“My name is Romero Descius, lord.” Said Descius as the Astartes that had saved him stared down at him through the eyes of his helmet. Lucianus was already bemused by the awe that regular humans displayed for the Astartes, and this man was clearly out to mark himself out in good standing.

“Good. Now, what are you doing here, Romerio Descius?” he asked through the vox of his helmet. “Taking picts of the ruins, I was given clearance for visiting the planet, so I came.” The man said hurriedly, Lucianus was about to continue his questions when the vox in his helmet clicked;

“I have finished here, Brother. The Army medicae need to continue with the trooper, but he’s stable enough.” Came the expressionless monotone of Gorgoyius. The Apothecary had risen to his feet, and was approaching over the rubble to join Descius and Lucianus.

“Where is Sergeant Actonias?” asked Gorgoyius, not even bothering to look at Descius, Lucianus straightened up and shook his shoulders; the movement  odd when wearing a suit of power armour, “On his way, Apothecary.” Answered the Marine, before switching to an Army frequency on his vox and calling for an Army medicae to attend before switching once again to standard squad-to-squad vox: “Brother Lucianus, we are on our way to your position, we have the enemy’s position located nearby. Hold for orders. Out.” Came the voice of Sergeant Actonias over his helmet vox.

Lucianus reached up and removed his helmet, a Mark II Macragge Pattern; originating from the Ultramarines home planet, the helmet featured a golden face plate over the normal blue coloured piece. The Astartes was youngish looking, with brown hair; he looked not alot different from a normal human; except for the gargantuan proportions and a huge ragged scar down the right side of his face. Descius quickly took a pict of the Astartes without his helm, and got a reprimanding look from the Apothecary.

“You’ll be heading back for the fleet, Romerio Descius. You can’t be left without an escort” said Lucianus, giving an almost sympathetic look when Descius gave him a horrified expression. There was the sound of crunching stone, then nine more Astartes came over the ruins, lead by what must be Sergeant Actonias – who wore a crested standard pattern Mark II helm.

“Lucianus, playing up to the heroic status we have, eh?” bantered the Sergeant, before calling the squad together to discuss their next action. Descius left them to their business, and waited patiently for the Army units to arrive.

Two minutes later a pair of Army transports arrived; a medicae dropped from the back of the second transport hurriedly to the ground and jogged over to the injured troopers, followed by four troopers carrying a pair of stretchers between them. In a few moments, the wounded troopers were on the transports; Descius stood up and prepared to leave, when he formed a new plan. He slowly walked to the squad of Space Marines; “Lucianus… sir!” he said loudly, adding the ‘sir’ after realising he didn’t want to annoy the Astartes, who was now staring at him through his helmet again.

“Couldn’t I follow you and the squad around and carry on with my duty? The city’s mostly secure anyway.” He asked, hoping the Astartes would agree, but guessed they would deny him a chance to follow mankind’s best warriors.

Sergeant Actonias walked over “You address requests to the squad commander, which is me” he said icily, before looking at Lucianus. “Lucianus, you’re second in command here, what’s your opinion?” Actonias asked quietly over the helmet vox. Lucianus turned to regard the Sergeant,

“If he can keep up, he’s in no danger. Let him see how the XIII Legion make war” Lucianus replied. Descius was jogging to keep up with the squad of Astartes; who were showing no leniency in their pace so he could keep up. Lucianus kept an eye on him, but didn’t speak. Actonias had removed his crested helm, and had it magnetically clamped to his armour, the Sergeant had brown hair swept back from his stern face, he had a bolt pistol in a holster at his waist along with a gladius that was as long as Descius was tall. Descius had taken picts as the opportunity presented itself, mainly of the Astartes; Lucianus seemed to have formed a faint friendship, if such a thing was possible, and so naturally formed the best choice for the remembrance images Descius used. Actonias had a few picts, not that he stood still to pose, none of them did, merely a chance that Decius sprung upon. “How many of you are there?” asked Lucianus through his helmet, startling Decius that the Astartes decided to employ idle conversation. Sergeant Actonias head turned slightly as they carried on marching, obviously trying to listen in; Descius pondered how much the expedition knew of the Great Crusade’s progress. “Well, not many to be honest sir. We are only allowed to the reserve and secondary expeditions as of the moment; we are hoping to get permission to join the primary expeditions soon. However, I’m happy to just take as many picts of the crusade as I can – least I can do to help the Imperium.” Replied Descius hurriedly, Lucianus nodded in acknowledgement, Descius realised the squad was marching into the more secured areas of the city.

