NationStates Jolt Archive

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The Third Rate Cruiser pulled slowly to the side of the deep space research station, it glinted off the light from the distant stars and provided a cold feel to the observers who watched from the station, quietly recording every action the vessel took, deeper into the station more observers watched as wires were attached across the Magus' body.

A voice came over the stations intercom "Test 109 underway, the Cruiser Malitiosus will attempt a jump into the warp to the co-ordinates placed within its navigational computer and return to this spot." Marcus placed the intercom microphone down on its pedastal, "Okay, I'm now lowering the anti-Psyker barrier." Marcus suddenly got tense, without this barrier the Alpha Magus could be swarmed with the warp and die, if he lost Alpha then his research would end, the barrier slowly dropped and Alpha took a breath of actual air.

Outside of the station the Cruiser remained motionless for more than a moment, rather suddenly it was drawn into a large portal and vanished from sight, the observers clapped in astonishment of this achievment, they waited for contact from the Cruiser and its eventual return, Alpha seemed to already know its fate as he spoke in a foreign tongue to nobody imparticular, he too was awaiting the vessels return.

The ship reappeared in ghastly form, bloodsoaked and twisted, it was as if it had been aged through a thousand years of combat, it pulsated and seeped as if alive, the air of cold mechanics had been replaced by pure dread, snaking cannons pulled out from the broadside of the vessel and the observers ran from the stations observation deck, the alarm was raised and the emergency beacon released, before being swiftly detonated by the Chaotic vessel, a single lance shot out and pierced a specific target on the science station.

Power was cut and the restraints which held Alpha in place were dropped, he fell slowly to the floor draped in his white medical robe, pulling a large flaming sword from the warp he sliced into Dr Marcus, magic missiles burst from every opening and tore through the Scientists as they ran and screamed towards the escape pods, "My god Tzeentch, I serve you now without the restriction of the Humans!" Alpha screamed to the heavens, he opened a portal to the waiting Cruiser and jumped ship.

****

Icharus felt the disturbing blood curdling incursion from the warp, he knew already what this emergency message now upon his console would say, it would be something to do with the curdling screams that were tearing through his mind, his thoughts were assured as the first line read simply "HELP US!!!" He placed the monitor down, although he was expecting it the message still made him feel slightly doomed, "Admiral Brukov!" He shouted down the comms hoping he would reach the Admiral in time, "Brukov, get to the Augustus Space Station immediatly!" Icharus could feel the overpowering field of warp energy slowly begin to subside, as if it were only a mere wave, still just this short venture into the Warp could attract the attention of the entire Demon population.

It had come to him in a dream, a vision, as he meditated. In his study, deep within the temple of the Grey Knights, far from the blasphemous machines of the "New" Azaha, he felt the reverberations of a mighty rip in the warp.

He did not immediatly come to grips, letting the thoughts slide through his mind, the poison seep into his viens, like needles to his soul it was. Indeed, the Grand Master had to come to grips with what he has felt many times before, but not in such a force. Of course it was not the beggining of a renewed black crusade, but it was still a foce that would warrant the coming of the Ordo Mallues, and of course, the Grey Knights.

This is how the Brother-Lieutenant heard of it. Passed down by his Brother-Captain, he recieved orders to proceed in the direction in which the pulse was felt. From there, it was an Inquisitor's job, an Inquisitor Iziahk to pinpoint the source of the warp energies. And finally, the Brother-Lieutenant, his Grey Knight squad, and the Inquisitor's retuine force of Inquisitorial Stormtroopers mission to destroy any taint left by the warp.

It would be a glorious service to the God Emperor.

"The Warp is power. That is what the lesser cultures fail to understand. Let them have their false gods, their forces and their fecundities. They shall perish in the way if they fail to bow to the True Word. The Word of Chaos! The guttural argot of battle and blood, pain and pleasure, disease and decay, evolution and change! Only then can they understand!"
- Dark Apostle Azimuth

The warp is Change. Chaos itself. Surgign and roiling like a thousand seas of pure energy, striking against infinite non-euclidian shores, a thousand fractal images wrought upon the canvas of a broken and dieing sky....To know such a realm is to know true beauty, and ultimate Horror. And the Chronosians are intimately familiar with its allure.

Within the Temple of the Undivided, bowed before and altar presided over by twisted statues and cankered priests, the Dark Apostles of Chaos gather their flocks. They bellow in lunatic tongues of the wills of the Gods, of the Undivided Chaos that drives men to madness and shatters the souls of the unworthy. They drive the faithless before them, bathing in their blood, annointing those true of conviction in the ichor of the new era.

Azimuth kneels, his tattooed skull pressed against the cold of the flagstones, his armor gleaming, black and flecked with blood like stars. Script covers every available surface, brutal words of Chaos, the true path for all humanity to bow before. He smiles lightly, feeling his blood bursting in his veins, alive to be in the presence of such concentrated worship. His tribal tattoos gleam and pulse within his flesh, seething with power...Power....

His eyes fly open.

For a glorious moment he can taste the Immaterium, channeled through the staff of his Crozius. He feels it surging into his spine, up and through his body, suffusing him with its glory, touching him with its vision. A ship, wrought into an instrument of Change, gracing the Materium with its blighted presence. A world ripe for conquest, a world ready to bow...Beneath the eyes of one of those most rare of gems. An Alpha class psyker, perhaps even an Alpha plus..

He rises, snarling as he spins, howling a prayer in the ancient tongues of Chaos, a debased string of words wrought to demand blood and skulls, victory and damnation. A hundred thousand zealot voices rise to fill the air, sweet with lament, heavy with suffering and madness.

They will have their prize. The servants of the True Gods shall ride to war. And they shall forgive none who stand before them, none who deny the true Word.

(OOC: Alpha is just his name not his rank as a sorceror)

The Cruiser, now infested with demons, shot through the warp on-route for New Toopoxia, The damned crew prayed for action by the gods, just less than minutes ago they were loyal servants of the Empire, but now they moved under the commands of the Warp.

The Cruiser slipped out and into the batteries of the Enemy First Rates, both vessels ripped into eachother with thier lance batteries, the objective was not to destroy the Imperial Fleet, infact the Cruiser was heading quickly for planetfall, releasing thousands of assult boats filled with Demons.

The Damned vessel slowly cracked open and exploded in a shower of molten Cobalt and demon guts, it was too late, the Demons had already made their way to the surface, amongst them, Alpha Magus.

The Immaterium,
Bridge of SC-107 (Modified Dauntless-class cruiser)
Captain Ian Muir (http://www.washingtoncaps.com/uploads/players/4D5405FAEB1E429C975B368BAF26BEB9.jpg) folded his hands under his chin as he watched the Immaterium through the forward moniter. This was the ship's third day in the Warp, and it could be the first of many. He cleared his throat, and turned to the man standing behind and to the right of him. "Librarian Astel (http://www.washingtoncaps.com/uploads/players/42B08634B1274F28B5EB1F915C52F61D.jpg)."

"Yes, sir?" Invisible energy seemed to crackle around the Librarian. The Warp brought out the best... and worst, of his psyker abilities.

"Where is it?" It referred to their quarry: a distrubance in the Immaterium that the Librarian detected three days previously. After determining that it was most likely a space hulk or a force of Chaos, the Captain had loaded up on Terminators of the Darknight Chapter and set out after it, as per his orders.

"Close, sir. Hang on..." The man shook slightly, and his eyes rolled back into his head. "...the disturbance in the Warp... it was a psyker emanation. There is a very powerful psyker gone mad, nearby. He will have to be terminated... And that's not all. There is something far worse, arriving even as we do." Astel's head started bobbing.

Captain Muir reached up and shook him. "What is it, Librarian? What else is there."

The psyker snapped out of his trance and looked at him solemnly. He uttered one word: "dæmons".

Ian felt his stomach drop. He picked up a handset, and dialed the Marine Barracks aboard his ship. "Commander, get your men ready."

The Commander of the Darknights aboard the cruiser, Commander Rosarius Jameson (http://www.washingtoncaps.com/uploads/players/AB9C4CA638FC4C2FBDCB93E4DD4DCC08.jpg), simply said, "Understood, Captain," and put down the handset. He returned to the ceremony that was taking place in the ship's chapel: the blessing of the Terminator Armour. He nodded subtly to the chaplain, who continued the ceremony, praying over the bone-white and black armour of the First Company.

Flames shot out from the damaged Assult boat which had smashed down into the side of a large hive city, Alpha staggered out in pain, his face had been badly melted and his retinue of Demons had returned to the warp after the initial explosion, Imperial troopers would be here soon, quickly he grabbed the Blue Sword steeped in fire that he had gained from his venture into the warp.

He swang around suddenly drawing the blade on who he assumed to be an Imperials soldier but found his bloodlust sorely dissapointed when he found a small child staring scared at the tip of the blade, "Ungh, do you know how to use a weapon, child?" Alpha asked, he skin was still melting off his face revealing a skull in flames similar to his sword, the child nodded with his mouth draped open, Alpha lept into the assult boat and grabbed the Rail Rifle from inside, "Here take this and assist me!" He said this with a severe amount of pyschic persuasion.

Footprints and shadows came first, creeping round the corners of the City, Alpha looked around the corner to find the Imperial Guard closing in on his position, he took his sword and lept out, both sides struck suddenly Rail slugs shot out at Alpha who danced his way around the bullets slashing away at those he could, blood spewed from the necks of each soldier that Alpha cut down, the fight was quite one sided with Alpha having managed to take down at least 20 of the soldiers before the rest broke and fled, he rested, now able to once again contact the warp he began his summoning of another Demon retinue.

****

Icharus took his helmet off revealing his short bristled hair, he suspected that Alpha and the warp would now be able to hear and possibly influence him but he needed to check his fears were true, he extended his hand over the quill below and waited, it began to quiver and Icharus sharply pulled back his hand, too afraid to continue, he was normally a man without fear but now he felt it eat away at him.

"The Jedi and the Sith are but two cupfuls of the river that many can draw from-and this river is Power. They need only to drink."

-Marka Ragnos


Lord Nihilis was a rogue, a renegade amongst Sith-yet how did he achieve his power? How was he such a powerful wielder of power, of strength in many forms? He was a darker character than the Dominion knew.
Nihilis never conversed. He did not interact unless vitaly neccessary-and on that note, never interacted in any language recognizable to anyone who couldn't use a form of power to convert the language and draw it into recognition. The Sith could-but Nihilis was a Sith and more. He knew more, was in tune with more strings, flicked the vibes of more instruments. Disturbances quaked his passages often and frequently through the draws of balance and imbalance, the pure and the distraught. Sometimes, these quakes were little more than pings. Yet sometimes, they were more than tidal forces at work on a disturbed world.
At the present, the "man" meditated in his private chambers-a dark sepulcher of twisted emotions and raw energy, channeled through massive spires on each side of the center of the room. It was different from most things Amazonian, but Nihilis was not Amazonian either. No one knew where he was from-no one knew what he was-no one knew what he did, or how he thought. But he did.
The chamber flicked with light from time to time, the spires glowing a consistent red that flared from dark crimson to bright tomato. The "man" sat at the dead center-marked by a extending, twisted violet diamond at the aped of a small rise in the durasteel floor. The "man" did not move-he did not breathe-he did not flicker. He was as a living corpse, without even signs of life. But he was more than alive, he was transcendent with realms beyond. The chamber pronounced it, and Nihilis took it-took it to power uncovered, unveiled, taken from the shadow.
The chamber spires flared incredible red for a brief moment, and finally the "man" moved. It was but a slight jolt of the left arm, but it was motion-and it showed that flux was imminent. The "man" did not move for little things-this was clearly not one of those. The spires cooled down after the moment, but the "man" was tense. He seemed unnerved, off his cool, somewhat agitated almost. Something seemed disturbed-or maybe it was beneficial. None could tell.
The "man" arose from his position, the spires deactivating and returning to a cool grey. He glanced around, the masked face showing only a red and white emblazement of shadow beneath a black robe.

"I'cho'do'notano," muttered the "man". What it meant to any normal was a mystery. It was not any Dominion language-it was something that perhaps was unique to Nihilis alone-but it was how he worked. He would "feed" on the weak later.

"V'b'rento," he croaked, moving out of his chamber and into his main operations room. The room was standard for the incredibly high-ranking of the Dominion-such as Nihilis. He moved towards a wall panel-entering a message sender, through only words, rather than activate a direct channel.

The recipient would be the most powerful man in the Dominion-the Emperor.

Nihilis punched several buttons, entering the text-field indicator. It was a system few ever used anymore-but Nihilis strangely liked non-instantaneous communication. It was to his style. He looked passively over the text field, entering the digits he wanted. Completing the message, he stepped back to review it.

Chaos. An art you know slight, but I am versed. Leave is imminent. I will be in communication.

The small destroyer shuttered as it exited the immaterium, space and time snapping closed behind them. Space was very quiet here, as if all signs of activity had been wiped after a massive storm.

Inquisitor Iziahk stared out the portview window. He was starting to wish he had brought his powered armor. He underestimated the scale of this. When the Grand Master had told the council that it was not a big matter, he should have listened to the part of it still being a large matter. Sheathed onto his back, outside of his ornate robes and simple upper body armor, he did have his force weapon. A Force Katana, hand crafted by the greatest of Azahan armorers, ordaned by the Ordo Mallues itself, it was a weapon worthy of Iziahk's skill. Atleast until he earned his Daemon Hammer.

"Justicar." He said, his voice soft, but commanding. He recieved no response however. "Justicar." He said again, louder that time.

"I am no Justicar. Though even I think it is foolish that they had added this paultry rank, I am a Luietenant now." A very loud, and proud voice boomed from behind the Inquisitor.

"Of course, Brother." Iziahk replied, with no sarcasm or belittling. "I feel it. We are not the only ones searching. I feel a great psyker converging to our destination. It is a very composed and controlled power though. Not rampant, or pulsing... or hungering."

"Another Inquisitor perhaps? The agents of the Ordo Malleus do tend to all get the same idea."

"No. There are no inquisitors within the Ordo Malleus that are above a Beta-Psyker. I myself am just a Delta. However, this source is powerful. I guess we shall see when we arrive."

"When we arrive? Where are we heading, inquisitor? Do you already have a fix on the location where the pulse was felt?" Finally, the Grey Knight stepped out of the shadow. Each step was graceful, but authorative. He wore no helmet, his head looking unusually small in his bulky Aegis armor. To him, his uniform was starting to get tight, he was close to earning Terminator, and finally recieving the greatest armor to ever be produced by the old Imperium of man. His born hair was short, an inch in bulk off his head, but his eyes were large, and piercing.

