placed on defense of the Command center. In other words, they were free to do just about anything until the fight started. The first squad of the 13th had seen a lot, in the Major's exact words 'Commissar, you have seen enough terrible things'. However, this was not like the Great coat clad commissariat trained man looked at his bolt pistol and sighed. The comms women, Sgt. Lyra Ferris has known Grim for a very long time, and that time included when he was not even a Commissar. They were lovers before he was a Commissar and she learned long ago that even after his training, she was the only person who could calm him down. She sat next to him and smiled, swinging her short and legs. "So Grimmy," She smiled. The commissar let out a choked laugh.
"D-don't call me that," He laughed finally and looked at her. "It has literally been years since I have ever heard you call me that. Don't, or I will have you executed..... with cuteness and fury," An odd Commissar indeed.
Major's View
The major rubbed his stubble and looked at the Space marine, His face drained of color and his frown deepened greatly. Then eh looked at the maps. "You have my permission to get a squad of men and a priest and find this source of corruption and destroy it ASAP. May the Emperor guide you," Apparently the Major was quick to decide courses of Action Then he grabbed hes vox and monitored a few channels, his eyes fixing on the interface until his eyes froze on something odd, very odd. "D-do you know of any other Space Marines on this planet Doros?" The Major asked with hope in his eyes.
Near Sipang
Breaking the tree line and walking towards the line of the Guard were a group of Heavily armed and armored men, flame throwers glowing deeply in the night as they walked toward the castle. These were prisoners on Tartaros and gone escaped and recovered their gear upon their landing. They numbered between 20 and 40 of various people, unidentifiable by the darkness. as they approached a line, a long burst of bolter fire was shot at them in a warning shot. "Halt, or face the Wrath of the Emperor!" A guardsmen yelled from wall on the bolter.
One of the Men moved up and pulled off his hood, revealing one of the Astartes power helmets. Lightning flashed and illuminated the various races at hand. The group was various and large. "You have no idea of his wrath Guardsmen... we are it," The Space Marine growled. The oddest one the Guard saw was an XV8 battle suit and the Eldar. However, among that group were several different chapters of space marines. Three of the 25 Astartes which were there belonged to the Salamanders. Several more Iron hands, also blood angels were there as well. Then there was the Eldar and the Tau, the Xenos of the group. The Eldar was in the armor of a howling banshee and her sword was sheathed on her side. The black hair she had was tucked into her helmet and she looked at the guardsmen. The Tau was in an XV8 battle suit. By the amount of weaponry on it, it looked like he could level the bulwark the 14th had built in moments. The guardsmen stood in shock. Terminator Sarin Birret stared at the man through his helmet, then he looked at the gate and opened it quickly. It did not take long for the Astartes of varying types, to stomp into the command room, much to the Major's surprise. The commander stared dumbfound at the men.
Varus' View
The corrupted inquisitor got her men together and went to investigate where the bezerker had fallen and the castle without a word. Her bodyguard was not far behind. She began to focus her energy in preparation for something beautiful.
Within the First Squad, most people were eating laughing, getting a wee bit drunk, Grim didn't mind, he never did. Though it was obvious he was dreading the fight. The first was not being put on the front line of battle, they were being placed on defense of the Command center. In other words, they were free to do just about anything until the fight started. The first squad of the 13th had seen a lot, in the Major's exact words 'Commissar, you have seen enough terrible things'. However, this was not like the Great coat clad commissariat trained man looked at his bolt pistol and sighed. The comms women, Sgt. Lyra Ferris has known Grim for a very long time, and that time included when he was not even a Commissar. They were lovers before he was a Commissar and she learned long ago that even after his training, she was the only person who could calm him down. She sat next to him and smiled, swinging her short and legs. "So Grimmy," She smiled. The commissar let out a choked laugh.
"D-don't call me that," He laughed finally and looked at her. "It has literally been years since I have ever heard you call me that. Don't, or I will have you executed..... with cuteness and fury," An odd Commissar indeed.
Major's View
The major rubbed his stubble and looked at the Space marine, His face drained of color and his frown deepened greatly. Then eh looked at the maps. "You have my permission to get a squad of men and a priest and find this source of corruption and destroy it ASAP. May the Emperor guide you," Apparently the Major was quick to decide courses of Action Then he grabbed hes vox and monitored a few channels, his eyes fixing on the interface until his eyes froze on something odd, very odd. "D-do you know of any other Space Marines on this planet Doros?" The Major asked with hope in his eyes.
Near Sipang
Breaking the tree line and walking towards the line of the Guard were a group of Heavily armed and armored men, flame throwers glowing deeply in the night as they walked toward the castle. These were prisoners on Tartaros and gone escaped and recovered their gear upon their landing. They numbered between 20 and 40 of various people, unidentifiable by the darkness. as they approached a line, a long burst of bolter fire was shot at them in a warning shot. "Halt, or face the Wrath of the Emperor!" A guardsmen yelled from wall on the bolter.
One of the Men moved up and pulled off his hood, revealing one of the Astartes power helmets. Lightning flashed and illuminated the various races at hand. The group was various and large. "You have no idea of his wrath Guardsmen... we are it," The Space Marine growled. The oddest one the Guard saw was an XV8 battle suit and the Eldar. However, among that group were several different chapters of space marines. Three of the 25 Astartes which were there belonged to the Salamanders. Several more Iron hands, also blood angels were there as well. Then there was the Eldar and the Tau, the Xenos of the group. The Eldar was in the armor of a howling banshee and her sword was sheathed on her side. The black hair she had was tucked into her helmet and she looked at the guardsmen. The Tau was in an XV8 battle suit. By the amount of weaponry on it, it looked like he could level the bulwark the 14th had built in moments. The guardsmen stood in shock. Terminator Sarin Birret stared at the man through his helmet, then he looked at the gate and opened it quickly. It did not take long for the Astartes of varying types, to stomp into the command room, much to the Major's surprise. The commander stared dumbfound at the men.
Varus' View
The corrupted inquisitor got her men together and went to investigate where the bezerker had fallen and the castle without a word. Her bodyguard was not far behind. She began to focus her energy in preparation for something beautiful.
Cassandra looked around the crypt. Minimal lighting was established by the use of a few simple candles. She could barely make out her associates and prisoners, much less any of the openings beyond. It was a security measure, a further attempt to hide their location.
She closed her eyes. She tried to recall what the giant had showed her before they left. He had called her out, and as she kneeled before him, had placed his hand upon her head. It sealed her as the leader of the task. But it had been so much more. He had shown her a glimpse of the future. Some strange vision of a king of bones, a maze with rats, and a dozen other things. It had been a living, fluid collage of things... Things which had made so little sense at the time. But now things were coming together.
Her eyes opened, and focused on the faces of the other chosen. "Members of the serpent, our enemies will be hunting us soon... No... Hunting the ghosts they fear exist. We cannot allow them to find us... Not before we finish. Leave the rifles... We may need them. Bring the rest of the enemy gear. We have to ready some welcoming gifts."
She started out, heading for the passages that would lead to the castle, the others moving to follow her picking up armor, clothing, knives, and grenades. She paused where the light struggled to reach. "Joseph, Leon... Keep an eye on our guests."
The two cultists identified returned to the center of the room. While the rest disappeared into the darkness.
It was a matter of guerrilla tactics; lies, deceit, changed, misdirection, etc. a primed grenade hidden under a missing soldiers armor. The next rigged under a rock beside the uniform in a narrow passage. Tripwires and dead falls... And Cassandra had the vision to guide her on where to put them.
She closed her eyes. She tried to recall what the giant had showed her before they left. He had called her out, and as she kneeled before him, had placed his hand upon her head. It sealed her as the leader of the task. But it had been so much more. He had shown her a glimpse of the future. Some strange vision of a king of bones, a maze with rats, and a dozen other things. It had been a living, fluid collage of things... Things which had made so little sense at the time. But now things were coming together.
Her eyes opened, and focused on the faces of the other chosen. "Members of the serpent, our enemies will be hunting us soon... No... Hunting the ghosts they fear exist. We cannot allow them to find us... Not before we finish. Leave the rifles... We may need them. Bring the rest of the enemy gear. We have to ready some welcoming gifts."
She started out, heading for the passages that would lead to the castle, the others moving to follow her picking up armor, clothing, knives, and grenades. She paused where the light struggled to reach. "Joseph, Leon... Keep an eye on our guests."
The two cultists identified returned to the center of the room. While the rest disappeared into the darkness.
It was a matter of guerrilla tactics; lies, deceit, changed, misdirection, etc. a primed grenade hidden under a missing soldiers armor. The next rigged under a rock beside the uniform in a narrow passage. Tripwires and dead falls... And Cassandra had the vision to guide her on where to put them.