“Where are we going may I ask sir?” He asked, Lucianus turned about ready to answer when Sergeant Actonias quickly interrupted him “We are heading to regroup with the majority of the company, and you are lucky, in that you get to meet Captain Petriclus, who I happen to know had a interest in the duties of the remembrancer order” he said, stopping in an open square, he opened his vox link “Stormbird Beta, do you copy? Squad Actonias awaiting transport at landing zone Gamma” he said clearly.

Descius heard the static-laced reply, before he knew it, he began hearing a roar of turbine engines and a blue Stormbird gunship came thundering in before landing roughly in the square and lowering its ramp. The squad marched into the belly of the huge drop-ship; Descius followed and was struck by the number of Astartes inside; at least three squads were sat down the sides of the ship, and an Astartes in heavily ornate armour stood in the middle of the deck, a massive Dreadnought stood behind him.

“Sergeant, Report” said Captain Petrilcus, Decius took a pict of the scene, the squad advancing towards their leader.

“Sir, enemy postions are mainly secured, the Army is mopping up the smaller sections. We have a Remembrancer in our company that Brother Lucianus found” Actonias replied.

The Captain approached Descius as the squad sat down in their harnesses. “Who are you?” asked Petriclus, betraying no emotion as an Ultramarine should do.

“My lord, I am Romero Descius, Imagist and Remembrancer for the 14th Expedition” Descius replied, not knowing what to make of the Astartes, he was not like Lucianus or Actonias, he was alot better at disguising his emotions, much like, or so he had heard; the Primarch Guilliman.                 “Well, Romero, what else do you do apart from take picts?” Petriclus asked. The Remembrancer could tell from the Captain’s expression he knew whatever his file had written on it.              “I write stories about famous battles and such, although the opportunity for me to do so here hasn’t arisen yet” he replied. The Ultramarine smiled, which was something Descius wasn’t expecting, “Well, that can be easily arranged. Rumour has it that Brother Lucianus has the mind for re-telling events. Speak with him when he’s able to do so and you’ll get your opportunity to remember our expedition” Petriclus said, glancing at Lucianus, who had taken off his helm after sitting down, and had turned when he had heard his name.
“So, I am to speak about our past glories and the new ones when they arrive?” Lucianus asked Descius, who was perched on a metal stool next to a workbench in the Armoury aboard the Bringer of Redemption. Lucianus was wearing a set of blue fatigues with black boots; his armour lay in its various components around them. The Astartes had given leave for Descius to help him clean his armour whilst he retold the tales of the 18th company, and Decius found it calming to find something to do whilst a recorder lay on the bench picking up their conversation so he could write down the tale later on. What Descius hadn’t banked on was the sheer weight of Lucianus’ armour; he was currently trying to clean a huge blue gauntlet and still hold it, whilst the Marine was busying himself with the massive Bolter he used.                                                                                                                                        “You just need to retell the tale; I’ll make sure it’s written down later in a suitably heroic manner and bring it here so you can read it” Descius replied. The two had given up on formalities, since Lucianus had found Descius in the ruins, nearly a month had passed. They had spoken many times, but never for a long enough period to actually record a whole battle. Lucianus had always been about to commence training or attend a briefing. But Descius believed the Marine trusted him, at least for the most part – he never understood what Lucianus really thought of him though, and always feared to ask. “I could tell you about Fourteen-Eight; that was a particular brutal compliance. We fought the Eldar there, and the local populace, who were more than happy to see us arrive” Lucianus said, a hint of a sarcastic smile on his mouth.                                                     “Well, what happened?” asked Descius, believing he had struck gold with this story.                    “We defeated the Eldar quite quickly, they fled into a portal which self-destructed before we reached it” the Ultramarine began, slipping into a reverie as he continued…
Lucianus ducked as a fussilade of splinters buzzed into the wall he was half-hidden behind, Sergeant Actonias and half the squad were on the far side of an open square surrounded by white gleaming buildings. The Eldar were falling back, thin warriors in white armour with tall green helms running in amongst the buildings.  A bolter shell hit one of a group of five sprinting into the open to try and reach an archway out of the square; it exploded, sending a shower of blood and gore over the tiled floor. The Eldar warrior lay on the floor gripping its ruined torso, Lucianus picked it off with a headshot. He sprinted further foward, taking cover as the remaining Eldar returned fire again. Sergeant Actonias and the demi-squad he was with had disappeared down a side passage.         “Keep them pinned Brother Lucianus” came the clipped tones of Sergeant Actonias through his helmet vox. He acknowledged and fired a burst of bolter rounds blindly over the top of the stone wall he was crouched behind, he heard a roar of anger and a furious fire-fight that lasted seconds before a deathly silence took hold. Standing up, he saw Actonias and the rest stood next to the bloodied remains of the Eldar warriors.

