Imperial Guard stronghold Terembah VI was a fortified position with a large garrison of four hundred million Guardsman. It usually housed the troops to reinforce nearby regiments of planets under siege by the enemies of man. But located somewhere on the planets barren wastelands was a warp gate. One which broke the barriers between dimensions and allowed a massive swarm of Daemons and Chaos worshipers to pour out in streams of thousands. The massive numbers of daemons and Chaos underlings over run the outer defenses of the city and began to push further in. Casualties are estimated in the millions and corruption amongst the Guardsman has begun. This heresy spawning in a large garrison gained the intention of Inquisitor Tenebres. Aboard his mighty Black Ship he soon reached the world with a dozen other ships ready to release the lords judgment on the world.
Tenebres watched the planet from the safe orbit of his ship. Gazing down at the dusty atmosphere and corrupting air.
"What are the enemies numbers?" He asks one of the many crewmen on the terminals.
"My lord." One replies. "Chaos forces are estimated in the tens of millions. Mainly consisting of daemons and a few Chaos Space marines. Our reports indicate several million Guardsman have turned and are serving the dark powers." He explains. Tenebres places a large book he had in hand on the top of a terminal.
"I wish to see the commander. Patch us through to command."
"Yes my lord." Is the reply as screens connect to planet side communications. As the screen comes up a commissar stands tall.
"Inquisitor. Thank the Emperor you've arrived." He says with relief.
"Commissar whats the situation on planet?"
"My lord we have lost the Eastern sector of the city but the Central and Western sections are secure. The Southern boarder is under heavy assault and may fall soon." Tenebres nods as he receives the news.
"Very well. We shall have forces sent down to assist. May the Emperor protect." He says ending the transmission. "Send forces to the Southern, Central boarder. Protect the city centre from falling at all costs."
"Yes my lord." Is the reply as several landing are sent down to reinforce.
Tenebres watched the planet from the safe orbit of his ship. Gazing down at the dusty atmosphere and corrupting air.
"What are the enemies numbers?" He asks one of the many crewmen on the terminals.
"My lord." One replies. "Chaos forces are estimated in the tens of millions. Mainly consisting of daemons and a few Chaos Space marines. Our reports indicate several million Guardsman have turned and are serving the dark powers." He explains. Tenebres places a large book he had in hand on the top of a terminal.
"I wish to see the commander. Patch us through to command."
"Yes my lord." Is the reply as screens connect to planet side communications. As the screen comes up a commissar stands tall.
"Inquisitor. Thank the Emperor you've arrived." He says with relief.
"Commissar whats the situation on planet?"
"My lord we have lost the Eastern sector of the city but the Central and Western sections are secure. The Southern boarder is under heavy assault and may fall soon." Tenebres nods as he receives the news.
"Very well. We shall have forces sent down to assist. May the Emperor protect." He says ending the transmission. "Send forces to the Southern, Central boarder. Protect the city centre from falling at all costs."
"Yes my lord." Is the reply as several landing are sent down to reinforce.
A lone figure strode through the warp gate that had spawned on the world. He was massive by comparison to any mortal man, and even beyond that, while his physical body may have been smaller, his presence seemed to rival even the largest of Daemons that stalked about.
To describe his armor as old was an understatement. It was an archaic relic, a still functional remnant of a time long past, the likes of which had not been seen for thousands of years. Even to those versed in the armory of the Great Crusade, it would hardly be recognized. Over the countless years, the powered battle plate had seen heavy modification, through both the necessity of battle, and to reflect its owners ever growing status and title.
Long gone were the colors of the old legion, the red and ivory, of the days when they had blindly served; instead the resplendent blue and gold. Stripped away were the old standards and icons of the false emperor, and his forsaken dream. Inlaid now were the marks of the their true master, The Architect of Fate, the Weaver of Destinies. Along side those were artifacts of unknown and haunted origins adorned his armor, some embedded, while others hung like token fetishes of old.
The polished gold trim of his battle plate held row upon row of the finest etchings. Spells and wards of hundred worlds; they represented the long forgotten, the cursed and the damned, the forsaken knowledge of countless cultures.
But the single most iconic thing; the most terrifying item, and most easily recognizable of all was inlaid into his other wise empty shoulder guard. It marked him not only a true veteran of the long war, but as one of the most dangerous enemies the imperium knew. It was the symbol of a traitor; of the 15th legion. It was the Ouroboros - symbol of The Thousand Sons.
White velvet robes, pristine in their condition, immaculate in their cleanliness, were worn over his plate. The waist held in place by a double loop of golden silk cord. A large hood was pushed back, resting limp behind his head.
His helm, carried under his left arm, was adorned with a set of black, gold trimmed, curved forward sweeping horns, reminiscent of a ram. The low stature of his helm, unique from the high rising and ornate head pieces that were deliberatelly reminiscent of ancient Egyptian Pharos preferred by most of his brethren, allowed the use of the psychic hood built within the back collar of his armor.
With his helm off, his face was visible. Once a human, the conversion process to Astartes had altered his features. Not unattractive, but certainly different. His skin, with its slightly golden hue, suggested him of once Egyptian decent. The gene seed imbedded in him, and the chaotic timelessness of the great ocean had saved him from the ravages of time, his overall appearance a deceiving youthfulness.
Except his eyes. They were ancient, the eyes of an immortal that had haunted the Galaxy and beyond for ten thousand years; Eyes devoid of emotion and empty of compassion, but full of an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and the insatiable hunger for power that came with it.
It was with these eyes that he looked skyward, his unaided vision locking onto the region of space where the inquisitor and his ships lingered. His gaze was a laser focus, and any sensitive person on the command ship would feel it; that momentary wave of unease of being watched. It would exist for but a moment before passing, his gaze returning to the battle field.
He breathed deep, the unfiltered air filling his lungs. The smells of war embedding in his nose; the blood, the burned flesh, ozone of las rifles. Screams and chaos filled his ears. He let his mind drift, feeling the psychic ripples of the war, as it bled into the warp. He used the old enumerations to bring his focus back.
With a deliberate slowness, he raised his helm and donned it. The seals forming with an audible his. The tactical readouts overlaying on the filtered view of the battle field provided by the helmet. The noise was filtered down.
He raised his hand, motioned forward with a curt chopping motion. Eight armored figures emerged from the swirling vortex of raw chaos behind him. Each was of near equal size, and matching armor. They marched mechanically, crusade age bolters held ready. Rhubric marines, bodiless souls bound to their armor, and brought back to life by his psychic presence. Their rigid and forced movements became more organic, more fluid, more natural the nearer his proximity they were, until they seemed... alive again.
Sorcerer Lord Inaros, had arrived.
The nine started forward once again, making for the city and the front lines of this new chapter in the long war.
To describe his armor as old was an understatement. It was an archaic relic, a still functional remnant of a time long past, the likes of which had not been seen for thousands of years. Even to those versed in the armory of the Great Crusade, it would hardly be recognized. Over the countless years, the powered battle plate had seen heavy modification, through both the necessity of battle, and to reflect its owners ever growing status and title.
Long gone were the colors of the old legion, the red and ivory, of the days when they had blindly served; instead the resplendent blue and gold. Stripped away were the old standards and icons of the false emperor, and his forsaken dream. Inlaid now were the marks of the their true master, The Architect of Fate, the Weaver of Destinies. Along side those were artifacts of unknown and haunted origins adorned his armor, some embedded, while others hung like token fetishes of old.
The polished gold trim of his battle plate held row upon row of the finest etchings. Spells and wards of hundred worlds; they represented the long forgotten, the cursed and the damned, the forsaken knowledge of countless cultures.
But the single most iconic thing; the most terrifying item, and most easily recognizable of all was inlaid into his other wise empty shoulder guard. It marked him not only a true veteran of the long war, but as one of the most dangerous enemies the imperium knew. It was the symbol of a traitor; of the 15th legion. It was the Ouroboros - symbol of The Thousand Sons.
White velvet robes, pristine in their condition, immaculate in their cleanliness, were worn over his plate. The waist held in place by a double loop of golden silk cord. A large hood was pushed back, resting limp behind his head.
His helm, carried under his left arm, was adorned with a set of black, gold trimmed, curved forward sweeping horns, reminiscent of a ram. The low stature of his helm, unique from the high rising and ornate head pieces that were deliberatelly reminiscent of ancient Egyptian Pharos preferred by most of his brethren, allowed the use of the psychic hood built within the back collar of his armor.
With his helm off, his face was visible. Once a human, the conversion process to Astartes had altered his features. Not unattractive, but certainly different. His skin, with its slightly golden hue, suggested him of once Egyptian decent. The gene seed imbedded in him, and the chaotic timelessness of the great ocean had saved him from the ravages of time, his overall appearance a deceiving youthfulness.
Except his eyes. They were ancient, the eyes of an immortal that had haunted the Galaxy and beyond for ten thousand years; Eyes devoid of emotion and empty of compassion, but full of an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and the insatiable hunger for power that came with it.
It was with these eyes that he looked skyward, his unaided vision locking onto the region of space where the inquisitor and his ships lingered. His gaze was a laser focus, and any sensitive person on the command ship would feel it; that momentary wave of unease of being watched. It would exist for but a moment before passing, his gaze returning to the battle field.
He breathed deep, the unfiltered air filling his lungs. The smells of war embedding in his nose; the blood, the burned flesh, ozone of las rifles. Screams and chaos filled his ears. He let his mind drift, feeling the psychic ripples of the war, as it bled into the warp. He used the old enumerations to bring his focus back.
With a deliberate slowness, he raised his helm and donned it. The seals forming with an audible his. The tactical readouts overlaying on the filtered view of the battle field provided by the helmet. The noise was filtered down.
He raised his hand, motioned forward with a curt chopping motion. Eight armored figures emerged from the swirling vortex of raw chaos behind him. Each was of near equal size, and matching armor. They marched mechanically, crusade age bolters held ready. Rhubric marines, bodiless souls bound to their armor, and brought back to life by his psychic presence. Their rigid and forced movements became more organic, more fluid, more natural the nearer his proximity they were, until they seemed... alive again.
Sorcerer Lord Inaros, had arrived.
The nine started forward once again, making for the city and the front lines of this new chapter in the long war.
Meanwhile deep inside the Southern section of he city thousands of Guardsman began to pull back. A constant barrage of mighty Basilisks shot from strategic points such as towers, bunkers and clearings. Explosions littered the outer area as corpses of heretics and loyalists alike scattered across the area.
"Fall back! Orders from command. We're to pull back to the Central gate and hold the main control section. Don't let up with the shelling. Keep giving these daemons the full force of the Emperors fury." A sargent orders while poking his head out the top of a Chimera. The thousands of troops who were on foot ran while covering fire was given. Several Lemin Russ tanks fired at closer forces as daemons and cultists alike begin to rapidly approach.
The sound of mortar rounds hitting and detonating rang across the battlefield. The unfortunate Guard who were caught down on the outer gate fought valiantly as Chaos Spawn and other demonic entities began to over run their position.
"There's too many!" One yells as he fires his Lass Rifle as fast as possible. The burning smell of flesh and ash fills the air as the combat continues. Being in a bunker these Guardsmen were safe from basic fire. But what wandered up the streets were no simple bolter guns. As lass rounds cut down the daemon spawn which came running. Blowing the numerous tendrils off before the beasts fall and burst into warp energy returning to whence they came. As the spawn got close they swiped into the bunker but quickly proceeded over it. The door inside had been bolted and welded down by the Guardsman inside. Seven in total. Looking down the oncoming street one went cold and quiet as he shook. "Obl. Obliterators!" He yells as three massive and lumbering armored creatures walked closer. Their heads looked almost human. Suggesting they once were. Their bodies were over eight feet tall and four feet wide, covered in armor and flesh. On each one their right arms were now massive bulging cannons.
Raising their massive arms to the bunker as lass rounds pounded them to little effect. The cannons begin to glow and chaotic energy fills them. "Grenades! Grenades now!" The Guardsman yells. As quickly as they could the men tossed grenades which exploded at the massive beasts feet. As the dust cleared they were barely scratched. The Guardsman's eyes ran cold and glassy as he saw the demonic cannons fire. Three massive bolts of energy flew to them. One went straight past the guardsman and hit the back of the bunker. The impact exploded and blew the formidable stone bunker out. The next two hit the outside and blow it inwards. In a matter of moments the whole bunker was smoldering rubble. The Obliterators continues walking. Numerous more cultists and daemons kept running past. One cultist who looked like most with his scrawny frame and deranged eyes came past the bunker and heard coughing. Looking down he found a Guardsman trapped under rubble with a broken leg. The cultist cackled like a hyena and pulled up a large knife from his waist. The Guardsman looked up in fear as the laughing cultist plunged the blade into his neck. He proceeded to hack and laugh as he pleased his twisted gods.
Descending from the clouds above were several powerful large Valkyrie Dropships. These were larger then others and held a total of a dozen men each. Kaskin specifically. Four others followed suit these ships looked different and were black. They were some form of Valkyrie and these held Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. Specially trained for deep strike engagements. Short of Adeptus Astartes, Space Marines they were some of the deadliest forces on the Imperial roster. These Stormtroopers wore full body suits and helmets and wielded plasma weaponry and had incendiary grenades. These mighty drop ships flew in and over the Chaos forces. Cameras caught footage of the battlefield and sent it back to the inquisitor. Tenebres looked over the tide of Chaos with disgust. He would happily call down Exterminatus and burn all these abominations but this world was worth trying to save. It had great history and if something brought Chaos here Tenebres wanted to know what. The dropships made landing at the rally point halfway between the gates to central and the now breached Southern gate. The troops began pouring out. Each with the inquisitorial markings and specialized gear. A sargent came to greet them.
"Thank the Emperor. We need help getting the men back to the gates. We need to hold off the chaos forces approaching." He looks back to see several wounded men receiving medical attention. Some mild wounds others. Well it would be a mercy to put them down now. A Stormtrooper speaks up.
"We're here. Four more battalions of the same size are being deployed equally across the wall. We shall bide your men time but from what we saw the number of heretical monstrosities on their way here are immense." The sargent nods.
"Thank you fellow loyalists." He sighs and walks behind the wall. The new arrivals began to line up on the wall. Some pulling out sniper rifles and picking off approaching forces. There were many but hopefully they could hold off just long enough.
"Fall back! Orders from command. We're to pull back to the Central gate and hold the main control section. Don't let up with the shelling. Keep giving these daemons the full force of the Emperors fury." A sargent orders while poking his head out the top of a Chimera. The thousands of troops who were on foot ran while covering fire was given. Several Lemin Russ tanks fired at closer forces as daemons and cultists alike begin to rapidly approach.
The sound of mortar rounds hitting and detonating rang across the battlefield. The unfortunate Guard who were caught down on the outer gate fought valiantly as Chaos Spawn and other demonic entities began to over run their position.
"There's too many!" One yells as he fires his Lass Rifle as fast as possible. The burning smell of flesh and ash fills the air as the combat continues. Being in a bunker these Guardsmen were safe from basic fire. But what wandered up the streets were no simple bolter guns. As lass rounds cut down the daemon spawn which came running. Blowing the numerous tendrils off before the beasts fall and burst into warp energy returning to whence they came. As the spawn got close they swiped into the bunker but quickly proceeded over it. The door inside had been bolted and welded down by the Guardsman inside. Seven in total. Looking down the oncoming street one went cold and quiet as he shook. "Obl. Obliterators!" He yells as three massive and lumbering armored creatures walked closer. Their heads looked almost human. Suggesting they once were. Their bodies were over eight feet tall and four feet wide, covered in armor and flesh. On each one their right arms were now massive bulging cannons.
Raising their massive arms to the bunker as lass rounds pounded them to little effect. The cannons begin to glow and chaotic energy fills them. "Grenades! Grenades now!" The Guardsman yells. As quickly as they could the men tossed grenades which exploded at the massive beasts feet. As the dust cleared they were barely scratched. The Guardsman's eyes ran cold and glassy as he saw the demonic cannons fire. Three massive bolts of energy flew to them. One went straight past the guardsman and hit the back of the bunker. The impact exploded and blew the formidable stone bunker out. The next two hit the outside and blow it inwards. In a matter of moments the whole bunker was smoldering rubble. The Obliterators continues walking. Numerous more cultists and daemons kept running past. One cultist who looked like most with his scrawny frame and deranged eyes came past the bunker and heard coughing. Looking down he found a Guardsman trapped under rubble with a broken leg. The cultist cackled like a hyena and pulled up a large knife from his waist. The Guardsman looked up in fear as the laughing cultist plunged the blade into his neck. He proceeded to hack and laugh as he pleased his twisted gods.
Descending from the clouds above were several powerful large Valkyrie Dropships. These were larger then others and held a total of a dozen men each. Kaskin specifically. Four others followed suit these ships looked different and were black. They were some form of Valkyrie and these held Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. Specially trained for deep strike engagements. Short of Adeptus Astartes, Space Marines they were some of the deadliest forces on the Imperial roster. These Stormtroopers wore full body suits and helmets and wielded plasma weaponry and had incendiary grenades. These mighty drop ships flew in and over the Chaos forces. Cameras caught footage of the battlefield and sent it back to the inquisitor. Tenebres looked over the tide of Chaos with disgust. He would happily call down Exterminatus and burn all these abominations but this world was worth trying to save. It had great history and if something brought Chaos here Tenebres wanted to know what. The dropships made landing at the rally point halfway between the gates to central and the now breached Southern gate. The troops began pouring out. Each with the inquisitorial markings and specialized gear. A sargent came to greet them.