Doros shook his head in bewilderment. "No Major." He replied. "I knew not of other Space Marines upon this world, at least for almost a generation." The Astartes stomped closer to the vox so that he could hear the strange conversation. "Did any of your men catch word of other vessels landing? Perhaps these fellow Marines are part of a deep strike deployment." Doros guessed, though could not be certain. To the renegade, who these marines were had yet to be established to him. For all he knew, they could be chasing after him. Even if not, Doros was unsure these Marines would be willing to work alongside a renegade. The Veteran Sergeant could not help it, the tension made him grip his bolter tight.
---Cicero's POV---
The journey to Sipang's border edge was not long. It would seem that staring toward the sky from the ship's passenger seat had made time move ever so quickly. Cicero's duty was to scout the eastern region by castle Sipang, with Hermes to the west. Varus however was given autonomy in order to keep her loyal. He knew that each man within his warband all had ulterior motives, he just had to keep them satisfied. At least Hermes would not dare say no. There was very little communication between the two. For if the loyalists were to find out their positions, somebody's head would be resting on a pike.
The ship had landed by a rather stormy field. There was little that could be done about the thundering clouds that covered the skies and showered the forces of chaos with rain. Cicero kept the hilt of Screaming Death clenched in his hand. After all, he didn't want such a coveted weapon being covered in any disgusting muck the rain had wetted. The Champion and his men would soon exit their ship, more akin to living waterfalls than agents of death and despair. It was time to move out the squelching mud and into the eastern border of Sipang's great forest. Cicero would leave Hermes to scout as he pleased, so long as the wretch didn't blow his cover.
---Saim-Hann POV---
The Eldar had now retreated away from the ruined valkyrie and into the safety of the forest once more. It was there the aliens caught sight of Varus and her slaneeshi warband. The band of five watched on, the inexperienced ranger visibly seeithing with rage. Mon'Keigh themselves were bad enough, but willing servants of She-Who-Thirsts made his Eldar blood boil. The heat could be felt like a radiator by his fellows, who kept slightly away from him.
The Seer kept a close eye on the female leader. "Dread has beset me here." The wise alien whispered. "I have a vision something terrible is going to happen." The spying eldar cringed intensely for many moments, but their silence had been broken by the impetuous ranger. "Then let me kill them!" Althran's livid hiss made his brethren jump "I despise those who willingly serve our terrible enemy. Please let me finish these fools off!"
The Ranger's words could almost be heard in the distance, as his rifle was forced down to the ground by an angry Seer. "Do not act so rash, child! You will get us all killed. All we can do now is watch and wait. An early pounce on the prey will see us slain by it's brethren." The ranger nodded his head to the seer in agreement with his words, kneeling in silence in apology for his actions.
"Even so..." The tall Scorpion interrupted; his eyes still fixed directly on the Slaneeshi band. "I don't think we can linger here for too long, lest our cover be blown." The Eldar's hand was fixed onto his scorpion chainsabre.
"You are right." The Seer agreed as he comforted the young ranger. "But we cannot leave just yet, the objectives of these Humans must still be learnt before we can confront the murderer of Raelor." With the Seer's orders to remain put, the watch of the five Eldar continued, though far more daunting after the Althran's rageful outburst.
---Cicero's POV---
The journey to Sipang's border edge was not long. It would seem that staring toward the sky from the ship's passenger seat had made time move ever so quickly. Cicero's duty was to scout the eastern region by castle Sipang, with Hermes to the west. Varus however was given autonomy in order to keep her loyal. He knew that each man within his warband all had ulterior motives, he just had to keep them satisfied. At least Hermes would not dare say no. There was very little communication between the two. For if the loyalists were to find out their positions, somebody's head would be resting on a pike.
The ship had landed by a rather stormy field. There was little that could be done about the thundering clouds that covered the skies and showered the forces of chaos with rain. Cicero kept the hilt of Screaming Death clenched in his hand. After all, he didn't want such a coveted weapon being covered in any disgusting muck the rain had wetted. The Champion and his men would soon exit their ship, more akin to living waterfalls than agents of death and despair. It was time to move out the squelching mud and into the eastern border of Sipang's great forest. Cicero would leave Hermes to scout as he pleased, so long as the wretch didn't blow his cover.
---Saim-Hann POV---
The Eldar had now retreated away from the ruined valkyrie and into the safety of the forest once more. It was there the aliens caught sight of Varus and her slaneeshi warband. The band of five watched on, the inexperienced ranger visibly seeithing with rage. Mon'Keigh themselves were bad enough, but willing servants of She-Who-Thirsts made his Eldar blood boil. The heat could be felt like a radiator by his fellows, who kept slightly away from him.
The Seer kept a close eye on the female leader. "Dread has beset me here." The wise alien whispered. "I have a vision something terrible is going to happen." The spying eldar cringed intensely for many moments, but their silence had been broken by the impetuous ranger. "Then let me kill them!" Althran's livid hiss made his brethren jump "I despise those who willingly serve our terrible enemy. Please let me finish these fools off!"
The Ranger's words could almost be heard in the distance, as his rifle was forced down to the ground by an angry Seer. "Do not act so rash, child! You will get us all killed. All we can do now is watch and wait. An early pounce on the prey will see us slain by it's brethren." The ranger nodded his head to the seer in agreement with his words, kneeling in silence in apology for his actions.
"Even so..." The tall Scorpion interrupted; his eyes still fixed directly on the Slaneeshi band. "I don't think we can linger here for too long, lest our cover be blown." The Eldar's hand was fixed onto his scorpion chainsabre.
"You are right." The Seer agreed as he comforted the young ranger. "But we cannot leave just yet, the objectives of these Humans must still be learnt before we can confront the murderer of Raelor." With the Seer's orders to remain put, the watch of the five Eldar continued, though far more daunting after the Althran's rageful outburst.
The commissar sat and laughed with his men, that was until he saw the horde of various space Marines heading for the keep. then he stood up and followed them, adjusting his coat as it fluttered and he was suddenly on edge. He knew Doros and if these men knew, things might get nasty.
The Dark Angels terminator stomped into the control room and stared at Doros and the The Major with his eyes fixed on the two of them. The her raised his autocannon and revved it. The Major responded quickly, grabbing a Lasgun and raising it, as did the rest of the men in the room. "Why are you working With heretics and protecting them Guardsmen," He demanded, gun spinning and almost cackling. As it chambered rounds. "Are you fallen yourself," he growled through the helmet of the terminator armor.
The Major frowned and said. "He is no heretic... he has protected my men with his life," he growled, charging his lasgun.
The fallen inquisitor herd the Ranger's out burst. Then she turned and looked at them through the corner of her eye before gently leaning over to the side of one of her Noise marines. Then she licked his helmet with her serpent like tongue. "Things are too quiet... sing them our Lord's song," She whispered huskily. At this, the noise marine turned and aimed his sonic blaster and began a barrage of sound at the Eldar, as sis two blastmasters who had the sonic cannon set to its continuous barrage of sound, shaking the forest with the glorious song. Which the Inquisitor listened to as it streaked towards the Eldar.
---Terminator Sarin Birret ---
The Dark Angels terminator stomped into the control room and stared at Doros and the The Major with his eyes fixed on the two of them. The her raised his autocannon and revved it. The Major responded quickly, grabbing a Lasgun and raising it, as did the rest of the men in the room. "Why are you working With heretics and protecting them Guardsmen," He demanded, gun spinning and almost cackling. As it chambered rounds. "Are you fallen yourself," he growled through the helmet of the terminator armor.
The Major frowned and said. "He is no heretic... he has protected my men with his life," he growled, charging his lasgun.
--- Varus ---
The fallen inquisitor herd the Ranger's out burst. Then she turned and looked at them through the corner of her eye before gently leaning over to the side of one of her Noise marines. Then she licked his helmet with her serpent like tongue. "Things are too quiet... sing them our Lord's song," She whispered huskily. At this, the noise marine turned and aimed his sonic blaster and began a barrage of sound at the Eldar, as sis two blastmasters who had the sonic cannon set to its continuous barrage of sound, shaking the forest with the glorious song. Which the Inquisitor listened to as it streaked towards the Eldar.
The scorned Doros was wary as he leered at the ready Terminator, but he did not draw his bolter or chainblade. He knew proof of his innocence would not come at the muzzle of a rifle, though he was certainly touched by the Major's words. He stomped closer to Sarin, point blank in the autocannon's line of fire. "Call me heretic if you so wish, but I know through my own actions that I have shown otherwise." The Veteran Sergeant protested. "Guilty by association, I seek redemption from the Emperor by facing and falling against the forces of Chaos in the coming massacre." He clenched his giant hand, and pointed directly at the Terminator with an inch of fury. "I choose to beg forgiveness through battle! Can you say to me that you, or any other loyal Astartes in fact would not do the same, Dark Angel!?" Doros yelled.