“All Ultramarines push fowards. The Xenos are attempting to escape through a portal located in the city’s primary square” Captain Petriclus’ voice sounded on the main vox channel.

“Let’s move” ordered Actonias, wiping his blade on the white walls before jogging into the street outside.
Five minutes later, the Astartes learnt why the Eldar were falling back, the humans of this planet were users of forbidden sentient machines; skeletal in form, the machines were built like men, but out of bright silver metal and carrying huge calibre autocannons instead of their right arms. “Abominations!” Actonias muttered down the vox as the Marines watched the machines force the Eldar towards the curved arch in the centre of the City square, which was similar to that the Astartes had left shortly before. As they reached the Arch, the Eldar disappeared in a flash of bright light.

“All Astartes; execute these heathens!” came the force of Captain Petriclus…

“And you just slaughtered them like that?” asked Descius, breaking Lucianus out of his reverie.

The Astartes looked puzzled “They coveted artificials, they couldn’t be allowed to remain” he replied, putting his bolter down on the bench and picking up a massive shoulder guard.

“I still have some splinter ammunition the Eldar used; I prised it out of this shoulder plate to keep as a memory of the event” Lucianus said quietly, looking down at the shoulder guard in his hands. Descius stopped the recorder; “What’s so different about that compared to any other battle?” he asked.

Lucianus smiled, and put his shoulder guard down, “It’s the fact we thought we were saving a planet, only to find it was corrupt anyway. Now it is safely complaint, and no Eldar has returned there since they left it nearly thirty years ago”. Descius smiled at the victorious sentiment, and then Sergeant Actonias walked into the room. “Orders have come through Lucianus. We’re moving on.” He said cheerfully.
Two years later…
Descius limped through the winding maze of corridors, passing legion serfs in blue robes. A piece of plating from one of the very walls that lined the corridor had been the cause of his limp; having been blown into tiny fragments by a torpedo and the shrapnel had embedded itself in his leg, during a ship-to-ship encounter nearly ten years ago. Descius hit the armoury door, to find Actonias and the squad all gathering their equipment.

“What’s going on?” he asked croakily,

Actonias looked up at the ageing remembrancer. “We are being ordered to re-group with the rest of the legion. The Warmaster has information that the green-skins are invading in the Veridan system; we are to rendezvous in the Calth system and gather supplies before launching a counter-assault.” The Sergeant said, looking only slightly older than when Descius had first met him, but Descius was more pre-occupied with the new title Horus had received.

“Will be just like Ullanor all over again, only we get to take all the glory. Instead of the Luna Wolves!” said Derderus, another Marine in the squad.

“The Sons of Horus now, remember Derderus?” asked Actonias in an amused tone.

Derderus nodded in reply “Aye, I remember” he said irritably. It always amazed Descius how informal the 18th company was when compared to its sister companies – since the Ultramarines were well known for their sternness and discipline, or moreover a complete lack of visible emotion.
The journey to Ultramar took several months, the tides of the warp being less than accommodating to the 14th expedition. The Bringer of Redemption came bursting back into real space with a bright flash of blue and violet light, before slowing its pace and heading for Calth. The entire of the Ultramarines legion was gathering upon Calth – the space around it was brimming with Battle Barges, Strike Cruisers and transports.