"Thank the Emperor. We need help getting the men back to the gates. We need to hold off the chaos forces approaching." He looks back to see several wounded men receiving medical attention. Some mild wounds others. Well it would be a mercy to put them down now. A Stormtrooper speaks up.
"We're here. Four more battalions of the same size are being deployed equally across the wall. We shall bide your men time but from what we saw the number of heretical monstrosities on their way here are immense." The sargent nods.
"Thank you fellow loyalists." He sighs and walks behind the wall. The new arrivals began to line up on the wall. Some pulling out sniper rifles and picking off approaching forces. There were many but hopefully they could hold off just long enough.
The small cadre of warriors crested a hill, allowing them a slightly elevated view of the expansive battlefield. The fighting was concentrated within the divided city, still some distance away. The explosions and light flashes of the intense war highlighting the areas of deepest conflict.
The span of earth, stretching from the gate to the fallen part of the city, was a morbid quagmire, the results of millions of feet trampling the earth, thousands of broken and mangled bodies and a sea of spilled blood, all stewing together in the air warmed by the conflict.
The death, the violence. Fuel and bait... So many souls lost, screaming to the great ocean, as they were plucked from their mortal anchors. It had a beautiful scene from the other side; faceless entities tearing apart the golden light selves of the dead. Explosive fireworks of colorful energy punctuating it as the many daemons and friends were forced back, only to reform. It was a vicious and brutal cycle, that kept growing. More blood in the water, more sharks... And eventually the true leviathans of the great ocean would come.
The very air above the putrid death swamp was shimmering with the energy of the warp. The chaos of the fight serving to shred the boundaries between the warp and the material. Shredded fragments of reality barely held together, allowed the raw emotions and energy of the warp to flow unbridled.
Things were beginning to move within the blood saturated earth. Horrors belonging to the other powers; The Blood God, and The Lord of Decay.
It would be only a matter of time before The Prince of Excess would get involved with the living, if he was not already.
The warp gate behind was growing, in size and magnitude. Massive storm heads were forming, spiraling slowly outward from the gate, as the escaping chaotic energy begin to interact with the planet itself. Impossibly black clouds, twisting like a slow moving super storm, the eye centering on the great rift. A growing shadow spread across the land, the clouds blocking out the sun, and casting the world into a surreal twilight. Unnaturally colored lightning flashed within the brewing storm, mixtures of blues, purples, and greens. An arid wind begin to pick up.
The second wave of Valkyrie arrived with less precision and grace then the first, but were fortunate enough to be ahead of the edge of the storm; The pilots having to deal with only mild effects of the growing electrical interference. Tactical data from surveillance systems were broken.
The third and fourth waves would be coming in blind, their navigation systems destroyed, and visibility near zero. The winds game force at higher altitudes, and the flashes of lightning random and deadly traps.
The city, embroiled in chaos, would light up as the storm and its darkness came, automated lights kicking into life. In many ways it made the scene worse, dark shadows stretching to obscure the approaching horrors. Screams without sources. Predatory cries of void hunters made flesh.
Short range transmitters failed, leaving the various loyalist communications in shambles. Had the madness of the chaos side been using any, they to would have felt the loss. Long range, high powered antennas became the only things capable of broadcasting through the storm, and even then with varying degrees of interference.
The squad went on the move again, Making their way down into the the thick of sprawling, unnatural marshlands. Their path was winding, but their pace made up for it. As they passed, the developing fiends and lesser demons forming of the corpses, the partially formed plaguebearers and bloodletters, seemed to recoil away. Only to resume after they had passed.
Some were already free, having dragged themselves from the shallower and less broken edge near the city, these new and twisted creatures serving to replace the waning tide spilling from the opened portal.
For the inquisitor, a lone image would come through. The last useable transmission of one of the trailing Valkyries of the second wave. Fuzzy and broken, it was taken before their descent into the dead swamp, showing the eight figures standing on the hill. The darkening light, distance, and overall poor quality made identification near impossible... But there was no mistaking the hulking outline of Astartes battle plate.
The span of earth, stretching from the gate to the fallen part of the city, was a morbid quagmire, the results of millions of feet trampling the earth, thousands of broken and mangled bodies and a sea of spilled blood, all stewing together in the air warmed by the conflict.
The death, the violence. Fuel and bait... So many souls lost, screaming to the great ocean, as they were plucked from their mortal anchors. It had a beautiful scene from the other side; faceless entities tearing apart the golden light selves of the dead. Explosive fireworks of colorful energy punctuating it as the many daemons and friends were forced back, only to reform. It was a vicious and brutal cycle, that kept growing. More blood in the water, more sharks... And eventually the true leviathans of the great ocean would come.
The very air above the putrid death swamp was shimmering with the energy of the warp. The chaos of the fight serving to shred the boundaries between the warp and the material. Shredded fragments of reality barely held together, allowed the raw emotions and energy of the warp to flow unbridled.
Things were beginning to move within the blood saturated earth. Horrors belonging to the other powers; The Blood God, and The Lord of Decay.
It would be only a matter of time before The Prince of Excess would get involved with the living, if he was not already.
The warp gate behind was growing, in size and magnitude. Massive storm heads were forming, spiraling slowly outward from the gate, as the escaping chaotic energy begin to interact with the planet itself. Impossibly black clouds, twisting like a slow moving super storm, the eye centering on the great rift. A growing shadow spread across the land, the clouds blocking out the sun, and casting the world into a surreal twilight. Unnaturally colored lightning flashed within the brewing storm, mixtures of blues, purples, and greens. An arid wind begin to pick up.
The second wave of Valkyrie arrived with less precision and grace then the first, but were fortunate enough to be ahead of the edge of the storm; The pilots having to deal with only mild effects of the growing electrical interference. Tactical data from surveillance systems were broken.
The third and fourth waves would be coming in blind, their navigation systems destroyed, and visibility near zero. The winds game force at higher altitudes, and the flashes of lightning random and deadly traps.
The city, embroiled in chaos, would light up as the storm and its darkness came, automated lights kicking into life. In many ways it made the scene worse, dark shadows stretching to obscure the approaching horrors. Screams without sources. Predatory cries of void hunters made flesh.
Short range transmitters failed, leaving the various loyalist communications in shambles. Had the madness of the chaos side been using any, they to would have felt the loss. Long range, high powered antennas became the only things capable of broadcasting through the storm, and even then with varying degrees of interference.
The squad went on the move again, Making their way down into the the thick of sprawling, unnatural marshlands. Their path was winding, but their pace made up for it. As they passed, the developing fiends and lesser demons forming of the corpses, the partially formed plaguebearers and bloodletters, seemed to recoil away. Only to resume after they had passed.
Some were already free, having dragged themselves from the shallower and less broken edge near the city, these new and twisted creatures serving to replace the waning tide spilling from the opened portal.
For the inquisitor, a lone image would come through. The last useable transmission of one of the trailing Valkyries of the second wave. Fuzzy and broken, it was taken before their descent into the dead swamp, showing the eight figures standing on the hill. The darkening light, distance, and overall poor quality made identification near impossible... But there was no mistaking the hulking outline of Astartes battle plate.
With the crackling silhouette off now fallen Astartes the last thing seen before the chaotic energies cut off transmissions to the planet Tenebres eyes became filled with a deep fury. Turning to his sargent he gave his order.
"Have my men in their ships. I'm personally going down to deal with this incursion. Inform Commissar Grim to begin his assault. He is to strike the portal itself. Give him any new data we have. This is my direct order Sargent. Now move!" He snaps.
"Yes my lord!" The man salutes and heads off for his mission. Tenebres began marching to the hanger. The Inquisitor had a personal regiment for his missions. The 'Tenebres Regiment' were a mighty group of Imperial soldiers capable of holding their own against the largest of Waaaaghs and the strongest of Daemons. Their armor was similar to Inquisitor Stormtroopers but the colour scheme was a charcoal black and flaming orange for the shoulder pads and insignia. With their affinity for fire based weapons they were nicknamed the 'Hellfire Regiment' always leaving chard bodies and cleansed ground were they moved.
Tenebres picked up his custom melta and an Elder blade. Obtained from a battle long ago it was capable of slicing through even Space Marine Terminator armor with its plasma blade. This katana like weapon was sheathed on his back and three flame grenades and two fragment grenades were on his waist. The soldiers under him had a mix of melter guns and flamers. Each one had a combat knife and lass pistol on hand as well as two flame grenades and a regular fragment grenade. Their armor was insulated to be fire proof and reduce heat absorption. As the Inquisitor boarded the armored Inquisitor Valkyries they began their decent to the main city. It would take about thirty minutes with the storm to land but they would soon be their to unleash their fury.
Meanwhile planet side the Imperial forces on the Central regions Southern gate were unleashing hundreds of rounds into the oncoming chaos tide. Many Daemons leaped to the walls but were quickly gunned down. From behind the walls Basilisk cannons unleashed a fury of rounds. They even targeted the buildings which were housing cultists. The cowardly traitors tried to hide from oncoming fire but the Guard wouldn't let a building stand while it housed the dark powers. Several dozen Guardsman came running down the streets. Dozens of Khornate Bloodletters behind them by mere meters. One unfortunate soul found himself tripping over some debree. Not wasting a moment the red daemons hacked down and tore the poor man to pieces. Blood continued to spill through the streets and the Stormtrooper captain on the wall saw this horrendous attack. Pulling up a sniper rifle located nearby he took aim and fired three quick shots. One blew half a Bloodletters head while the following two hit the shoulder and face dropping the beast as it faded into the warp.
"Give those men covering fire!" He ordered as nearby men focused on the Bloodletters. Through the city cultists began pouring out in waves as well as plague daemons and deformed Warp Spawn throwing warp energy at the wall. Several Chimera and Lemun Russ tanks blew through these waves as they made their way to the wall.
"Have my men in their ships. I'm personally going down to deal with this incursion. Inform Commissar Grim to begin his assault. He is to strike the portal itself. Give him any new data we have. This is my direct order Sargent. Now move!" He snaps.
"Yes my lord!" The man salutes and heads off for his mission. Tenebres began marching to the hanger. The Inquisitor had a personal regiment for his missions. The 'Tenebres Regiment' were a mighty group of Imperial soldiers capable of holding their own against the largest of Waaaaghs and the strongest of Daemons. Their armor was similar to Inquisitor Stormtroopers but the colour scheme was a charcoal black and flaming orange for the shoulder pads and insignia. With their affinity for fire based weapons they were nicknamed the 'Hellfire Regiment' always leaving chard bodies and cleansed ground were they moved.
Tenebres picked up his custom melta and an Elder blade. Obtained from a battle long ago it was capable of slicing through even Space Marine Terminator armor with its plasma blade. This katana like weapon was sheathed on his back and three flame grenades and two fragment grenades were on his waist. The soldiers under him had a mix of melter guns and flamers. Each one had a combat knife and lass pistol on hand as well as two flame grenades and a regular fragment grenade. Their armor was insulated to be fire proof and reduce heat absorption. As the Inquisitor boarded the armored Inquisitor Valkyries they began their decent to the main city. It would take about thirty minutes with the storm to land but they would soon be their to unleash their fury.
Meanwhile planet side the Imperial forces on the Central regions Southern gate were unleashing hundreds of rounds into the oncoming chaos tide. Many Daemons leaped to the walls but were quickly gunned down. From behind the walls Basilisk cannons unleashed a fury of rounds. They even targeted the buildings which were housing cultists. The cowardly traitors tried to hide from oncoming fire but the Guard wouldn't let a building stand while it housed the dark powers. Several dozen Guardsman came running down the streets. Dozens of Khornate Bloodletters behind them by mere meters. One unfortunate soul found himself tripping over some debree. Not wasting a moment the red daemons hacked down and tore the poor man to pieces. Blood continued to spill through the streets and the Stormtrooper captain on the wall saw this horrendous attack. Pulling up a sniper rifle located nearby he took aim and fired three quick shots. One blew half a Bloodletters head while the following two hit the shoulder and face dropping the beast as it faded into the warp.
"Give those men covering fire!" He ordered as nearby men focused on the Bloodletters. Through the city cultists began pouring out in waves as well as plague daemons and deformed Warp Spawn throwing warp energy at the wall. Several Chimera and Lemun Russ tanks blew through these waves as they made their way to the wall.
The swamp was alive, not just the horrors growing within and bursting forth, but the twisted land itself. Imbued with the overflowing energy of the warp, the death marsh seemed to be spreading; deepening. Damaged machines, abandoned in place with the chaos of battle, began to sink. Strange cries of excited fury erupted from the slowly filling voids they left; as if terrible beasts had found some new and delightful playthings.
The area around the warp gate was evolving rapidly into a nightmare scape. Strange and haunting shapes of stone grew from nothing, sparse grasslands eroded to dust and sand, bone white and ash gray.
The colorless desert spread out from there, stretching to match the edges of the storm, or clash with the death marsh. Splits formed, isolated tremors occurring, as sharp and brittle cliffs tore up. Sinkholes appeared, dropping away to a bottomless eternal night, the pale sands cascading down like strange waterfalls.
Basins of varying depths formed, carving themselves out of the newly formed colorless desert. Pools of thick ichor and viscous fluids emerged, the strange and unidentifiable liquids seeming to ooze up out of the ground, creating a nauseating palate in sharp contrast to the pale soil.
Strange glowing light pulsates faintly below the sands. Strange clouds of mist and smoke rising from these patches, their vibrant colors and intoxicating smells obscuring their sinister nature.
It was the work of the great ocean, and if left unchecked, it was a glimpse into the fate of the rest of this world; and with it would come a forward launching point for the forces of ruin; a back door for which to bypass the Cadian Gate.
But that was a concern for others.
Inaros, and his warriors were making excellent time. The journey across the marsh would have taken hours, days even with its growing nature, for a mortal. And that was provided they made it at all.
But the Thousand Sons were not mere mortals. They made the journey, aided by their inhuman stamina, but mostly due to the raw power emanating from the Sorcerer Lords psychic presence.
For them, it was a journey that was measured in minutes, and that saw them to the edge of the fallen section of the city. Despite the terrain, their armor and robes were still clean. Their wandering path would have left them hard to track, and avoided the majority of assaulting forces. More importantly, it had brought them well clear of the major fighting front, to one of the least damage sections.
They hustled from the edge of the marsh to the nearest structures. From there they moved carefully, abandoning the marching formation. They moved in a single file, cover to cover manner, using the broken and abandoned structures to mask their movements. They could hear the sounds of the raging battle, feel the vibrations of detonating artillery. They were doing their best to avoid the conflict, continuing to follow a meandering and winding path through through the recently overrun southern section.
Though hard to discern, they were heading in the general direction not of the central gate, as with the rest of the daemonic horde, but toward the largely ignored western section of the city.
The area around the warp gate was evolving rapidly into a nightmare scape. Strange and haunting shapes of stone grew from nothing, sparse grasslands eroded to dust and sand, bone white and ash gray.
The colorless desert spread out from there, stretching to match the edges of the storm, or clash with the death marsh. Splits formed, isolated tremors occurring, as sharp and brittle cliffs tore up. Sinkholes appeared, dropping away to a bottomless eternal night, the pale sands cascading down like strange waterfalls.
Basins of varying depths formed, carving themselves out of the newly formed colorless desert. Pools of thick ichor and viscous fluids emerged, the strange and unidentifiable liquids seeming to ooze up out of the ground, creating a nauseating palate in sharp contrast to the pale soil.
Strange glowing light pulsates faintly below the sands. Strange clouds of mist and smoke rising from these patches, their vibrant colors and intoxicating smells obscuring their sinister nature.
It was the work of the great ocean, and if left unchecked, it was a glimpse into the fate of the rest of this world; and with it would come a forward launching point for the forces of ruin; a back door for which to bypass the Cadian Gate.
But that was a concern for others.
Inaros, and his warriors were making excellent time. The journey across the marsh would have taken hours, days even with its growing nature, for a mortal. And that was provided they made it at all.
But the Thousand Sons were not mere mortals. They made the journey, aided by their inhuman stamina, but mostly due to the raw power emanating from the Sorcerer Lords psychic presence.
For them, it was a journey that was measured in minutes, and that saw them to the edge of the fallen section of the city. Despite the terrain, their armor and robes were still clean. Their wandering path would have left them hard to track, and avoided the majority of assaulting forces. More importantly, it had brought them well clear of the major fighting front, to one of the least damage sections.
They hustled from the edge of the marsh to the nearest structures. From there they moved carefully, abandoning the marching formation. They moved in a single file, cover to cover manner, using the broken and abandoned structures to mask their movements. They could hear the sounds of the raging battle, feel the vibrations of detonating artillery. They were doing their best to avoid the conflict, continuing to follow a meandering and winding path through through the recently overrun southern section.
Though hard to discern, they were heading in the general direction not of the central gate, as with the rest of the daemonic horde, but toward the largely ignored western section of the city.