---Saim Hann POV---
Althran and the Seer were thrown back like ragdolls by the booming force of the noise marine's sonic blaster. The Scorpion and his two guardians did not fare well either; the branches shattered and the three of them fell many feet to the ground. The Scorpion, a lithe and agile creature made short work of the fall, swiftly landing on his feet even as the ground was being shook by Slaaneshi noise. The lanky aspect warrior had managed to catch one of the young guardians who quickly plummeted, though the other was not so lucky. Not even the light wraithbone armour could protect the poor soul as he hit a hard tree root neck first, snapping his neck with the combined force of sonic sound. "Nlerobrom! No!" The saved Guardian was heard screaming, as he clenched his ears in agony. The Scorpion was forced to leave the unfortunate soul behind in the confines of his immobile stone, leaping urgently to the Seer. He lay the writhing guardian down by a large bush as the trees wobbled and the leaves flew unnaturally.
"Seer, we must fall back! Now!" The Scorpion beseeched to his groggy leader. almost drowned out by the fury of noise. The ranger was knocked out cold for the back of his head had hit the body of a large tree. "We are comprimised, let us retreat to the safety of the fields!" The Scorpion held out his clawed gauntlet to help up the Seer.
"No...We are already doomed..." The Seer's waning voice warned, full of dread and indecision. "Our minds would be ripped apart regardless." The ranger would come to, surveying the grounds rabidly as his robes flew from the noise marine's sound. The two eldar standing beside his broken body looked on in despair at eachother. "It cannot end like this..." The aspect warrior murmured.
"No! Not for you!" The Seer rose up to his feet with a sudden rush of vigor. "Take Althran and Gidrasil; retreat to the fields! Do not stop until you are miles from this terrible place!" He ordered the warrior, who had replied with a mere nod before helping both Althran and the screaming guardian up on his shoulders, turning back towards the labyrinth of the forest. "I promise you my Seer..." The Scorpion said with a trembling voice, dampened by the furious noise. "I will avenge you, even if it costs me my life." With the two injured eldar on his arms, he fled the forest.
The Seer looked toward his foes with great fury, raising his armoured hands toward the black sky. It seemed as though the clouds were beginning to circle eachother like an aerial tornado. Suddenly, a furious bolt of lighning thrust with blinding speed toward the Slaaneshi followers. More soon followed in rapid succession.
"HEAR ME, WRETCHED SERVANTS OF SHE-WHO-THIRSTS!" His psycic voiced boomed within the minds of the squadron, almost rivaling the dreaded sonic blasters. "SO LONG AS I STAND, YOU WILL NOT COME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY KIN! NOW TASTE THE FURY OF THE ELDAR!" The forest fire of days past repeated itself as the trees came tumbling down with a thud thanks to the eldritch lightning.
---Saim Hann POV---
Althran and the Seer were thrown back like ragdolls by the booming force of the noise marine's sonic blaster. The Scorpion and his two guardians did not fare well either; the branches shattered and the three of them fell many feet to the ground. The Scorpion, a lithe and agile creature made short work of the fall, swiftly landing on his feet even as the ground was being shook by Slaaneshi noise. The lanky aspect warrior had managed to catch one of the young guardians who quickly plummeted, though the other was not so lucky. Not even the light wraithbone armour could protect the poor soul as he hit a hard tree root neck first, snapping his neck with the combined force of sonic sound. "Nlerobrom! No!" The saved Guardian was heard screaming, as he clenched his ears in agony. The Scorpion was forced to leave the unfortunate soul behind in the confines of his immobile stone, leaping urgently to the Seer. He lay the writhing guardian down by a large bush as the trees wobbled and the leaves flew unnaturally.
"Seer, we must fall back! Now!" The Scorpion beseeched to his groggy leader. almost drowned out by the fury of noise. The ranger was knocked out cold for the back of his head had hit the body of a large tree. "We are comprimised, let us retreat to the safety of the fields!" The Scorpion held out his clawed gauntlet to help up the Seer.
"No...We are already doomed..." The Seer's waning voice warned, full of dread and indecision. "Our minds would be ripped apart regardless." The ranger would come to, surveying the grounds rabidly as his robes flew from the noise marine's sound. The two eldar standing beside his broken body looked on in despair at eachother. "It cannot end like this..." The aspect warrior murmured.
"No! Not for you!" The Seer rose up to his feet with a sudden rush of vigor. "Take Althran and Gidrasil; retreat to the fields! Do not stop until you are miles from this terrible place!" He ordered the warrior, who had replied with a mere nod before helping both Althran and the screaming guardian up on his shoulders, turning back towards the labyrinth of the forest. "I promise you my Seer..." The Scorpion said with a trembling voice, dampened by the furious noise. "I will avenge you, even if it costs me my life." With the two injured eldar on his arms, he fled the forest.
The Seer looked toward his foes with great fury, raising his armoured hands toward the black sky. It seemed as though the clouds were beginning to circle eachother like an aerial tornado. Suddenly, a furious bolt of lighning thrust with blinding speed toward the Slaaneshi followers. More soon followed in rapid succession.
"HEAR ME, WRETCHED SERVANTS OF SHE-WHO-THIRSTS!" His psycic voiced boomed within the minds of the squadron, almost rivaling the dreaded sonic blasters. "SO LONG AS I STAND, YOU WILL NOT COME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY KIN! NOW TASTE THE FURY OF THE ELDAR!" The forest fire of days past repeated itself as the trees came tumbling down with a thud thanks to the eldritch lightning.
The commissar's men moved a lascannon behind the Terminator and set it up. As he turned and saw it, his eyes froze as he looked at it. Then he turned and looked at Doros and sighed deeply. "If you do intend to die in combat, there are two others who would be willing to die with you. Brothers Gringin and Reynolds.... an Astral Claw and a knight of blood.. outside in the keep," he said, letting his autocannon rev down. "Your words speak true brother," He said quietly.
Grim moved up to Doros and said. "Always defuse tense applications with maximum firepower," He smirked then frowned as his vox buzzed. The guard at the front were in a panic, they had heard something terrifyingly loud come from the forest, near the crashed ship and the forest was on fire again.
The Eldar sat up and said. "Rest well my friend," Quietly as she looked to the forest, her eyes scanning the tree-line. Then she grabbed her sword and darted out into the forest, sensing some were still alive from her the Eldar scouting party. In truth... this Banshee was no Banshee. Farseer Mayya Tetrith ran into the forest and looked.
Hana sidestepped the first bolt of lightning and deftly avoided every one after, toying with her food. "Go, cut them off, let none escape," She ordered to her noise Marines as she reached her hands down to the hilts of her twin swords and smiled as she let a burst of horrifying sexual images and thoughts pierce into his mind as she slowly advanced on the seer.
The noise marines moved with dire urgency to surround the Eldar and they had, but right as they started to begin their second salvo, Khaine seemed to have blessed the Eldar from Saim Hann. The Farseer, still on her banshee attire, moved deftly to the five noise marines there, she approached from behind, using her stealth to her advantage. Then she pulled the grenade pin on his belt and pushed him forwards then jabbed her sword into the back of his knee, causing the Marine to fall in a bloodied heap. The blast-master turned and started to activate his doom siren, but the Farseer was upon him in seconds, slicing off his lower jaw in an instant, severing his helmet in half as she threw him away with her psychic abilities. the other three turned as well and began to unload salvos of sound, shaking the very ground she stood on. She had predicted this though. The first exploded, sending chunks of steel and bone at his comrades, part of his body embedding itself in the blast-master's head. The other two noise marines were pelted and stunned by organs and entrails. Then she raised her sword and smiled, letting go a swathe of Eldritch bolts, leveling the two noise marines with pure energy. Then she turned and ran up to her fellows and checked on them. "Saim hann?" She questioned as she saw their armor colors. She was from the craft world known as Carrecaddan, the white soul.
Grim moved up to Doros and said. "Always defuse tense applications with maximum firepower," He smirked then frowned as his vox buzzed. The guard at the front were in a panic, they had heard something terrifyingly loud come from the forest, near the crashed ship and the forest was on fire again.
The Eldar sat up and said. "Rest well my friend," Quietly as she looked to the forest, her eyes scanning the tree-line. Then she grabbed her sword and darted out into the forest, sensing some were still alive from her the Eldar scouting party. In truth... this Banshee was no Banshee. Farseer Mayya Tetrith ran into the forest and looked.
---Varus---
Hana sidestepped the first bolt of lightning and deftly avoided every one after, toying with her food. "Go, cut them off, let none escape," She ordered to her noise Marines as she reached her hands down to the hilts of her twin swords and smiled as she let a burst of horrifying sexual images and thoughts pierce into his mind as she slowly advanced on the seer.