“Bring us into orbit” ordered Captain Petriclus “wherever there’s room” he added quietly.

“Aye sir” replied the helmsman. Petriclus hadn’t seen Calth in decades, having been following in the wake of the main fleets. Still it looked as beautiful as ever; despite the heavy traffic it was experiencing.
Over the following few hours, more and more ships came into the system, dropping the Astartes onto the surface below to regroup as a whole legion once more. The legion spent time discussing recent events, some gaining information on the crusade as a whole, others told it. Descius had been given leave to follow Squad Actonias, as never again would he likely have the chance to take picts of so many Astartes meeting except on a battlefield.

“Where is the rest of the legion?” asked Captain Petriclus, he was stood with Sergeant Actonias and Sergeant Zarnos, a much bulkier Astartes with black hair and a power-axe mag-locked to his thigh. “The rest of the legion is en-route from Macragge as we speak, Sir” said Zarnos, his eyes had the same hard look as the Primarch. Petriclus nodded in acknowledgement, and looked around,

“Who else is missing at the moment? He asked no-one in particular. A passing legion serf looked at him “My lord, Captain Cestus and his honour guard are missing. Along with the ship Fist of Macragge, or so rumour has it” the serf said sheepishly.

“Thank you for that, continue with your duties” the Captain replied, annoyed he hadn’t heard and apparently everyone else had. The serf hurried off into the warehouse the Captain and his sergeants were stood in front of. The Astartes were in and around small town, using it to take supplies the other companies hadn’t taken to orbit.
Then everything suddenly went sour – for the next few hours; the sky lit up with explosions, and filled with comets of fire; accompanied by laser batteries opening fire as a devastating orbital bombardment started up. Forcing the Astartes and screaming serfs and the few civilians into cover wherever it was possible.

After at least three hours of bombardment; the people left alive on Calth, along with the Astartes started to emerge from cover.

“What in the Emperor’s name is this madness?” asked Actonias, as squads arrived and began to form up around them and drop pods filled the tortured sky.  The serfs were running panic stricken at the abrupt change to utter chaos.

“I can hazard a guess, Sergeant. Get your squad together; we are betrayed it seems. Look, Astartes drop pods!” Captain Petriclus replied, putting on his helmet and drawing his huge power sword along with a gold edged bolt pistol. Crimson drop pods began to smash into Calth’s soil, turning it to glass from the immense heat generated by the high speed of atmospheric entry. The pods opened like huge metal flowers, spilling out Astartes in crimson armour.

“Word Bearers! Kill the Traitors!” roared Sergeant Actonias, as Captain Petriclus charged headlong at the nearest drop pod and its recent occupants.  He sprinted forwards, along with the rest of the Astartes, who were suffering quite heavy losses at the sudden ambush. Actonias noted at least three members of his squad hadn’t made it in time to rendezvous with him and the Captain before the drop pods landed.

“Sir! Captain! We are ordered to regroup at the spaceport with as many Astartes as we can!” shouted the pilot of Petriclus’ Stormbird, and then he wasn’t a pilot anymore; a bolt round blew his skull open. Petriclus turned around to see Word Bearers charging at them

“Forwards!” Roared the Captain and the Ultramarines counter-attacked.
Lucianus and a few other members of Squad Actonias were at the town square accompanied by Descius when the Word Bearers landed. Descius had rather un-reverently procured a laspistol off of a dead soldier and was joining the firepower of the Ultramarines, although it was more a statement than actual resistance; only the boltguns of the Astartes could breach the armour of the traitors. The two sides had reached a fierce fire-fight across the square, since the Word Bearers dare not charge through the cross-fire, and the Ultramarines were pinned in cover in front of the Town hall. Descius couldn’t hear the Ultramarines communications and so had no idea of the situation as a whole.

“We need to re-group with the Captain and the rest of the company” Lucianus shouted over the din of the boltguns firing; Descius realised the information was solely meant for him, as the rest of the Ultramarines were already getting themselves prepared to withdraw into a side-street.