Geim sat in the Valkyrie with his squad, spending his concentration on polishing an amulet he had of the Imperial Aquila, given to him by his overseeing commissar in the Schola Progenium so many years ago. The hurried Sergeant moved into the Valkyrie and explained his orders. Grim furrowed his lip and looked at his squad, his blessings to his soul and the very gifts from the Emperor he had been given. fifteen of the Imperium's hardest men and women, the same fifteen who had been through the very depths of the abyss and back with him in engagement after engagement.
Grim stood up and adjusted his great coat as he stood, it fluttering gently in the movement. He didn't look like much of a man, thin and sickly, but when his voice spoke, it echoed through the hangar of the forces from his home regiment he had brought. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Foruscia, we have orders, we are going to land on that Emperor forsaken planet and take a the warp Gate on planet," he said loudly and strongly, his voice booming amongst his carapace armor clad men. "We need to prep our chimera's and Tauros' , they will go in first and clear a landing zone post drop, We will seperate into three assault teams with a sniper escort to each team and we will encircle them like a wolf hunting its prey, we must be quiet as we move through the swamps, Intelligence says monstrosities lurk in the waters, but We are Foruscians, our greatest hunter in in the sand of our homeworld! No water dwelling pansy beast can stop our advance. On approach do not use your hellguns and Lasguns, instead use autoguns equipped with suppressors and blades, hey are the quietest equipment we have,"
The Foruscian regiment on loan to the Inquisitor stood up as they heard their orders, the three pronged attack would guarantee at least one squad would kill the enemy forces and it allows flexibility in the assaults of the men, letting them complete side objectives or help other squads that need it, normally the Foruscian's excel at pestering an entrenched target to death, but in this case, they needed to take it.
The Foruscian's, along with the Armor they were given by the Muntorum, still wore memories of home, sweat rags and shells of native creatures of Foruscia decorated their armor. making their bodies seem to shimmer with each step, both concealing their form through obstruction and using the shells to provide supplemental armor where it was needed most.
Grim motioned for his men to move onto the Valkyries and be prepared to move out and in near moments, the drop ships were cutting through the skies, them not worried as much about the storm as the Inquisitor. Grim got over the Vox. "Lord Inquisitor Tenebres, we are on move to the objective, we should have it shortly, if we can not take it and we die in battle, may the Emperor protect you," He said, holding the Vox to his ears as he looked out the view port, his Valkyrie cutting the skies as they moved as fas as they could through the warpstorm before cutting through it and into untainted airspace grazing the tops of the trees.
Grim stood up and adjusted his great coat as he stood, it fluttering gently in the movement. He didn't look like much of a man, thin and sickly, but when his voice spoke, it echoed through the hangar of the forces from his home regiment he had brought. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Foruscia, we have orders, we are going to land on that Emperor forsaken planet and take a the warp Gate on planet," he said loudly and strongly, his voice booming amongst his carapace armor clad men. "We need to prep our chimera's and Tauros' , they will go in first and clear a landing zone post drop, We will seperate into three assault teams with a sniper escort to each team and we will encircle them like a wolf hunting its prey, we must be quiet as we move through the swamps, Intelligence says monstrosities lurk in the waters, but We are Foruscians, our greatest hunter in in the sand of our homeworld! No water dwelling pansy beast can stop our advance. On approach do not use your hellguns and Lasguns, instead use autoguns equipped with suppressors and blades, hey are the quietest equipment we have,"
The Foruscian regiment on loan to the Inquisitor stood up as they heard their orders, the three pronged attack would guarantee at least one squad would kill the enemy forces and it allows flexibility in the assaults of the men, letting them complete side objectives or help other squads that need it, normally the Foruscian's excel at pestering an entrenched target to death, but in this case, they needed to take it.
The Foruscian's, along with the Armor they were given by the Muntorum, still wore memories of home, sweat rags and shells of native creatures of Foruscia decorated their armor. making their bodies seem to shimmer with each step, both concealing their form through obstruction and using the shells to provide supplemental armor where it was needed most.
Grim motioned for his men to move onto the Valkyries and be prepared to move out and in near moments, the drop ships were cutting through the skies, them not worried as much about the storm as the Inquisitor. Grim got over the Vox. "Lord Inquisitor Tenebres, we are on move to the objective, we should have it shortly, if we can not take it and we die in battle, may the Emperor protect you," He said, holding the Vox to his ears as he looked out the view port, his Valkyrie cutting the skies as they moved as fas as they could through the warpstorm before cutting through it and into untainted airspace grazing the tops of the trees.
As all forces moved to their appropriate positions on the planet below the Inquisitorial fleet sat above watching as the planet side warp storm formed.
"The forces of Chaos are stronger then we could have imagined on the planet." A missionary accompanied by a scribe comments on the gathering storm. The missionary was brought to assist in working on the masses below. A Stormtrooper lieutenant salutes as he too looks over the map.
"I'm in agreement. Inquisitor Tenebres even said that if the Chaos forces over whelm the city and there's no sight of the portal being crushed we are to use Cyclone torpedo and initiate Exterminatus." His eyes were glassy with what could be fear or concern. "Such a level of dark energy. I've never seen it form planet side."
"Something grows. The Warp is bleeding through by somethings will." A feeble voice says from behind. The two turn to see a figure cloaked and holding an imperial staff. A psyker potent in reading the warp. This psyker works in the art of Theosophamy and manipulating the Warp breaches. "This isn't a simple bleeding of Chaos." He feebly holds the staff as his mechanical breathing is heard. "This must be monitored."
Back planet side the Chaos forces were hitting the wall with full force. Guardsmen littered the outside walls as many failed to arrive and fell prey to daemons. The occasional Daemon leaped up and slashed at the men but were quickly gunned down. Soon though several Obliteraters began firing on the wall. After almost an hour of combat the Basilisks on the outer walls were forced to be abandoned as they ran out of ammunition. As artillery support slowed the forces of Chaos came in stronger hordes.
"Keep firing. Don't let these bastards breach the gate! This planet shall not fall while the Emperor is with us!" The general calls out over the intercom. In the city several tank shots are heard before a crash. Several seconds go by and out of no where the top canon of a Lemun Russ tank slams into the Guardsman behind the barrier. Cracking ones skull as he drops dead. The Stormtrooper sargent looks over before a warp flame hits his shoulder. He yells out as it burns through his armor but before he can fire back the warp spawn leap up and into the wall. With rubber like arms they swing and throw fireballs from the warp at the guard. Bullets and lass rounds cut them down but as a Guardsman is hit by a flame his body begins to glow and he turns to attack his fellow men. Seeing this a Commissar runs down. Firing his bolt pistol he blows a daemon apart as he pulls out his specialized execution lass pistol and puts down the feral marine. Along the wall several other breaches are detected as Daemons and cultists pour in. The once heavily defended walls now littered with blood, flesh, burn marks and spent rounds and shells.
Bloodletters begin leaping into the wall were some Obliteraters breached a hole. One Stormtrooper tosses a grenade which blasts one to pieces as it fades into the warp. But as quickly as it fell another leapt from the smoke and skewered the marine. Roaring in the mans face before tearing him off its blade and tossing him aside. As the sword is swung fresh blood splatters on the wall. Firing off a shotgun the Daemon is vanquished and the next behind it. As Guardsman and Stormtroopers fired away a grenade resembling a pulsating organ lands between them. One looks down and his eyes widen as he realizes. The grenade goes off and lets loose an acidic blast burning through marines. A grenade thrown by a cultist. A cultist of the great Nurgle. Several of the cultists in question climb the wall. Each one looking half decayed and oozing unknown types of puss.
"Emperor protect me." A Guardsman says hiding behind a wall and clasping his dog tags. He turns the corner and while yelling fires off his grenade launcher into the cultists. One looks over with fear similar to the Guardsman's as a grenade slams into his nose breaking it before detonating and blasting him and those around him apart. Firing two more shots he kills some of the Daemons. "Aaaaagh!" He cries charging. As he runs however his ankle is cut. Crying out he drops holding his bleeding ankle. A cultist knocked down by a grenade stumbles up and coughs a mix of blood and mucus. It chuckles and with filthy knife in hand tackles and bites the marines neck while stabbing him. The horrified man does one final act in the Emperors name and pulls a pin. Shortly after a grenade on his belt detonates killing both.
Meanwhile at the warp gate the forces of Chaos gathered. Hundreds of Daemons from each god emerged and let out cries. Most were lesser and weak daemons but some were notably larger. Hundreds of cultists cheered and performed horrific rituals to continue the daemon summonings as their forces gathered. Unlike most chaos incursions which had one gods Daemons mainly this was all. An invasion from Chaos undivided. Something seen extremely rarely. This all but confirmed someone was behind this. Even in the warp an act of coincidence this great is too small to occur on such a world. The eyes of at least one god were on this planet. But for what purpose? For what was going to happen? The worst was yet to come this was certain. Inside his drop ship Tenebres held his hands clasped and tapped his right index finger on his left wrist. He knew there was more to this. The sight of Traitor Legions being here, even in small numbers was indeed concerning. But he wouldn't be so willing to inform the Adeptus Astartes or other branches until after. He knew they would take too long and let such a foothold grow. Tenebres was either making a wise decision or a foolish one. Only time would tell. As his ships began breaking into the atmosphere and making their way through the small warp storms forming the planets level of corruption grew. And anyone caught in the leaking energies influence was at risk of corruption. Something else which Tenebres expected from the worlds Guardsman.
"The forces of Chaos are stronger then we could have imagined on the planet." A missionary accompanied by a scribe comments on the gathering storm. The missionary was brought to assist in working on the masses below. A Stormtrooper lieutenant salutes as he too looks over the map.
"I'm in agreement. Inquisitor Tenebres even said that if the Chaos forces over whelm the city and there's no sight of the portal being crushed we are to use Cyclone torpedo and initiate Exterminatus." His eyes were glassy with what could be fear or concern. "Such a level of dark energy. I've never seen it form planet side."
"Something grows. The Warp is bleeding through by somethings will." A feeble voice says from behind. The two turn to see a figure cloaked and holding an imperial staff. A psyker potent in reading the warp. This psyker works in the art of Theosophamy and manipulating the Warp breaches. "This isn't a simple bleeding of Chaos." He feebly holds the staff as his mechanical breathing is heard. "This must be monitored."
Back planet side the Chaos forces were hitting the wall with full force. Guardsmen littered the outside walls as many failed to arrive and fell prey to daemons. The occasional Daemon leaped up and slashed at the men but were quickly gunned down. Soon though several Obliteraters began firing on the wall. After almost an hour of combat the Basilisks on the outer walls were forced to be abandoned as they ran out of ammunition. As artillery support slowed the forces of Chaos came in stronger hordes.
"Keep firing. Don't let these bastards breach the gate! This planet shall not fall while the Emperor is with us!" The general calls out over the intercom. In the city several tank shots are heard before a crash. Several seconds go by and out of no where the top canon of a Lemun Russ tank slams into the Guardsman behind the barrier. Cracking ones skull as he drops dead. The Stormtrooper sargent looks over before a warp flame hits his shoulder. He yells out as it burns through his armor but before he can fire back the warp spawn leap up and into the wall. With rubber like arms they swing and throw fireballs from the warp at the guard. Bullets and lass rounds cut them down but as a Guardsman is hit by a flame his body begins to glow and he turns to attack his fellow men. Seeing this a Commissar runs down. Firing his bolt pistol he blows a daemon apart as he pulls out his specialized execution lass pistol and puts down the feral marine. Along the wall several other breaches are detected as Daemons and cultists pour in. The once heavily defended walls now littered with blood, flesh, burn marks and spent rounds and shells.
Bloodletters begin leaping into the wall were some Obliteraters breached a hole. One Stormtrooper tosses a grenade which blasts one to pieces as it fades into the warp. But as quickly as it fell another leapt from the smoke and skewered the marine. Roaring in the mans face before tearing him off its blade and tossing him aside. As the sword is swung fresh blood splatters on the wall. Firing off a shotgun the Daemon is vanquished and the next behind it. As Guardsman and Stormtroopers fired away a grenade resembling a pulsating organ lands between them. One looks down and his eyes widen as he realizes. The grenade goes off and lets loose an acidic blast burning through marines. A grenade thrown by a cultist. A cultist of the great Nurgle. Several of the cultists in question climb the wall. Each one looking half decayed and oozing unknown types of puss.
"Emperor protect me." A Guardsman says hiding behind a wall and clasping his dog tags. He turns the corner and while yelling fires off his grenade launcher into the cultists. One looks over with fear similar to the Guardsman's as a grenade slams into his nose breaking it before detonating and blasting him and those around him apart. Firing two more shots he kills some of the Daemons. "Aaaaagh!" He cries charging. As he runs however his ankle is cut. Crying out he drops holding his bleeding ankle. A cultist knocked down by a grenade stumbles up and coughs a mix of blood and mucus. It chuckles and with filthy knife in hand tackles and bites the marines neck while stabbing him. The horrified man does one final act in the Emperors name and pulls a pin. Shortly after a grenade on his belt detonates killing both.
Meanwhile at the warp gate the forces of Chaos gathered. Hundreds of Daemons from each god emerged and let out cries. Most were lesser and weak daemons but some were notably larger. Hundreds of cultists cheered and performed horrific rituals to continue the daemon summonings as their forces gathered. Unlike most chaos incursions which had one gods Daemons mainly this was all. An invasion from Chaos undivided. Something seen extremely rarely. This all but confirmed someone was behind this. Even in the warp an act of coincidence this great is too small to occur on such a world. The eyes of at least one god were on this planet. But for what purpose? For what was going to happen? The worst was yet to come this was certain. Inside his drop ship Tenebres held his hands clasped and tapped his right index finger on his left wrist. He knew there was more to this. The sight of Traitor Legions being here, even in small numbers was indeed concerning. But he wouldn't be so willing to inform the Adeptus Astartes or other branches until after. He knew they would take too long and let such a foothold grow. Tenebres was either making a wise decision or a foolish one. Only time would tell. As his ships began breaking into the atmosphere and making their way through the small warp storms forming the planets level of corruption grew. And anyone caught in the leaking energies influence was at risk of corruption. Something else which Tenebres expected from the worlds Guardsman.
It was true. This incursion had not been a matter of mere coincidence or luck. Nothing in this universe, or the next ever was. The warp gate had been the result of months of careful planning, and subtle execution.
The corruption had been seeded well over a year ago. Inactivity had lead to a stagnant and complacent environment, fostering questions and doubt. An atmosphere of fear, while a powerful motivator, only yields results for so long; especially when it languishes.
From those few wayward souls, it had grown into the four sects of cults, with thousands of followers. In some cases, entire regiments had fallen. These were the rebels fighting for a side they could see, for powers that offered more then false promises in exchange for a woefully short life of conscription.
The influence of these cults had been felt for months, but had largely gone unnoticed. Deaths had seen a sharp increase in the weeks leading up to the warp gate, but had come under the guise of training incidents and industrial accidents.
30 regiments had converted in their entirety to the cults, with smaller splinter groups and various individuals from others defecting as well.
Nine were last seen on departing in the direction of the warp gate, hours before it formed, an alleged training exercise. Their corpses and equipment had yet to be recovered. Those that had been privy to this information had unofficially ruled them dead, involved in the incident one way or the other.
Six others had vanished prior to that, largely coinciding with ramp up of deaths, leaving behind almost all of their equipment and belongings. Though investigated, no explanation could be reached that offered acceptable reason for nearly 60,000 individuals to vanish. While a concern, this still represented less then 0.02% of the total fighting force of the planet, and was severely down played, largely out of fear of reprisal.
The remaining tainted regiments would eventually become the bulk of the ichor dripping, disease ridden plague cultists, and blood covered, rage filled Khorn worshippers.
The message traffic concerning these developments would never make it off world, lost in to a sea of processing as the increasing turmoil in the warp wreaked havoc on long range communications. The same disturbances had made supply requisitions difficult as well, the orders being sent out not equalling that received.
As a humorous example, at one point in the previous months nearly four thousand tons of reptile meat had been delivered to the planet in place of an entire alcohol shipment. But when ammo supplies, armament, and personnel manning also began to be effected in the same way, it became a much more grievous issue.
Back to the present; with the immense fight for the central gate, and established communication failures, few would notice the sudden inactivity of one defensive tower for the western city section.
There was no explosion. No gun fire. No scream. Just a strange silence, as the men and women stationed there on watch were killed in the most permanent and efficient means possible.
Inaros was immobile, kneeling silently as the eight Rhubric marines stood guard in a protective circle. The entire squad was positioned within an abandoned storage structure just beyond the perimeter of the wall.
The sorcerer lord exhaled slowly, his helmet absorbing the sound, and stood slowly. He had been diving into the warp, projecting his incorporeal self into the great ocean, hunting those on the tower from the depths they couldn't defend.
All humans maintained a connection with the warp, save the rare genetic anomalies that are psychic blanks. This presence in the great ocean, often considered the soul, was just as vital to life as the physical body.
Inaros had simply ripped out their souls, and cast them into the hungering jaws and snapping teeth of the lurking void predators. His victims had not simply died; they had been removed from existence.
He stood, his psychic presence returning, and with it, the sentience of the other marines with it. They moved from their cover, making for the base of the tower.