"Of course I have. But there is no use in going there."

"What do you mean?"

"There is nothing there anymore. I can feel a trail leading away from the epicenter. We are going to follow it. It leads straight into a civilization."

"By the Emperor...."

"Indeed."

Slowly, the ship accelerated, until a hole was ripped in the material universe. The ship was seemingly sucked into oblivion, and the hole was closed.

City of Idria, New Volitaia State

The golden sands of the desert mimicked the stars that shone upon them, equal in number and dancing slightly in the wind, suddenly disturbed by the unclean feet of the Demon army marching into the city, just one coming into view at first by behind him many hundreds of thousands of creatures borne out of the warp, charging foolhardedly into combat against the large Hive city of Idria which had mobolised and began its relentless defensive campaign, swarms of starfighters blackened the sky and chains of golden bullets ploughed into the force of unhumane creatures.

Alpha stopped but for a moment to glance down at the battlefield, it was as he had hoped, utter chaos, panic had gripped the city and of the many citizens he had slaughtered all had died with a fearful expression upon their face, as much as this needless slaighter appeased him it was to no avvail he needed something but he couldn't find it, as if it had erased itself from the warp, a force nearly as strong as his own was nearby but his attempts to locate this force came to no fruition.

Leiutenant Jaichus Julii peered once more around the corner, he held his squad in position with one hand and with the other he directed the sight of the Rail Rifle to perfectly aim up to Alpha's head, suddenly a scream from the rear of the squad gave away the squads position, a horrible creature had somehow snuck up upon the soldiers and was now devouring Private Gaius in a terrible manner, it was too late for the attempted assassination, Alpha had swang around with his Katana and was making his way slowly towards Jaichus, one of the Hive Cities many turbolifts opened unexpectedly, "RETREAT!!!" Jaichus screamed, the squad bundled into the elevator and quickly slammed the door shut.

Onto the bridge, a man in full Imperial Guard body armor ran, his protective faceplate hanging by one strap onto the side of his helmet. The Imperial Aquilla shown brightly on his dark grey helmet, however directly underneath it was a silver stamped 'A'. An Imperial Stormtrooper, of the Azahan Comglomerate. The trooper stopped onto the bridge, and snapped to attention. Two silver bars in the middle of his armor was the most apparant however, because of its awkward placing. He was ofcourse the Captain of the Stormtrooper platoon. He spoke loud, and precise. "Sir!"

"Status." Iziahk said softly, turning around slowly to face him.

"Sir, my platoon is loaded and ready for separation onto the planet surface."

"Good. I will join you shortly."

"Sir, yes sir." The trooper departed.

The Inquisitor turned to a station that was perched higher than the bridge deck. In it was a man, or the remains of a man. His head had numerous wires protruding from his skull, the wires running into the ceiling of the bridge. His eyes were missing, replaced by two dull silver plates over the holes. Instead of a lower jaw, only a microphone protruded. It sat motionless, staring ahead, if it had eyes.

"Comm. Notify the surface forces of that civilization that an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus will be arriving on the surface in an hour. They are to transmit coordinates to the dropship. They will know which one is ours."

"Yes, Inquisitor." It voiced, in monotone.

Finally, the inquisitor turned to the only other living being on the bridge now. The Brother-Luietenant of the Grey Knight detatchment. "Even though you do not follow orders from me, I request that you remain on ship. I would like to keep you as a suprise. Having you and your team deep strike into a hostile situation where they think they are only encountering an Inquisitor would be most delieghtful."

He grunted, and turned to look out the port view. It was apparent even from high orbit that a battle waged in a large part of the city. However, he did not care about killing, or the glory of battle. He only cared for destroying who ever orchestrated this incursion, and destroying its remnants. He would let the Inquisitor find the culprit for him, instead of doing that tedious task himself.

"Of course, Inquisitor. I would be happy to."

"Very good. I will see you on the surface."

Fifteen minutes later, the large dropship exitted the bay of the destroyer, and drifted towards the planet's surface.

City of Biblos, Senatorial Province

Icharus walked out into the bustling corridor of the normally quiet Senate city, he expected as much, afterall it was he who sanctioned the mobilisation, keeping his helmet securly fastened to his head making sure to avoid impure thoughts he head down to the Provincial Council Hall, the leaders of each province would likely be present.

Sure enough as he entered the hall he was greeted by the clicks of standard print boots, Icharus walked up to the podium and boomed out to the representatives, "Brothers, this situation appears more dire than we could have expected and although the Senatorial armies can boon the size of the afflicted province they cannot fight a full scale rebellion, as much as it pains me to order this I ask for your co-operation in instituting Operation Tyrani Rex." There was a small murmer of disgruntled shock.

The representative from the Shogun Province stood to his feet, his glorious colours immediatly attracting Icharus' attention, "This is proposterous, you are asking us to remove the little democratic process we still have, and over what? A disgruntled Psyker, the armies of the Shogunate could have this rebellion ended within a day." There was now a sharp call of anger from Jaichus Brave of the New Volitaia province.

Jaichus got to his feet and just managed to restrain himself from crawling over and hitting the Sogun in the face, "As the only member of the Council here even remotely qualified to tell how harsh this rebellion is I think I would know that your forces would not fare much better than our own, as we speak we are losing men from the 75th Imperial Guard Regiment!" The Sogun representative muttered something about a lack of ammunition being responsible.

Icharus outstreached his arms to call the center to silence, "My messengers have just informed me that we will be joined by an Inquisitor from the Ordo Malleus, whatever this may mean I assume that it is good news, I have had him be landed in Biblos port, in the mean-time I expect you gentlemen to come to terms with the fact that the Tyrannis Operation will take place, we require a united strike against this reprobates!" Icharus walked out the room which suddenly erupted in insults and shouting.

(OOC: Have your Inquisitor land at the space dock inside Biblos City, Icharus will meet him there.)

Uncharted Planet, High Orbit
Bridge of the SC-107
The strike cruiser shuddered as it exited the warp. Librarian Astel had detected the node of chaos near a point of high gravity in realspace; this generally meant a planetary attack. Belowdecks, Darknights and air crews laboured, preparing the dropships, power armour, and weapons of the assault forces.

The bridge was full of commotion as well. Captain Ian shouted "Where the hell are we? What planet is that?", pointing to the blue-green marble that 'floated' before them.

Astel and several others worked to answer those questions. Finally, Astel stood. "I don't know, but there are civilised people on the planet below. I suggest you contact them."

Captain Muir sighed, and picked up the handset. He ordered his comms officer to transmit to the planetary government. "This is Captain Ian Muir of the 107th Strike Cruiser of the Commonwealth of Ghost Tigers Rise, or GTR-SC-107 for short. Perhaps you could tell me where I am, and what the situation is? We've detected a powerful source and attractant of Chaos in your region, and we're willing to provide armed support in the form of Adeptus Astartes, if you want it." Ian dropped the handset and settled back into his chair, waiting for a reply.

OOC: Talking to you, Toopoxia, if it wasn't obvious enough...

Massive jets screamed as the dropship began to halt itself on the tarmac of the spaceport. With a final flare, the dropship touched down on the surface, and the engines finally began to cycle down. It was triangular, big, old, and bristled with weaponry. It was ofcourse the Inquisitor's personal ship. Usually not used to transport soldiers, he decided it was the best action with the suddeness of the situation.

As the walkway underneath the nose of the craft began to lower, Troopers were already jumping out of the opening. They set up a small perimeter. They did not however, set it up tightly. Iziahk thought it might anger the locals. When the ramp was finally lowered, the inquisitor stepped out onto the tarmac. Behind him, the rest of his retuine began to file out. The rest of the platoon, totalling 26 men. All were armed, and all were alert.

The Inquisitor himself though decided to be modest. Wearing simple pantaloons, a simple red shirt with an Inquisitor Rosette, and a brown cape that concealed his sheathed force weapon.
-------------------------------
"Luietenant." The Servitor droned. Only the Grey Knight was on the bridge. The captain of the ship was nowhere to be seen. He had been told to not step foot on the bridge unless no one else was on it. Luietanant Abrais grunted at the mostly-machine man. "There is another ship in orbit that is not local. Program directive BO-294C orders me to inform you that the words 'Adeptus Astartes' was mentioned in a communications from the foreign to the planet's surface."

Abrais' grunt turned into a thoughtful sigh. "Inform my.. 'Brothers' that the matter here is being dealt with by the Ordo Malleus and the Grey Knights. Their prescense here is not needed."

"Yes, Luietenant."

However, that was a reaction without thought. Abrais did not know if he would need the help of loyal marines, he wasn't even sure if they were marines, or just throwing the phrase around. He would get his answer shortly either way he assumed.

Sneep

(OOC: Guessed that, but New Toopoxia is more akin to Earth, not tan yellow)

Diplomatic Message from Grand Admiral Tatyana Brukov

Unknown vessel, your presence in Toopoxia space is welcomed, we are currently suffering from a pox of the warp which has infested itself upon one of our cities, of this we are sure you are already informed due to the words in your message, you have permission to land in the New Volitaia Province only, we may consider further military access if this situation intensifies.

Sneep, again

"Inquisitor." Icharus bowed, he was sure that it was good manners to do so in regards to such a high ranking member of this nations caste system, "You have arrived at the most opportune of times as we require those who are experienced in these matters more than anything, we do not, however, have many forces to offer as they have all been sent to assist in the containment of the rogue movements." Icharus stood to his feet quickly in order to show to his soldiers that he was not subservient.

SC-107 remained in orbit, but several dropships, strike craft, and a pinnace departed from it, carrying with them several tons of ordinance, two squads of Terminators, six squads of Helghast Shock Troopers, and Lt. Brandon Jax (http://www.washingtoncaps.com/uploads/players/99F922C3120D451383A8E2A73F171029.jpg). They quickly descended through the atmosphere of New Toopoxia, hurtling towards the New Volitaia district. As they reached the space port, the retroes of the ships fired, making them screech to a halt over the landing pad. The squadron landed with an audible clamor as each ship's landing struts clanged against the tarmac.

The soldiers and fighter pilots rushed out of the vessels and stood at parade rest in front of them, awaiting orders. Lt. Jax himself paced in front of his men, waiting for a liason of the Toopoxican government to greet him.

Governor Militant Lucius Signus stepped off the elevator which had shot him up to the Spaceport, "Welcome to New Volitaia, I apologise but Governor Supreme Jaichus is currently away on duty and our military forces are currently in transit to the affected area, if you don't mind my asking, what is your intention in this conflict?"

****

Bodies and dried blood coated the floors and walls of the Grand Cathedral walls, the closer to the 5 men pumping bullets into the crowd of demons you got the larger the concentration of ammo slugs became, chains of ammo snaked its way about the Cathedral, the last position of defence against the Demonic force, Lieutenant Julii was the only commisioned officer left, the rest were just civilians and behind them the twenty or so civilians who wept for the tortures they had seen.

Outside the city a large black mass of stormclouds were forming over the city and a thick red pulsating crust arose from the surface, Alpha sat at the very top of the City chanting away that his curse may succeed, corruption began to slowly seep into the city, it tainted every corner of the hive and ate through the very souls of the survivors, Julii thanked his god that he was inside a Cathedral for the corruption stopped just outside of the holy place, but as good as this victory was it did not end the sense of doom, ammunition was running short and some people required medical attention, making sure that none inside the hall saw he pushed a button on his belt, the Imperial Navy could cleanse this area and end this conflict.

The Magnificent Imperium of Man, Ultima Segmentum, Imperial Naval yards above Kar Daniash

The Naval Yards above the Segmentum Capital of Kar Daniash was a few hundred thousand kilometers of the busiest reaches of space in the Imperium. Ultima Segmentum had long retained one of the largest Segmentum fleets, and in the under-developed Eastern-Fringe, here was where a vast majority of them found their home.

Among these thousands of massive battlecruisers, capital ships, and the hordes of skipping escorts was a single Strike Cruiser of the Adeptus Astartes, flanked by a pair of smaller Nova-class frigates, each decked out in similar black-and-white heraldry.

The rest of the garrison here was giving these rare ships a wide berth, all, save for four. Floating some small distance behind the three Chapter ships was a single Imperial Navy cruiser squadron, two Lunar-class vessels, accompanied by a single Falchion-class escort. These six ships had been specially selected by the Planetary Governor, and thus the Segmentum Commander, as well as the Cardinal-Astral of the planet.

Imperial Fleet Commander Leitzmann, captain of the Lunar-class cruiser Justicar, was talking his breakfast in the officer's mess when he received his new orders,

"Captain?" The officer said, hesitant to disturb his commander during mealtime,

Leitzmann looked up, "What is it, lieutenant?" His voice lent itself to his appearance, a grizzled man, his face bearing his great age, accumulated through a lifetime of warp travel, worse than most.

"Sir, a message, sir. From the surface," the young man extended his hand, bearing a small data-tablet.

Leitzmann looked away, taking the tablet, "Thank you, son. You're dismissed,"

The man gave a sharp salute, but Leitzmann took no notice, he was engrossed now in the scrawling characters of the tablet. Tiny green letters appeared, rising across the screen as the captain read...

The message, stripped to the bone, would simply have told the captain of a recent warp-disturbance a short ways outside the eastern edge of the Ultima Segmentum, and he was going to escort the Inquisitorial expedition to the area. However, nothing could be that simple, and he read for minutes, working through the Imperial innuendo and devotions inherent to any message having anything to do with the Ecclesiarchy.

Having finished the message, Fredrich Leitzmann stood to return to his bridge to deliver the new assignment to his Navigator. However, he was interrupted. As he moved to leave, a short gasp made its way through the long room, when he turned to see what the disturbance was, he caught sight of him.

Towering over the other individuals in the room, the massive black-and-white armored form of the Inquisitor dominated the mess. His shoulders took up the entirety of the doorframe, and he had to duck to fit his three-meter shape through.

Passing through the portal, he took himself back up to his full, intimidating height. His voice was deep and commanding, not unlike that of their captain, although the age of this man was not as apparent when he spoke, "Who here is... Fredrich Leitzmann, Imperial Captain?"

The entire mess went silent, all having heard legends of the Ordo Malleus, but none ever having seen one. Someone hesitantly pointed out Leitzmann, who himself was striding confidently towards the visitor, "And how may I help you, Inquisitor?"