“Lucianus! How are we going to move with all the fire?” Descius yelled as loud as he could. The Ultramarine nodded at something behind him, and Descius turned around to see Brother Caelestinus; an old one – a Dreadnought! Descius watched as the huge machine marched into plain view of the Word Bearers and opened fire with the massive assault cannon mounted as his right arm. “Alright, Ultramarines withdraw!” roared Lucianus, and as one, the contingent and Descius sprinted behind the Dreadnought and down the street he had emerged from – where they slowed to a jog and headed off towards the last reported position of Captain Petriclus.
Petriclus nodded to Lucianus and the other Astartes as they leaped into cover beside him. The company, or what was left of it, were still pinned by the huge Word Bearers force. Casualties were high for both sides, but the Word Bearers were a far larger force than the Ultramarines. As Petriclus looked over the barricade of rubble a few of the Ultramarines were using for cover, he saw a squad being hacked into gory red chunks by monstrous mutants that clearly had once been Word Bearers Astartes. He swung his bolt pistol over the barricade and opened fire at the creatures – who screamed as the bolts hit, but the wounds merely sealed as though the crimson ceramite was like some sickening combination of armour and skin. Caelestinus stomped into the fray as he caught up with the rest of the Ultramarines from Lucianus’ party, with Descius jogging behind him, using his bulk as mobile cover. His assault cannon proved far more effective than the Captain’s bolt pistol, as it minced the mutants to shreds – not giving them the chance to regenerate. “My thanks Brother Caelestinus. Your timing is as impeccable as it always has.” Petriclus said to the hulking machine, which let out a loud booming noise; which Descius suddenly realised was a laugh. The Dreadnought carried on past the barricade, and waded towards the hundreds of Crimson warriors across the square. A vox transmission suddenly voiced itself over the Ultramarine’s coded link; a very agitated Captain Ventanus’ voice along with the sound of bolt rounds resounded in Petriclus’ helmet “All Ultramarines, this is Captain Ventanus, we are besieged at the Palace of Leptius. If anyone can regroup to this point, do so immediately as possible!” he shouted to be heard down the link, and Petriclus realised his fellow Captain must have lost his helmet, as normally it could block ambient noise. “Captain, this is Petriclus. We are pinned down and can offer no support at this time. Do you have any information on the situation anywhere else?” Petriclus replied sourly.

The link was void of a voice for a second or so before Ventanus replied “The traitors destroyed the three other planets, and have damaged the sun with chemical warheads. There is no word of the Primarch, but the fleet is scattered – we are all but defeated Brother.” He replied. Petriclus looked up to see the sun and saw its surface was different; he knew the Ultramarines had all but lost. He was lost in a miserable trance for scant milliseconds when Sergeant Actonias roared his name, he turned to see the Word Bearers charging headlong at the defences in numbers too great to stop. A corrupted Chaplain lead them on, screaming chants filled the air as black, winged bat-like creatures looped in droves above the carnage, swooping down to tear at the blue-armoured Ultramarines. “Warp-spawn. What is this disgusting union of mankind and monsters of the empyrean?” Petriclus said as he shot after shot into the mass of enemies that were now well over half-way across the square. “It doesn’t matter what they have done –all that matters is we survive” answered Sergeant Actonias.
The Ultramarines dropped their bolters, and as one, they all drew a variety of combat blades, gladius and bolt pistols and did the only thing they could; they counter-charged straight towards the Word Bearers and their monstrous allies.
Lucianus dodged a massive swing from a maddened Word Bearer with a robotic jawbone, and elbowed the Astartes in the neck, sending him reeling backwards. Sergeant Zarnos shot the Word Bearer in the face as he came past, whilst Lucianus parried another Word Bearer, before swinging his balde around and lopping off the fingers of the traitor’s left hand, a roar of pain accompanied a return strike that embedded the enemy’s blade in the right shoulder guard of Lucianus’ armour. Lucianus fired his bolt pistol up and into his enemy’s stomach, where the bolt exploded with a spray of gore. Lucianus looked across and saw the corrupt Chaplain smashing aside Ultramarines with an ease that made mockery of the skills the warriors had. He lost sight as yet another traitor came from his right and tried to take his head off with a power axe, he knew this wasn’t an ordinary Word Bearer as he sized up his opponent, the weapons were too ornate.