It was a thick, fortified structure. Meant to prevent breach, and withstand some of the heaviest bombardment the imperium could imagine.... But such things were trivial, at best, in the face of true power. With no worry of sentries or alarms, he placed his gauntlet covered hands before him, hovering them just above the surface of the structure.
He focused, the structure denting ever so slightly. The real damage was occurring on the far side, where the thick wall was disintegrating, breaking down to fine powder, and cascading away like a concentrated dust storm.
The room was a makeshift bunk room where several guardsmen, the relieving team for the dead sentries above, were sleeping within. They were caught in the maelstrom, violently ripping them from their sleep and plunging them into a nightmare of pain. They were slammed about the room by the chaotic wind, their flesh stripped away layer by layer, skin, fat, and muscle, adding a deep crimson tint to the bits of dust. Those that screamed died the quickest, their horrific cries cut short as their lungs and throats shredded from the inside.
The wall before the squad dissolved, creating a near perfect circle as a means of entry. They strode through, and into the swirling sands and chaotic wind in the room. Once the final member had crossed the threshold, it began to close, the dust reforming into the structure as smoothly as it had flown apart.
Once the process completed, the surface was as unblemished as it began, save for the dark red, perfect circle. Blood permanently engrained within the reformed structure. Bone face plates, sand blasted smooth protruding, from the wall, the last remnants of the second watch... A taunting hint for those that may come looking.
The team moved deeper, heading for the nearest exit, and access to the western city.
The corruption had been seeded well over a year ago. Inactivity had lead to a stagnant and complacent environment, fostering questions and doubt. An atmosphere of fear, while a powerful motivator, only yields results for so long; especially when it languishes.
From those few wayward souls, it had grown into the four sects of cults, with thousands of followers. In some cases, entire regiments had fallen. These were the rebels fighting for a side they could see, for powers that offered more then false promises in exchange for a woefully short life of conscription.
The influence of these cults had been felt for months, but had largely gone unnoticed. Deaths had seen a sharp increase in the weeks leading up to the warp gate, but had come under the guise of training incidents and industrial accidents.
30 regiments had converted in their entirety to the cults, with smaller splinter groups and various individuals from others defecting as well.
Nine were last seen on departing in the direction of the warp gate, hours before it formed, an alleged training exercise. Their corpses and equipment had yet to be recovered. Those that had been privy to this information had unofficially ruled them dead, involved in the incident one way or the other.
Six others had vanished prior to that, largely coinciding with ramp up of deaths, leaving behind almost all of their equipment and belongings. Though investigated, no explanation could be reached that offered acceptable reason for nearly 60,000 individuals to vanish. While a concern, this still represented less then 0.02% of the total fighting force of the planet, and was severely down played, largely out of fear of reprisal.
The remaining tainted regiments would eventually become the bulk of the ichor dripping, disease ridden plague cultists, and blood covered, rage filled Khorn worshippers.
The message traffic concerning these developments would never make it off world, lost in to a sea of processing as the increasing turmoil in the warp wreaked havoc on long range communications. The same disturbances had made supply requisitions difficult as well, the orders being sent out not equalling that received.
As a humorous example, at one point in the previous months nearly four thousand tons of reptile meat had been delivered to the planet in place of an entire alcohol shipment. But when ammo supplies, armament, and personnel manning also began to be effected in the same way, it became a much more grievous issue.
Back to the present; with the immense fight for the central gate, and established communication failures, few would notice the sudden inactivity of one defensive tower for the western city section.
There was no explosion. No gun fire. No scream. Just a strange silence, as the men and women stationed there on watch were killed in the most permanent and efficient means possible.
Inaros was immobile, kneeling silently as the eight Rhubric marines stood guard in a protective circle. The entire squad was positioned within an abandoned storage structure just beyond the perimeter of the wall.
The sorcerer lord exhaled slowly, his helmet absorbing the sound, and stood slowly. He had been diving into the warp, projecting his incorporeal self into the great ocean, hunting those on the tower from the depths they couldn't defend.
All humans maintained a connection with the warp, save the rare genetic anomalies that are psychic blanks. This presence in the great ocean, often considered the soul, was just as vital to life as the physical body.
Inaros had simply ripped out their souls, and cast them into the hungering jaws and snapping teeth of the lurking void predators. His victims had not simply died; they had been removed from existence.
He stood, his psychic presence returning, and with it, the sentience of the other marines with it. They moved from their cover, making for the base of the tower.
It was a thick, fortified structure. Meant to prevent breach, and withstand some of the heaviest bombardment the imperium could imagine.... But such things were trivial, at best, in the face of true power. With no worry of sentries or alarms, he placed his gauntlet covered hands before him, hovering them just above the surface of the structure.
He focused, the structure denting ever so slightly. The real damage was occurring on the far side, where the thick wall was disintegrating, breaking down to fine powder, and cascading away like a concentrated dust storm.
The room was a makeshift bunk room where several guardsmen, the relieving team for the dead sentries above, were sleeping within. They were caught in the maelstrom, violently ripping them from their sleep and plunging them into a nightmare of pain. They were slammed about the room by the chaotic wind, their flesh stripped away layer by layer, skin, fat, and muscle, adding a deep crimson tint to the bits of dust. Those that screamed died the quickest, their horrific cries cut short as their lungs and throats shredded from the inside.
The wall before the squad dissolved, creating a near perfect circle as a means of entry. They strode through, and into the swirling sands and chaotic wind in the room. Once the final member had crossed the threshold, it began to close, the dust reforming into the structure as smoothly as it had flown apart.
Once the process completed, the surface was as unblemished as it began, save for the dark red, perfect circle. Blood permanently engrained within the reformed structure. Bone face plates, sand blasted smooth protruding, from the wall, the last remnants of the second watch... A taunting hint for those that may come looking.
The team moved deeper, heading for the nearest exit, and access to the western city.
Grim had two line's of Valkyries flying through the storm. The first wave was loaded with sentinels, Tauros' and hell-storm missiles. As the first wave dropped its vehicles to secure the dropzones, it dropped potent firebombs, powerful enough to reduce anything nearly organic to ash, leaving large swathe's of burning earth, and steaming marsh water on this partially transformed world. Anything caught in the initial bombardment was gone.
As the Vehicles landed, the Tauros' engines roared to life and they hit the ground spinning. The buggy like vehicles were armed with twin heavy bolters and their six wheels allowed them to traverse terrain faster than most other vehicles on the field. Not subtle, but the speed made up for their lack of grace. Most of the Tauros' used by the Foruscian's were driven by people who had no value to their own lives and took the fun and thrill of the ride and the hunt above anything else in the world. They made it a goal to use their massive speed to hunt down cultists. The marsh would turn into a chaotic land of racketing heavy bolters, cutting down anything that dare poke its head in line of sight of the speedy vehicles.
The Armoured sentinels stood still, their lascannons and auto cannons aiming at the marsh, the pilots occasionally seeing their dare devil friends whizzing by in the wide arc of their circle. The Sentinels had been disguised and painted in such a way for this mission to match the look of the forest, the brown on their frames being concealed with twisting vines and over growth.
The second wave of Valkyries landed fast and skidded almost on their landing. in the second wave, there were two kinds of Valkyrie, one with men and weaponry, the other with Chimera's, by the time the 13th finished their rapid deployment, 300 guardsmen were on the ground ad another 100, including the Lord commissar and his squad, were inside Chimera's. The chimera's were where most of the regiment's heavy weapons were stored, holding them for where they would need to be deployed.
Grim pushed himself out of the command hatch and motioned his men forwards without a word, the chimera's taking a line based pattern as they moved agonizingly slow into the Daemon infested marsh. The Armoured Sentinels guarded the sides of the convoy as alot of the Guardsmen laid on the tops of the Chimeras, using their own camo and the camo of the ebbing Vehicle to hide themselves.
Chimera's were Amphibious vehicles, designed to be as much boats as they were land based vehicles. They moved through the marshes with no ill effects from the water itself and, when compared to the Tauros', they were quiet.
Grim got on his Vox and sent a report of their porgress so far to the Inquisitor and then he cut his Vox off.
As the Vehicles landed, the Tauros' engines roared to life and they hit the ground spinning. The buggy like vehicles were armed with twin heavy bolters and their six wheels allowed them to traverse terrain faster than most other vehicles on the field. Not subtle, but the speed made up for their lack of grace. Most of the Tauros' used by the Foruscian's were driven by people who had no value to their own lives and took the fun and thrill of the ride and the hunt above anything else in the world. They made it a goal to use their massive speed to hunt down cultists. The marsh would turn into a chaotic land of racketing heavy bolters, cutting down anything that dare poke its head in line of sight of the speedy vehicles.
The Armoured sentinels stood still, their lascannons and auto cannons aiming at the marsh, the pilots occasionally seeing their dare devil friends whizzing by in the wide arc of their circle. The Sentinels had been disguised and painted in such a way for this mission to match the look of the forest, the brown on their frames being concealed with twisting vines and over growth.
The second wave of Valkyries landed fast and skidded almost on their landing. in the second wave, there were two kinds of Valkyrie, one with men and weaponry, the other with Chimera's, by the time the 13th finished their rapid deployment, 300 guardsmen were on the ground ad another 100, including the Lord commissar and his squad, were inside Chimera's. The chimera's were where most of the regiment's heavy weapons were stored, holding them for where they would need to be deployed.
Grim pushed himself out of the command hatch and motioned his men forwards without a word, the chimera's taking a line based pattern as they moved agonizingly slow into the Daemon infested marsh. The Armoured Sentinels guarded the sides of the convoy as alot of the Guardsmen laid on the tops of the Chimeras, using their own camo and the camo of the ebbing Vehicle to hide themselves.
Chimera's were Amphibious vehicles, designed to be as much boats as they were land based vehicles. They moved through the marshes with no ill effects from the water itself and, when compared to the Tauros', they were quiet.
Grim got on his Vox and sent a report of their porgress so far to the Inquisitor and then he cut his Vox off.
The Inquisitors drop ships were approaching the main fortress in the central sector. As they flew through bristling wind and thick fog created from the malice of the Warp a communication managed to make it through. The Warp storm was yet to destroy the communications between personal vox radios. Tenebres's update from the mouth of Grim confirmed his thoughts.
"Very well. Continue your mission." He instructed as the communication ended. Looking at the footage of the ruined city below he began a plan to find the traitors and stop this ever growing horde of daemons. It wasn't long before they flew over the Southern, Central wall. The amount of daemons pouring in was beyond expectations. The level of Warp energy here would surely attract others. If not the imperiam then possibly the Tyranids, Orks or even the Elder. However a Xeno threat was the least of Tenebres's worries. This daemon swarm needed tending to and the thousands of cultists among them were another issue.
The wall had been breached in several locations. The shattered stone brought in hundreds of furious and varying daemons. They rushed in eager to feast on flesh and spill blood. In the breached portions fragmented human remains were scattered everywhere. One Guardsman seemed to have had his whole front scrapped against a wall and grinded him down two inches or flesh. Cultists cackled and used the blood of friend and foe alike to decorate each other and rituals. Chaos emblems were drawn into the ground and they began to chant and perform their heinous dances. Emblems of Khorne were everywhere and began to glow from the cultists rituals. Gathering in the center of one of these circles was a single living Guardsman. His ankles and wrists broken to prevent his escape. Looking up his eyes were wet from tears. The pain beyond any comprehension and horrors he was witnessing to drive him mad.
"Take him great blood god! Bring us your power!" A cultist remarks as several others toss a wounded cultist to the middle next to the Guardsman. The one which spoke drew a blade. He seemed different to the others. His eyes were a fiery orange and a cable in his neck connecting to his chest.
"No wait. Isn't he for the blood god?" The cultist on the ground asks looking afraid himself. The knife wielding cultist kneels down.
"All blood serves Khorne." He says driving it into the others chest. The cultists eyes go blank as the blade is tugged down to disembowel the former worshiper.
"Savages." The Guardsman mumbles.
"For the main event." The Cultist commander licks blood from his knife and leaps into the wounded imperial. Stabbing him furiously. As his blood is spilt the ground flares up and several more Bloodletters emerge and begin running inside. Hungry for combat. Similar rituals occurred all throughout the walls but some wee amble to be stopped by counter attacks from entrenched Guardsman.
With the main building in sight Tenebres drew to his feet. He waited as his ship came to land. Outside on the landing platform the imperial general of the base stood forth. He had power claws on his gold and green armor. A cape bearing the imperial insignia was around his neck and a small implant built over his right ear and connecting to behind the right eye were all that seemed to be different with him. Next to him was a commissar and behind several dozen Guardsman. Tenebres's ships landed and with steam pressurizing the craft they opened. Tenebres was greeted by salutes of what men were there.
"Lord Inquisitor Tenebres." The general speaks. "I'm Imperial General Erthos. I'm in charge of this base and I'm sorry to have you here under such circumstances." He says with a look of regret in his eyes. Tenebres approaches him.
"This planet is being over run by daemons, heretics and I suspect traitor legions. You have the audacity to think an apology would be enough for this to be resolved?" Erthos looks rather shocked and a bit nervous. Inquisitors could be rather decisive with acts of weakness were enemies of the imperium were involved. "Fortunitly you have a way of redeeming yourself. Take me to your command center and give me full scans of the city. There's work to be done." He says walking off.
"Yes my lord!" Erthos says as he marches with him and Tenebres troops poured out on their assigned duties. The walls and main combat were a good four kilometers away through city. They had time. Not much but time none the less.
"Very well. Continue your mission." He instructed as the communication ended. Looking at the footage of the ruined city below he began a plan to find the traitors and stop this ever growing horde of daemons. It wasn't long before they flew over the Southern, Central wall. The amount of daemons pouring in was beyond expectations. The level of Warp energy here would surely attract others. If not the imperiam then possibly the Tyranids, Orks or even the Elder. However a Xeno threat was the least of Tenebres's worries. This daemon swarm needed tending to and the thousands of cultists among them were another issue.
The wall had been breached in several locations. The shattered stone brought in hundreds of furious and varying daemons. They rushed in eager to feast on flesh and spill blood. In the breached portions fragmented human remains were scattered everywhere. One Guardsman seemed to have had his whole front scrapped against a wall and grinded him down two inches or flesh. Cultists cackled and used the blood of friend and foe alike to decorate each other and rituals. Chaos emblems were drawn into the ground and they began to chant and perform their heinous dances. Emblems of Khorne were everywhere and began to glow from the cultists rituals. Gathering in the center of one of these circles was a single living Guardsman. His ankles and wrists broken to prevent his escape. Looking up his eyes were wet from tears. The pain beyond any comprehension and horrors he was witnessing to drive him mad.
"Take him great blood god! Bring us your power!" A cultist remarks as several others toss a wounded cultist to the middle next to the Guardsman. The one which spoke drew a blade. He seemed different to the others. His eyes were a fiery orange and a cable in his neck connecting to his chest.
"No wait. Isn't he for the blood god?" The cultist on the ground asks looking afraid himself. The knife wielding cultist kneels down.
"All blood serves Khorne." He says driving it into the others chest. The cultists eyes go blank as the blade is tugged down to disembowel the former worshiper.
"Savages." The Guardsman mumbles.
"For the main event." The Cultist commander licks blood from his knife and leaps into the wounded imperial. Stabbing him furiously. As his blood is spilt the ground flares up and several more Bloodletters emerge and begin running inside. Hungry for combat. Similar rituals occurred all throughout the walls but some wee amble to be stopped by counter attacks from entrenched Guardsman.
With the main building in sight Tenebres drew to his feet. He waited as his ship came to land. Outside on the landing platform the imperial general of the base stood forth. He had power claws on his gold and green armor. A cape bearing the imperial insignia was around his neck and a small implant built over his right ear and connecting to behind the right eye were all that seemed to be different with him. Next to him was a commissar and behind several dozen Guardsman. Tenebres's ships landed and with steam pressurizing the craft they opened. Tenebres was greeted by salutes of what men were there.
"Lord Inquisitor Tenebres." The general speaks. "I'm Imperial General Erthos. I'm in charge of this base and I'm sorry to have you here under such circumstances." He says with a look of regret in his eyes. Tenebres approaches him.
"This planet is being over run by daemons, heretics and I suspect traitor legions. You have the audacity to think an apology would be enough for this to be resolved?" Erthos looks rather shocked and a bit nervous. Inquisitors could be rather decisive with acts of weakness were enemies of the imperium were involved. "Fortunitly you have a way of redeeming yourself. Take me to your command center and give me full scans of the city. There's work to be done." He says walking off.
"Yes my lord!" Erthos says as he marches with him and Tenebres troops poured out on their assigned duties. The walls and main combat were a good four kilometers away through city. They had time. Not much but time none the less.
Where the bombs fell didn't heal.... But the tearing away of the diseased swamp lands was far from a cure. Though craters measured in feet for depth should have formed, it was as if the explosions had instead punched countless holes straight into oblivion instead.
The ragged side of each hole transitioned to a strange darkness just beyond the drop off. It was an unnatural black, beyond that found within forgotten pits in the deepest and most crushing depths of any world. It was as if the light itself were afraid to enter...
To simply look at the holes was to invoke a sense of vertigo, but to stare even deeper was to welcome madness with open arms.
The turbulent energies of the warp increased in intensity, as if the great ocean itself were angered by this attack. None of the first wave of the assaulting Valkyries. None of the first wave would make it back out, the price for their fire bombs.