The noise marines moved with dire urgency to surround the Eldar and they had, but right as they started to begin their second salvo, Khaine seemed to have blessed the Eldar from Saim Hann. The Farseer, still on her banshee attire, moved deftly to the five noise marines there, she approached from behind, using her stealth to her advantage. Then she pulled the grenade pin on his belt and pushed him forwards then jabbed her sword into the back of his knee, causing the Marine to fall in a bloodied heap. The blast-master turned and started to activate his doom siren, but the Farseer was upon him in seconds, slicing off his lower jaw in an instant, severing his helmet in half as she threw him away with her psychic abilities. the other three turned as well and began to unload salvos of sound, shaking the very ground she stood on. She had predicted this though. The first exploded, sending chunks of steel and bone at his comrades, part of his body embedding itself in the blast-master's head. The other two noise marines were pelted and stunned by organs and entrails. Then she raised her sword and smiled, letting go a swathe of Eldritch bolts, leveling the two noise marines with pure energy. Then she turned and ran up to her fellows and checked on them. "Saim hann?" She questioned as she saw their armor colors. She was from the craft world known as Carrecaddan, the white soul.
Doros nodded at Grim calmly, his mind now at ease that he had earned the trust of his fellow Astartes. He knew that earning the trust of a Dark Angel was no easy feat, but considering what the Terminator had explained, he wasn't the only renegade with something to prove. The situation in his mind had now simmered down; it was time to look at the more pressing matters. "Well Commissar... Major..." Doros spoke, surveying the room as the staff moved in urgency. "I hope we have not forgotten about the corruption festering here. It wouldn't be best to allow a distraction make us tarry." The Veteran Sergeant reminded.
---Seer POV---
The Seer of Saim-Hann spoke no word, falling on his back to the muddy ground below, slumped onto the bushes and near lifeless as the sparks of psycic lightning would twinkle on his armour like small flashes of light. He whispered to himself as he faded into unconsciousness: "...The horror of it all..." The exhausted Seer moaned to himself, his words constantly repeating until he had finally faded into slumber. It would seem that the Farseer would have to deal with this situation alone, for the others were fleeing for their lives from this terrible and nightmarish enemy.
---Seer POV---
The Seer of Saim-Hann spoke no word, falling on his back to the muddy ground below, slumped onto the bushes and near lifeless as the sparks of psycic lightning would twinkle on his armour like small flashes of light. He whispered to himself as he faded into unconsciousness: "...The horror of it all..." The exhausted Seer moaned to himself, his words constantly repeating until he had finally faded into slumber. It would seem that the Farseer would have to deal with this situation alone, for the others were fleeing for their lives from this terrible and nightmarish enemy.
The Dark Angel turned. "Corruption.... fine.... I'll get a few of our brothers... lets go hunting," He smiled as he got onto his vox. A few moments later, a duo of salamanders arrived, flamers lit and ready for war, along with the Astral Claw, armed with a heavy Bolter. The Commissars men charged their Hellguns in prep for the search. The commissar shook his head in disappointment with a mouthed no. Then he looked to the Blueclad space marine he would now call friend.
"Doros.... I am sure you would prefer the company of a kill team rather than me and my men, we will just drag you down," He said with a smile, looking at the Space Marines. Then he looked at him and frowned. "I would start with the catacombs... the rest of the city has been mostly scoured,"
The Eldar farseer scoffed as the other of her brethren ran, though she understood why. In all honesty, predictions held them to be dead, so that was a welcome surprise, however, it may be against her benefit. The black clad woman with purple skin drew her swords as she looked at Mayya. "A servant of She-Who-Thirsts," Mayya said quietly, readying for the fight with baited breathe and readied blade.
"Not just a lowly servant mind you... I am one of his Champions," he scowled, charging at the farseer. Mayya intended to cause Varus anger, but she did not expect what happened next. The fight was arduous and long.... but... Varus had ended it, she used a psychic barrage of warpfire, and set the forest ablaze between them, bringing curses from her lips as she was forced to retreat. She began to Circle around the forest, but the Farseer removed the Guardian's soulstone and hefted the Seer on her back and ran, leaving the Slaaneshi servant far in her wake. She sensed for her fellow Eldar, the seer needed help that she at the moment could not provide, she was thoroughly exhausted and blood ran from sever slashes on her body. She ran to her Eldar fellows, wherever they have regrouped.
"Doros.... I am sure you would prefer the company of a kill team rather than me and my men, we will just drag you down," He said with a smile, looking at the Space Marines. Then he looked at him and frowned. "I would start with the catacombs... the rest of the city has been mostly scoured,"
The Forest
The Eldar farseer scoffed as the other of her brethren ran, though she understood why. In all honesty, predictions held them to be dead, so that was a welcome surprise, however, it may be against her benefit. The black clad woman with purple skin drew her swords as she looked at Mayya. "A servant of She-Who-Thirsts," Mayya said quietly, readying for the fight with baited breathe and readied blade.
"Not just a lowly servant mind you... I am one of his Champions," he scowled, charging at the farseer. Mayya intended to cause Varus anger, but she did not expect what happened next. The fight was arduous and long.... but... Varus had ended it, she used a psychic barrage of warpfire, and set the forest ablaze between them, bringing curses from her lips as she was forced to retreat. She began to Circle around the forest, but the Farseer removed the Guardian's soulstone and hefted the Seer on her back and ran, leaving the Slaaneshi servant far in her wake. She sensed for her fellow Eldar, the seer needed help that she at the moment could not provide, she was thoroughly exhausted and blood ran from sever slashes on her body. She ran to her Eldar fellows, wherever they have regrouped.
Within the sacrifice chamber the imperial soldiers were starting to come too. They had each been knocked unconscious during their capture. This was an expected development, and while each gradually became aware of their situation, there was nothing any of them could do.
The two men Cassandra had left behind both took note of the muffled cries that had started. It prompted them to begin checking restraints, not of just the vocal, but all. Other then that, the two men payed their captives little mind.
They had been warned, just as the rest of the group had, that these prisoners were not to be tortured in any way. Their deaths were to be brutal, but swift. They had not understood why, beyond that there master had warned of a different leviathan's territory. Undue attention that was not wanted.
Eventually the cries quieted. Some had quickly accepted their fates. Others had fallen to blind hope that they might be spared if they just continued. And one or two had turned inward, trying to access and develop an escape plan.
The two men returned to the center of the room, and resumed waiting. Sporadically one or the other would make a round to check on the prisoners. To random to predict, and to frequent to allow any progress at loosening bindings.
Out in the darkness of the tunnels, Cassandra continued to organize the make shift defenses and traps. At present they were using the dead, burial materials, rocks and what else they could manage to impede movements or block passages. They wanted to make the longest, and slowest path they could to direct any enemies toward their traps.
The two men Cassandra had left behind both took note of the muffled cries that had started. It prompted them to begin checking restraints, not of just the vocal, but all. Other then that, the two men payed their captives little mind.
They had been warned, just as the rest of the group had, that these prisoners were not to be tortured in any way. Their deaths were to be brutal, but swift. They had not understood why, beyond that there master had warned of a different leviathan's territory. Undue attention that was not wanted.
Eventually the cries quieted. Some had quickly accepted their fates. Others had fallen to blind hope that they might be spared if they just continued. And one or two had turned inward, trying to access and develop an escape plan.
The two men returned to the center of the room, and resumed waiting. Sporadically one or the other would make a round to check on the prisoners. To random to predict, and to frequent to allow any progress at loosening bindings.
Out in the darkness of the tunnels, Cassandra continued to organize the make shift defenses and traps. At present they were using the dead, burial materials, rocks and what else they could manage to impede movements or block passages. They wanted to make the longest, and slowest path they could to direct any enemies toward their traps.
Doros shook his head in response to the Commissar's suggestion. "Nonsense." The Veteran Sergeant positively disagreed. "You have proven yourself to be quite a reliable ally these past few days; it would be quite an honour for you and your men to join us in this purge." Doros was compassionate, perhaps not the greatest trait a member of the Adeptus Astartes should hold, but it made him Human, and gave him a conscience to help the weak. "So, unless the Major wills it not, you are free to delve with us, to uncover what foulness was at work during our last skirmish."
When Doros had finished reassuring Grim, he turned to his fellow Space Marines. "My fellow Astartes." Doros began, now speaking in a much more powerful tone of voice. "There is little time for introduction, so I will get straight to the point. Dark powers are at work within this bulwark, the stain of chaos haunts the castle grounds; if left unchecked, corruption could manifest again." The Veteran Sergeant cringed in disgust as he recalled the terrible fight against the Royal Spawn. "It is our duty as a Kill Team to excavate the royal catacombs and destroy the source of this blasphemy." Doros stepped back for a moment, obviously introducing Grim to the Astartes squadron. "This Commissar may join us as a guest of honour." Doros paraded Grim. "Since landing on Triandr, this man had fought against Khornate madmen, including a Berzerker. He has also come face to face with a terrible Chaos Spawn, and has so far lived to tell the tale. I see this as a testament to his ability and I am sure you would agree."
The marine had finally began to load his bolter. "All I have needed to explain has been said, are there any among you who would object?" He questioned, surveying his Kill team(The Astral Claw in particular).