The massive man looked down at the Navy man, standing a few feet ahead of him, making the difference in size obvious, "Leitzmann, I am Inquisitor Heinrich Narach, and you and your squadron have been assigned to me,"

Leitzmann was annoyed that this outsider, whoever it may be, was able to just appear and take command, but he suppressed that, and continued, "Why choose us, even when we're within shuttle's distance of a Strike Cruiser of the 'Marines?" Leitzmann waved his hand in the assumed direction of the Astartes vessels.

"Capitan," he began, "Do not think me limited to your own squadron alone. The Strike Cruiser Joyous Execution and its escorts are not beyond my influence. It is them we are escorting here,"

"Or would be escorting... We should continue to the bridge, if we want to get any kind of start this week..."

The giant Inquisitor stepped aside, holding a hand out, beckoning the captain through, "As you wish, captain,"

Leitzmann sighed, and moved on the bridge. Giving the new coordinates to his Navigator, he would see it out from there. He took a seat in his command chair at the center of the room. This would be a long journey, with an Inquisitor along it would not go any faster...

Only a few days later the whole of the fleet slipped into the warp, disappearing from existence for a time, to reappear in a high orbit around a planet outside Imperial classification. A Home World of some renegade human settlement, the Inquisition was interested that the heresy here not spread to the already tumultuous Eastern Fringe, and create a domestic problem. At least, that's the reason they gave the Governor...

Accompanying Captain Leitzmann would be Brother-Captain Cyrel, of the Sons of Malice, as well as a full company of his kindred. Following them would be two full Imperial Guard regiments, no doubt requisitioned by Inquisitor Narach at a whim. These regiments, the 123rd Angelis Firelizards and the 42nd Calidian Shock Troopers, were two full regiments of more than ten-thousand souls each. Each were commanded by a Brigadier of the Guard, overseen by General Marius Brunn. He and his troops would be brought along behind the fleet in a small fleet of transports.

All in all, this patchwork force would fall from the warp in a few weeks, hopefully arriving in time, although by what objective timetable the Inquisitor was working, no one knew...

Lt. Jax grinned. "We intend to crush any forces of Chaos that come into this sector, and eliminate whatever is attracting them... a powerful Psyker, for example... What is the situation down here, anyway?"

OOC: Really didn't have that much to react to...

Lt. Jax grinned. "We intend to crush any forces of Chaos that come into this sector, and eliminate whatever is attracting them... a powerful Psyker, for example... What is the situation down here, anyway?"

OOC: Really didn't have that much to react to...

(OOC: tis cool man, a post is a post whether it be 2 lines or 2 pages :P)

"The situation is dire, we have reports that one of our cities is lost to the forces of Chaos and that an entire Company has been slaughtered, our Governor Supreme Jaichus Brave has shown to be adept at making poor decisions and we require any assistence we can." Lucius grimaced, Jaichus really was pathetic and Lucius wished that he had the opportunity to take power.

The obsidian slab had been worn down into a bowl by the armoured gauntlets of generations of warriors of the Silver Dragons, as they worked upon it. A simple task that was nonetheless vexing. Grains of rice, white against its black surface, evaded Brother Sanston as he reached down, the fingers of his armour flexing around one, and pulverising it.

“You are probably wishing he had said ‘They shall know no impatience’ Brother Sanston…” spoke his mentor from behind him, and he turned to regard Silver -Father Lackey, standing like an eight-limbed idol to the machine god behind him, robed all in white, his customary hood drawn back to show the silver aspect of his face.

“Lord,” he said in near-humourless acknowledgement.

“Before one can don the dreadnought armour, one must learn to control it with perfect precision. Failure is Weakness.”

“Weakness is Shame.”

“Shame is True Death,” finished the captain, culminating the abbreviated cathechism, “You are not weak, you will master the fineries of the use of the power glove.”

“Lord,” Sanston said.

“In the meantime, we must content ourselves with serving the Chapter,” the commander of the eighth clan-company said.

“How may I serve, Lord?”

“We are about to leave the Lair,” he said.

“Lord?” he said – it was unusual that the Silver Dragons left their fortress monastery now, save on secret errands for the Ancient and Honourable Order of Tech-Priests, as this task doubtless was.

“We are to take the Flame and go to a place called Toopoxia. There we are to put down a rebellion of warp-crafters.”

“Disgusting witches,” Sanston said, resisting the urge to spit – it’d mark the chamber’s floor.

“We will purge them. Prepare your squad, Sanston. We must depart within the hour.

---

Father Lackey spread his arms, both those that were part organic, and those that were entirely artificial, as he recited the customary blessing before the clan company. They were gathered in a great arched hall whose tall armoured windows showed the bronzed hull of the Strike Cruiser docked outside. It was lit only by a host of promethium-lamps that guttered and twitched in their brackets on the walls and in blocky steel chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, lost in darkness even to his sight, and concealed gun-systems that could help turn the hall into an open killing field.

Clad in bronze armour, from which stared blazing green eyes, the space marines were a stirring sight. Over a hundred superhuman warriors, on their right shoulders they bore squad insignia, and on their left, the dragon-symbol of their chapter. On their left knees, they wore personal insignia, so that when kneeling in reverence, they would symbolically kneel on their honour, and on the other side, silver Imperial-auilae shone.

“Children of the Eighth Company! Today we have the honour of leaving the lair in force for the first time in over a century! We will carry our chapter’s honour with us. Our orders are from the Fabricator-General himself! We will fulfil those orders! We will triumph and cleanse…”

“Cleanse the witch!”

“We will show our strength to the outsiders…”

“Strength of Steel!”

“And we will crush all who oppose us…”

“As the Drake’s Claw crushes, so shall we!”

“Soldiers of Man, At Arms!”

As one, the entire company gathering, just under a hundred men, parade-turned with a deafening stamp that rolled through the great hall, and began marching through the adamantine boarding door to the strike cruiser Flame.

High above New Toopoxia, Lunar-class cruiser 'Justicar', The Arrival
As the six ships of the Inquisitorial Strike Fleet dropped out of the Warp, the whole of the crews were hit with the same concussive jolt, like they had just hit a massive brick wall.

On the bridge of the cruiser 'Justicar', Captain Leitzmann was shaking off the oppressing feel of the Warp, adjusting himself to regain his comfortable position held prior to the jolt. Standing beside him, emotionless, was the massive form of Inquisitor Narach, seemingly unbothered by the travel or the sudden stop.

Looking up from the floor, Leitzmann reviewed his crew; the large room dominated by the ships 'Navigator', a single low-powered psyker, attuned enough to the Warp to follow the guidelines only his kind can see. Surrounding him a whole series of similar souls, completely wired into the ship, a living computer as much a part of the hardware as the engines. Dangling from the ceiling were dozens more cables, some with a purpose, others purpose forgotten. Single skulls packed to the brim with electronics known and unknown...

"Alright, Narach, where are we?" probed Leitzmann. Surveying the screens before him revealed nothing, and he was uneasy, this far outside the boundaries of his own realm, and committed to the service of a mysterious Inquisitor.

Narach turned down to the captain, "Captain, what you see here is the planet New Toopoxia, a realm similar to our own, save for a single fact; this planet is under siege,"

The captain interrupted, "And we're coming to fight their war for them?"

"A cynical view, and a false one, at that," replied Narach, "The Imperium of Man cares not for the life or death of foreign xenos, if we came only to fight them I would not be necessary,"

A muffled grunt did not escape the detection of Narach at the last statement, "No, we are here, Leitzmann, to banish a potential threat to our own Imperium. These invaders are led by a witch, a powerful psyker, who has at his command a legion of Daemons exceeding the power of anything witnessed in this sector before, it must be silenced,"

At that, the doors to the bridge were suddenly opened, and in strode the second three-meter-high frame Leitzmann had encountered in as many weeks. This was Brother-Captain Cyrel, his massive black and white armor was trimmed in dulled silver, and much of it was stained with the blood of thousands of foes, having not been cleaned in many hundreds of years. The man was gigantic, larger than Narach, completely bald, and so pale he appeared almost to glow.

Ducking in behind him was the smaller, wider, shape of the Imperial Guard General Marius Brunn, commander of the ground forces for the campaign. He spoke in a thickly accented voice, excited and resonant, forcing all hearing it to watch, "Leitzmann, where's Leitzmann!"

The captain stood up, turning to face the newcomer, who did not wait for him to respond, "Alright then, Captain is it? Good, this fellah here," he gestured at Cyrel, "He's not been sayin' much, and me and my men 'ave been wonderin', what sir does yah expect of us down there? I mean, we've got men talkin' 'bout daemons and witches and terrors 'a all sorts, and what with a whole Company 'o 'Marines here, what are a few thousand Guard gonna hope for?"

Leitzmann looked to Brother-Captain Cyrel, who still bore no emotion on his angular face, and so the captain responded himself, "General, I assure you, you and your soldiers are of the highest importance to the operation. Your regiments are present to provide a reliable defense, a base from which to operate. Cyrel's men are the hammer, and the Guard are our Anvil, as is tradition,"

"Yes sir, but... thirty-thousand men, against millions of daemons... Sir, even if our numbers were rever-"

Inquisitor Narach stepped in, "General, if your numbers were decimated and theirs tripled you would do your duty, you will fight them... and you will do your duty,"

The General looked at the Inquisitor, as if for the first time, and bowed... "Yes, of course sir. I am sorry I doubted sir,"

"Only in death does duty end..." Narach muttered. General Brunn turned and left the room, quietly this time. Brother-Captain Cyrel remained, but said nothing, and so Leitzmann turned back to the Inquisitor, who spoke before the captain could remember what he was going to say,

"Alright, captain, get a message down to the surface of the planet, Low and High Gothic, to be safe. Soon after I should like to put down, so I'll need a force of dropships. I'll be bringing my retinue, as well as a squad of Cyrel's brethren there," he nodded at the towering, silent, Marine.

Leitzmann nodded silently, subjecting himself to the will of his Emperor's representative, partly out of duty, partly out of fear, and went about his tasks. Shortly later a simple message was transmitted via the ship's Astropath, although with the Warp disturbances associated with this planet made it prudent to send it via more archaic methods as well, and for that reason an ancient radio was produced from the bowels of the ship, and sent a duplicate message opposite the riskier attempt;


To: Planetary Command, New Toopoxia
From: Imperial Cruiser Justicar, Captain Fredrich Leitzmann,

The Imperium of Man has taken notice of a great disturbance in the Warp in this location, and this is a strike fleet dispatched to address this problem, because of it's proximity to our own realm. If you'll have us, we've come with two full regiments of our won Imperial Guard, as well as a Company of Adeptus Astartes.

This kind of event cannot be allowed to take hold, for it's chaotic influences an reach long distances indeed, and that is a risk our Imperium can hardly allow to proceed...

James Raynor

"Huh? The fuck?" A man shoots upright in his bed, and checks the time. "Fenix! This had better be damn good. It's..." He pauses to calculate, since ship time is still set to Tarsonis norms, and they were last seen on Old Earth. "It's fucking 3 am! What the hell is going on here?"

We are needed. I have already directed our vessels towards our destination.

"That still doesn't answer my question Fenix. What's so important that you had to drag me out of bed to tell me about it?"

You often fight better after eating. I believe that with the amount of combat we are likely to see, you should have time to eat.

"Yes, but what IS this huge fight that you're walking us in to?" A dawning sense of vague unease begins to take hold of James Raynor, confirmed by his companions reply.

Chaos.

"Fuck."

Indeed. You have breakfast waiting for you friend. It is time to go and earn our munificent pay.


In the depths of space, a small task force, no more than 5 ships all told, burns through space. James Raynors Battlecruiser Hyperion, the Protoss Cruiser Eternity's End, and the Terran Cruiser Ronnie Long headed the tiny group, supported by a lonely pair of destroyers, God Hand and World Eater. The flotilla was all in all rather underwhelming. Damage scars showed in the form of patched armor, and weapon systems of dubious origin. Turbolasers standing next to Burst Lasers, Grasers, and half a dozen other worlds worth of beam armament. Sure, it was a patchwork, and the ships were a little rough looking, but they could still fight. And they still had their troops, which was likely to be more important than anything else in the coming battle.

Just 3 hours after James Raynor sat down to breakfast, he was suited up in a Terran Assault Marine powered armor unit. His command squad stood around him, composed of at least 3 races, and 20 nationalities. Yes, 20. Some of them were dual citizens. Another ten minutes and their ships would appear in reality once more. Right on top of a major shooting war. Not the best idea Fenix ever had...

OOC: *Wonders why GTR keeps ignoring everything Azaha does... tournies, TG's, even IC hails from ship to ship.*

Iziahk did not bow back. He barely even made eye contact. In his eyes, obviously these barbarous people had heard of the Ordo Malleus and knew to respect him. He did not know this was untrue however. Quickly scanning the city around him, he spoke, again without making eye contact.

"Indeed. Tell me... what has brought this daemon infestation upon this world? Why have they chosen you for an appropriate place to spread their kin. What dastardly magics have your people been working on?" That last sentence however, was directed straight at Icharus, Iziahk's eyes meeting his in a malevolent gaze.

Iziahk's troopers began to fan out, and sniff around, their beings more at east, but ever alert. Iziahk himself started to walk. As he passed by Icharus, he stopped for a moment and uttered, "I do hope this infestation is contained, before I have to call an Exterminatus... but of course, that is why I am here... to help that is.. Extermiantus comes later..." He continued walking into the terminal, his troopers close on his heels.

Diplomatic Message from Grand Pensionary Icharus Pax, Governor Supreme of the Senate and Representative of the Nine Provinces to Captain Fredrich Leitzmann

The Empire thanks you for your interest in this matter, we will allow you safe passage into the affected New Voltiaia province and escort by a Regiment of our soldiers to the combat scene whenever you deem it nessercary(sp?)

Icharus retrained his focus on the questions he had just been asked, mental messenger was a useful tool for when your attention was divided but it still took some level of concentration, "Well Inquisitor, the problems our nation now faces began 20 years ago when the man calling himself Alpha was but a child, the goverment of Grand Pensionary Gabriel White had reports from Alpha's teachers that he had exhibited unusual powers under stress, White released a team of Investigators who took Alpha to a secret research station, just recently we were able to mimic Alpha's brain patterns and accertain his link to the Warp, we pressed on with research and in an unfortunate accident Alpha was able to escape and sieze our vessel, I beleive he now holds a grudge against us for his upbringing inside a research station, does this satisfy you?"