Potent warp lightning streaked through the the air, frying the electronic systems of the aircraft in its hunting path. Conflicting winds simply smashed others together. Either way say them dropped like flies swatted from the air.
Final screams of shock and frustration; prayers of men and women as they realized their imminent deaths were at hand. They filled the vox network. As the wrecked and disabled crafts plummeted through the very holes of reality they had torn open with their armaments.
Most haunting were the calm words of those who had dared to glimpse at what damage their bombs had wrought. Strangely cryptic messages of beauty, pleading tear filled cries begging the voices to stop, oddly firm resolutions of salvation; all coming before fully functional crafts abruptly dove, deliberately following their helpless comrades through the dark voids.
Terrifying sounds, roars and animalistic shrieks, resonated across the blood marsh, and briefly whited out the vox network.
Beyond the drop zone, directly in the line of path for the warp gate, horrific beasts dragged themselves up from the bloody mud. A dozen and a half in number. Snarling heads on four legged monsters; vaguely canine in appearance, these were forgefiends. Twisted reincarnations of the lost imperial equipment, some bastard creations of flesh and metal powered by bound, rage fueled daemons.
Once the advancing Taurus line was within range, the creatures fired. Twin linked hades pattern autocannons on each of the daemonic engines roared to life, filling the air with countless rounds of burning, red-hot phosphorous. Speed would bring no salvation from the sheer volume of the salvo.
Beyond this first wave of twisted machine beasts, more could be seen digging themselves out.
The western city section.
Inaros and his team were progressing deeper, the tower far behind him, still devoid of life. Certainly, radio checks would occur and reveal the dead zone in the defenses. This would likely spark an investigation, but by then their trail would be long cold.
Most of the guardsmen stationed here were being diverted to the center of the city, and it's defense from the insatiable horde. The thinned population left it easier for Inaros and his team to continue deeper without detection. For those unfortunate enough to be caught in their path, they were struck down silently, dying swiftly and brutally through melee combat and arcane means. The corpses were simply left where they fell.
Their destination was the center of the western section. It was a journey that on the surface made no sense; the location held no tactical advantage. Or so it seemed.
But as always when the forces of chaos are involved, nothing is what it appears.
The full scans of this area of the city would reveal nothing wrong. In fact, if one could argue such a thing, the heart of the western section of the city seemed to be too fine; Too... perfect.
But then, how could one trust a scan in a warp storm like this? People were dying because they foolishly trusted their own eyes.
Though invisible to most, the Sorcerer Lord could easily see the concentrated energy spilling out from there. This was not a result of the blatant hemorrhage of the warp gate... But something else. A more subtle evil, that corrupted from the inside out. It had been growing, and festering for some time, but largely unnoticed due to the presented symptoms.
Shortly after the six regiments disappeared, units based out of, and around the location had seen remarkable and unexplained improvement in their appearance and operations. When asked, even those involved couldn't explain their sudden need... Their sudden compulsion to improve.
This too was a strange and pristine facade, as it masked a growing undercurrent of hedonism and debauchery. If known about, it had been allowed to continue solely because of their improved performance. If they were doing well, were they not entitled a little extra liberty?
But things had spiraled out of control; depravity and madness sneaking in, and growing rapidly.
A hard physical line was visible, marking the extent of the area of psychic influence. Streets and buildings, once dull and modest, had been hastily colored with vivid, nauseating hues of conflicting shades. Improvised paints made of toxic chemicals... And in more extreme cases, human flesh and ichor, had been splattered across every surface. This had happened recently, everything still wet, and the fumes permeating the air.
The streets here were sparsely populated, the thousands of soldiers stationed there having never answered the call to arms. They were... otherwise engaged within the surrounding structures, unknowing pawns to a grander force. A twisted symphony of sounds flowed through the air: carnal pleasure and ecstasy rising from some; terrifying pain and suffering from others; drug fueled ramblings of burned out minds and damaged souls.
Inaros, and his cadre stood at this border, watching, as if anticipating some pivotal moment.
A lone guardsmen stumbled forth from a building, her body and clothes shredded; face cover in blood from her ruined eyes, scratched out by her own hands. She managed to make it to the center of the street, before falling forward into one of the puddles of industrial chemicals. Flesh bubbled and melted, as her arms rose above her, a flare clutched in her hands.
She ignited it, and looked straight at the fallen Astartes.
"Do you see? The beauty?" Her voice was soft, but carried.
The flare fell limply from her hand, falling into the chemical pool, and roaring to life an intense blaze. The fire consumed her...
Her scream of ecstasy rang out, the flames spreading with it...
...and Inaros could see it.
The sight of countless lives, tainted human souls, broken of their tether to the false Emperor, being set adrift in the Great Ocean. The swelling of power, and below the surface, amid a labyrinth of maintenance tunnels and chambers, 60,000 more beacons of light, and the graceful forms of void predators dancing about waiting their moment of freedom.
But those were not his problems... Not his concerns... And they strode forward once more, marching into the burning city.
The ragged side of each hole transitioned to a strange darkness just beyond the drop off. It was an unnatural black, beyond that found within forgotten pits in the deepest and most crushing depths of any world. It was as if the light itself were afraid to enter...
To simply look at the holes was to invoke a sense of vertigo, but to stare even deeper was to welcome madness with open arms.
The turbulent energies of the warp increased in intensity, as if the great ocean itself were angered by this attack. None of the first wave of the assaulting Valkyries. None of the first wave would make it back out, the price for their fire bombs.
Potent warp lightning streaked through the the air, frying the electronic systems of the aircraft in its hunting path. Conflicting winds simply smashed others together. Either way say them dropped like flies swatted from the air.
Final screams of shock and frustration; prayers of men and women as they realized their imminent deaths were at hand. They filled the vox network. As the wrecked and disabled crafts plummeted through the very holes of reality they had torn open with their armaments.
Most haunting were the calm words of those who had dared to glimpse at what damage their bombs had wrought. Strangely cryptic messages of beauty, pleading tear filled cries begging the voices to stop, oddly firm resolutions of salvation; all coming before fully functional crafts abruptly dove, deliberately following their helpless comrades through the dark voids.
Terrifying sounds, roars and animalistic shrieks, resonated across the blood marsh, and briefly whited out the vox network.
Beyond the drop zone, directly in the line of path for the warp gate, horrific beasts dragged themselves up from the bloody mud. A dozen and a half in number. Snarling heads on four legged monsters; vaguely canine in appearance, these were forgefiends. Twisted reincarnations of the lost imperial equipment, some bastard creations of flesh and metal powered by bound, rage fueled daemons.
Once the advancing Taurus line was within range, the creatures fired. Twin linked hades pattern autocannons on each of the daemonic engines roared to life, filling the air with countless rounds of burning, red-hot phosphorous. Speed would bring no salvation from the sheer volume of the salvo.
Beyond this first wave of twisted machine beasts, more could be seen digging themselves out.
The western city section.
Inaros and his team were progressing deeper, the tower far behind him, still devoid of life. Certainly, radio checks would occur and reveal the dead zone in the defenses. This would likely spark an investigation, but by then their trail would be long cold.
Most of the guardsmen stationed here were being diverted to the center of the city, and it's defense from the insatiable horde. The thinned population left it easier for Inaros and his team to continue deeper without detection. For those unfortunate enough to be caught in their path, they were struck down silently, dying swiftly and brutally through melee combat and arcane means. The corpses were simply left where they fell.
Their destination was the center of the western section. It was a journey that on the surface made no sense; the location held no tactical advantage. Or so it seemed.
But as always when the forces of chaos are involved, nothing is what it appears.
The full scans of this area of the city would reveal nothing wrong. In fact, if one could argue such a thing, the heart of the western section of the city seemed to be too fine; Too... perfect.
But then, how could one trust a scan in a warp storm like this? People were dying because they foolishly trusted their own eyes.
Though invisible to most, the Sorcerer Lord could easily see the concentrated energy spilling out from there. This was not a result of the blatant hemorrhage of the warp gate... But something else. A more subtle evil, that corrupted from the inside out. It had been growing, and festering for some time, but largely unnoticed due to the presented symptoms.
Shortly after the six regiments disappeared, units based out of, and around the location had seen remarkable and unexplained improvement in their appearance and operations. When asked, even those involved couldn't explain their sudden need... Their sudden compulsion to improve.
This too was a strange and pristine facade, as it masked a growing undercurrent of hedonism and debauchery. If known about, it had been allowed to continue solely because of their improved performance. If they were doing well, were they not entitled a little extra liberty?
But things had spiraled out of control; depravity and madness sneaking in, and growing rapidly.
A hard physical line was visible, marking the extent of the area of psychic influence. Streets and buildings, once dull and modest, had been hastily colored with vivid, nauseating hues of conflicting shades. Improvised paints made of toxic chemicals... And in more extreme cases, human flesh and ichor, had been splattered across every surface. This had happened recently, everything still wet, and the fumes permeating the air.
The streets here were sparsely populated, the thousands of soldiers stationed there having never answered the call to arms. They were... otherwise engaged within the surrounding structures, unknowing pawns to a grander force. A twisted symphony of sounds flowed through the air: carnal pleasure and ecstasy rising from some; terrifying pain and suffering from others; drug fueled ramblings of burned out minds and damaged souls.
Inaros, and his cadre stood at this border, watching, as if anticipating some pivotal moment.
A lone guardsmen stumbled forth from a building, her body and clothes shredded; face cover in blood from her ruined eyes, scratched out by her own hands. She managed to make it to the center of the street, before falling forward into one of the puddles of industrial chemicals. Flesh bubbled and melted, as her arms rose above her, a flare clutched in her hands.
She ignited it, and looked straight at the fallen Astartes.
"Do you see? The beauty?" Her voice was soft, but carried.
The flare fell limply from her hand, falling into the chemical pool, and roaring to life an intense blaze. The fire consumed her...
Her scream of ecstasy rang out, the flames spreading with it...
...and Inaros could see it.
The sight of countless lives, tainted human souls, broken of their tether to the false Emperor, being set adrift in the Great Ocean. The swelling of power, and below the surface, amid a labyrinth of maintenance tunnels and chambers, 60,000 more beacons of light, and the graceful forms of void predators dancing about waiting their moment of freedom.
But those were not his problems... Not his concerns... And they strode forward once more, marching into the burning city.
The Tauroses bucked themselves to the sides, trying to peel off as burning hot plasma and autocannon rounds cut the air, out of the 30 or so Tauroses,, many wrecked in chaotic sounds of shattering metal and burning flesh. The Tauroses peeled off to the lefts and rights of the mauler fiends as the Automatic grenade launchers mounted next to the heavy bolters began to berate the Forge fiends with krak grenades. Dull thuds echoed as the armor piercing grenades peppered them, out of the massive amount of grenades, most of the impacts would not do much, the occasional one would ruing the armor on ones front and make it enraged, in moments, the surviving Tauroses were ruined.
Grim frowned and pulled himself up and out of the chimera and he pointed at his sentinels and pointed for them to go as he patted his chimera and they began to go on the hunt after the Forge fiends. Each Chimera had an Autocannon and heavy flamer. The Sentinels each had lascannons. them humming as the powerpack began to power up the firing capacitors.
In a moment, a molten beam of a Lascannon fired through the woods and melted the head of a Forge-fiend as the sentinel trudged through to a clearing, aiming at a second and giving yet another devastating beam of murderous light, slashing one of the Ectoplasma cannons off its arm. The sentinels pilots were elite gunners. A sudden burst of return fire from the Forge-fiends hit the sentinels front armor plating, mostly sending ricochets off into the forest.
As that happened, a pair of Chimera's pulled up and released their own autocannon fire, peppering the forge-fiends.
Grim got on his vox. "Major Markov, sned in your tanks, we will need them my friend," he said over his vox as he helped his autocannon aim, sending a trio of high caliber round straight through the head of yet another forge fiend.
Beneath the cities, in the sewers, Fallen Inquisitor Hana Varus watched her servants enjoy their mass orgy, her biting her lip as she looked up, where the occasional firing of a basilisk could be heard shaking the tunnels. "My servants, it is time, kill your fellows," she said, turning her power swords alight as she focused on the tunnel, using her massive Psychic presence to obliterate some of the more vital supports and cause a collapse in an empty area, downwards, making a ramp up.
On the ramp was a a lone basilisk, its men shell shocked and unsteady as they were trying to realize what had happened. Before they could move, they began to scream as cultists grabbed them and started to bind and torture them on the vehicle, nailing them to its hull as they still screamed in agony. From the hole, her cultists poured out as she let her black clad form move over the basilisk, her motioning for a few fallen guardsmen to take control of it.
Then she left the ramp and made it to the surface, starting out in a dead sprint as a hurrying group of guardsmen began to get into a firing line with their lasguns aiming right at her. As she ehard the crack of air from the superheated light crack the air, she let her knees buckle beneath her, making her slide on the shaken earth closer to the line and into a flash of choked screams and wet flesh. she cut through them.
The sergeant got on the vox to send a distress as his men were trying, and failing to hold off the fallen Inquisitor. "BAse, this is Sergeant Kigger, we are under attack in the Artillery section, they came from the ground, they are being lead by a,"
Varus spun and cut his head off with her power sword and she let out a nod. "Idiotic sergeant, trying so ahrd,"
Grim frowned and pulled himself up and out of the chimera and he pointed at his sentinels and pointed for them to go as he patted his chimera and they began to go on the hunt after the Forge fiends. Each Chimera had an Autocannon and heavy flamer. The Sentinels each had lascannons. them humming as the powerpack began to power up the firing capacitors.
In a moment, a molten beam of a Lascannon fired through the woods and melted the head of a Forge-fiend as the sentinel trudged through to a clearing, aiming at a second and giving yet another devastating beam of murderous light, slashing one of the Ectoplasma cannons off its arm. The sentinels pilots were elite gunners. A sudden burst of return fire from the Forge-fiends hit the sentinels front armor plating, mostly sending ricochets off into the forest.
As that happened, a pair of Chimera's pulled up and released their own autocannon fire, peppering the forge-fiends.
Grim got on his vox. "Major Markov, sned in your tanks, we will need them my friend," he said over his vox as he helped his autocannon aim, sending a trio of high caliber round straight through the head of yet another forge fiend.
Beneath the cities, in the sewers, Fallen Inquisitor Hana Varus watched her servants enjoy their mass orgy, her biting her lip as she looked up, where the occasional firing of a basilisk could be heard shaking the tunnels. "My servants, it is time, kill your fellows," she said, turning her power swords alight as she focused on the tunnel, using her massive Psychic presence to obliterate some of the more vital supports and cause a collapse in an empty area, downwards, making a ramp up.
On the ramp was a a lone basilisk, its men shell shocked and unsteady as they were trying to realize what had happened. Before they could move, they began to scream as cultists grabbed them and started to bind and torture them on the vehicle, nailing them to its hull as they still screamed in agony. From the hole, her cultists poured out as she let her black clad form move over the basilisk, her motioning for a few fallen guardsmen to take control of it.
Then she left the ramp and made it to the surface, starting out in a dead sprint as a hurrying group of guardsmen began to get into a firing line with their lasguns aiming right at her. As she ehard the crack of air from the superheated light crack the air, she let her knees buckle beneath her, making her slide on the shaken earth closer to the line and into a flash of choked screams and wet flesh. she cut through them.
The sergeant got on the vox to send a distress as his men were trying, and failing to hold off the fallen Inquisitor. "BAse, this is Sergeant Kigger, we are under attack in the Artillery section, they came from the ground, they are being lead by a,"
Varus spun and cut his head off with her power sword and she let out a nod. "Idiotic sergeant, trying so ahrd,"
The advancing siege was putting immense pressure on the Southern Central wall as chaos forces pounded into it with all the ferocity they were known for. Basilisks battered the battlefield and killed countless daemons which by this point weren't dissipating. No they were in fact remaining in their whole forms. Dead but physical. This was all the needed proof to see just how corrupted and terraformed the world was becoming. The Warp Storms on the surface would prevent all scans even from the cruisers above. By this point tens of millions of Guardsman had died since the recall and many more would. Commissars were executing every few minutes as fear and corruption run rampant. Truly this was a world were the Emperors light was shaded.
Tenebres was escorted to the command center which was in a flurry. Usually he would be greeted with salutes from all and bows from the high ranking. But in such a time of war time was too precious. Imperial General Erthos presented a battlefield display. This system was operational by wired cables and cameras which thankfully were not interfered with by the Warp energies. However several systems like the furthermost Southern cameras and Eastern were fallen and destroyed. But the front line was seen from several camera angles. A few microphones still worked and allowed sounds of fire and screaming to come over. Tenebres wandered to the large screen and gazed over it. One camera feed showing the Bloodletter hordes and another a large group of plague daemons stumbling their grotesque bodies along the ground.
"As you can see my lord the fighting is fierce. We have untold casualties but still many men in reserve here waiting." Erthos explained before being cut off by the Inquisitor.
"You don't have enough." He selects the camera feed from an encampment where the men were turning on each other. "Pathetic." He says as several lass rounds are let off from now corrupted Guardsman. The soldiers laugh as they start mutilating their former allies.
"Such foul abomination. These bastard heretics!" Erthos says slamming his fist.