---(Saim-Hann POV)---
The Scorpion and the others held upon his back had finally made it to the fields. It was most certainly fortunate that the Eldar were blessed with speed and nimbleness, for it would have perhaps taken hours for any unguided human to get out of that deathtrap. The aspect warrior laid his kinsmen onto the ground. The guardian's wailing had finally stopped, but now he had faded into sleep from that dreaded skirmish: The death of his brother, and the apparent loss of the Seer took too great a toll on his mind. The ranger himself had been crippled from colliding into the forest's powerful trees, surveying the eerily desolate fields as he sat up.
"The Seer, he is dead isn't he." Althran whispered gravely to himself as the rain plummeted and stained his robes; his sadness sensed and shared by the Striking Scorpion. "We cannot be so sure..." The aspect warrior approached optimistically, "The Seer is a most powerful Eldar, he would not fall to the likes of Human marines." He tended to the sleeping guardian as he reassured the ranger. The miserable Althran shook his head. None of them could doubt the power of that Mon'keigh hag, no matter how much the Scorpion would lie to himself about it. It was obvious they were doomed: The Seer was dead and the three of them were each in their own dire situation, condemned to die upon this dreadful daemon prison.
Suddenly, loud rustling from the entrance of the forest was heard by sharp ears of the two awake Eldar. "The fallen marines!" Althran yelped loudly in dread and fear. "Have they come to kill us?!"
The aspect warrior crouched his body, gazing at the bushes that swung wildly. His lithe body was camouflaged by the tall grass "...I sense distress..." The Scorpion said, drawing his chainsabre as he readied for combat. "...But we cannot be certain, the fallen servants could be masking their prescence. Conceal yourself ranger! We may not cheat death yet again."
When Doros had finished reassuring Grim, he turned to his fellow Space Marines. "My fellow Astartes." Doros began, now speaking in a much more powerful tone of voice. "There is little time for introduction, so I will get straight to the point. Dark powers are at work within this bulwark, the stain of chaos haunts the castle grounds; if left unchecked, corruption could manifest again." The Veteran Sergeant cringed in disgust as he recalled the terrible fight against the Royal Spawn. "It is our duty as a Kill Team to excavate the royal catacombs and destroy the source of this blasphemy." Doros stepped back for a moment, obviously introducing Grim to the Astartes squadron. "This Commissar may join us as a guest of honour." Doros paraded Grim. "Since landing on Triandr, this man had fought against Khornate madmen, including a Berzerker. He has also come face to face with a terrible Chaos Spawn, and has so far lived to tell the tale. I see this as a testament to his ability and I am sure you would agree."
The marine had finally began to load his bolter. "All I have needed to explain has been said, are there any among you who would object?" He questioned, surveying his Kill team(The Astral Claw in particular).
---(Saim-Hann POV)---
The Scorpion and the others held upon his back had finally made it to the fields. It was most certainly fortunate that the Eldar were blessed with speed and nimbleness, for it would have perhaps taken hours for any unguided human to get out of that deathtrap. The aspect warrior laid his kinsmen onto the ground. The guardian's wailing had finally stopped, but now he had faded into sleep from that dreaded skirmish: The death of his brother, and the apparent loss of the Seer took too great a toll on his mind. The ranger himself had been crippled from colliding into the forest's powerful trees, surveying the eerily desolate fields as he sat up.
"The Seer, he is dead isn't he." Althran whispered gravely to himself as the rain plummeted and stained his robes; his sadness sensed and shared by the Striking Scorpion. "We cannot be so sure..." The aspect warrior approached optimistically, "The Seer is a most powerful Eldar, he would not fall to the likes of Human marines." He tended to the sleeping guardian as he reassured the ranger. The miserable Althran shook his head. None of them could doubt the power of that Mon'keigh hag, no matter how much the Scorpion would lie to himself about it. It was obvious they were doomed: The Seer was dead and the three of them were each in their own dire situation, condemned to die upon this dreadful daemon prison.
Suddenly, loud rustling from the entrance of the forest was heard by sharp ears of the two awake Eldar. "The fallen marines!" Althran yelped loudly in dread and fear. "Have they come to kill us?!"
The aspect warrior crouched his body, gazing at the bushes that swung wildly. His lithe body was camouflaged by the tall grass "...I sense distress..." The Scorpion said, drawing his chainsabre as he readied for combat. "...But we cannot be certain, the fallen servants could be masking their prescence. Conceal yourself ranger! We may not cheat death yet again."
The commissar looked around a little and then gave a smile to the Major who nodded. The Commissar adjusted her black Great coat and took off his hat. "It would be an honor for my men to fight by your side once again my friend,". He said. That comment of friend gazed an odd glare through the helmet of the terminator and a minor movement that only another space marine would notice of slight unease, but he made no comment. The Two salamanders nodded and turned on their flamers and the Astral Claw nodded an "Aye," Then he looked at how Doros gazed at him.
"My Chapter had made a foolish mistake, but I am no fool or coward. I seek my redemption even if it kills me. I was not with my Brothers on Badab, but I cannot state where I was.... but you can trust me brother," He said, looking at his litanies all over his shoulders and Heavy bolter. It looks like it had seen hell, but it had an odd imperial Emblem on it.
Varus cursed and yelled in rage seeing her quarry had fled and her men were dead. Then she huffed angrily and sheathed her swords and went to continue her scouting mission. Any tracks would have been lost in this rain and those Eldar will have their falls soon.
The Farseer crunched into the clearing with her fellows in it, her Banshee uniform stained with her own blood and mud. Thje unconscious seer being held by her increasingly weak legs. She crunched and stopped in the clearing in front of ehr fellows and fell onto her knees and into the mud in front of the other Eldar. "Do not tarry and provide us aid,"
"My Chapter had made a foolish mistake, but I am no fool or coward. I seek my redemption even if it kills me. I was not with my Brothers on Badab, but I cannot state where I was.... but you can trust me brother," He said, looking at his litanies all over his shoulders and Heavy bolter. It looks like it had seen hell, but it had an odd imperial Emblem on it.
---Eldar and Varus---
Varus cursed and yelled in rage seeing her quarry had fled and her men were dead. Then she huffed angrily and sheathed her swords and went to continue her scouting mission. Any tracks would have been lost in this rain and those Eldar will have their falls soon.
The Farseer crunched into the clearing with her fellows in it, her Banshee uniform stained with her own blood and mud. Thje unconscious seer being held by her increasingly weak legs. She crunched and stopped in the clearing in front of ehr fellows and fell onto her knees and into the mud in front of the other Eldar. "Do not tarry and provide us aid,"
"Aye..." Doros gave a simple, yet hearty reply with the thorough nodding of his head. It was good to know he wasn't the only Astartes seeking the Emperor's forgiveness. There was however a moment of brief silence from the Rainbow Warrior: The Astral Claw's situation seemed similar in many respects. It made the Veteran Sergeant cringe, for both of them now lived haunted by the sins of their respective Chapters. "...May your exploits this day restore your chapter's tarnished honour, Brother." Doros repeatedly surveyed his Kill Team along with the Commissar. All seemed ready to the Space Marine, pulling the polished bolter to the eagle on his chestplate.
"Let us waste no more time" Doros left the room; beckoning his Kill Team to follow him as he stomped through the busy hallways into the catacombs below. "I assume the Major needs us no longer, we shall not suffer any laxity toward this perilous mission."
---Saim Hann POV---
Althran and the Scorpion were visibly overjoyed at the Seer's survival (not to mention the aid of a fellow Eldar), with the tall Scorpion racing to aid the two injured brethren. He slid speedily through the mud, somehow elegantly keeping his balance as he quickly reached the Banshee, helping her up to stand, whilst placing the Seer onto his shoulder to ease the Banshee of her burden. The aspect warrior heaved the two back toward Althran and the sleeping guardian. A sense of uncertainty crept within the Scorpion's mind. 'What are we to do now?' he wondered, unable to find the words that would ease the mind of his fellows. Whilst the Seer was unconscious, the way back to Saim-Hann was closed.
"Let us waste no more time" Doros left the room; beckoning his Kill Team to follow him as he stomped through the busy hallways into the catacombs below. "I assume the Major needs us no longer, we shall not suffer any laxity toward this perilous mission."
---Saim Hann POV---
Althran and the Scorpion were visibly overjoyed at the Seer's survival (not to mention the aid of a fellow Eldar), with the tall Scorpion racing to aid the two injured brethren. He slid speedily through the mud, somehow elegantly keeping his balance as he quickly reached the Banshee, helping her up to stand, whilst placing the Seer onto his shoulder to ease the Banshee of her burden. The aspect warrior heaved the two back toward Althran and the sleeping guardian. A sense of uncertainty crept within the Scorpion's mind. 'What are we to do now?' he wondered, unable to find the words that would ease the mind of his fellows. Whilst the Seer was unconscious, the way back to Saim-Hann was closed.
The astral claw pulled the bolt ont he huge cannon and looked at him, following clowly with his heavy bolter ready to fire when ready, he also turned on his helmet flashlights, not for himself, but for the commissar and his men. The Salamanders and the Dark Angel stayed to the sides, keeping firing lanes cleared for the Claw to be able to fire unabated.