“Who were you once?” asked Lucianus, the Word Bearer must have smiled in response; as his helmet followed suit, much to Lucianus’ disgust.

“I am Sergeant Tor Orgal of the Word Bearers, and I am nothing but your doom Ultramarine” the traitor replied, as he came forwards once again and swung for the Astartes’ legs, Lucianus dodged the blow, jumping the axe-head and landing again. He didn’t expect the back-swing that knocked him to the bloodied floor; the smiling helm came into view above him as Tor Orgal prepared to finish him with a two-handed overhead swipe. Lucianus scissor-kicked the Word Bearer over and came to his feet again.
Descius was stood at the barricade, his procured laspistol now empty he had thrown it into the melee before taking cover behind the rubble the Astartes had been using as a defensive position. A combat blade suddenly impaled him through the chest, he gasped in mute agony as he was dragged to his feet; a Word Bearer stood over him, although this one seemed to be mutation free.

“Why even attempt to resist Chaos? We are the future, little man, you are the past!” said the crimson helm’s vox. Descius stared back, unable to reply, his eyes filled with questions. The Word Bearer withdrew his knife and broke the Remembrancer’s neck with a grip of his gauntlet before heading back into the combat.
Captain Petriclus along with a group of Ultramarines, including Actonias, were stood back to back fending off what seemed to be hundreds of traitors. Petriclus had his huge power sword in his right hand, and a plasma pistol in his left; the blade of his sword hissed with vaporising blood as he swung it clean through the armour and flesh of the enemy. Actonias was behind him, swinging his gladius before firing point blank into the charging Word Bearers. Petriclus shoulder-barged his way through the crimson enemies until he stopped, the Chaplain stood a few metres away, swinging a corrupted Crozius Arcanum, the chaplain’s standard badge of office. “Is that you, Suh Argest?” asked Petriclus as a ring began developing around the two. As keen as the enemies were to fight each other, no-one wanted to get caught between the Chaplain and Captain Petriclus. The Chaplain removed his skull-like helmet and tossed it to the ground, his real face was a maze of scars, and his teeth were now nothing more than fangs. He nodded in response to Petriclus’ question; long before events like that on Monarchia , the two had met and become acquaintances, not friends as such; Argest’s passionate temper was at odds with the Ultramarine’s lack of clear emotion. As such they both recognised each other, “Petriclus. Seems events have conspired to bring us to battle each other. A great honour for me” Argest said, his eyes filled with the belief he was right with anything he ever said. Petriclus raised an eyebrow, and slowly bought his sword to a ready position,