"Of course it does not. If you have not already figured out, I am here specifically for the daemon presense. I am here to stop that presense before another Black Crusade decides to spawn from it. We are experts on the chaos cults and daemons, it is my mission to destroy them, or what ever planet they are on. I have no problem destroying an entire planet to destroy one greater daemon. But that is such a precious waste of human resources. I'd rather track this 'Alpha' down, and destroy him myself. What information do you have on his where-abouts? I would be able to track him by his warp eminations myself, however this planet is already being twisted by the presense of true daemons. Even an Alpha-plus psyker would have troubles."

Finally he stopped walking and turned towards Icharus. "Where is this menace hiding? Tell us, and me and my Inquisitorial Stormtroopers will do the rest."

Iziahk smiled finally, his arrogance in the Azahan conglomerate was legendary. Iziahk knew this to, he only hoped his unrestrained personality would be tolerated. If not, he knew what he must do anyway.

One could hardly imagine it being named an army. Indeed, the strike cruiser Victorious, and its complement of a hundred men, was scarcely a force at all. Rather, they were the few men who had experienced some form of combat with daemonic forces - and had relished it.

They were to be sent, to gauge the strength of the daemonic forces there. Should they be contained, there would be no need for more forces. The few resource the Starfederation could easily spare were not foolishly used on needless tasks.

Of course, the company itself was as myriad as it was small. Tanks, artillery, fighters, the occasional missile, and, of course, assault shuttles would come with them - enough equipment to outfit a company twice their size. Seventy-five vehicles, and a hundred men. Mobility, it seemed, would be their watchword.

Alongside the Victorious skimmed two frigates, the Forerunner, and the Adjutant. They would serve as air support for the pitiful ground forces that were to be sent in.

To: Relevent Toopoxian Military Authority
From: Starfederation Strike Cruiser Victorious

The Starfederation 115th Company, along with the frigates Forerunner and Adjutant are hereby put under your strategical command. Although this strike cruiser has other duties, the Forerunner may serve as fire support, and the Adjutant is an exceptional blockade runner and troop ferry.

The message sent, Captain Perris looked down at the surface of the world doubtfully. Those hundred men were no doubt going to die, they knew that. But they had volunteered for the task. To see if it was worth sending more men down, to see if humanity stood in such great peril that it required great aid. It would be minutes, now, before they were deployed..

Descending to the Planet's Surface, Aquilla Lander Shuttle, The Hunt Begins
The tiny engines of the small Aquilla Lander-style shuttle roared as they vectored outwards, slowing the ship as it neared the empty landing pad somewhere in the city of New Volitaia. Onboard the diplomatic craft were some rather less-than-diplomatic souls. Inquisitor Narach, of course, was making his way to the surface, accompanied, as he declared, by a single Tactical Squad of the Sons of Malice. Standing uneasily beside the massive red-stained armor of the Sons, General Brunn continually rubbed his sweaty hands together.

He was not comfortable here, among the 'Marines, on a diplomatic mission. He was busy wondering, indeed, why it was that Narach had requested his presence on the landing, when they touched down.

He glanced up to the dark armor of the Inquisitor, "Sah, are you certain we're supposed to be landing here, what with our not bein' invited proper?"

The Inquisitor, himself dwarfed by the 'Marines around them, looked down to the General, "Brunn, we are servants of His will, we will go where we please. That aside, we need to gather some intelligence before we go off, charging into the mouth of the Warp-spawn,"

Brunn nodded and looked away, his eagerness to get out of the cramped ship beginning to show through. The armor of the Sons was grotesque, blood caked on from ancient campaigns, small, not-quite-blunt spikes dotted the armor, themselves bearing emblems of their deadly use by the warriors in battles-past.

When the doors finally opened, Brunn was the first off the ship. He stood away from the rest for a moment, rubbing his suit and gathering himself back up again before following the Inquisitor and his bodyguard as they set off looking for an authority figure, as the Inquisitor himself put it.

Maybe they should have asked first, Brunn thought...

Ten seconds to appearance... Brace for crash Translation...


"Motherfcker!!!"

I have never had carnal knowledge of my progenitor.

"..." The ship blasted into existence in a firestorm of energy and light, brilliant waves of power scintillating across the hull, as the tiny task force appeared in the system, bearing its cargo of ill will, and fel intent.

"Remind me to teach you more about human obscenities if we survive this shithole you dropped us all into."

This is in no way a cesspool for the storage of excrement, other than the human variety, and only in the loosest form of that meaning.

"Ok, you can stop taking everything I say literally any minute now."

If you insist. Either way, I believe that we are about to be hailed. Might it not be prudent to send a message of our own?

"Point. I'll take care of it. No offense, but the glowing eyes tends to scare people."

Yup.

This is James Raynor, commander of this happy little band of misfits that insist on calling themselves Raynor's Raiders. We heard you've got a bug problem, and I have just the thing to fix it...

The transmission went out, to the most prominent ships above the planet(Azaha) as well as several ground stations. Hopefully the human face would be enough to get them not shot for a time.

"Another ship has entered orbit. The message has been patched into the view screen."

Abrais grunted to himself. "Send them the same message we sent to the marines. They are not needed here."

He glanced at his own screen as the servitor transmitted the message. A small lander, Aquilla pattern had entered the atmoshphere. "Blast, this is attracting all the want-to-be Imperium of Mankind.... Probably another arrogant piddly inquisitor."

Glancing out the portview of the ship, he activated his personal comm unit to the rest of his team. "Make your final prayers, and update your purity seals, we depart soon."

"Another ship has entered orbit. The message has been patched into the view screen."

Abrais grunted to himself. "Send them the same message we sent to the marines. They are not needed here."

He glanced at his own screen as the servitor transmitted the message. A small lander, Aquilla pattern had entered the atmoshphere. "Blast, this is attracting all the want-to-be Imperium of Mankind.... Probably another arrogant piddly inquisitor."

Glancing out the portview of the ship, he activated his personal comm unit to the rest of his team. "Make your final prayers, and update your purity seals, we depart soon."

You seem a little long on confidence and odds. We can go a long way to evening that adverse correlation of forces. I know how you Asartes operate. You haven't got the fire support to hold a line against the Cultists, and kill the Daemons at the same time. We can provide that fire support, with your help, limiting our casualties, or we can provide it without your help, and hope that we miss alot. Which would you prefer?

Finally he stopped walking and turned towards Icharus. "Where is this menace hiding? Tell us, and me and my Inquisitorial Stormtroopers will do the rest."

"Well Inquisitor." Icharus sneered, he had found the holy mans voice become ever so slightly more pushy and arrogant, but he humoured the fool as not to cause an international incident, "We have reports that his force landed around the city of Idria, Idria itself has supposedly been lost to the forces of Chaos already." Icharus failed to mention the two companies of his own men being sent to remove the problem, he had been told by his father to distrust those who questioned his or the Empires intellect, and the Inquisitor had certaintly done that.

To: Relevent Toopoxian Military Authority
From: Starfederation Strike Cruiser Victorious

The Starfederation 115th Company, along with the frigates Forerunner and Adjutant are hereby put under your strategical command. Although this strike cruiser has other duties, the Forerunner may serve as fire support, and the Adjutant is an exceptional blockade runner and troop ferry.

Message from Senator Militant Gabriel Gaius of Biblos to the Strike Cruiser Victorious

We accept the command of these vessels and of the 115th Company, we request that the space forces be placed into the Admiralties Command Group orbiting the planet and that the 115th Company be shuttled to New Volitaia where they can be briefed on the situation and add to the liberation efforts.

Maybe they should have asked first, Brunn thought...

Governor Militant Lucius turned the corner into the Space Dock, "I apologise gentlemen but we were not expecting you here so soon, Governor Supreme Jaichus is away on business at the moment but I am able to field any questions you have, we have our own that we would like to ask aswell." Lucius kept his grip on the Plasma pistol in it's holster and had his Rail Rifle swang round his back, anyone who turned up unnannounced cleary had something to hide, but Lucius was not going to jump to conclusions just be ready for anything that happened.

This is James Raynor, commander of this happy little band of misfits that insist on calling themselves Raynor's Raiders. We heard you've got a bug problem, and I have just the thing to fix it...

Admiral Brukov received the visual message, she sighed and tapped a few keys in response, "This is Admiral Tatyana Brukov, please explain your presence in our system." She sighed because she already knew why they were here, it was the same as all the others, Alpha, as if like a lightbulb he had attracted hundreds of moths to his location.

****

A storm was kicking up, General Frusci was thankful for the desert goggles he had been given as he left, it still didn't stop his frequent purging of his mouth from clots of sand which had ventured in, he wished he could take off his Flaks, they were increddibly hot in the desert temperature, on a fortunate note he could see the City through the sand, he could also recognise the signal beep of the Desert Regiment, they had Thermal Regs which he wished he had right now, but fortunantly for him they were armed with age old Assult Rifles, sure they were sturdy but they were useless against an armoured foe, but then you didn't see many of them in these temperatures.

"IGR42 This is DRCIII We are in the city, no contacts yet." Frusci grabbed his radio, the Desert Regiment had obviously already made it to the city then he wasn't surprised with the training these boys had.

"DRCIII Understood, any words from IGR75?" Frusci asked down the radio, his boys would be reaching the city soon but for now he communicated through the Desert Regiment.

"Negative IGR42, we picked up an emergency orbital bombardment transmission, looks like it's been blocked, no survivors it seems." Frusci grunted, if this city could fall then it bode badly for the rest of the empire, he was about to transmit his understanding of the situation when suddenly the channel was torn from his hands "Oh Shit! DRCIII contact, armed citizens on the third floor residential apartments, taking fire!" Frusci cursed under his breath.

"IGR42, this is IGR101, taking fire, requesting support immediatly!" Frusci suddenly looked confused at his adaptive scanning equipment, it showed the Imperial Guard 101st Regiment as being North of the 42nd, further away from the City.

"IGR101, This is IGR42, moving to your position, DR46 This is IGR42, the City is a decoy, the force is moving North on New Volitaia, the storm is cover!" Frusci suddenly realised his stupidity in handling this situation, his foe was obviously far greater than he anticipated.

OOC: You got MSN or AIM toops?

"Very well." Iziahk replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "I assume you have safe transportation to the city? Take us there, I do not wish to risk my landing ship to enemy fire, though formidable it may be."

He locked gazes with Icharus again, his expression beckoning.

OOC: You got MSN or AIM toops?

"Very well." Iziahk replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "I assume you have safe transportation to the city? Take us there, I do not wish to risk my landing ship to enemy fire, though formidable it may be."

He locked gazes with Icharus again, his expression beckoning.

(OOC: I'll TG it to ye in a little while.)

"We do not have transport to the city itself but to the nearby regional headquarters, New Volitaia, although you will have to share space with our 1st Anti Psyker Regiment." Icharus gave the Inquisitor his most intimidating glance as not to be crushed under the will of the Inquisitor.

The bridge of the Astartes Strike Cruiser Flame was buried deep inside the ship, and was a-buzz with chromed automata that moved from one way to another, giving an impression of hustle and bustle. “Warp-transition in fifteen seconds,” the ship’s Captain said.

He was also the Venerable Captain of the company on board. The Silver Dragons rarely used dreadnoughts; when their leaders fell in battle, as Captain Foaloae had, they were instead merged with far greater craft. Those who had previously been Steel-Fathers, as again, Captain Foaloae had, became Captains, of both ships and companies.

His command throne trailed gurgling nutrient pipes that worked their way into a hundred drips that kept his body stable, and most of his un-armoured body was metal. His skull terminated behind the face, dissolving into an over-sized dome of steel from which a host more cables came, linking his every sense into that of the ship that bore him.

“Warp transition complete,” he said, his voice echoing from speakers all through the ship.

“Escort Craft Talon-four and Aft-wing,” lesser heroes of the chapter, in waiting for the post of Captain, “report transition complete. Standing down. Beginning thrust in-system. Destination confirmed visually. Calculating optimal orbital-insertion point.

“Calculated. Main engine array initiated, full power. Beginning communications intercept Cruiser Flame inbound, We are the Drake’s Claw, We bring Death to His Enemies!

“Estimated Time to Arrival: Twenty Seven Standard Hours, Planet-Referent.”

The two bronze escorts fired their engines to keep pace, as the three vessels fell.

Surface of New Toopoxia, Shuttle Landing Platforms, The Hunt Begins
General Brunn, watching the hand of their welcoming party, slipped his hand down to his own plasma-pistol, a fine piece crafted specifically for him by the grateful people of a forgotten planet, many, many years ago. Its solid wooden handle reassured him...

Inquisitor Narach stepped forward, "My name is Heinrich Narach, I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Your world is infected, and I have come to put an end to it before this cancer grows."

The squad of 'Marines remained silent and still, but at a slight and motion from the Inquisitor a pair of them turned back around and took up positions flanking the lander, General Brunn just wished he could have brought his own guard...

Narach continued, "I would like to know the estimated numbers and location of the traitor rabble, and I'll need access to everything you have on their sorcerer,"

Brunn stepped forward, tired of just waiting at the Inquisitor's side. He was a General of the Imperial Guard, for the Emperor's sake, "Also, I should like to know the strength and location of your planetary defense forces, for I have come with a further two full regiments of Imperial Guard, and they're anxious to get their boots outa' space, if ya understand me, sah,"

"I would like to know the estimated numbers and location of the traitor rabble, and I'll need access to everything you have on their sorcerer,"

Brunn stepped forward, tired of just waiting at the Inquisitor's side. He was a General of the Imperial Guard, for the Emperor's sake, "Also, I should like to know the strength and location of your planetary defense forces, for I have come with a further two full regiments of Imperial Guard, and they're anxious to get their boots outa' space, if ya understand me, sah,"

"Understood." Lucius smiled, these men didn't seem as threatening as other foreigners had to him before, "The rabble demonic force, as we understand have at least 20 Assult Boats now under their control, as well as at least 1000 Demons as well as an uncounted number of possessed civilians, in so far as we have gathered they are holding down in Idria, we have sent a force of two Imperial Guard Regiments as well as a Regiment of Desert Warfare specialists, we've kept our fighter support back as we feel it un-needed." Lucius was informed via his comms chip that Governor Jaichus had just arrived, "Ah gentlemen, Governor Jaichus has arrived, I will have him come down as soon as is possible."

"Take us there. The platoon's captain will coordinate with you the supplies we have brought with us. I except to leave within the hour. Do not worry, the Ordo Malleus can handle it from there."

Isiahk dissapeared into the terminal, his bodyguard close behind him, but most the troopers staying with the ship.

"Take us there. The platoon's captain will coordinate with you the supplies we have brought with us. I except to leave within the hour. Do not worry, the Ordo Malleus can handle it from there."