"I'm surprised this whole base hasn't fallen. I take it you have Psykers here? Likely absorbing all the energies from this building atleast?" Erthos nods. "I wish to see them. Where do you." He says before over hearing a voice. On one Vox network the Sargent attacked by Hana Varus was heard. The Vox radio had a few seconds before shutting off and this was enough to detect her voice. Tenebres rushes over.
"My lord?" Erthos raises his hand as he see's the Inquisitors quick movements.
"Where is that? What section?!" He snaps at the man at the console.
"Ugh third district at the Southern Boarder. One of the last secure points by the wall." He says nervously.
"Any cameras nearby?"
"Yes sir. There's one thirty meters away I'll bring it up." The camera feed on his terminal changes to the area. Debris littered the area and the camera just caught a sword wielding individual moving just out of the cameras sight. The camera was set on an axis to turn side to side but that split second of footage albeit blurry and voice was enough to gain his realization.
"What is it my lord? Is that person a concern?" Tenebres drags Erthos by the collar to his face.
"What is with this planet? Why are so many traitors here?!" He asks looking enraged.
Erthos was released and spoke.
"Nothing to our knowledge my lord." He says with a hint of fear in his voice. Tenebres regains his composure.
"Take me to your Psykers immediately. I have questions. My men will defend this place till I'm done. These abominations will need more then numbers to get past." Erthos nods.
"Yes my lord. Understood. Follow me." He says leading Tenebres down a hallway to the Psykers. Tenebres recognized the voice and weapon. He had great interest in these traitors and put many hours into studying them. He kept constant record of all fallen of well standing. Especially amongst the Inquisitors corrupted members of their own order were of highest concern. That woman was one he had not personally met. But had read her profile extensively. Hana Varus. Her and traitor legions on this world meant something. The only question was what. But he would learn soon enough. Then with the full force of the Emperor's wrath slaughter them as was his job. But one this if nothing else was certain. This planet was too corrupted to remain. After Tenebres did his duty he would call Exterminatus. But that detail was for him and him alone for now.
Tenebres was escorted to the command center which was in a flurry. Usually he would be greeted with salutes from all and bows from the high ranking. But in such a time of war time was too precious. Imperial General Erthos presented a battlefield display. This system was operational by wired cables and cameras which thankfully were not interfered with by the Warp energies. However several systems like the furthermost Southern cameras and Eastern were fallen and destroyed. But the front line was seen from several camera angles. A few microphones still worked and allowed sounds of fire and screaming to come over. Tenebres wandered to the large screen and gazed over it. One camera feed showing the Bloodletter hordes and another a large group of plague daemons stumbling their grotesque bodies along the ground.
"As you can see my lord the fighting is fierce. We have untold casualties but still many men in reserve here waiting." Erthos explained before being cut off by the Inquisitor.
"You don't have enough." He selects the camera feed from an encampment where the men were turning on each other. "Pathetic." He says as several lass rounds are let off from now corrupted Guardsman. The soldiers laugh as they start mutilating their former allies.
"Such foul abomination. These bastard heretics!" Erthos says slamming his fist.
"I'm surprised this whole base hasn't fallen. I take it you have Psykers here? Likely absorbing all the energies from this building atleast?" Erthos nods. "I wish to see them. Where do you." He says before over hearing a voice. On one Vox network the Sargent attacked by Hana Varus was heard. The Vox radio had a few seconds before shutting off and this was enough to detect her voice. Tenebres rushes over.
"My lord?" Erthos raises his hand as he see's the Inquisitors quick movements.
"Where is that? What section?!" He snaps at the man at the console.
"Ugh third district at the Southern Boarder. One of the last secure points by the wall." He says nervously.
"Any cameras nearby?"
"Yes sir. There's one thirty meters away I'll bring it up." The camera feed on his terminal changes to the area. Debris littered the area and the camera just caught a sword wielding individual moving just out of the cameras sight. The camera was set on an axis to turn side to side but that split second of footage albeit blurry and voice was enough to gain his realization.
"What is it my lord? Is that person a concern?" Tenebres drags Erthos by the collar to his face.
"What is with this planet? Why are so many traitors here?!" He asks looking enraged.
Erthos was released and spoke.
"Nothing to our knowledge my lord." He says with a hint of fear in his voice. Tenebres regains his composure.
"Take me to your Psykers immediately. I have questions. My men will defend this place till I'm done. These abominations will need more then numbers to get past." Erthos nods.
"Yes my lord. Understood. Follow me." He says leading Tenebres down a hallway to the Psykers. Tenebres recognized the voice and weapon. He had great interest in these traitors and put many hours into studying them. He kept constant record of all fallen of well standing. Especially amongst the Inquisitors corrupted members of their own order were of highest concern. That woman was one he had not personally met. But had read her profile extensively. Hana Varus. Her and traitor legions on this world meant something. The only question was what. But he would learn soon enough. Then with the full force of the Emperor's wrath slaughter them as was his job. But one this if nothing else was certain. This planet was too corrupted to remain. After Tenebres did his duty he would call Exterminatus. But that detail was for him and him alone for now.
The death marsh:
The forgefiends were abominations of machine and flesh, willed into existence and powered by the warp beasts within. As such, they were less vehicles or machines then they were nightmarish immortal daemons.
The empyrean fires within one of the beasts faded, as the lascannon removed it's face. The next stumbled and fell with the disarming shot to its side. A bellow of animalistic rage echoed into the night... Before it rose again, the molten stump of the metal and singed bone seeming to reform itself through will alone. It fired again, casting scorching ectoplasm back at the offending sentinel, before darting off to join two others of its warp fuels kin.
Across the marsh, similar instances were occurring. Eviscerating shots that should have been lethal were shrugged off, wounds of molten ichor sealing and reforming. Dismembered limbs and weapons growing back from mutilated stumps. It was only with the luckiest of shots to the faces or penetrating blows to the corrupted hearts that the monstrosities were downed permanently.
The losses were compensated for, as more cerberites had freed themselves from the blood marsh, adding their warp twisted plasma cannons to the autocannons of the first wave of forgefiends... Despite the losses, the creatures remained at 18 in number allowing them to split off, into teams of three... Two hades units to one cerberite.
They animalistic creatures moved like feral dogs and blood hungry wolves... Dancing about the edges of the imperial line. Circling, charging... Trying to split imperial vehicles and their overzealous operators off from the rest. Some groups of the engines hunted together, one squad acting as bait while the others moved to attack from the sides or rear. Others used the marsh to stalk quietly before unleashing volleys and disappearing again in persistent hit and run attacks. The daemon engines were clearly focusing more on mobility and deception.
The cerberites seemed to take the most pleasure from firing upon the troop covered Chimeras, successful hits bathing them in glowing plasma. While yielding minimal damage to the armored vehicles themselves, or those inside, the guardsmen on top were another story. Their screams mixed with the tortured souls that danced in the flames that consumed them.
Some, in desperation, dove off into the marsh, hoping the bloody quagmire might offer salvation. Their bodies continued to burn with the warp flames, as they sank into oblivion, joining the other wrecks and lost souls beyond.
Hades cannon fire would inevitably follow, targeting the heat stressed and weakened areas still covered in the localized infernos of ectoplasm.
A strange whisper came over the vox network, trailing behind the Commissar's order for backup. It was the voice of the pained, and lost. Grimm's voice, transmitted, an anchoring point for the owner. "...wings... steel... coming... empor-" The final words of the last member of the downed wave of Valkyries, sent from the consuming beyond, his final prayer cut off by another hellish screech. A screech that spilled forth from one of the black craters, with more echoing out of the others in response.
The western city:
The fires raged, a near perfect circle at the sectors heart. Oddly, if viewed from above, a single structure stood at the epicenter of the firestorm. A large fortified warehouse that in the last six months had changed possession 27 times... Which meant no one knew who was responsible for the structure, or the contents there of.
As the cadre of Astartes walked, it was clear this structure was their intended destination, but it was information no one would discover, as the various networks of surveillance had been obliterated by the heat of the raging inferno.
One of the Rhubric marines reached out as they marched, his hand stretching toward the surrounding flames. There was the briefest flicker as if a light wind had stirred the fire... But little more. It was the last of his influence, a ghost of once was, long ago stripped away. There was the briefest of pause, the marine missing step. It was as if the soul trapped within were confused, the reality of events not meshing with his shattered memories.
It was fleeting, and he quickly regained his composure, resuming his pace.
Within moments, the squad was within the warehouse, and the reason it was untouched by the corruption of Slaanesh, and subsequent fire, apparent. The structure had already been befouled, turned into a dark church of another force. The large shrine at the far end, a twisted vision that seemed to energize the very air around it, depicting it belonging to the Weaver of Destinies, the Changer of Way, Lord Tzeentch.
The parish was missing. Or mostly was. Banners hung from the walls, depicting the vandalized icons and symbols of the nine missing Imperial Guard regiments: 9th, 27th, 63rd, 81st, 90th, 99th, 108th,333rd, and 999th.
Two of what could only be described as the most average looking and easily forgettable Guardsmen in the galaxy. They were in full combat gear... While huddled around the base of the shrine were another five soldiers, one woman and four men. They were bound, and clad in ragged clothes.
Their two captors were actively completing a large design in the center of the floor. It was a geometric design of dozens of intricate and interlocking shapes of perfect dimensions. The design was being drawn with a mix of sand, ash, blood, and pulverized bone... The origins of which were probably best left unknown. They were taking handfuls from a shared bag, and while hunching inches above the floor, letting it fall from their fingers. So engrossed were they, they at first did not notice the squads arrival.
The hostages... And at first, they had been relieved... The outline of Astartes offering hope of being rescued... Until they had stepped forward into the dimly lit room. Cries of terrified horror came at the recognition of the members of the fallen chapter, of one so proceeded my millennia of rumors and myths... Realization of their fates had set in.
Simultaneously the two Guardsmen looked up, finishing the design. They quickly moved from the arcane symbol they had made, careful to not disturb it, and dropped down into a penitent kneel, their gaze cast to the ground.
"Forgive us, Lord. We did not hear your approach."
Obviously these were no normal guardsmen. Their names were stenciled onto the chest plates they had stolen, along with serial numbers. The paint had run, making it difficult to read the names. One was... Maybe Stephen. The other, Larry; Or Gary. They represented the personal attendants of Inaros.
Oddly, even he with his level of knowledge of all things past or yet to come, he did not know their names. These two cultist were uniquely gifted, possessing a strange link to the warp that seemed to manifest itself in two ways. First, they had supernatural dramatic timing. They were never on time... Yet, somehow, never late. The other was the name anomaly... No one seemed to be able to figure out their names... Coupled with their completely average appearance, it was as if they were magically forgettable.
It was why Inaros had chosen them. And it was why they had succeeded so well at infiltrating this Imperial world, and sowing the seeds of descent and corruption. They were never missed, and never out of place. Simply put, everyone remembered the ideas they had shared... Yet none remembered who had shared them, and so the Guardsmen had found it easier to accept the ideas as their own.
While he could not argue with results, they had yet fail him, damn, if Inaros did not find irritating the fact he could not decipher their names. He simply could ask either, or risk undermining their reverence of him.
His voice came out emotionless and somewhat mechanized by his helmet.
"Why are there five?"
Without looking up from the floor, the Larry... Or Garry spoke. "The name you gave us, my lord. They all share it. Even the woman. Her parents wanted a son."
Inaros looked at the hostages, for him he could easily make out the one he needed... Their presence in the warp outshine Bing all the others. After so long of seeing both the material and immaterial, it was easy to forget it was a gift not so commonly shared.
He was staring at the Guardsmen. "...you are excused. I cannot fault your actions." This would possibly make things difficult... At least interesting... "Leave the female. Dispose of the rest."
Maybe Stephen spoke. "Yes, my Lord." The two bowed, almost kissing the ground, before standing to perform the issue. They dawned breathing protection as the walked toward the guardsmen. The two cultists each graves the leg bindings of one of the men and drag them toward the warehouse entrance. They would return for the others, before sealing the entrance.
The men would die in agony, choking as their lungs burned with the smoke, and throats melted from the fumes as they were simply left to the toxic fire beyond.
The lone woman, whose soul was needed, quietly wept, unaware of what fate awaited her, but certain death would have been better.
The forgefiends were abominations of machine and flesh, willed into existence and powered by the warp beasts within. As such, they were less vehicles or machines then they were nightmarish immortal daemons.
The empyrean fires within one of the beasts faded, as the lascannon removed it's face. The next stumbled and fell with the disarming shot to its side. A bellow of animalistic rage echoed into the night... Before it rose again, the molten stump of the metal and singed bone seeming to reform itself through will alone. It fired again, casting scorching ectoplasm back at the offending sentinel, before darting off to join two others of its warp fuels kin.
Across the marsh, similar instances were occurring. Eviscerating shots that should have been lethal were shrugged off, wounds of molten ichor sealing and reforming. Dismembered limbs and weapons growing back from mutilated stumps. It was only with the luckiest of shots to the faces or penetrating blows to the corrupted hearts that the monstrosities were downed permanently.
The losses were compensated for, as more cerberites had freed themselves from the blood marsh, adding their warp twisted plasma cannons to the autocannons of the first wave of forgefiends... Despite the losses, the creatures remained at 18 in number allowing them to split off, into teams of three... Two hades units to one cerberite.
They animalistic creatures moved like feral dogs and blood hungry wolves... Dancing about the edges of the imperial line. Circling, charging... Trying to split imperial vehicles and their overzealous operators off from the rest. Some groups of the engines hunted together, one squad acting as bait while the others moved to attack from the sides or rear. Others used the marsh to stalk quietly before unleashing volleys and disappearing again in persistent hit and run attacks. The daemon engines were clearly focusing more on mobility and deception.
The cerberites seemed to take the most pleasure from firing upon the troop covered Chimeras, successful hits bathing them in glowing plasma. While yielding minimal damage to the armored vehicles themselves, or those inside, the guardsmen on top were another story. Their screams mixed with the tortured souls that danced in the flames that consumed them.
Some, in desperation, dove off into the marsh, hoping the bloody quagmire might offer salvation. Their bodies continued to burn with the warp flames, as they sank into oblivion, joining the other wrecks and lost souls beyond.
Hades cannon fire would inevitably follow, targeting the heat stressed and weakened areas still covered in the localized infernos of ectoplasm.
A strange whisper came over the vox network, trailing behind the Commissar's order for backup. It was the voice of the pained, and lost. Grimm's voice, transmitted, an anchoring point for the owner. "...wings... steel... coming... empor-" The final words of the last member of the downed wave of Valkyries, sent from the consuming beyond, his final prayer cut off by another hellish screech. A screech that spilled forth from one of the black craters, with more echoing out of the others in response.
The western city:
The fires raged, a near perfect circle at the sectors heart. Oddly, if viewed from above, a single structure stood at the epicenter of the firestorm. A large fortified warehouse that in the last six months had changed possession 27 times... Which meant no one knew who was responsible for the structure, or the contents there of.
As the cadre of Astartes walked, it was clear this structure was their intended destination, but it was information no one would discover, as the various networks of surveillance had been obliterated by the heat of the raging inferno.
One of the Rhubric marines reached out as they marched, his hand stretching toward the surrounding flames. There was the briefest flicker as if a light wind had stirred the fire... But little more. It was the last of his influence, a ghost of once was, long ago stripped away. There was the briefest of pause, the marine missing step. It was as if the soul trapped within were confused, the reality of events not meshing with his shattered memories.
It was fleeting, and he quickly regained his composure, resuming his pace.
Within moments, the squad was within the warehouse, and the reason it was untouched by the corruption of Slaanesh, and subsequent fire, apparent. The structure had already been befouled, turned into a dark church of another force. The large shrine at the far end, a twisted vision that seemed to energize the very air around it, depicting it belonging to the Weaver of Destinies, the Changer of Way, Lord Tzeentch.
The parish was missing. Or mostly was. Banners hung from the walls, depicting the vandalized icons and symbols of the nine missing Imperial Guard regiments: 9th, 27th, 63rd, 81st, 90th, 99th, 108th,333rd, and 999th.
Two of what could only be described as the most average looking and easily forgettable Guardsmen in the galaxy. They were in full combat gear... While huddled around the base of the shrine were another five soldiers, one woman and four men. They were bound, and clad in ragged clothes.
Their two captors were actively completing a large design in the center of the floor. It was a geometric design of dozens of intricate and interlocking shapes of perfect dimensions. The design was being drawn with a mix of sand, ash, blood, and pulverized bone... The origins of which were probably best left unknown. They were taking handfuls from a shared bag, and while hunching inches above the floor, letting it fall from their fingers. So engrossed were they, they at first did not notice the squads arrival.
The hostages... And at first, they had been relieved... The outline of Astartes offering hope of being rescued... Until they had stepped forward into the dimly lit room. Cries of terrified horror came at the recognition of the members of the fallen chapter, of one so proceeded my millennia of rumors and myths... Realization of their fates had set in.
Simultaneously the two Guardsmen looked up, finishing the design. They quickly moved from the arcane symbol they had made, careful to not disturb it, and dropped down into a penitent kneel, their gaze cast to the ground.
"Forgive us, Lord. We did not hear your approach."
Obviously these were no normal guardsmen. Their names were stenciled onto the chest plates they had stolen, along with serial numbers. The paint had run, making it difficult to read the names. One was... Maybe Stephen. The other, Larry; Or Gary. They represented the personal attendants of Inaros.