Grim moved swiftly to the back of the group and set his hand on the top of his chainsword as he investigated the area.
The Farseer looked at her brethren and removed her helmet. "My predictions state that the coming battle will be bloody...and to win, the Mon Keigh will need our aid. The Seer needs medical attention Althran, I recommend we get it to him as soon as we can," she said, rubbing her black hair down with a curt smile. Then she sheathed her sword and looked at her brethren with a cautions gaze. The she looked at the seer and frowned.
Grim moved swiftly to the back of the group and set his hand on the top of his chainsword as he investigated the area.
---Farseer---
The Farseer looked at her brethren and removed her helmet. "My predictions state that the coming battle will be bloody...and to win, the Mon Keigh will need our aid. The Seer needs medical attention Althran, I recommend we get it to him as soon as we can," she said, rubbing her black hair down with a curt smile. Then she sheathed her sword and looked at her brethren with a cautions gaze. The she looked at the seer and frowned.
The castle entrance to the catacombs was located in the basement. On the side opposite the distant church. A heavy door of dark wood blocked the way. It was kept locked, the key belonging to the former owner of the castle.
Beyond the door was a small chamber dedicated to the dead of the royal family. A small alter had been built to prevent the need to enter the actual catacombs to pay tribute to the dead. While the chamber seemed well used, the alter showed signs of long neglect.
The room ended in a set of metal reinforced stone doors. The locking mechanism here was a thick length of timber, made of smaller boards held together by bands of metal. The wood served to both block the doors, and reinforced them. The fact the bar was in place meant the catacombs had been sealed from the castle side.
Once through the double doors, the true catacombs began. The tunnels were wide enough for a single astartes to walk, though the low ceiling would make a minor, and constant inconvenience.
The first tunnel ran straight a small distance before ending in a 'T' junction. This was the oldest and most simple portion of the catacombs. Small chambers for each generation of leadership and their family had been the original design of things, the dead in simple stone sarcophagi within. There were several chambers on either side of the tunnel before the junction.
As one progressed beyond the junction, one side appeared to have suffered a minor cave in during previous years, leaving only one direction to go.
As one continued on, things began to change. Rooms became less finished, and more hastily constructed as if people died before they expected to need them. Less care put in the planning of things. As a result, the main tunnel began to curve around the castle grounds until it was heading toward the church. Nobles, and knights also began to line the hall, old bodies housed in shallow shelf like cuts in the tunnels or sharing the chambers with their king.
While the castle had been dealing with its dead, the local town had also been developing their own crypt. The church basement had served as the entrance, similar in design to the castle, only the alter chamber larger, the doors simpler and the locks non-existent.
Like the castle, the public crypts started out well planned, and decently constructed, relying more on the shelf approach for storing the dead. First in tunnels, then larger chambers. As things spread away from the church, it became less organized. The dead less sacred.
By the time two networks met by accident, the presence of the daemon had been well established. Wars had been ongoing. Violence. Murder. Death never ended. The public crypts had become little more then subterranean mass graves, the dead piled to the ceiling of the chambers in some cases as need out weighed tradition and sanctity.
The castle had fared little better. It's tunnels and chambers now filled with not just the nobility, but also their victims, as if they were some testament to their achievements of violence in life.
It was among this madness, where the mass graves mingled with the trophy rooms that the cultists had set up camp. The dead here fed the warp... The boundary between the real and the ethereal the thinnest.
The path from the castle was the fastest route to them, though the most atrocious. It had less dead ends, but it meant walking through the history of the royals, and all the evidence of what the self entitled were capable of inflicting on their fellow man when left unchecked. And it meant walking through the lingering psychic energy of not just pain and suffering, but the insane and damned, the hate and anger that had caused it. Each small chamber off the main tunnel a small picture of the world at the time.
It was here, on the very edge of this zone of madness, where the first trap was set. About the half way point, if one simply followed the main tunnel. A desiccated corpse, little more then a skeleton, plucked from its resting place, and dressed in a stolen imperial uniform. Positioned to make it look like it were trying to escape some unknown enemy... While protecting something. Any disturbance to the corpse, and the primed krak grenade within would detonate within the confined space of the tunnel.
The next would occur a little further on, another corpse, another uniform. The main tunnel had collapsed. Further progress required a short detour through two chambers that shared a collapsed wall. Both rooms contained piles of bones and skeletons. In the first, many were broken, and more still were missing their heads. The second didn't contain a single skull.
The corpse was positioned within the rubble of the broken wall, stretched across the entire opening. The design requiring anyone wanting to pass without disturbing anything to awkwardly stretch over the corpse while ducking through the opening. The grenade was hidden among the debris after the corpse.
Once back out of the chambers, the main tunnel would continue a small distance before spilling out into a large room; the last and most recent burial chamber. Two stone sarcophagi sat in the middle, empty, and surrounded by hundreds of dead. These were old and fresh alike; The work of the warp fiend tyrant the imperials had killed in the castle. Skulls and severed heads piled into a corner. Congealing blood mixing with fresh as it all managed to ooze and flow down to oblivion through a bronze drain at the base of the stone coffins.
A large crack in the wall allowed the only other exit, leading to a mass grave room. The crack that had opened the wall continued into the floor where it widened into a bottomless chasm, the work of a sink hole, that served to cleave the room in two. The bodies in the room had been piled high before the collapse, but the crack had consumed most when it opened, leaving some to dangle precariously over the crumbling edges. To look into the heart of the pit was to stare into despair itself.
A make shift bridge was on the far side, the cultists having pulled it back when they returned from their earlier endeavors. The gap could be jumped, but the low ceiling of the chamber made it difficult, not to mention the loose terrain of dead, or the inherently unstable edges that were already crumbling. Not to mention the certainty of a hidden explosive among the bones on the far side.
Cassandra
She returned to the chosen sacrifice room. It had been a smaller mass grave room that was two more rooms beyond the chasm. It was chosen because of the large support columns in it. Support not for just the ceiling, but the outer wall of the castle. Additionally, the room had one single entrance.
They would not retreat if the enemy found them. She had saved a fourth grenade to seal the door, and the room with themselves in it, if it came down to it. It was in the possession of one of her cohorts.
They had emptied most of the bodies from their current room into the next one over. They had piled more into the same from all the other surrounding rooms, while leaving enough to not raise concern over empty rooms. The result was literally a semi circle shaped pile of bones and old corpses so high it touched the ceiling. The cultists had to lay on their stomachs and crawl over the top in a serpentine path to get through. The curved route was necessary to obscure their candle light, as even a faint glow in pitch black would give them away.
It meant an early warning system, as any approach would be very audible thanks to the loose bones. It also meant camouflage for their hidden room, as it completely obscured their door, suggesting bones had just been piled against the wall. All the other doors were still easily visible, and they had scattered the remains of the imperial equipment over about half the distance to the church exit, complete with another costumed body in the door to the next chamber.
Each cultist picked up a stolen rifle, and wordlessly returned to their stations. One each per guardsman. They each took a moment to figure out the controls, and then another on how to properly wedge it into place with the barrel resting against their guardsman's neck. Cassandra had moved to the side opposite the entrance, and was using a stolen knife to cut strips out of the last remaining stolen uniform, and much of her own clothes... To a rather revealing degree.
The strips were then tied securely together into eight longer cords. She then walked them out from her spot to each cultist where they would then fasten a loose slip not around the trigger.
It was a crude system, but would work. They needed to remove their prisoners heads. The cords would allow one person to operate all eight rifles, and fire a lasrifle through the captives' necks at point blank range. All any person had to do was wedge their rifle in place before they died. Cassandra began to to the ends of the straps together, then carefully wrapped them about her wrists. The design was to make them look like bindings. She then sat down. It was time to wait.
"Remember. If they come, throw the grenade at the door. Follow it with one shot each, then position your rifles. Pick up bones, and stay crouched near the hostages. Hold the bones like the rifles... And try not to die."
She appeared unarmed, and also happened to be the only female present. Her clothing was torn to ribbons, had bindings on her wrist, and her body was dirty and bruised from crawling around a dark and forgotten crypt. She quickly gave herself a few superficial cuts, then threw the knife away. If anyone came, she would assume a subdued position, and cry for help. All she had to do was pull the cords at the right time and her masters will would be done.
Beyond the door was a small chamber dedicated to the dead of the royal family. A small alter had been built to prevent the need to enter the actual catacombs to pay tribute to the dead. While the chamber seemed well used, the alter showed signs of long neglect.
The room ended in a set of metal reinforced stone doors. The locking mechanism here was a thick length of timber, made of smaller boards held together by bands of metal. The wood served to both block the doors, and reinforced them. The fact the bar was in place meant the catacombs had been sealed from the castle side.
Once through the double doors, the true catacombs began. The tunnels were wide enough for a single astartes to walk, though the low ceiling would make a minor, and constant inconvenience.