Isiahk dissapeared into the terminal, his bodyguard close behind him, but most the troopers staying with the ship.

Icharus nodded, he walked back to more pressing matters away from the sheer arrogance of the Inquisitor, the shuttle would be delayed until the Inquisitor arrived, Icharus scowled at his men, still angry from being shown up by the Inquisitor, he could do with the Governors will to help at the moment.

Alpha rode above the cloud of Demons in his bubble of protection, they had cleared the diversionary Storm behind them and were marching step by step closer to victory for Alpha, he stared down at the mass of Demons who he had summoned through his large skull holes, his face having now completely melted off revealing a skull shrouded in blue fire.

Lieutenant Jaichus attempted to merge as best he could with an army of the damned, no doubt he was giving off a little sign that he was not amongst the others but so far no trouble had come from it, to him this had been the best way out of the city, carrying an icon of God hidden under his Flaks and as many Rail Rifles, Plasma Pistols and grenades as he could muster, he had attempted to communicate with New Volitaia as he made his way North through the desert but it seemed to be of no avvail as traffic was clouded by thousands of more urgent messages, he continued on his path to New Volitaia hoping to raise the alarm soon.

****

General Frusci lept into the Shuttle, "General Naemo, take your men and mine North follow the Demons, I'll be moving into to raise the alarm and scout the enemy army, may the Grand Pensionary be with you soldier!" Naemo stared at Frusci and saluted, he rounded up the soldiers present and marched them North towards the blur on the Horizon which was New Volitaia.

Frusci's shuttle shot up off the ground and began its travel to scanning range of the Demonic army, it got there rather quickly oweing to the short distance, "General Frusci, short range message from the Demons!" The message arrived just as the shuttle had made its journey, Frusci leant over to read the script, the name emblazoned on the top surprised Frusci, "Sir, we can't send a reply we're too close to the city." Frusci nodded, he was concentrating on how Jaichus had managed to survive.

****

Governor Supreme Jaichus Brave set foot in New Volitaia, he had just given away his power to Icharus and he was in no mood for Lucius' strives for power, he balled his hand into a fist and got ready for Lucius who was marching up to Jaichus, "Governor, glad to have you back, an Inquisitor to see you, pray that you do not ruin their efforts to save us." That was it, blood boiled in Jaichus' head and he took a unaimed swing at Lucius' face, it hit the Governor Militant imbetween the eyes and sent him to the floor cradling a broken nose.

Jaichus ignored the pleas for medical attention from Lucius and attended to the Inquisitor, "I am terribly sorry, that man has no respect for honour or the chain of com-" He was cut short as Lucius mounted the Governor Supreme and began smashing down onto his chestplates, a brawl opened up between the supporters of Jaichus and those of Lucius.

(OOC: Pudu, ye're up! :P)

****

Alpha finally found time to deal with what he had been intending to do since the march began, he searched the annals of the Warp for them, shouting louder than the damned voices of the Warp, "Forces of Chaos." He stated, his voice reverborating arround the corridors of maelstrom, "I beckon thee, now is the time to strike and have the false worshipers on the run."

(OOC: Just giving the Chaos people and others an excuse to post, also, can't remember who asked for the use of naval stuff, New Volitaia is coastal :) )

Surface of New Toopoxia, Shuttle Landing Platforms, A Delay
Marius Brunn watched with surprise as the foreign leaders jumped into the brawl, an expression of glee made itself obvious on his face. This was the kind of diplomacy he enjoyed...

However, he was held back as a large, white-armored gauntlet laid itself over his chest, restraining him. One of the 'Marines next to the General stopped him, staring down at him, keeping the silence that was the staple of his chapter.

Although that did not mean the delegation did not take action... Inquisitor Narach stepped forward, revealing a large bolt-pistol from within his large, furred cloak. Firing roughly half a dozen shots into the air, advancing on the melee as he did. Shouting, he addressed them, "You, stop this now!" He holstered the bolt pistol, and advanced further, grabbing a man by the back of the neck, lifting him away from his target, "This!" he held the unfortunate man up, "Is not your enemy!"

The 'Marines watched, silently, and Brunn just sighed... He knew he didn't like these armored-up bastards for no reason...

The gunshots stopped the brawl and men began to get to their feet still snarling at the opposite side, blood was smeered and wounds tended to as the severly wounded along with Lucius left the room.

Jaichus got to his feet, wiped the blood from his bottom lip and squinted through his bloody black eye, "I am terribly sorry for this insolence, I hope it can be forgiven." Jaichus bowed and noticed several drops of blood hit the deck, he wiped his bleeding nose and rose back up to normal position, "If you would still like to assist us I have received word that our forces have stormed the Cultist city and are on their way back as we speak, would you care to join me in the designated spacepad?" Jaichus hoped that the brawl had not lessened the foreigners opinions on the Empire.

****

Lucius was relativly unharmed in the conflict, just his broken nose that needed tending to, the rest was being autohealed by the Nanites in his body, "Lord Marshall." A bruised soldier clapped his feat together and saluted, "Gather the men in the Barracks hall, the rediculous reign of Jaichus Brave ends before the Demons swallow us up!" Lucius let the doctor tend to his wounds, the coup was not illegal, he knew of an act which allowed an armed coup if it was deemed nessercary by the Senate, and he was sure that's why Icharus had denied his request to demote Jaichus.

(OOC: Going to bed now...)

OOC: I leave it to you Toops to post transporting my men, for I do not know where to go, how to RP your ships or city and such.

"Well, then. Let's move it, boys."

Ten shuttles slipped away from the Adjutant, each carrying equipment, men, supplies, and whatever else could be stuffed into their holds. " New Volitaia, eh? Sounds like a cushy place, at least to start off with."

It was a simple enough company. There were the fighter pilots. Those who did not fly fighters drove tanks. Those who did not operate tanks fired artillery. Those who did not use artillery were engineers and repairmen. The 115th was legendary among Starfederation troops - they were not numerous, but, with the sheer amount of firepower and skill at their disposal, they didn't really need to be.

The shuttles, escorted by the fighters of the 115th, easily made it down to the surface - a trip that, no doubt, later on, would not be so simply made. As the ships glided sedately down to the surface, the 115th spread out. They took up a lot of space for their numbers. Tanks, artillery, grounded fighters.. all were impressively laid out, and the men who piloted them hopping out, looking around for their orders.

Thousands of tiny vessels zipped and zoomed in and out of the cities many hundreds of space docks, all them were suddenly shadowed by the large vessel hanging overhead, slowly it pulled over the very top floor of the City before moving downwards to land.

Steam released from the large Troop Transport as soldiers began the organised march off and down the cargo elevator to the Barracks, Jaichus ignored the special Anti-Psyker regiment and concentrated on the special guest aboard the flight, the Inquisitor, the second he had met today, he was getting quite used to them, his lip wound split open again and he held a hankercheif to stem the cut.

Lucius was followed by his loyalists, he needed this siezure of power quick and painless in order to not attract foreign intervention and to still be ready for the oncoming Demon Horde, he had strapped on his Thermal Regs from when he was a member of the Desert Regiment and had his twin Hammers crossed behind his back, his aged face-mask glinted light from the red eyes illuminating the black gas mask and Capitol Armour.

Despite his intimidating appearance he didn't seem to faze the Lord Marshall in the corner who flicked through the pages of a history document, "Huh." He stated in the quiet, "what is this word?" The Lord Marshall showed a picture of a blurred pixelated comnputer screen below it was the word "FATHER" Lucius glared at the Lord Marshall until he placed the book back on his lap and continued reading, "I'll ask Governor Jaichus." He said jokingly.

"In the name of the Gods, we come forth from their realm. In the name of Chaos we bear its word to the Materium, and mark it as their own. In the name of all the dark powers of the Warp, we bring their wrath upon the weak and the faithless...We do this, that their light might shine upon us, and raise us up when they inherit this Universe. Let the galaxy burn!"

"Let the galaxy burn!" Each faithful warrior echoed his cry, their words rising with his as he strode forth from the altar, the thronging crowd parting at his very presence. Incense smoked and spat, its scent heavy upon the air, blood stained his armor, his flesh and even the altar, where he had enacted a great sacrifice, sanctifying their victory to come.

"The Gods march with us! They have sent among us their greatest servants, bound in chains of flesh and wrought in pain. They are here to lead us to glory! All life is service! All toil is a blessing from the Gods! Stand with the forces of Chaos, and the glories of the universe shall be yours!

To our fetid enemies, we come! To the weak servants of the Corpse God, we bring divine damnation! FOR CHAOS!"

"FOR CHAOS!"

And so, from the roiling hell of the Aethyr, the Oathbreaker tore into the material plain, intent upon their prey.

OOC: Sorry for the crappy post, have to rush to work. Don't swamp me while I'm gone! x

(OOC: tis cool dude, glad to see someone supporting Alpha at last :P)

The Krone sat peacefully orbiting the blue marble, Tatyana watched as the planet revolved slowly beneath her, she knew that trouble was brewing but she had little at her expense to use in defense of the planet, afterall it was out of her jurisdiction and in the hands of Jaichus Brave and Icharus Pax.

Another vessel jumped out of the warp and Tatyana began to practice what she had been repeating for the past few days, the Krone circled round to greet the Vessel and Tatyana grabbed the ship to ship intercom, "Unknown vessel, you have violated Toopoxican space, please state your purpose in this region." Something didn't quite sit right with Tatyana, the vessel looked too much like that which Alpha had used, "Defence, raise the shields and prepare the MEG15 Batteries, I also want to see some Fighter support out there soon and have the Astoria and her sister ship pull round to our location." Tatyana stated to the Defence Staff.

Iziahk walked out of the ship with the rest of his platoon. For him, the ride was a very odd experience. Beeing with the local's 'Anti Psyker' regiment unnerved him. It didn't mak ehim nervous, he was more composed than that, but he supposed it was their training that gave him slight chills.

He walked into the sunlight, and glanced around. He let the air fill his nostrils, and the sound engulf his ears.

Nothing. There was not a hint of war, no rancid stench of stale gunpowder, no burning rubber, or decaying bodies. The city was quiet, business as usual it seemed for the local armed forces. Iziahk hoped they took him to the right spot.

Finally, Iziahk approached who he assumed to be the most senor man aboard the flight, who turned out to be the man named Jaichus. "Tell me, have you taken me to the right location? I do not sense anything abnormal here, now do I smell, see, or hear it. I wish to be taken directly to the front. You must have a front line of troops, and supplies heading there."

"Tell me, have you taken me to the right location? I do not sense anything abnormal here, now do I smell, see, or hear it. I wish to be taken directly to the front. You must have a front line of troops, and supplies heading there."

"Yes we do Inquisitor." Jaichus stated, he was surprised at the lack of questioning over his bruises, "However, the enemy city is not fully secured and landing the desert is far too much of a risk, instead we have had it lined up that you will be accompanying our Anti-Psyker legion, we beleive we can trap Alpha in Idria."

****

General Frusci's shuttle landed and immediatly the General ran to the citywide announcment box, "Governor Supreme Jaichus, this is General Frusci, Idria was a trap a horde of Demons marchs towards us!" Frusci dropped the announcement stick and ran off to prepare a militia force against the invasion.

****

Jaichus stopped midsentence and suddenly his heart dropped, "Inquisitor, please find your way to our Anti Psyker legion." Jaichus grabbed his Aide and walked through the door, "Aide, we have only a legion of anti-psykers, this was not expected, tell me how many Tactical suits we have." The Aide stared at Jaichus in a certain sense of shock.

The Aide fed the words through his mind again and again, "M'lord, the use of tactical battlesuits was banned after the great rebellions due to its extensive use of drugs and genetic modification." Jaichus nodded, "Well sire, as I understand we have 20 suits for nostalgia purposes, but no trained personell." The Aide was still in slight shock both of the Demon army advancing and in the use of these power suits.

The Inquisitor had to stop himself from getting giddy. The daemons were coming straight to him. And where there are daemons, there is a psyker allowing them passage through. He would either find this "Alpha", or one of his commanders at the center of the horde. Everything just seemed to fall right into place for him.

"Very well. I hope they know what they are doing. If I deem that they do not know how to handle this threat, I will take things into my own hands with your.. legion."

Iziahk swept his cape and started to walk away. His troopers were just finishing onloading the ship, and actually putting on their full combat gear with the announcement that daemons were heading there way.

There were two squads of ten, with standard weaponry, most having lasguns, but four of the group either carrying a Hellgun or an autogun. The last 6 men were organized into a heavy support squad, consisting of two heavy bolter emplacements, each carried by two men, and two men wielding large hand held missile launchers.

After they had suited and geared up, they troopers trotted behind the Inquisitor.

Naturally, the Inquisitor went in search for the commander of the legion. He only hoped the locals knew even slightly, with what they were dealing with.

OOC: *Wonders why GTR keeps ignoring everything Azaha does... tournies, TG's, even IC hails from ship to ship.*

OOC: Because I don't like you.
Or possibly because I wasn't on all week, so I had to drop out of the tourney (which I wasn't all that interested in, in the first place), I never got a TG from you, and I had no idea you hailed me.
Take your pick. :D
(Sorry, man, I'm not doing it on purpose)

Oh, and, Toopoxia, I'm retconning some of my posts, if you don't mind. I feel that I need to in order to get back into this RP, so just assume that my ship just arrived in-system.

IC:
New Toopoxia, High Orbit
Bridge of the SC-107
The strike cruiser shuddered as it exited the warp. Librarian Astel had detected the node of chaos near a point of high gravity in realspace; this generally meant a planetary attack. Belowdecks, Darknights and air crews laboured, preparing the dropships, power armour, and weapons of the assault forces.

The bridge was full of commotion as well. Captain Ian shouted "Where the hell are we? What planet is that?", pointing to the blue-green marble that 'floated' before them.

Astel and several others worked to answer those questions. Finally, Astel stood. "The homeworld of the Toopoxicans, New Toopoxia. Something is going on down there, it looks like some of the populace has fallen to Chaos. I suggest you contact the government."

Captain Muir sighed, and picked up the handset. He ordered his comms officer to transmit to the planetary government. "Attention, any recieving New Toopoxican officers or government officials. This is Captain Ian Muir of the 107th Strike Cruiser of the Commonwealth of Ghost Tigers Rise, or GTR-SC-107 for short. We've detected a powerful source and attractant of Chaos in your region, and we're getting reports of Chaos troops attacking your populace. Our mission is to stop Chaos wherever we find it, at all costs. In the name of mutual defense, we're offering to provide armed support in the form of Terminators and Helghast Shock Troops. All we need in return is a brief of the situation and a location to insert our soldiers." Ian dropped the handset and settled back into his chair, waiting for a reply.