Oddly, even he with his level of knowledge of all things past or yet to come, he did not know their names. These two cultist were uniquely gifted, possessing a strange link to the warp that seemed to manifest itself in two ways. First, they had supernatural dramatic timing. They were never on time... Yet, somehow, never late. The other was the name anomaly... No one seemed to be able to figure out their names... Coupled with their completely average appearance, it was as if they were magically forgettable.
It was why Inaros had chosen them. And it was why they had succeeded so well at infiltrating this Imperial world, and sowing the seeds of descent and corruption. They were never missed, and never out of place. Simply put, everyone remembered the ideas they had shared... Yet none remembered who had shared them, and so the Guardsmen had found it easier to accept the ideas as their own.
While he could not argue with results, they had yet fail him, damn, if Inaros did not find irritating the fact he could not decipher their names. He simply could ask either, or risk undermining their reverence of him.
His voice came out emotionless and somewhat mechanized by his helmet.
"Why are there five?"
Without looking up from the floor, the Larry... Or Garry spoke. "The name you gave us, my lord. They all share it. Even the woman. Her parents wanted a son."
Inaros looked at the hostages, for him he could easily make out the one he needed... Their presence in the warp outshine Bing all the others. After so long of seeing both the material and immaterial, it was easy to forget it was a gift not so commonly shared.
He was staring at the Guardsmen. "...you are excused. I cannot fault your actions." This would possibly make things difficult... At least interesting... "Leave the female. Dispose of the rest."
Maybe Stephen spoke. "Yes, my Lord." The two bowed, almost kissing the ground, before standing to perform the issue. They dawned breathing protection as the walked toward the guardsmen. The two cultists each graves the leg bindings of one of the men and drag them toward the warehouse entrance. They would return for the others, before sealing the entrance.
The men would die in agony, choking as their lungs burned with the smoke, and throats melted from the fumes as they were simply left to the toxic fire beyond.
The lone woman, whose soul was needed, quietly wept, unaware of what fate awaited her, but certain death would have been better.
Grim flinched as the plasma bounced of her personal shielding. The screams of his men made him grit his teeth and he motioned for the Sentinels to focus their fire on the new threats stalking them. Grim valued two things in this universe, The Emperor and his men, every one of them who died left a mark of hatred on his mind. "Shift the Autocannon!" he yelled down as he grabbed his personal melta gun and charged it with only destruction of these heretical bastards on his mind. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigged of the melta, sending a beam of white hot slag at one of the new creatures of broken metal. The beam hit and tore through its gut, not killing it, but leaving its metal frame damaged. The lascannons fired two of their rounds at the metal creature, using Grim's shot as a marker.
The Chimera's kept their packs nice and tightly knit, obvious of the beasts stalking them. Grim and his men pushed forwards, taking potshots wherever they could, praying as they did, the men on top of the chimera's squeezed themselves inside the metal hulls, making the cramped insides more like Sardine cans.
Major Markov got the communication for help and then began to load up their Russes and hellhounds. His 'Dusted Cobra', a Vanquisher Leman russ with the sands of Foruscia mixed into its paint, giving it a distinctive texture of home. He ran his hand along its rough sides before he motioned for his crew to get inside it, the other ten various patterns of Leman russ being the first wave of Grim's back up. As he got itno the hulking metal war machine, a Sky talon moved above the Leman Russ and attached itself to the sides of the Russ with magnetic grapples. In a moment it lifted itself off the hangar as the tank selaed itself before leaving the armory first,
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hana smirked as she watched the men die in front of her. She got on one of the basilisks and decided to use her information from her scouting days prior to ruin an Imperial's day. She toook careful aim with one of the Earth shaker's being crewed by her men and fired an Infernum shell at the Imperial headquarters, lighting the building ablaze as it impacted, being followed by two bastion buster shells streaming towards it.
The Chimera's kept their packs nice and tightly knit, obvious of the beasts stalking them. Grim and his men pushed forwards, taking potshots wherever they could, praying as they did, the men on top of the chimera's squeezed themselves inside the metal hulls, making the cramped insides more like Sardine cans.
Major Markov got the communication for help and then began to load up their Russes and hellhounds. His 'Dusted Cobra', a Vanquisher Leman russ with the sands of Foruscia mixed into its paint, giving it a distinctive texture of home. He ran his hand along its rough sides before he motioned for his crew to get inside it, the other ten various patterns of Leman russ being the first wave of Grim's back up. As he got itno the hulking metal war machine, a Sky talon moved above the Leman Russ and attached itself to the sides of the Russ with magnetic grapples. In a moment it lifted itself off the hangar as the tank selaed itself before leaving the armory first,
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hana smirked as she watched the men die in front of her. She got on one of the basilisks and decided to use her information from her scouting days prior to ruin an Imperial's day. She toook careful aim with one of the Earth shaker's being crewed by her men and fired an Infernum shell at the Imperial headquarters, lighting the building ablaze as it impacted, being followed by two bastion buster shells streaming towards it.
The impact of the burning rounds hit the fortress and ignited the outer walls. However with meters of stone this barely effected the interior of the heavily armored base. The base was sent into a frenzy on that section. They were under attack form their own artillery. A commissar stationed at a security tower looked over with his binoculars. The hijacked Basilisk was seen with its traitor of men arming it. He winced and got on the vox radio.
"We have a hijacked artillery piece. One must take aim and blast it into oblivion. Have two Sentinels aiming that way for follow up fire." He commands over the static filling radio.
"Yes sir!" A voice replies. Above him was a Basilisk cannon re-positioned to hit Hana. Mechanical clinking and engines bustling were sounding off as it took aim. They were on top of the tower where the commissar was. Standing either side of the tower on platforms were two sentinels who aimed in the direction of the inferno shells. As two rather quick base breaking rounds were sent off the reality sunk in. Clearly they had atleast two Basilisks. The large rounds traveled fast but the Sentinels with quick moves shot one round mid air. The lass bolts moving by but the second made impact. Narrowly avoiding the tower it punctured the main building and blew a hole into the vehicle depot on the base floor.
The commissar looked back out and getting back on the vox made his demand.
"Fire!" He commands. The Basilisk on top then fires a heavy siege round similar to what they used. As the large shot travels through the air it impacts behind Hana and her cannon but impacts the base of the building behind it. The heavy explosion causes the artillery piece to fall back into the collapsing building. Burying the back of the cannon in debree while the gun pointed almost perfectly up into the air. The commissar grins as he sees the cannon be neutralized. "Reload and take out the other. It's a block away atop a platform." He orders as the forts defenses get to work on fighting back stolen weapons and their own tactics.
Inside the base Tenebres is walked down to the level were the dozen Psykers on the planet were stored. Each one contained in a cell with an armored guard of two Guardsman. Any signs of corruption and they were to be shot. The cells were made of a thick four inch, bullet proof glass with three small holes for speaking. They all seemed like usual Guard Psykers. Wearing white robes with Imperial vigils on it. None held their staffs to help channel warp energy but they all had their eyes glowing a fair purple. Common sight during warp storms or travel. One in particular caught Tenebres interest. A young man possibly mid twenties. He had short brown hair and an implant in his forehead. He seemed to rock in the corner mumbling.
"What's his situation." He asks the Guardsman.
"Sir he's paranoid. The warp storm and invasion are messing with him and making him afraid like the rest." They explain. Tenebres wanders over and looks at him. Tenebres listened and heard some faint things.
"They will be reborn. Flesh and bone restored."
"Open the cell." Tenebres says and the Guardsman look surprised.
"Open the cell?" They inquire curiously.
"Are you questioning me? Now open it!" He says clasping the handle of his melta gun. The men look fearful and cold as they respond.
"Yes my lord!" They jump and unlock the door. Tenebres takes note of the name on the cell. He wanders in and sits with him.
"What will be reborn Cyrus?" He asks. The Psyker continues rocking and mumbling.
"Rebirth. Resurrection. Their joy of creation." He says panting. Tenebres lifts his head up as he retracts in fear.
"You see him don't you? His mind? Leaking and bleeding thoughts into yours?" He tries to nod as the look of fear grows wide his eyes wide as he mumbles something else.
"My lord what is he doing?" Erthos asks.
"When I arrived I saw some scans and on them some traitors from the Thousand Sons. There was a Sorcerer with them and this confirms it. This Psyker here, Cyrus." He explains. "Cyrus seems to have tapped into this sorcerers mind. He's likely unaware of it and frankly that's why we get this. Small bleeding details of this plans. Something about rebirth?"
"Could it be a daemon?" Erthos asks.
"I do not believe. But we must find this out." He turns to Cyrus. "Where is he? Tell us where he is so we may end your pain." Tenebres says seeming to genuinely care for the man. Something which was very odd with Inquisitors. They would often be cold and unlovable. So the fact he seems to care. Even pretending is more effort then most would go to.
"We have a hijacked artillery piece. One must take aim and blast it into oblivion. Have two Sentinels aiming that way for follow up fire." He commands over the static filling radio.
"Yes sir!" A voice replies. Above him was a Basilisk cannon re-positioned to hit Hana. Mechanical clinking and engines bustling were sounding off as it took aim. They were on top of the tower where the commissar was. Standing either side of the tower on platforms were two sentinels who aimed in the direction of the inferno shells. As two rather quick base breaking rounds were sent off the reality sunk in. Clearly they had atleast two Basilisks. The large rounds traveled fast but the Sentinels with quick moves shot one round mid air. The lass bolts moving by but the second made impact. Narrowly avoiding the tower it punctured the main building and blew a hole into the vehicle depot on the base floor.
The commissar looked back out and getting back on the vox made his demand.
"Fire!" He commands. The Basilisk on top then fires a heavy siege round similar to what they used. As the large shot travels through the air it impacts behind Hana and her cannon but impacts the base of the building behind it. The heavy explosion causes the artillery piece to fall back into the collapsing building. Burying the back of the cannon in debree while the gun pointed almost perfectly up into the air. The commissar grins as he sees the cannon be neutralized. "Reload and take out the other. It's a block away atop a platform." He orders as the forts defenses get to work on fighting back stolen weapons and their own tactics.
Inside the base Tenebres is walked down to the level were the dozen Psykers on the planet were stored. Each one contained in a cell with an armored guard of two Guardsman. Any signs of corruption and they were to be shot. The cells were made of a thick four inch, bullet proof glass with three small holes for speaking. They all seemed like usual Guard Psykers. Wearing white robes with Imperial vigils on it. None held their staffs to help channel warp energy but they all had their eyes glowing a fair purple. Common sight during warp storms or travel. One in particular caught Tenebres interest. A young man possibly mid twenties. He had short brown hair and an implant in his forehead. He seemed to rock in the corner mumbling.
"What's his situation." He asks the Guardsman.
"Sir he's paranoid. The warp storm and invasion are messing with him and making him afraid like the rest." They explain. Tenebres wanders over and looks at him. Tenebres listened and heard some faint things.
"They will be reborn. Flesh and bone restored."
"Open the cell." Tenebres says and the Guardsman look surprised.
"Open the cell?" They inquire curiously.
"Are you questioning me? Now open it!" He says clasping the handle of his melta gun. The men look fearful and cold as they respond.
"Yes my lord!" They jump and unlock the door. Tenebres takes note of the name on the cell. He wanders in and sits with him.
"What will be reborn Cyrus?" He asks. The Psyker continues rocking and mumbling.
"Rebirth. Resurrection. Their joy of creation." He says panting. Tenebres lifts his head up as he retracts in fear.
"You see him don't you? His mind? Leaking and bleeding thoughts into yours?" He tries to nod as the look of fear grows wide his eyes wide as he mumbles something else.
"My lord what is he doing?" Erthos asks.
"When I arrived I saw some scans and on them some traitors from the Thousand Sons. There was a Sorcerer with them and this confirms it. This Psyker here, Cyrus." He explains. "Cyrus seems to have tapped into this sorcerers mind. He's likely unaware of it and frankly that's why we get this. Small bleeding details of this plans. Something about rebirth?"
"Could it be a daemon?" Erthos asks.
"I do not believe. But we must find this out." He turns to Cyrus. "Where is he? Tell us where he is so we may end your pain." Tenebres says seeming to genuinely care for the man. Something which was very odd with Inquisitors. They would often be cold and unlovable. So the fact he seems to care. Even pretending is more effort then most would go to.
The Death Marsh:
The wounded creature roared, agony? Hated? It would haunt the dreams of many for nights to come, if they survived. The melts gun, and lasfire had torn it in two. Yet still it crawled toward the advancing line of chimeras, dragging its broken body by its front limbs. War charged blood and bile running from its mangled body, igniting into strange colors of flame. It tried to fire one last mouthful of ectoplasm at the neatest vehicle, but it collapsed instead.
It's body was ground down under the weight and treads of the chimera it had wanted... A poor choice, as the crushing pressure released the remnants of fuel and chaotic energy within. The result was an explosive blast, not strong enough to breach the armor, but enough to disable the treads and render it immobile. Nightmarish fire, beautiful as it was disturbing, consumed the over filled vehicle, turning it into a literal oven... The screams of those trapped inside mixing with those of the haunted flames.
Enraged by the loss, the two forgefiends that had been pack hunting with the lost cerberite bellowed out, and fired a quick barrage from their hades autocannons at Grimm's vehicle, before stalking off back off.
Elsewhere, a cerberite near the edge of the line, had managed to climb onto the top of one of the outer chimeras, and was actively trying to rip the top hatch of the vehicle open with its claws.
The fight with the sentinels was going less well, with weapons proving less effective against the heavy armor of the walkers. The daemon engines were shifting tactics, the ectoplasm spewing cerberites targeting the exhaust ports and intakes of the vehicles, in hopes of causing catastrophic overheating. The autocannons wielding forgefiends were trying to bring things to close quarters, their snapping jaws capable of devouring metal and flesh alike, biting at the legs; or jumping to slam their bodies against joints in hopes of knocking them down.
Elsewhere, a horrific screech, similar to those that had whited out the vox net earlier, rose from the black abyss of a crater. A long serpentine head of metal emerged, another nightmare of machine and beast. It's metallic form resembled a skeletal dragon of ancient lore, a blaze with the chaotic fires of the warp. It let forth another screech, revealing the hades autocannon hidden within its fanged maw.
The beast extended its wings, the metal of one baring the identification markings of a lost Valkyrie. For the briefest of moments, the flames engulfing the body part, revealing the blackened and twisted bodies of the lost crew... Not quite dead, but far from alive; enslaved captives to both the machine, and the daemon soul burning within. It screeched again, before launching itself skyward.
Across the field, more screeched answered as more of these nightmares of steel pulled themselves out of the void, and launching themselves up into the chaos of the warp storm.
A couple, opted for a low angle of ascent, diverting to aide the ground engines as they passed over the conflict. They raked their rear talons across sentinels, hooking into the armored bipedal machines. They banked up hard, jerking the imperials violently before releasing, and rising to vanish into the storm. The intent was to off balance the machines, to get their gyroscopes to overcompensate while the legs were hounded.
The Western City, The Church of Fates.
Inaros strode forward, quickly covering the distance to the Imperial Guard female. She cried, begging for her life. Pleading to be spared. He heard none of it, his gauntlet covered hand closing about her neck and face as he lifted her up, silencing her cries. Her toes scraped at the floor, barely keeping her from choking, ensuring her lack of struggle.
Through the touch, he probed her mind... He could have simply shredded her, taken what he needed, her mind lacking any defenses to a direct psychic assault. But that would have destroyed her... And he needed her intact... He coaxed from her the information he needed. Gently.
He found the memories, buried deep in a haze of dreams and nightmares, locked away deep within a box of repression. A history of strange and inexplicable fires... A gift of pyrokenesis... That had she had hidden out of fear. That she had spent her life trying to keep secret... For fear of the Emperor and his blind, foolish lap dogs.
<Its not I you fear child... It is the golden throne... That enslaver of humanity...>
He looked at her, his mind retreating from hers, and for the briefest of moments, a look of disappointment marred her face... She had been touched by near a god in the most intimate of ways... He had seen her. The real her. And she missed it.
"Worry not child... For I shall free you... And you will be exactly... Who you were always meant to be."
The disappointment left her face. The fear didn't return... She lead her life in fear... For so long... And there was finally... This promise of something more... The promise of herself? Her fear was her belief... And with its fading, so too did the light of the Emperor... And her salvation.
Inaros set her down, his hand dropping from her throat, and raising to gesture toward the arcane symbol on the floor. She looked from him, to it, then back again... Hesitation quickly to determination as she committed, and walked toward the center of it.
He turned, and beckoned for one of the Rhubric marines to the circle as well; The same as the one from outside.
Inaros looked beyond the circle, to the the two cultists.
"This is not for your eyes. Go to the gate. Find the medic, and bring him here... You'll know him... His will be the name of salvation and hope among the injured... His patients will all be among the living, an island of warmth in a cold sea of death."
Both nodded, Maybe Stephen speaking for them both. "Yes, my lord." They didn't really know what the hell that meant... But we're not about to question it. Somehow... Things just made sense later. They left, heading toward the back of the Church, before disappearing down into a maintenance access.