“How is that so then Argest?” he asked,

“The honour of killing a Captain.” The Chaplain replied, rushing forwards and raising his weapon, Petriclus blocked it with his sword, and the two met in a shower of sparks. Argest punched the Captain in the chest, only to be met with a knee to the stomach as they broke away. Only for Petriclus to stab his sword towards the Chaplain’s unguarded shoulder, the Chaplain leant back out of the blow, and swung a return blow that shipped the Captain’s knee armour. Petriclus stumbled back and the Chaplain swung upwards, not a learnt move, but a random anger fuelled swing, it sent the Ultramarine’s sword flying and Petriclus closed the gap between them and head-butted the Chaplain before frying his right hand with a close range plasma shot. The Chaplain roared in pain as his hand disintegrated and the remains of his Crozius fell to the ground. The two opponents glared at each other, before both went for their combat blades, they became energised with a faint crackle and the two charged again. They stabbed, cut and parried with incredible speed, until Argest swung his body back out of the way of a lightening stab before bringing his blade up past Petriclus’ guard and plunged it deep into the Captain’s throat with a sickening gurgling noise. Petriclus’ eyes dimmed and his combat blade dropped from his hands, before he began slowly falling to the floor where he landed with a heavy thud. The Chaplain looked up from his dead opponent to see Sergeant Actonias aiming his bolt pistol straight at his face; and stood still, knowing he couldn’t dodge the shot. Actonias fired, and the Chaplain’s head exploded in a shower of gore as the bolt round detonated inside his skull.
Lucianus marched over the hundreds of dead Ultramarines and Word Bearers, less than a hundred Ultramarines survived the battle, no-one else had been found. The melee had been fought for hours, and during that time much had changed. The Ultramarines had been organised by the timely arrival of the Primarch and his brilliant tactical acumen. Captain Ventanus had been ordered to the Numinus Spaceport where he could use the still operational defence lasers against the Word Bearers’ fleet in orbit above. The Primarch and the rest of the Ultramarines fleet had succeeded in driving the traitors off – the victory was theirs, but it was hollow. Too many Ultramarines had died, along with billions of people on Calth from the bombardment and additionally its neighbouring planets when they were destroyed. Lucianus’ armour was dented and scratched in many places, along with all of the surviving Astartes, some of whom had whole sections of their armour missing or damaged beyond repair. He spotted the body of the remembrance; Romero Descius lying on the rubble barricade from where the Ultramarines had been defending their postion; he felt a hint of sorrow at the waste. Then he spotted a small gathering of marines from a variety of squads, those who weren’t finishing any surviving Word Bearers lying injured in the mass of corpses. He approached silently, and saw the body of Captain Petriclus lying next to the headless corpse of the corrupted chaplain leading this contingent of Word Bearers; “Brother-sergeant?” asked Lucianus as he spotted Actonias stood over the Captain, the oath papers on his right shoulder were still there; torn and dishevelled , matching the Sergeant’s armour.

“Lucianus, our Captain is dead. I’ve been promoted in his place – not formally though, yet. But I have received word from the Primarch himself.” Actonias began “We need to re-organise, and quickly, we leave for Terra immediately, the Emperor’s Palace lies besieged by at least four Legions!” he said angrily. Lucianus and the other Astartes listening gave looks of disbelief at the news, some spat in fury at the corpses of the traitors nearby. “As I now have authority over the 18th company, I have been forced, given our situation to make the following decisions without consultation: Lucianus, you’re promoted to Sergeant. Congratulations. Get hold of anyone from the company you can see who never made it here before the battle and tell them to regroup aboard the Bringer of Redemption. We leave as soon as everyone’s aboard and we’ve resupplied.” said Actonias hurriedly. Lucianus nodded and marched off down a side-street with the two surviving members of Squad Actonias. Six Ultramarines came forward and carried the body of Captain Petriclus from the battlefield; as Thunderhawk gunships began to land on the outskirts of the town. Stormbirds were not needed for the number of survivors at the site, and were required elsewhere – so the newer, smaller Thunderhawks were used in their place.
The Ultramarines were ready to leave within a day or so, and set course for Terra with all speed. The traitors would pay dearly for their betrayal of the Imperium; they were now damned for all eternity. There would be no mercy, no respite, only war.

Please note the author and Dice and Decks Gaming Club lay no claims to the intellectual properties of Games Workshop that are referenced in this piece of fiction.

Each challenger should be keeping a blog so we’ll publish some of the posts here as the challenge goes on.

The link below is for the challenge rules.