OOC: No worries really. :P I just like your style of RP, and thought it would be a shame to be ignored by such.

Do you have an AIM or MSN as well? I feel that our two forces are going to converge at some point in this RP.

Like a blossoming flower the City suddenly opened up hatches revealing menacing guns and slid over protective plate armour, only in a city like New Volitaia could this technology be found, inside the fortress the 20 volunteer soldiers placed their hands into cold ancient gold and red gloves, slowly placing the specialist equipment over their body and grabbing the large outdated Rifles, "Sergeant Valius, reporting for duty!" The leading marine knelt before Jaichus, his gold trim gleaming off the sun of Volitaia.

Jaichus motioned for the Tactical Marine to stand "Sergeant Valius, as the only soldiers capable you will be sent via wormhole to the Demon horde, we believe Lieutenant Jaichus is present in the midst of the horde, no attempts should be made to rescue him as he may be corrupted." The Sergeant saluted and made his way down to the Wormhole center.

****

Lieutenant Jaichus was beggining to feel the heat of the desert sun beat down on him, the Thermal Regs he managed to stow away had worked for a few hours but the systems were being damaged by the weight of the Flaks, he pulled the rail rifles on his back around to his shoulder and pressed on, not concentrating on the soldier in front of him he walked both down into the ground, "Oh shit i'm sorry!" He excalimed without realising.

The Cultists began to look sharply on Jaichus, "Chaos!" They drooled, demons were starting to amass around him and suddenly Jaichus realised the trouble he was in, it started with a slight crackle of energy, and suddenly the world around him was being dragged towards a point, Jaichus suspected the work of Alpha but he was pleasantly surprised to see human flesh standing before him, "CONTACT!!!" The Marines shouted as they realised their miscalcualtion in arrival, they were now stuck in a fray rather than holding the enemy.

sneep

(OOC: Sorry for the crappy post, I spent an hour on the post above so i'm a little frazzled.)

"This is Admiral Tatyan Brukov of the Toopoxican Flagship Krone, please make your way towards New Volitaia City, alternativly please head towards Biblos City."

OOC: No worries really. :P I just like your style of RP, and thought it would be a shame to be ignored by such.

Do you have an AIM or MSN as well? I feel that our two forces are going to converge at some point in this RP.
Yeah, gtrcalling is my AIM account.
(OOC: Sorry for the crappy post, I spent an hour on the post above so i'm a little frazzled.)

"This is Admiral Tatyan Brukov of the Toopoxican Flagship Krone, please make your way towards New Volitaia City, alternativly please head towards Biblos City."

SC-107 descended into low orbit, but did not land at New Volitaia. 6 dropships, 10 strike craft, and a pinnace departed from it, carrying with them several tons of ordinance, two squads of Terminators, six squads of Helghast Shock Troopers, and Lt. Brandon Jax (http://www.washingtoncaps.com/uploads/players/99F922C3120D451383A8E2A73F171029.jpg). They quickly descended through the atmosphere of New Toopoxia, hurtling towards the New Volitaia district. As they reached the space port, the retroes of the ships fired, making them screech to a halt over the landing pad. The squadron landed with an audible clamor as each ship's landing struts clanged against the tarmac.

The soldiers and fighter pilots rushed out of the vessels, after checking the area for hostiles, and stood at parade rest in front of them, awaiting orders. Lt. Jax himself paced in front of his men, waiting for a liason of the Toopoxican government to greet him.

Governor Militant Lucius walked out to greet the members of the foreign dignitaries, he feared that their were now more foreignors in the city than pureblooded Toopoxicans, "Welcome!" He greeted anyway, "I apologise but Governor Supreme Jaichus is... Unavaliable." Lucius sneered.

****

Jaichus was on his way from below the City to the top floors, it involved several changes of elevator but it was the quickest way up, he had just stepped off the 3rd floor when he was butted with the end of a rifle, he held up his arms in defence but foundhimself bundled and being dragged away back into the elevator.

****

"So." Lucius marked out splendidly, "I assume you have come to end the Demons who amass outside our city?" He asked, still sneering at the possibility of Jaichus' reign coming to an end.

LT Jax nodded at Lucius' question. "That's the plan. What, exactly, is the situation? We're ready to fight, and we're just the first wave, but if we don't know what we're dealing with, it's going to be hard to help you... We also need to know what kind of transportation you have, and if you could lead us to your forces. Eight squads can't fight alone, even if some of them are Terminators."

Meanwhile, in orbit, Captain Muir turned to Librarian Astel. "Astel, see if you can find any friendly ships nearby. This is going to be a major fight, we'll need backup."

Astel nodded and turned to his work.

OOC: Aimed at GTR

"Luietenant." The Servitor droned. Only the Grey Knight was on the bridge. The captain of the ship was nowhere to be seen. He had been told to not step foot on the bridge unless no one else was on it. Luietanant Abrais grunted at the mostly-machine man. "There is another ship in orbit that is not local. Program directive BO-294C orders me to inform you that the word 'Terminators' was mentioned in a communications from the foreign to the planet's surface."

Abrais' grunt turned into a thoughtful sigh. "Inform my.. 'Brothers' that the matter here is being dealt with by the Ordo Malleus and the Grey Knights. Their prescense here is not needed."

"Yes, Luietenant."

However, that was a reaction without thought. Abrais did not know if he would need the help of loyal marines, he wasn't even sure if they were marines, or just throwing the phrase around. He would get his answer shortly either way he assumed.

The vox relays of the great vessel seemed to crackle and hiss with static, as though preparing to deliver a message. What was delivered instead was an immense outpouring of hate and vitriol, surgign across vox and astropathic communications. A booming hateful voice seemed to thunder around all who could hear it, incanting the blasphemous words of Chaos.

"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Dark Gods! All hail to Azimuth, damned and blessed, scion of the Undivided, warrior of the Imperium! He who is son of Gabriel, he marked by the Archon! All hail to Archon Lash, master of the Black Orders!"

The voice degenerated into a howl of utter insanity, a gibbering mix of twisted unclean words and the touch of the warp. The Astropath who had uttered them was howling in his mad, black laughter, even as a new voice cut through, a voice bristling with power and zeal.

"Bow before us, Unbelievers! Bow before the glories of the true Gods and you shall be spared! Resist and all before us shall die as cattle! Hear the words of Chaos, the glorious Word to liberate your souls! Prostrate yourselves before the names of the Gods! Tzeentch! Khorne! Nurgle! Slaanesh! Unburden your souls before their glory! Bow to me, or burn forever in the fires of the Warp!

The lord Remiel sends us forth in his name, bearers of the word of Chaos as spoken by the divine Gabriel! Ours is the may that shall undo the Materium and usher in the Golden age!"

Silence followed, silence broken as the ship opened up with full guns against the Toopaxian vessel.

OOC: Aimed at GTR

"Luietenant." The Servitor droned. Only the Grey Knight was on the bridge. The captain of the ship was nowhere to be seen. He had been told to not step foot on the bridge unless no one else was on it. Luietanant Abrais grunted at the mostly-machine man. "There is another ship in orbit that is not local. Program directive BO-294C orders me to inform you that the word 'Terminators' was mentioned in a communications from the foreign to the planet's surface."

Abrais' grunt turned into a thoughtful sigh. "Inform my.. 'Brothers' that the matter here is being dealt with by the Ordo Malleus and the Grey Knights. Their prescense here is not needed."

"Yes, Luietenant."

However, that was a reaction without thought. Abrais did not know if he would need the help of loyal marines, he wasn't even sure if they were marines, or just throwing the phrase around. He would get his answer shortly either way he assumed.


"Sir!" the comms officer shouted. "We're getting a transmission!"

Muir looked up. "Who is it from, what does it say?" He put down the TCS report he was reading, flopping it down onto a table full of similar reports.

"It's from a branch of the Ordo Malleus, with Grey Knights. They're in that destroyer," here the comms officer, a Skaven named Lt. Vecter Seep, poked a small, light blue (the color code for "neutral") dot on the holographic tactical map. This dot was orbiting the green, wireframe orb that represented New Toopoxia. When Lt. Vecter poked it with his claw, it the dot enlarged and became a detailed model of the Inquisitorial Ship. "They're saying that they have this under control, and we're not needed here," the rat-man said with a smirk.

"Great," the Captain snorted, "the dick-waving of the Inquisition, my favourite. Well, my fine, furry friend, send them this message," the Lieutenant quickly took his seat and prepared to type. "Ahem. 'Inquisitorial friends, I believe you are mistaken. You see, it is your prescence that is not needed. The matter is being dealt with by the Adeptus Astartes. Thank you for holding down the fort until we managed to show up, though.' Yeah, that's pretty good. Insert a break there, Vecter. Yeah, that's good. Okay, enter this: 'Now, let's drop the stupid posturing. We have a company of the Darknight Chapter with us, including a number of Terminators. There's an emergency down there, and we are both needed. Agreed?' Okay, Seep, that's it, send it." Muir collapsed back into his seat and picked up the TCS report, shaking his head slightly.

Seconds later, the following message was sent to the Ordo Malleus vessel:


From SC-107 of the Commonwealth of Ghost Tigers Rise
Inquisitorial friends, I believe you are mistaken. You see, it is your prescence that is not needed. The matter is being dealt with by the Adeptus Astartes. Thank you for holding down the fort until we managed to show up, though.

Now, let's drop the foolish posturing. We have a company of the Darknight Chapter with us, including a number of Terminators. There's an emergency down there, and we are both needed. Agreed?

"The transmission originated from-" The cold monotone voice was cut short by the bellow of Abrais.

"I KNOW WHERE IT HAS COME FROM, SERVITOR!"

With speed that would seem impossible for a man of his size, in such large armor, he moved towards the ship's com and slammed on the activate control, his massive guantlet destroying the panel in the process. "By the Emperor's name, get your ass up here or so help me!"

The sentence barely being completed, the Captain burst through the door to the bridge. He entered a cavernous room, with many archaeic pannels and controls. In the dead center was the captain's chair, where he himself sat and piloted the ship.

With his own grace, the stocky captain jumped into the chair, and shoved his arms into orifices specially crafted for his arms, which his arms fit up to the middle of his biceps.

"Bring the ship around! By The Emperor, move AWAY from it."

"Away?! That is cowardice! I am the captain of this ship, we must assault them now!"

With a great swing, the Knight swung around in his hulking armor, his brawn consuming most of the captain's sight. "You will do as I say!" He bellowed, his voice shaking the room. "If you attack and this divine vessel is destroyed, I will personally teleport you down to the surface, and let YOU tell the Inquisitor that you destroyed his only transportation off that hell hole!"

The captain's courage quickly faded, his face melting under the pressure. Slowly, the ship accelerated, and aimed towards the other side of the planet.

"Servitor! Com that ship. Inform them that thier presense will be quickly absolved here! Inform them that the Azahan Ordo Malleus, and the Emperor's finest are already here. They have already lost! Also inform them... Their "son" dies here, on that world, before the week is over."

As the ship got underway, the message from the other Astartes ship filtered through. It was passed through the servitors vocals.

"Heathenous bastards. They dare defy the Ordo Malleus? The Empire really has fallen apart...."

The captain was too entrenched in piloting the ship, for he seemed to pay no attention, his once zealous attitude replaced by a blank stare.

"Send them... terminators or no, this is not a matter that is to be dealt with by an inexperianced legion. You obviously do not know what you are dealing with. You cannot possibly stand against the combined might of the Chronosians, or their allied daemons. Assault their ship, or their foot soldiers, and see how you fall like gnats against an electrified wire. Leave this place, before you to are consumed by the blight of chaos, and utterly crushed."

The Chronosians. Saint Ricaud had fought hard agaisnt them, shortly before even Abrais was born. He swore that the Emperor's, and Ricauds spirit would flow through him, and he may smite the unworthy.

“Sergeant Ascorus.”

“Brother-Captain,” the Terminator sergeant, already clad, said, inclining his head slightly to the bronze-armoured and enthroned figure before him, “You wish to change my deployment orders?”

“Yes. Sergeant. In consultation with my revered brothers, we have detected a battle beginning in orbit of the planet. We have intercepted signals that suggest fell purpose of one of the parties. This is an excellent chance to fulfil our orders.”

“You wish me to teleport aboard the enemy vessel.”

“No. That would be anticipated. You and your men are to report to the Talon and embark on a boarding torpedo there in order to bypass the enemy’s shields, and take a teleportation homer with you.”

“Sir,” the veteran said, his heavy armour and bionics – he was cybernetic from the mid-chest down – clanking as he left the bridge.


Captain Foaloae considered, as the three Silver Dragons ships ploughed on toward their destination, arcing in a gentle parabola towards the planet. A Thunderhawk shot from his ship, to rendezvous briefly with the Hunter Class Destroyer, transferring its boarding crew. With a thought, he launched the others, having them take up close support stations around his vessel, the bronzed, blunt air-space craft seeming like pilot ship against the vast flank of the strike cruiser.

The game was afoot now, he thought, watching the first Thunderhawk return to its parent vessel, and out beyond that, the newly joined battle. At extreme range still, he opened all the gun-ports of the strike cruiser with a mind impulse, and watched as his two brothers did likewise, running out the guns like ancient sea vessels.

Another three minutes, as they entered extreme range astern. The turret of the Flame’s bombardment cannons turned, huge magma-bombs being loaded into steel shells, and run up into the turret on rails. Portside gravitic impellers charged, plasma cannons hummed ominously, and missile banks displayed their cargo to the cruel stars.

Thousands of kilometres out ahead, he could see the Talon’s fore-turrets spin to port, trace EM spikes showing where the coil-guns began to generate fields…

:War-group Flame. Open Fire: he sent.


A storm of shot and shell opened up, missiles rocketing toward the chaos vessel, gravitic pulsers twisting space itself, plasma bolts incandescing like solar flares, magma bombs exploding into pin-pricks of light when they came close to the enemy vessel, their magnetically accelerated containers bursting like over-ripe fruit and spewing the small projectiles through the volume of space occupied by the enemy, each one capable of levelling city blocks. All of it likely to miss at this range for all of it was a distraction. Half of the Thunderhawk gunships darted out, to shepherd a pair of two hundred foot long missiles that ejaculated from the foremost ship, towards their date with the target.