The first tunnel ran straight a small distance before ending in a 'T' junction. This was the oldest and most simple portion of the catacombs. Small chambers for each generation of leadership and their family had been the original design of things, the dead in simple stone sarcophagi within. There were several chambers on either side of the tunnel before the junction.
As one progressed beyond the junction, one side appeared to have suffered a minor cave in during previous years, leaving only one direction to go.
As one continued on, things began to change. Rooms became less finished, and more hastily constructed as if people died before they expected to need them. Less care put in the planning of things. As a result, the main tunnel began to curve around the castle grounds until it was heading toward the church. Nobles, and knights also began to line the hall, old bodies housed in shallow shelf like cuts in the tunnels or sharing the chambers with their king.
While the castle had been dealing with its dead, the local town had also been developing their own crypt. The church basement had served as the entrance, similar in design to the castle, only the alter chamber larger, the doors simpler and the locks non-existent.
Like the castle, the public crypts started out well planned, and decently constructed, relying more on the shelf approach for storing the dead. First in tunnels, then larger chambers. As things spread away from the church, it became less organized. The dead less sacred.
By the time two networks met by accident, the presence of the daemon had been well established. Wars had been ongoing. Violence. Murder. Death never ended. The public crypts had become little more then subterranean mass graves, the dead piled to the ceiling of the chambers in some cases as need out weighed tradition and sanctity.
The castle had fared little better. It's tunnels and chambers now filled with not just the nobility, but also their victims, as if they were some testament to their achievements of violence in life.
It was among this madness, where the mass graves mingled with the trophy rooms that the cultists had set up camp. The dead here fed the warp... The boundary between the real and the ethereal the thinnest.
The path from the castle was the fastest route to them, though the most atrocious. It had less dead ends, but it meant walking through the history of the royals, and all the evidence of what the self entitled were capable of inflicting on their fellow man when left unchecked. And it meant walking through the lingering psychic energy of not just pain and suffering, but the insane and damned, the hate and anger that had caused it. Each small chamber off the main tunnel a small picture of the world at the time.
It was here, on the very edge of this zone of madness, where the first trap was set. About the half way point, if one simply followed the main tunnel. A desiccated corpse, little more then a skeleton, plucked from its resting place, and dressed in a stolen imperial uniform. Positioned to make it look like it were trying to escape some unknown enemy... While protecting something. Any disturbance to the corpse, and the primed krak grenade within would detonate within the confined space of the tunnel.
The next would occur a little further on, another corpse, another uniform. The main tunnel had collapsed. Further progress required a short detour through two chambers that shared a collapsed wall. Both rooms contained piles of bones and skeletons. In the first, many were broken, and more still were missing their heads. The second didn't contain a single skull.
The corpse was positioned within the rubble of the broken wall, stretched across the entire opening. The design requiring anyone wanting to pass without disturbing anything to awkwardly stretch over the corpse while ducking through the opening. The grenade was hidden among the debris after the corpse.
Once back out of the chambers, the main tunnel would continue a small distance before spilling out into a large room; the last and most recent burial chamber. Two stone sarcophagi sat in the middle, empty, and surrounded by hundreds of dead. These were old and fresh alike; The work of the warp fiend tyrant the imperials had killed in the castle. Skulls and severed heads piled into a corner. Congealing blood mixing with fresh as it all managed to ooze and flow down to oblivion through a bronze drain at the base of the stone coffins.
A large crack in the wall allowed the only other exit, leading to a mass grave room. The crack that had opened the wall continued into the floor where it widened into a bottomless chasm, the work of a sink hole, that served to cleave the room in two. The bodies in the room had been piled high before the collapse, but the crack had consumed most when it opened, leaving some to dangle precariously over the crumbling edges. To look into the heart of the pit was to stare into despair itself.
A make shift bridge was on the far side, the cultists having pulled it back when they returned from their earlier endeavors. The gap could be jumped, but the low ceiling of the chamber made it difficult, not to mention the loose terrain of dead, or the inherently unstable edges that were already crumbling. Not to mention the certainty of a hidden explosive among the bones on the far side.
Cassandra
She returned to the chosen sacrifice room. It had been a smaller mass grave room that was two more rooms beyond the chasm. It was chosen because of the large support columns in it. Support not for just the ceiling, but the outer wall of the castle. Additionally, the room had one single entrance.
They would not retreat if the enemy found them. She had saved a fourth grenade to seal the door, and the room with themselves in it, if it came down to it. It was in the possession of one of her cohorts.
They had emptied most of the bodies from their current room into the next one over. They had piled more into the same from all the other surrounding rooms, while leaving enough to not raise concern over empty rooms. The result was literally a semi circle shaped pile of bones and old corpses so high it touched the ceiling. The cultists had to lay on their stomachs and crawl over the top in a serpentine path to get through. The curved route was necessary to obscure their candle light, as even a faint glow in pitch black would give them away.
It meant an early warning system, as any approach would be very audible thanks to the loose bones. It also meant camouflage for their hidden room, as it completely obscured their door, suggesting bones had just been piled against the wall. All the other doors were still easily visible, and they had scattered the remains of the imperial equipment over about half the distance to the church exit, complete with another costumed body in the door to the next chamber.
Each cultist picked up a stolen rifle, and wordlessly returned to their stations. One each per guardsman. They each took a moment to figure out the controls, and then another on how to properly wedge it into place with the barrel resting against their guardsman's neck. Cassandra had moved to the side opposite the entrance, and was using a stolen knife to cut strips out of the last remaining stolen uniform, and much of her own clothes... To a rather revealing degree.
The strips were then tied securely together into eight longer cords. She then walked them out from her spot to each cultist where they would then fasten a loose slip not around the trigger.
It was a crude system, but would work. They needed to remove their prisoners heads. The cords would allow one person to operate all eight rifles, and fire a lasrifle through the captives' necks at point blank range. All any person had to do was wedge their rifle in place before they died. Cassandra began to to the ends of the straps together, then carefully wrapped them about her wrists. The design was to make them look like bindings. She then sat down. It was time to wait.
"Remember. If they come, throw the grenade at the door. Follow it with one shot each, then position your rifles. Pick up bones, and stay crouched near the hostages. Hold the bones like the rifles... And try not to die."
She appeared unarmed, and also happened to be the only female present. Her clothing was torn to ribbons, had bindings on her wrist, and her body was dirty and bruised from crawling around a dark and forgotten crypt. She quickly gave herself a few superficial cuts, then threw the knife away. If anyone came, she would assume a subdued position, and cry for help. All she had to do was pull the cords at the right time and her masters will would be done.
It wasn't long before the Kill Team had reached the basement amist the panic of the Imperial staff. Doros eyed the heavy wooden door, sighing with slight irritation at the lock. He did not know where the key was, and moreover did not care to find it as he barged the heavy door open with a swift, yet deadly ram of his pauldron. The door was indeed strong, but it relented under the Astartes' sheer power. Now the Kill Team were free to enter the way within. Doros would enter first, beckoning his men as they came across a strange altar. Although it seemed recently used, all of them could tell that it was most definately derelict.
Doros keenly surveyed the reinforced doorway blocking their pathway. Stomping forward toward the locking mechanism, his large hand gripped the bar that held the wooden frames in place tightly. "Brothers, I do not know what blasphemy lurks on the other side of this doorway." The Rainbow Warrior warned, turning to Grim and the Astartes. "But considering what we already know about this place, and what some of us have already bore witness to, expect the very worst." His careful words finished, Doros lifted the bar out of place. The Kill Team could now begin their dangerous expedition into the catacombs.
"Single file, Astartes." The Veteran Sergeant ordered. "The line shall begin with both Salamanders at the front, for I am not interested in having my back unnecessarily burned by a flamer. The terminator and myself will follow on in the middle, with the Astral claw and Commissar Grim at the very back." Doros pointed the way forward for the Salamanders before entering on afterwards. The pathway was far too narrow for the bulk of them to enter. Each of them would have to delve within a straight line, which ended with Grim at the very back. Although Doros trusted Grim's ability, he did not want an Astartes stumbling over the Commissar in the darkness of the catacombs.
Many minutes seemed to pass before the squadron had finally come to the junction. The readied flamers of the Salamanders in front gave a clear lighting of the family chambers; the cackling of the prometheum flames were a welcome noise in the otherwise silent ambience of the dark halls. The simple sarcophagi all seemed rather humble to Doros, even for royalty. The Salamanders both lit the ways forward. "This way is a dead end, Sergeant." The left Salamander relayed; his torched weapon bringing some light to small cave-in. "Very well. We could probably assume they both lead to the same area." Doros replied. "Let us continue on the right."
As they progressed forward without pause around the curves of the narrow tunnel, the unfinished chambers within the inner bowels had become apparent. Simple slits within the walls that contained the bones of varying nobility decorated the tunnels. However, as the Kill Team continued the survey the dead, the number only seemed to increase until the unmarked shelves dead no longer decorated the rooms, but now littered them. "The unholy forces are becoming apparent now." Doros uttered to himself, till the group had finally entered a crypt that put the countless dead of the catacombs to shame.