Inaros turned, watching them leave, before once again turning to the circle. A large, heavy book, ancient in its appearance, now in his grasp, one that certainly hadn't been in his possession before. With his other, he drew a scimitar, the fine blade a force weapon, constructed to focus his psychic energy.
He stared directly at the woman, and the marine behind her. The blade crackled to life, and the book opened of its own accord, the parchment pages filled with flowing script, tunes and symbols. It stopped at a page with the drawing that matched that on the floor. The blade crackled to life with war energy.
The Imperial Guard had a sudden moment of clarity, as if a fog had been lifted from her mind... And she realized just how rash decision she had made. Before she could scream or even consider fleeing, the rubric marine grabbed her, clapping one hand over her mouth, and the other her waist, lifting her and pinning her to against his armor.
Command Center, Pysker Holding Area
A horse voice whispered from the cell next to Cyrus.
"Does the blind man hunt a beast in the darkest cave, just because he cannot see?"
"Tenebres... How clearly do you see? Would you so willingly follow the mad?
There is a soft, ripping of flesh.
They say dying gives you a since of clarity..."
The owner of the voice stepped up to the transparent door, and slapped his hands against it, leaving dark red handprints. Blood flowed down his arms, pooling below him.
His eyes were gone, clawed out by his own hands before he had torn his wrists open with his teeth. His white robes awash in a mixture of reds and pinks.
"I can see! I can see everything... Burn this world down! Forget your petty pride... Lest it consume you... Lest it consume us all... You have seen proof, not even your kind are beyond damnation... Would you deny your own eyes?"
As he spoke, his hands were scribbling on the wall, writing... Fingers dipping into the open wounds of his arms and eyes, oblivious to the pain.
"Find the prey... Kill the predator... Medicine. Future. Force. Thoughts. Fire..."
He drew a circle around the eight names he wrote, then crossed a line through one.
"Fire... Already... Burns..."
He was having a hard time breathing... Standing. He dropped slowly to his knees.
"They... they fell... Because... Lies... deceit."
The psyker collapsed to the floor.
"Beware..."
He died, body as pale as his robes once were, his life blood pooling around him.
The wounded creature roared, agony? Hated? It would haunt the dreams of many for nights to come, if they survived. The melts gun, and lasfire had torn it in two. Yet still it crawled toward the advancing line of chimeras, dragging its broken body by its front limbs. War charged blood and bile running from its mangled body, igniting into strange colors of flame. It tried to fire one last mouthful of ectoplasm at the neatest vehicle, but it collapsed instead.
It's body was ground down under the weight and treads of the chimera it had wanted... A poor choice, as the crushing pressure released the remnants of fuel and chaotic energy within. The result was an explosive blast, not strong enough to breach the armor, but enough to disable the treads and render it immobile. Nightmarish fire, beautiful as it was disturbing, consumed the over filled vehicle, turning it into a literal oven... The screams of those trapped inside mixing with those of the haunted flames.
Enraged by the loss, the two forgefiends that had been pack hunting with the lost cerberite bellowed out, and fired a quick barrage from their hades autocannons at Grimm's vehicle, before stalking off back off.
Elsewhere, a cerberite near the edge of the line, had managed to climb onto the top of one of the outer chimeras, and was actively trying to rip the top hatch of the vehicle open with its claws.
The fight with the sentinels was going less well, with weapons proving less effective against the heavy armor of the walkers. The daemon engines were shifting tactics, the ectoplasm spewing cerberites targeting the exhaust ports and intakes of the vehicles, in hopes of causing catastrophic overheating. The autocannons wielding forgefiends were trying to bring things to close quarters, their snapping jaws capable of devouring metal and flesh alike, biting at the legs; or jumping to slam their bodies against joints in hopes of knocking them down.
Elsewhere, a horrific screech, similar to those that had whited out the vox net earlier, rose from the black abyss of a crater. A long serpentine head of metal emerged, another nightmare of machine and beast. It's metallic form resembled a skeletal dragon of ancient lore, a blaze with the chaotic fires of the warp. It let forth another screech, revealing the hades autocannon hidden within its fanged maw.
The beast extended its wings, the metal of one baring the identification markings of a lost Valkyrie. For the briefest of moments, the flames engulfing the body part, revealing the blackened and twisted bodies of the lost crew... Not quite dead, but far from alive; enslaved captives to both the machine, and the daemon soul burning within. It screeched again, before launching itself skyward.
Across the field, more screeched answered as more of these nightmares of steel pulled themselves out of the void, and launching themselves up into the chaos of the warp storm.
A couple, opted for a low angle of ascent, diverting to aide the ground engines as they passed over the conflict. They raked their rear talons across sentinels, hooking into the armored bipedal machines. They banked up hard, jerking the imperials violently before releasing, and rising to vanish into the storm. The intent was to off balance the machines, to get their gyroscopes to overcompensate while the legs were hounded.
The Western City, The Church of Fates.
Inaros strode forward, quickly covering the distance to the Imperial Guard female. She cried, begging for her life. Pleading to be spared. He heard none of it, his gauntlet covered hand closing about her neck and face as he lifted her up, silencing her cries. Her toes scraped at the floor, barely keeping her from choking, ensuring her lack of struggle.
Through the touch, he probed her mind... He could have simply shredded her, taken what he needed, her mind lacking any defenses to a direct psychic assault. But that would have destroyed her... And he needed her intact... He coaxed from her the information he needed. Gently.
He found the memories, buried deep in a haze of dreams and nightmares, locked away deep within a box of repression. A history of strange and inexplicable fires... A gift of pyrokenesis... That had she had hidden out of fear. That she had spent her life trying to keep secret... For fear of the Emperor and his blind, foolish lap dogs.
<Its not I you fear child... It is the golden throne... That enslaver of humanity...>
He looked at her, his mind retreating from hers, and for the briefest of moments, a look of disappointment marred her face... She had been touched by near a god in the most intimate of ways... He had seen her. The real her. And she missed it.
"Worry not child... For I shall free you... And you will be exactly... Who you were always meant to be."
The disappointment left her face. The fear didn't return... She lead her life in fear... For so long... And there was finally... This promise of something more... The promise of herself? Her fear was her belief... And with its fading, so too did the light of the Emperor... And her salvation.
Inaros set her down, his hand dropping from her throat, and raising to gesture toward the arcane symbol on the floor. She looked from him, to it, then back again... Hesitation quickly to determination as she committed, and walked toward the center of it.
He turned, and beckoned for one of the Rhubric marines to the circle as well; The same as the one from outside.
Inaros looked beyond the circle, to the the two cultists.
"This is not for your eyes. Go to the gate. Find the medic, and bring him here... You'll know him... His will be the name of salvation and hope among the injured... His patients will all be among the living, an island of warmth in a cold sea of death."
Both nodded, Maybe Stephen speaking for them both. "Yes, my lord." They didn't really know what the hell that meant... But we're not about to question it. Somehow... Things just made sense later. They left, heading toward the back of the Church, before disappearing down into a maintenance access.
Inaros turned, watching them leave, before once again turning to the circle. A large, heavy book, ancient in its appearance, now in his grasp, one that certainly hadn't been in his possession before. With his other, he drew a scimitar, the fine blade a force weapon, constructed to focus his psychic energy.
He stared directly at the woman, and the marine behind her. The blade crackled to life, and the book opened of its own accord, the parchment pages filled with flowing script, tunes and symbols. It stopped at a page with the drawing that matched that on the floor. The blade crackled to life with war energy.
The Imperial Guard had a sudden moment of clarity, as if a fog had been lifted from her mind... And she realized just how rash decision she had made. Before she could scream or even consider fleeing, the rubric marine grabbed her, clapping one hand over her mouth, and the other her waist, lifting her and pinning her to against his armor.
Command Center, Pysker Holding Area
A horse voice whispered from the cell next to Cyrus.
"Does the blind man hunt a beast in the darkest cave, just because he cannot see?"
"Tenebres... How clearly do you see? Would you so willingly follow the mad?
There is a soft, ripping of flesh.
They say dying gives you a since of clarity..."
The owner of the voice stepped up to the transparent door, and slapped his hands against it, leaving dark red handprints. Blood flowed down his arms, pooling below him.
His eyes were gone, clawed out by his own hands before he had torn his wrists open with his teeth. His white robes awash in a mixture of reds and pinks.
"I can see! I can see everything... Burn this world down! Forget your petty pride... Lest it consume you... Lest it consume us all... You have seen proof, not even your kind are beyond damnation... Would you deny your own eyes?"
As he spoke, his hands were scribbling on the wall, writing... Fingers dipping into the open wounds of his arms and eyes, oblivious to the pain.
"Find the prey... Kill the predator... Medicine. Future. Force. Thoughts. Fire..."
He drew a circle around the eight names he wrote, then crossed a line through one.
"Fire... Already... Burns..."
He was having a hard time breathing... Standing. He dropped slowly to his knees.
"They... they fell... Because... Lies... deceit."
The psyker collapsed to the floor.
"Beware..."
He died, body as pale as his robes once were, his life blood pooling around him.
Grim's men let out curses as their sentinels were rocked back by razor talons of what were once their men. In one of then, the claws shredded through the armor, not hooking but tearing bloody holes lead sentinel, it not falling but just stopping as spurts of blood leaked out of the sentinel's gaping wounds, sign of the dead man inside. Grim pulled his chimera up to it. "Sergeant Jienne, in the sentinel," he said as he parked. His veteran Sergeant opened the hatch on the chimera ad pulled herself form the chimera and buckled her flamer to her side as she hopped off the Chimera and opened the entry hatch on the sentinel and removed the man's body and slid into the seat. She, like any one else in Grim's first, was a veteran among veterans, they earned the respect they carried in their unit through blood. She charged up the lascannon, ignoring the blood spattered on the inside of the Sentinel as she continued putting down las cannon shot after lascannon shot.
Corparal Iman Zet looked at his vox and listened to it, him letting out a whisper. "Brutal beasts of winged steel, cme to take the men of the sand...," he got on his vox, shutting off the static feed he listened to and pressed it to his ear. The 1sts Vox operator was a latent Psyker, but only seemed to manifest his power in the operation of the vox, it not even being noticeable in any way except when he was on it. "MAjor Markov!? Hostile aircraft in bound, prepare yourselves," he said as he adjusted the vox to the perfect frequency, the perfect channel The static on the vos had always told him secrets and always told him plans. Grim had used that ability to great success in many campaigns and he intended to continue.
Lieutenent Mirrah saw the rest of the Sentinels stumble or fall, throwing off their firing patterns. She motioned from the back hatch. "Support them. keep them up, and vertical!"she said, looking at grim who pulled back the bolt on the heavy stubbed and began to fire it. Chimeras moved as fast as they could to counter the leaning of the Sentinels.There was a reason the 13th were so damn good at their jobs. They all volunteered for battle and were trained by the 13ths first squad against the feral orks of their home planet extensively, making most of their men well rounded, the beasts beneath the sand however made them fearless. From the hatch of the chimera, from behind the lieutenant, the squad marksmen, Private first class Vienna Armell, with her long las rolled out of the chimera and moved quietly to a Tauros and began to speed out of the swamp towards high ground. She did that with personal orders from Grim. She drove away from anything in the way and used her speed on the vehicle to avoid anything in the way.
In the sky, Markov's vox turned alive as he rode his vanquisher. IT yelled loudly with Iman's message and he fornwed and slid down into his tank. "GEt us AP shells loaded as fast as you can," he said, looking at his men before he started to aim his heavy bolter in front of them.He looked at the rest of his men on the voxs and gave them hand signals indicating air vehicles in bound and grit his teeth.
HAna saw the round incoming and watched its arkc for a moment. Then she waved her hand and in moments, the shell turned into a hail of shrapnel and fire, pelting her Basilisk. They seemed to stop before they reached ehr, her cultists however were not so lucky and were peppered by chunks of metal, killing them. She moved and loaded in the next breacher shell and took careful aim based on where the last miss ahd been and she fired.
Corparal Iman Zet looked at his vox and listened to it, him letting out a whisper. "Brutal beasts of winged steel, cme to take the men of the sand...," he got on his vox, shutting off the static feed he listened to and pressed it to his ear. The 1sts Vox operator was a latent Psyker, but only seemed to manifest his power in the operation of the vox, it not even being noticeable in any way except when he was on it. "MAjor Markov!? Hostile aircraft in bound, prepare yourselves," he said as he adjusted the vox to the perfect frequency, the perfect channel The static on the vos had always told him secrets and always told him plans. Grim had used that ability to great success in many campaigns and he intended to continue.
Lieutenent Mirrah saw the rest of the Sentinels stumble or fall, throwing off their firing patterns. She motioned from the back hatch. "Support them. keep them up, and vertical!"she said, looking at grim who pulled back the bolt on the heavy stubbed and began to fire it. Chimeras moved as fast as they could to counter the leaning of the Sentinels.There was a reason the 13th were so damn good at their jobs. They all volunteered for battle and were trained by the 13ths first squad against the feral orks of their home planet extensively, making most of their men well rounded, the beasts beneath the sand however made them fearless. From the hatch of the chimera, from behind the lieutenant, the squad marksmen, Private first class Vienna Armell, with her long las rolled out of the chimera and moved quietly to a Tauros and began to speed out of the swamp towards high ground. She did that with personal orders from Grim. She drove away from anything in the way and used her speed on the vehicle to avoid anything in the way.
In the sky, Markov's vox turned alive as he rode his vanquisher. IT yelled loudly with Iman's message and he fornwed and slid down into his tank. "GEt us AP shells loaded as fast as you can," he said, looking at his men before he started to aim his heavy bolter in front of them.He looked at the rest of his men on the voxs and gave them hand signals indicating air vehicles in bound and grit his teeth.
HAna saw the round incoming and watched its arkc for a moment. Then she waved her hand and in moments, the shell turned into a hail of shrapnel and fire, pelting her Basilisk. They seemed to stop before they reached ehr, her cultists however were not so lucky and were peppered by chunks of metal, killing them. She moved and loaded in the next breacher shell and took careful aim based on where the last miss ahd been and she fired.
Unfortunately for the Commissar and his tower Hana now had a perfect shot. As the basilisk atop the tower prepared a second round Hana's attack came over. The Commissar saw the flash and looked up to see the approaching round. Heated it looked like a rapidly approaching red comet. Time seemed to slow either from shock of the situation or the warps presence quiet literally prolonging the moment. The round impacted just below the Basilisk but brought the towers roof down. The tower shook as the Commissar almost fell back barely gaining his footing as rubble fell down. A second later and a man fell past him screaming. A sudden smash was heard and looking down he saw the Guardsman's body painting the rubble below. He looked away in disgust and then up. Just able to pull back the Basilisk tank fell barely missing the balcony but bringing down the railing as it hit the corpse below. This surely was an issue. Now this hijacker would have clear shots to them. If they were able to reload the weapon.
Tenebres made the others lower their weapons as the Psyker delivered his message before dying. Tenebres got down to kneel next to the body. He rested his index finger in the blood and brought it to his mouth. He tasted it, something which brought a look of confused disgust from from Erthos. But Inquisitors were known for being a little eccentric sometimes. Tenebres looks over to the other Psykers and then to Cyrus.
"Erthos I'll require a vehicle and some men. What can you spare? I simply need one piece of transport and men to drive it." He asks the confused general.
"My lord we have several Chimera Trucks in the Vehicle bay. They can get to the other end of the city in half an hour. On a straight forward day."
"That'll do." He looks to Cyrus. "You're coming with me." He says wandering over and grabbing his arm.
"Why take him?" Erthos asks. Tenebres rolls his eyes.
"He has a connection with the enemy. If my theory holds up he should get stronger visions as we approach. I mean to use him to track them down and end them." He says walking barely waiting for a response.
"Yes sir. I'll see to your vehicle being prepped. You'll have eight Guardsman. One to man the Lass canon, one to drive and six as back up." Tenebres looks over.
"Did I ask for the run down? Just see to it Erthos. You'll be over run soon so I would recommend putting those power claws to good use. As once I give the order my men leave with me." He instructs pulling Cyrus along by the cuff of his neck.
Tenebres made the others lower their weapons as the Psyker delivered his message before dying. Tenebres got down to kneel next to the body. He rested his index finger in the blood and brought it to his mouth. He tasted it, something which brought a look of confused disgust from from Erthos. But Inquisitors were known for being a little eccentric sometimes. Tenebres looks over to the other Psykers and then to Cyrus.
"Erthos I'll require a vehicle and some men. What can you spare? I simply need one piece of transport and men to drive it." He asks the confused general.
"My lord we have several Chimera Trucks in the Vehicle bay. They can get to the other end of the city in half an hour. On a straight forward day."
"That'll do." He looks to Cyrus. "You're coming with me." He says wandering over and grabbing his arm.
"Why take him?" Erthos asks. Tenebres rolls his eyes.
"He has a connection with the enemy. If my theory holds up he should get stronger visions as we approach. I mean to use him to track them down and end them." He says walking barely waiting for a response.
"Yes sir. I'll see to your vehicle being prepped. You'll have eight Guardsman. One to man the Lass canon, one to drive and six as back up." Tenebres looks over.
"Did I ask for the run down? Just see to it Erthos. You'll be over run soon so I would recommend putting those power claws to good use. As once I give the order my men leave with me." He instructs pulling Cyrus along by the cuff of his neck.
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