The vessels shields seemed to pulse and thrum, struggling to contain the immense energies exerted upon them, shuddering with the sheer strain of containing such power. The hull buckled in places, plating bending inwards under the raw power of the enemy bombardment, eliciting a hiss from Azimuth. He stood upon the bridge, clenched fists tight around the shaft of the Crozius, milking blood from the glowing rune-lines that adorned it.

"Report you dogs! Report!"

"Minor damage, esteemed Lord. Their range has rendered them near-impotent. Yet we have taken a small amount of damage."

"We shall return it in kind! Ready my men! We shall claim our prize and burn this world to cinders if need be!"

"As is your will, mighty Lord. As is the will of Chaos."

"It shall be the will of Chaos that you be flayed alive if you do not do as I demand!" He nearly bellowed, livid with rage and half-mad with frustration. He hungered, he could feel the hunger pouring through the debased symbol of his office, held tight to him. He growled, rising through the stink of incense and the howl of cogitators, regarding the cold steel and stone of his bridge, as much a place of worship as a place of command.

The servitors scuttled away, whimpering and whispering, debased Mechanicus things crawled upon the walls chittering in their machine language, invoking blaspehmous prayers to aspects of the Omnissiah, that could not, should not exist.

"Give me sensors."

"Pardon, great lord, but the auspex relays are overwhelmed by this display of our enemies power. We cannot form an accurate picture of the-" It stopped, the techpriest gurgling as the bladed Crozius tore out its throat, rending flesh and implants with a single swipe.

"Then to the warp with all of them. Weak fools! Ready my host for war! Ready the sons of Gabriel, the warhounds of Chaos Undivded! We are the Ascendant Daemons! We shall march to war! Return fire, diversionary measures, keep the Toopaxians at a distance and bring us round to deployment range! Captain, you have command until I return."

The Captain did not move, did not nod, did not respond. Chained to the Command-Chair, bound in wire and twisted into a puzzle of flesh, the thing- more machine than man- gurgled obscenely, his voice booming through a hidden vox relay

As is your will, hallowed Apostle.

"It is...Do my bidding, serve the Gods with fervor and rejoice in this chance to prove thyselves worthy! We shall offer this victory to the Dark Gods, and they shall bless all of our great works!Victory in Damnation! Death to the weakling servants of the Corpse God!"

(OOC: ToopOxia O! O!!! not A, O!!!! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!! O_o *breathes slowly* I'm all good :P)

Tatyana quickly glanced at the moniter in front of her, it displayed the 20 most threatening objects the top being the Unknown vessel, "Defence, raise shields, lock on with the MEG 15's, get the Astoria here now!" There was a bundle of activity as Brukov finished booming her orders out across the bridge crew.

Silos opened across the weapons batteries missiles poured outwards shooting flame as they sped towards the enemy vessel, "Countermeasures, NOW!" Tatyana shouted, several white innocent looking barrels floated just beyond the shield line, taking the brunt of the enemy shells but also letting many of the enemy weapons through, Tatyana scanned the moniter, shileds at 32% strength, "Bring us in closer to the enemy, prepare shield disruptors." the bridge rackoed slightly as she shouted out this order, the Astoria had made it into combat, flying quickly over the Krone and opening weapons ports taking the same line as the Krone, as if shielding it from harm, Tatayana blessed the small Assult Cruiser.

(OOC: To GTR)

Lucius checked his Monitor for information on transports avaliable, "Yes, we have a troop transport spare, it was about to make its way back to Biblos but I have held it in place for now, it will land you just outside of the line of combat."

(OOC: go team Anti Psyker :P)

Whilst the Marines fought valiantly against Alpha, keeping him in place, the Anti Psyker Regiment was dragged into the mix of combat, utilising heavily armed Assault Boats, to bring Alpha to ground level, the attack formed in two waves, the first from the air and the second from the ground.

Lieutenant Jaichus had escaped alongside the Space Marine squad, punching a hole through the enemy force in order to escape, the heavy Repeating Bolt Rifle blasting holes through the Demon force, it was to no avail as more Demons rushed in to aid the ones already fallen.

The enemy was headed away from them, changing its heading to one closing with the planet, showing the incandescent flare of their drives.

The Silver Dragons did… nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

It was considerably easier to target a vessel headed away from you than one abreast; because bracketing their likely path became much easier. Reticules shrunk, battery fire became more precise, and the three dragons ships continued to pour fire on the enemy.

Sitting before his inner casing, on his throne, like a miniature version of the Revered Emperor, Foaloae watched as accuracy jumped up by an order of magnitude. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going to destroy the chaos ship – indeed, if it looked likely that would happen, his fire would suddenly start being very ineffective. He only needed to collapse its void shields, and then enter orbit.

All that mattered was one boarding torpedo, set to hit amidships, around where the navigators of the enemy vessel ought to be. Seemingly adrift, compared to the storm of hot fire around it, the torpedo and its decoy closed…


Inside, the terminators twitched with anticipation, the whirring of chainfists sounding like the growling of hungry, leashed dogs. Green eyes illuminated the cramped interior of the torpedo, and Steel-Sergeant Ascorus could see his men, linked by thin cords on their armour, for now, a precaution, in case the torpedo was hit; it would allow them to survive in space as a cohesive unit, and be retrieved more easily, and allow their precious gene-seed to be harvested.

“We are the Drake’s Claw…” they snapped, and there was a crash of the best part of a dozen bolters being clashed against breast plates. A pair of assault cannons whirred at the front of the torpedo, their operators testing the motors for jams one last time, and Ascorus nodded to himself. All was ready.

“We bring death to the Emperor’s Enemies,” Ascorus said, and stabbed the final impulse rune, that would fire both rockets at full pelt towards the enemy. He was pushed back in his support frame; there would be an instant before impact where they would all need to flip over, so that their backs faced the snout of the missile, to brace for impact, and then, the frames would have to go as the missile bored its way into the enemy vessel.


The Steel-Father watched on a tactical plot on the bridge as the torpedo blazed, its engine flare briefly rivalling that of the accelerating ship it pursued. He spoke into the internal vox net.

“Company! To deployment stations!”

Seemingly unnoticed by either side, the tiny Terran complement suddenly flared to life. With a sickening glow, the massive cannon in the prow of Hyperion began to charge up, and mere seconds later, a massive bolt of elemental fury ripped free, crossing the intersecting space in a fraction of a second. Its target, the Chronosian ship. As the Yamato Cannon worked its deadly might, turrets and other weapons oriented themselves towards the other ship, and fired. Protoss plasma and torpedoes, along with the hash of weapons aboard Hyperion and her compatriots. Lasers, Grasers, missiles, an occasional Turbolaser, and any of half a dozen other weapons types lashed from the tiny flotilla to intersect on the Chronosian vessel.

While the parent ships lashed their foes with fire and devastation, dropships and shuttles screamed earthward, towards the site of the battle. A lonely pair of Wraiths followed them in, prepared to use their weapons to clear a landing zone from the mass of Daemons. Ship to Ship missiles would hopefully serve to blast any necessary holes to drop out the Assault Marines and Siege Tanks, while Vultures and Stingers landed away from the battle, in a position well suited to flanking the strike. The last ships to head planet side were a trio of Protoss Scouts, they would be tasked with playing tag with any fighters that might have been suborned by the forces of Chaos. The battle was joined, now to see exactly how it would end.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=518749

See that thread. Maybe ask Toops there. It's the OOC thread.

The large firey ball of heat rose overhead of the battlefield and sank slowly towards the Horizon, as the last rays of sunlight beamed through it cast horrific shadows of the dead, the thankful arrival of the Marines had caused two events, the first was the expiditious retreat of Lieutenant Jaichus who was still running quickly towards the City of New Volitaia chased by many Demons and quickly losing fluid.

The second event was the sudden change of direction by the Demonic force, still headed towards New Volitaia but now redirected by the Marines, Alpha looked onwards in excitement as chaos erupted from the scene, slowly the Marines who were pinned down were getting swamped from all directions by a Demonic force.

The time had finally arrived for the inhabitants of Lucius' City, the Regiment of Imperial Guardsmen who were nerviously anticipating the arrival of the Demon force and attempting to find their loyalties in either Lucius or Jaichus were now forced to fight, the CI absorbed the weapons systems of the City into its defence gunning down swathes of Demons as deep strike forces plunged in behind the Demon force.

(OOC: If you're at Volitaia now is the time to start your fighting cos I'm not expecting New Vol to hold up long.)

So many enemies, so eager to die. Azimuth mused over this thought as he bestrode the holy corridors of his vessels, bemarked of the Powers, touched by Chaos itself. He allowed a sigh to shift through his pale lips, set into his muscular face, his deep blue eyes surveying the docking facilities. Dropships were ready, with drop-pods nestled in the heart of his vessel, ready to be deployed to the warring world below. He could almost taste his victory, his name inscribed in the annals of honor for all time.

So long as the taint could be nurtured, allowed to grow and prosper. He could taste the warp, circulating within these halls, twisting the fabric of his vessel with its subtle touch. He breathed it deep, raising his Crozius into the air as though to stir the fetid air.

"Victory, brethern! Victory and blood!"

The ship shook under the ministrations of the Miehmish ships, ragged bastard things that could never hope to fully challenge an Imperial Battlecruiser. They had no hope of stopping them, but together with the other enemies who seemed to have congregated, they would have more chance.

"As soon as we are earthbound, go to evasive maneuvers. Punish these dogs as best you can, but ensure that we can be retrieved with the true matter. I will tolerate no failure from you, wretches!" His voice boomed over the vox, filling the ship with the canker of his malice.

"Your will be done, great lord, as it outstrips all others." Each voice seemed to echo as one.

His host was gathered, twisted cultist-things once human, wretched beings of unholy purity. With them came their champions, the Chaos Space Marines of the Ascendant Daemons, their armor marked with the ruinous sigils of Chaos, gleaming runic patterns in-laid in their battle-gear, to sear and scar the minds of their pathetic foes.

One by one they filed into the dropships, as the lance batteries of the immense vessel opened up against the Miehmish, breaking closer to the world as their weapons fully unleashed, plumes of flame and energy cutting across the void, missiles and torpedoes hurtled forth against the enemy, expertly prepared by slaving gun-crews.

And the Chronosian vessels broke with the great ship and hurtled towards the Chaos infestation upon the planets surface, howling in worship to the Dark Gods.

Imperial Fighters broke off from the escort of the Krone and moved quickly off towards the enemy dropships, the scene was suddenly filled with swathes of Depleted Uranium shells as the Fighters attempted a move closer in to allow deployment of Heatseekers against the dropships.

(OOC: sorry for the crap post, i'm tired and also in a bad mood.)

Ventilator gargoyles puffed incensed air into the thin interior of the boarding torpedo, and electrolumens flickered as the interior briefly went weightless, its precious cargo bracing themselves for the impact that felt as though a titan had stepped upon the chest of each of them. Bronzed servitor-constructs exploded as they bashed themselves apart at the rear of the torpedo, and the engines continued to drive it forwards, like the chain fist of a god, ceramite and adamantine teeth grinding into the hull of the vessel, pulling and pulverising, pushing and driving the torpedo through.

Plasma charges blossomed, and melta energisers thrummed. Super-cooled water sprayed, flaring instantly to steam, and then quickly back to ice crystals in the void, as the molten metal flowed, and the torpedo pushed like some obscene intruder, spikes and teeth grinding at the flowing material, until its nose too dissolved. More plasma charges vapoursied part of it entirely, and the doorway to the troop compartment irised open, letting a roiling backwash of iron vapours into the torpedo.

Chainfists and assault cannons shrieked, and booted feet stamped down on metal floors, as the Space Marines advanced. The flickering, flaring, seizure inducing incandescent rapport of gun fire lit the chamber beyond, as the assault cannons set to work, sending spanging buzzing projectiles around the room like insane wasps.

Bolters sang their distinctive chorus of a light pop, a swooshing roar of ignition, a thud of impact, and dull, wet thump of the explosion that would rip apart a human body with contemptuous ease.

The sergeant held his storm bolter in one hand, out and ready, and glanced at his precious auspex, a psi-tracker, configured to search for psykers…

The terminators moved with surprising speed. A policy of shackling ratings into place wasn’t ever a good one for repelling boarders, though many of them tried anyway, presumably craving some approval from their pitiless masters. They’d have done as well to throw themselves at the Silver Dragons pleading for rescue. They were casually clubbed down with power fists; the terminators didn’t even think them worthy of a bolt shell.

To be entirely fair, their masters would probably sell them for the same market value, too.

The armsmen, carapace armoured and combat shotgun wielding, were a little better treated, in that they had the dubious honour of being blown apart by storm bolters as the marines advanced, heedless of being outmanoeuvred or cut off from their escape route, guided by their auspex towards the distinctive reek of the pskyer, as surely as a bloodhound after a criminal.

But this was no ordinary ship, and there were fouler things than cyborged servitors and armsmen in its corridors. They came upon a gibbering thing stitched together from the remains of mutilated crew obviously wounded in accidents as it lurched into the corridor, pestilential arms grappled against lithe, brightly coloured ones, and long tongues flicked upon the floor to remove waste that ranged from blood and oil to the wastes of the crew’s bodies. Threads made of lies held its wretched body together, and tongue less screaming mouths gaped upon its back.

Four armsmen controlled it by deeply buried rings of carved bone that pierced burnt stumps where limbs were missing, pulling it along between them, equidistant.

Sergeant Ascorus brought his bronzed bolter forward, and pulled the trigger. It chugged twice in rapid succession as it ejected two bolts that flew with uncanny inhuman accuracy at the chains held by the first two handlers, who gaped behind opaque half-masks, and then screamed as they realised what he had done. The chaos thing lurched backwards and threw itself against one of the rearmost guards, tearing with the forest of callused hands that propelled it, devouring this obstruction greedily.

The other three fled, and the marines walked on, ignoring the howls as a dozen embittered and broken minds savoured the chance to give pain.

They came to a ladder, and Ascorus pressed a button on the auspex. “Up a level,” he said.

The problem with that was that the ladder would never support their heavy armour. But they had long ago devised a solution to that.

Chain-fists, crackling with energy, vaporised wide slits into the thick walls, and the terminators began to climb.

Up and up at a pace that was practically a crawl, they found a score of armsmen waiting for them. And a debased parody of a Silver Dragon, a towering figure in baroque blue and gold armour with leering almost-capering symbols written large on it that the visors of the marines automatically blocked out, waited behind them. It held an ornamented icon-axe of eight uneven points.

“Kill for the Emperor,” snapped Ascorus, as a torrent of shot hit his armour, some of it lodging into joints or scraping optics and lamps.