Bones... Bones, lots and lots of bones, skulls, ribcages and pelvises seemed to clutter the interior from top to bottom. They seemed to be decorated alongside the graves of the nobility, as though they were macabre trophies. Although the room gave an unnerving atmosphere, Doros was not fearful, and was confident that his fellows felt the same. "We should keep our eyes peeled." The Veteran Sergeant said, following the Salamanders as they all continued to stomped across the bones and onto the next room. "I am no psyker, and yet even I can seemingly hear the howls of lost souls in this place."
As they continued onwards, it only seemed to get worse as the Kill Team delved further and further within the belly of the underworld. The countless bones that cluttered the deeper catacombs, as well as the trophy graves of the recent nobility were... disheartening to say the least. The formally superstitious howls that Doros had claimed to hear now seemed far too clear. Not only did the wails of the suffering seem to linger around the room, but now an impersonal force seemed to haunt the group as they passed through. The very task of trudging through the underground dirt somehow became herculean.
It wasn't long before the group had finally made it to the first trap, although to them, the trip probably seemed like ages. There, the first three Astartes were able to catch the sight of what seemed to be the skeletal corpse of a Guardsman clasping some sort of object in it's hands. Whatever it was, was concealed in the darkness. "Strange." Doros observed the corpse. "How is there evidence of guardsmen activity, when we are the first of Imperial forces to enter this place..?"
Doros keenly surveyed the reinforced doorway blocking their pathway. Stomping forward toward the locking mechanism, his large hand gripped the bar that held the wooden frames in place tightly. "Brothers, I do not know what blasphemy lurks on the other side of this doorway." The Rainbow Warrior warned, turning to Grim and the Astartes. "But considering what we already know about this place, and what some of us have already bore witness to, expect the very worst." His careful words finished, Doros lifted the bar out of place. The Kill Team could now begin their dangerous expedition into the catacombs.
"Single file, Astartes." The Veteran Sergeant ordered. "The line shall begin with both Salamanders at the front, for I am not interested in having my back unnecessarily burned by a flamer. The terminator and myself will follow on in the middle, with the Astral claw and Commissar Grim at the very back." Doros pointed the way forward for the Salamanders before entering on afterwards. The pathway was far too narrow for the bulk of them to enter. Each of them would have to delve within a straight line, which ended with Grim at the very back. Although Doros trusted Grim's ability, he did not want an Astartes stumbling over the Commissar in the darkness of the catacombs.
Many minutes seemed to pass before the squadron had finally come to the junction. The readied flamers of the Salamanders in front gave a clear lighting of the family chambers; the cackling of the prometheum flames were a welcome noise in the otherwise silent ambience of the dark halls. The simple sarcophagi all seemed rather humble to Doros, even for royalty. The Salamanders both lit the ways forward. "This way is a dead end, Sergeant." The left Salamander relayed; his torched weapon bringing some light to small cave-in. "Very well. We could probably assume they both lead to the same area." Doros replied. "Let us continue on the right."
As they progressed forward without pause around the curves of the narrow tunnel, the unfinished chambers within the inner bowels had become apparent. Simple slits within the walls that contained the bones of varying nobility decorated the tunnels. However, as the Kill Team continued the survey the dead, the number only seemed to increase until the unmarked shelves dead no longer decorated the rooms, but now littered them. "The unholy forces are becoming apparent now." Doros uttered to himself, till the group had finally entered a crypt that put the countless dead of the catacombs to shame.
Bones... Bones, lots and lots of bones, skulls, ribcages and pelvises seemed to clutter the interior from top to bottom. They seemed to be decorated alongside the graves of the nobility, as though they were macabre trophies. Although the room gave an unnerving atmosphere, Doros was not fearful, and was confident that his fellows felt the same. "We should keep our eyes peeled." The Veteran Sergeant said, following the Salamanders as they all continued to stomped across the bones and onto the next room. "I am no psyker, and yet even I can seemingly hear the howls of lost souls in this place."
As they continued onwards, it only seemed to get worse as the Kill Team delved further and further within the belly of the underworld. The countless bones that cluttered the deeper catacombs, as well as the trophy graves of the recent nobility were... disheartening to say the least. The formally superstitious howls that Doros had claimed to hear now seemed far too clear. Not only did the wails of the suffering seem to linger around the room, but now an impersonal force seemed to haunt the group as they passed through. The very task of trudging through the underground dirt somehow became herculean.
It wasn't long before the group had finally made it to the first trap, although to them, the trip probably seemed like ages. There, the first three Astartes were able to catch the sight of what seemed to be the skeletal corpse of a Guardsman clasping some sort of object in it's hands. Whatever it was, was concealed in the darkness. "Strange." Doros observed the corpse. "How is there evidence of guardsmen activity, when we are the first of Imperial forces to enter this place..?"
The commissar moved tot he body and stared at it. then he looked at the mans hands warily and looekd up at the space Marines, he smirked softly. "He's from the 14th... Corporal..., I don't remember his name.... Well.... he was in the trenches a few hours ago. It seems odd he was down here...reports claim him missing....," Then the man stood up and looked at the space marines and shrugged. Then he adjusted his hat and looked at them. "His gear might be salvageable, but there are a few grenades missing from his belt... so be careful...," He said, adjusting the coat and walking back to his position. That was until a Skeleton fell on him, and he threw it onto the ground and drew his bolt pistol. "I hate Crypts, I hope you all know that,"
The Terminator turned and looked at the dead guardsmen and grabbed a bone. and tossed it at the skeleton. "We should keep moving, I learned long ago never to bother a corpse," he said as he looked at Doros and the Salamanders. "Your call," he said as he revved the autocannon and smirked a little forced, he was hunched over due tot he size of his armor. The Terminator armor had marks where things were torn off of it, probably chaos emblems that where forcibly placed onto it. The Crux Terminatus was intact though.
The Claw was keeping his bolter at the ready and the earth began to shake under the sound of heavy arms. "The battle has begun it seems," he said calmly as he looked at his fellows with impatience.
The men and women of the Guard were taking cover from the bombardment from the Tartaros, the main guns tearing frightening holes into the walls they had just constructed and taking downs scores of the unlucky, leaving a wide gap in their lines. The shots however, were inaccurate, gouging much of the area's around the castle and even damaging some of the nearby forest. The men were going to all be dead at this rate, there men dead in scores and their line annihilated, however, if that ship was decommissioned, they would be able to prep the line with a temp wall before the enemies arrived. The village that was one in the inner walls was left a smoldering crater as the first of the bombardments had slammed home there.
As the Men and women of the guard had wished it, so it should be. The 15th was no where near the grounds of the strike. They were at their own little forward operating base. As the ship had come into orbit, they had realized there men needed all the aid they could muster. Lt.Recolls had gotten his men together and they crawled into the main mantle piece tank of their army, the one that had seen as many wars they had. It was know as the 'Light of Foruscia', a Shadowsword pattern variant of a Baneblade super heavy tank armed with a Volcano Cannon, one that could cut a Warhound class titan in half. The gun charged as the man on the main gun took his time to aim. Then, a lance of pure white would cut through the skies and straight towards the Engine core of the Tartaros.
The Terminator turned and looked at the dead guardsmen and grabbed a bone. and tossed it at the skeleton. "We should keep moving, I learned long ago never to bother a corpse," he said as he looked at Doros and the Salamanders. "Your call," he said as he revved the autocannon and smirked a little forced, he was hunched over due tot he size of his armor. The Terminator armor had marks where things were torn off of it, probably chaos emblems that where forcibly placed onto it. The Crux Terminatus was intact though.
The Claw was keeping his bolter at the ready and the earth began to shake under the sound of heavy arms. "The battle has begun it seems," he said calmly as he looked at his fellows with impatience.
---on the surface---
The men and women of the Guard were taking cover from the bombardment from the Tartaros, the main guns tearing frightening holes into the walls they had just constructed and taking downs scores of the unlucky, leaving a wide gap in their lines. The shots however, were inaccurate, gouging much of the area's around the castle and even damaging some of the nearby forest. The men were going to all be dead at this rate, there men dead in scores and their line annihilated, however, if that ship was decommissioned, they would be able to prep the line with a temp wall before the enemies arrived. The village that was one in the inner walls was left a smoldering crater as the first of the bombardments had slammed home there.
As the Men and women of the guard had wished it, so it should be. The 15th was no where near the grounds of the strike. They were at their own little forward operating base. As the ship had come into orbit, they had realized there men needed all the aid they could muster. Lt.Recolls had gotten his men together and they crawled into the main mantle piece tank of their army, the one that had seen as many wars they had. It was know as the 'Light of Foruscia', a Shadowsword pattern variant of a Baneblade super heavy tank armed with a Volcano Cannon, one that could cut a Warhound class titan in half. The gun charged as the man on the main gun took his time to aim. Then, a lance of pure white would cut through the skies and straight towards the Engine core of the Tartaros.
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