His return shots were less voluminous but immensely more lethal. Where his bolter spoke its chugging, throaty voice brought death and dismemberment, carapace armoured soldiers bursting like rotten pears trodden on carelessly.

The chaos warrior shouted something back, in a slightly different dialect, Ascorus caught ‘Arioch’ and other blasphemous names, and more mundane ones – ‘Ramiel’ he believed.

An assault cannon roared as, with a deactivated power fist, one of the brother terminators pushed his bulk into the new chamber.

Ascorus’ power sword came from its scabbard as the chaos champion strode through the ranks of the armsmen, rolling them aside. Its onyx surface glimmered and azure lightning roiled across it like filigree.

The enemy was fast; his spiked mace-axe slashing into Ascorus’ chest before he could block it, and the sergeant pushed his sword between the arrow-heads, to stop it burning any further into his heavy armour. The terminator armour gave him a slight edge in strength, and the chaos champion realised it, reeling back and twisting the weapon aside, bringing Ascorus’ sword away too, reaching, as fast as a striking serpent, for his holstered pistol.

Ascorus’ weapon was already ready, and he blazed into the abdomen of the foe’s power armour, which rippled where hit like sucking flesh, and moved like wed mud bubbling over holes poked with a stick where the bolts gouged holes.

The chaos champion pushed the muzzle of its bolter against Ascorus’ faceplate, and the dragon moved desperately, twisting his arm inside the other’s with some difficulty, and charging, again scattering through the armsmen like angry demigods in a china shop. With a resounding clang they hit the wall, and Ascorus smacked his doglike helm against his enemy’s.

They turned, and the other opponent went reeling, an electrical crackle, like the talons of a dog against a blackboard, rattled around the room as axe-mace and sword came loose.

The foeman lost no time, and came back at Ascorus with the wicked blade out.

The enemy’s flesh absorbed wounds.

Not a problem.

The storm bolter barked, and the chaos ‘aspiring champion’s’ wrist burst into wet ropes that bled the same vivid red as mortal men.

The axe clattered to the floor and Ascorus’ enemy dropped his other weapon, for a moment Ascorus was torn between interpreting it as shock or surrender. Then the vile mace-axe shot into the outstretched hand, and Ascorus understood.

The weapon gave its bearer warp-spawned resilience – the lost hand was reappearing already – and his opponent flourished it warningly with his good hand.

Ascorus jerked his bolter forwards, but the flat of the foe’s blade batted against it, and it flew from his grip.

He had to get the demon weapon from its owner, he thought as it gouged into his arm his blood feeling… sucked from him, running across it, turning it crimson. It drank life – maybe even souls – to give life. Diagnostic runes flashed across his peripheral vision, telling him that somehow, his arm was dying. He ignored them.

He dropped his sword, and grasped the demon weapon by the shaft, pushing it away; his tactical dreadnought armour, and wide splayed feet giving him leverage over his enemy.

And it was away. The blade struggled to return to its owner, who now sported both hands – as surely as Ascorus’ hand had been drained. What he could do with a weapon like this; Become stronger than he ever had been, become a steel-father! Become a ruler! Brave and feared, and a wise maker of decisions. Strength would only make his leadership better.

Ascorus just had to begin killing with the mace-axe, and he would be elevated beyond his imagining.

He raised it to strike at the chaos champion. Who bucked, suddenly, as the assault cannon and two storm bolters tore into him. The demon weapon sagged in Ascorus’ grip, as its bearer was shredded.

He realised its allure for what it was, and lowered it, and he knew, somehow, from his brief contact that his arm would not recover. Unless…

It was no use. The armsmen were butchered about him, and he would not slay his own brothers. He tossed the weapon away in disgust.

He also knew that his arm would fester If allowed to keep drawing from his body. He leaned forwards, and picked up his sword, and raised the dead arm by still-living shoulder muscles. He pressed the point to the vulnerable armour of his armpit, and shoved the broad blade up…

“Hngg…” he cried, barely avoiding a scream at such strange pain, as he began to push the blade back, to ensure that his arm, inside its armour, was fully cauterised and severed.

He might have been tempted to cut it off entirely, but instead he let it hang limp within its armour like a dead insect’s limb, for each suit of terminator armour was a rare and precious artefact and living shrine of the machine god.

He sheathed his sword, and grasped his storm bolter in his left hand. “Psykers! Ahead!” he said, after a difficult examination of the auspex, which he decided to pass to another warrior.

The doorway ahead was made of black iron, and the dragons stopped before it, quickly shooting gun servitors that hid behind narrow slits on either side.

“Make a hole,” Ascorus said, and two marines jogged forwards, their chain fists blurring as they cut into the doorway, melting a lintel high enough for the marines, followed by sides to the doorway.

The doorway oozed psychic discomfort, and the marines steeled themselves for whatever may lie beyond. It wasn’t quite good enough to stop them freezing for a vital moment at what they saw.

The room beyond had the feel of an arena or pit, with spiked railing around its central depression, and a distinctly under dressed and flatulently overweight man sitting beside it behind a control console.

“Wh’re you? Eahd you g’t ‘ere?” the fat man bellowed. IT wasn’t obvious what he was intoxicated with, but it was presumably something mighty powerful, as, despite the burning through the door, and the huge and ominous forms of the Silver Dragons.

One of the marines stepped through, and swatted his obese form as casually as one might swat a fly. Greasy fat-smoke billowed into the air as his body, killed by the impact, shot across to the side of the room and slumped on the iron floor.

Ascorus stepped to the edge of the pit, and looked down. Naked, emaciated forms lay there, clearly human, with wide iron collars hammered about their necks, welded there, to a central ring in the middle of the room. One by one, between cowering, they were looking up at him in confusion.

“Sergeant. The floor appears to be inlaid with phase-iron…” one of the marines reported. He had studied the means used to fight pskyers on many occasions; it was one of the less humane; an alloy rumoured to have been devised by the Emperor of Man himself, which reacted exothermically to psychic energies, violently burning psykers who touched it and used their powers. The fence wouldn’t have kept so many psykers in chains for long alone, and now he knew why.

They could leave, but had no way of escaping the chamber; they would be unable to walk out. Burns on some attested to this use, and there was something else about them, too. He realised, with a start, what it was. Their legs were emaciated and withered, universally. Perhaps, he thought, they had been maliciously genetically cursed, psychically attacked, or poisoned. It wasn’t until later that he learnt that they had simply atrophied because the astropath-slaves had never been allowed to leave their pit.

There were eighteen of the nude figures in all, their pit was reached through a gate – which a dragon casually smacked aside with melting energies from his fist – and a staircase that curled part of the way around it. It was cramped and foetid about four meters wide and home to so many, and the psykers lay on a grid of wide metal struts over a slowly flowing stream of water. Horrid looking wounds showed where cuts from whippings or beatings or simply the dangerous environment had become infected.

Unbidden, the knowledge that chaos permitted disease to thrive where possible, sprung to Ascorus’ mind.

Each of them wore a horrifying halo of circuitry spikes. Ascorus wondered why and how each of those halos was so perfectly preserved when their wearers were so abused; he would later regret coming to know the answer – each was as sensitive as the most tender flesh, and none of their wearers would dare let harm come to them.

A heart-piercing howl tore from one of the psykers’ lips, and Ascorus turned his gun on her, but stayed his hand for a moment in confusion.

“A message…” Brother Coal said from the control plinth, “It appears those are wireless interfaces of some form. They induce pain and force their information from the ship’s internal communication’s system into the victim’s mind. Alarmingly efficient.”

“And heartless…” Ascorus said, “Why bother?”

“It make message go better…” the woman who’d screamed said hoarsely her throat obviously parched. Somewhere from Ascorus’ consciousness, from before his transformation, his mind told her that in better circumstances, she’d be beautiful.

“We’re getting you out of here,” he said…

“Kill!” she said, “No escape…”

The others took up the cry, pressing towards the stairs and croaking out pleas for death.

“We’ll have to get them off before we can take the astropaths…” Ascorus said, ignoring them judiciously…

“I think this is a release…” Coal said, and pressed a number of bone runic keys.

“No escape!” the woman cried again, “Demons… Coming!”

“Positions!” Ascorus said, as the marine in the pit tentatively reached out to break one of the halos off, it came apart quite easily, though patches of metallic implants remained visible, suggesting that the halos extended – logically enough – into their wearers’ brains. The pale, drawn man did nothing, and then started muttering to himself in some strange language.

The remaining marines scrambled to access the servitors’ booths, tearing dead half-humans from their posts and manning them, and preparing themselves against the doorway.

The marine in the pit melted through the chains of one of the astropath slaves – who yelped as iron micro-droplets hit his skin, and closed a clamshell shaped silvery null-sense hood over the slave’s head. It was seemingly pointless, though the devices would have served to stop prisoner psykers fighting, but he did it nonetheless.

“Contact!” one of the marines in the servitor’s posts snapped, his curt pronouncement accompanied by the chugging of bolts being ejected and their throaty roar of ignition.

A horde of capering and leering faces was advancing down into the chamber beyond. It was difficult to determine what they were. Some reached down with seedpods and limbs and tentacles and grasped the corpses of the armsmen – Ascorus could see that the hated demon weapon already had a new bearer – ripping away chunks to devour, but most came on, hungering for flesh and souls that still lived.

“Fifteen left,” the marine in the pit cried, as his comrades tossed more of the locking silver hoods down to him, between firing on the oncoming horde to no obvious effect. The demons danced around bolts, or casually swatted them out of the air, and blasts that did burst against them barely seemed to phase them. Ascorus, on his knees, joined in the firing, watching his death-dealing blows have no evident effect, feeling the dead weight of his severed arm with anger, preventing him bracing his weapon.

Over his shoulders, assault cannons roared, burning their last ammunition quickly now. Ascorus’ ammunition ran out, and he threw his bolter, rewarded with the sight of a human figure with skin that seemed to broil with the raw stuff of reality’s violation, reeling and falling as the weapon hit its head.

“Twelve…” he heard the cry, answered with a mocking, supercilious sound from beyond.

“Come, loyalist fools, abase yourselves before the truth offered you…”

His hand found the hilt of his sword, hanging from his belt, and closed around its reassuring simplicity. It rang as it came loose from the scabbard, and he held it high as the fire around him slackened off.

“There is no escape, kneel and live…”

He stood, the onrushing swarm was almost to them now, the distinct clang of the marines at the gun-slits stepping back could be heard, priming their chain-fists for use.

“There is no surrender,” Ascorus said, “Flee if you want to live…” He saluted with his sword, and turned to put his wasted arm before him, positioning the sword point forward.

Then the battle was joined, reaching grasping hands came forwards, and he ignored them, slashing with his blade, bisecting creatures, torsos, limbs and heads burning.

“Eight…” he half-heard, his blade punching through what would have been a human heart, had it been a tenth the size.

“Seven,” Demonic claws sunk into his shoulder pad, and he laughed feyly, hacking the limb from its owner, and smashing the burning flat of his sword into its bestial face, “Takes more than that!” he snapped.

He felt his leg pulled, didn’t look down, simply jammed himself into the improvised doorway.

Winged things in a riot of hues that would look comical in repose fluttered about him, but he merely stepped back a touch, through the door, letting their toes and swords and axes and insane polearms rake the door above him.

“Four…”

It was a losing battle, but he fought as one possessed by the better angels of his nature. He knew that he would die, and he felt no fear; for he had earlier come to accept this enemy in his heart, if only momentarily, and now, only in death would he find absolution.

And such a death!

The black sword of Ascorus pierced the loins of a flying daemon, and it fell, for a moment, as the power field cut its way out of its body, even as the sergeant used his weapon to guard his midriff again too late to avoid a score of slashes into the thick armour, some piercing into him.

And a sharp hammering feeling from his own hips – was this reciprocity, did he feel as the demon did? He looked down, and saw something, no more than a child, it seemed, angelic golden curls around a leering, snarling face that, even as he watched, transfigured into an ancient midget with cracked skin and oozing wounds.

He drew his sword against its form, and it fell into two parts, witch gyred with a will of their own before falling useless and divided, to the floor.

“Two!”

He fell forwards, and they were on him, scrabbling against his armour, bladelike fingers questing into his body, wrenching limbs of corded muscle pulling at him, twisting against his suit.

“Serve chaos…” the same voice cried, “And live…”

Ascorus knew his words would just be heard, even despite his tearing agony, “I spit on chaos…” he said.

“One left!” the marine snapped as he forced the penultimate clamshell on a screaming psyker.

Coal opened fire, his bolter, from behind the control unit, the last with ammunition, and the demons that poured through.

To burn, as if struck by the purity of the dead sergeant’s sacrifice, falling from their feet as they burned on the phase-iron, and to writhe on it, obscene sausages on some barbeque of purification.

Psychic demon-essences unbound themselves briefly, bodies dissolving or reverting back to mutilated hosts.

The respite didn’t last more than an instant, and flying forms leapt through the door into the astropathic chamber.

The last terrified psyker struggled against the mercifully inert chain-fist holding her, as the silver dragon in the pit closed the clamshell of the null-sense hood around her brown hair, and writhed fitfully, torn between futile struggle, and trying to curl up as a foetus.

“None!” the marine snapped.

“Terminator squad to Flame!” snapped Coal, “Retrieve!”


Reality lurched, twisted and then snapped. Twenty-eight off-spheres flickered into being around the marines and their ‘captives’ pulling them straight into hell.

To coal, the transport manifested itself as a psychedelic fishing trip – something in his breast had taken the bait, and he was being reeled in though shoals of silver fish that seemed both indifferent and aggressive…


OOCness: Yeah, Chronosia said over IRC that I could finish off the boarding, so there it is. Not sure if he’d like to change any details, but I’m sure he’ll get onto me if he does. There might be more to come… If I can find the old Realms of Chaos teleport stuff. Perverse astropath rig not in any way inspired by this (http://rivendell.fortunecity.com/redguard/636/royo/roy14.jpg), honest.

(OOC: That is a huuuuge post... Unfortunantly, as said in the OOC thread, this thread died, people were just getting too confused and stuff, besides I'm focusing on my MT nation more now... Sorry for the inconvenience.)

OOCness: Don't suppose I can pester you to let me write a conclusion to the whole rebellion do you? :p

(OOC: not right at this moment, but garunteed i'll get round to it at some point in the near future.)

OOCness: Don't suppose I can pester you to let me write a conclusion (or at least a montage of Silver Dragons bits) to the whole rebellion do you? :p