4 Gamers_Rules

Two years before the events of Istvaan V…
Captain Eleus Petriclus of the 18th company of the Ultramarines Adeptus Astartes stared out from the bridge viewport as the ship; Bringer of Redemption entered orbit around the world the Imperium had designated as Fourteen-Eleven, the eleventh world bought into compliance by the Fourteenth Expedition. The Fourteenth expedition was a small expedition fleet comprised of a handful of ships: a battle-barge and several Imperial Army carriers, the duty of the expedition was to follow a main expedition and find any planets the main forces of the Great Crusade had missed out and if capable, bring them into the Imperium. To this end the expedition carried a full company of the Ultramarines legion and five regiments of infantry from Calth.
Petriclus spun on his heel and marched to the Captain’s chair, “Helmsman – maintain standard orbit. Auspex, any sign of any threats to the fleet?” he asked.   There was a brief silence as the operator at the Auspex station tapped furiously at his keyboard; “None sir.” Came the reply, Petriclus nodded approvingly. “Vox the embarkation deck and tell them to prepare a Stormbird for departure” he ordered, there was an aye from the vox operator. With that; Petriclus marched from the bridge.
Sat aboard across the Stormbird’s troop compartment from an honour guard selected randomly from his company, Petriclus was deciding on how best to persuade the planet’s leader – First Minister Jeromeh he believed it was, to join the Imperium without resorting to a direct war? What should happen if the minister was friendly? What if he decided to refuse to speak to him? All these possibilities required calculating if diplomacy was to work out for the best. Tactical Squad Actonias sat with him, all fully equipped and imposing in their blue power armour. The Stormbird rocked as it landed onto a landing platform on a large silver building in the centre of Eleven-Fourteen’s capital; the Space Marines spread out from the imposing drop-ship, followed by Captain Petriclus. A group of soldiers in armour of a metallic green colour and carrying long thin barrelled rifles, they spread out to complete the circle the Space Marines had half-formed on the platform. A Herald in crimson robes stood to attention at the side of the archway leading into the building’s interior

“Presenting his greatness First Minister Jeromeh!” the Herald shouted, his words followed by a man in crimson robes trimmed in gold. “Hail!” Jeromeh greeted, a smile hiding his surprise at the size of the eleven Astartes stood in a semi-circle in front of him. “Welcome to our fair city” the Minster finished, the Astartes remained as still as statues, Petriclus removed his helmet with a faint hiss of air; a grey-tinted goatee gave him a far more human appearance than the rest of the Astartes.   “Well met. We are representatives of the Emperor of Man; we come to accept you into the Imperium with all haste as humanity reclaims the galaxy that so rightfully belongs to it.” Petriclus said calmly, his voice as certain as any man’s could be.  The Minster stepped backwards, a look of slight alarm on his face “What? No! We will not be slaves to this Emperor. You are not the humans spoke of in our history, you are abominations!” he yelled at the Ultramarines, who were falling into line alongside their captain. “We will not be denied. Join us willingly or don’t, either way your people will join us.” Petriclus said, replacing his helmet, the eyes glowing red.

The First Minister was furious, “WE WILL NOT JOIN YOU MONSTER!!!” he screamed, and suddenly, his eyes went bright green and Petriclus noted a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth; Petriclus heard the voice of Sergeant Actonias over the short-range vox:  “Captain – these are not humans, they are mutants. We should act accordingly”. The Soldiers stood nearby raised their long rifles at the Space Marines, who aimed their massive boltguns back at them. Petriclus realised that only the First Minister and the soldiers had green eyes and fangs, there were humans on this planet, and they needed to be returned to the Imperium and saved from these foul mutants.

Petriclus opened a channel to all the Astartes on the platform “Kill all the Soldiers. Leave the rest.” He ordered, drawing his bolt pistol and firing it at the First Minister, the bolt landed squarely in the centre of his forehead and detonated. The Minister’s brain splattered across the platform, much to the aghast of the Herald stood in the doorway to the building. A few Soldiers managed to fire at the Space Marines before being blown to pieces by bolt rounds, hissing as they did so.

The Herald stepped tentatively towards the Astartes, and they lowered their weapons “What… What are these things?” he asked in a whisper. Captain Petriclus walked over to him and stared down at the man “These are not what they seem; your people are enthralled to some mutant abominations. We are here to save you and your people, and bring you into the Imperium of Man.” He answered.  The Herald nodded and picked up a rifle from the floor, and checked the ammunition counter “We will support you and your Emperor. My name is Basacar.” The Herald answered, Petriclus smiled in his helmet, the job of winning the support of the populace was un-needed.  He opened a vox channel to the Bringer of the Redemption; “All units, execute Crusade Plan Sigma, and tell Iterator Wolnus he is about to have the easiest job in his career.” He ordered, before following Basacar into the building.
The war to bring Eleven-Fourteen into compliance lasted three months, and during the entire affair Romero Descius had been waiting the entire time to visit the planet. Descius was an Imagist of the Remembrancer Order; and his job was to make sure the Great Crusade was remembered through pictography. The Remembrancers were new and were hardly an organised affair as of yet, and they were only just beginning to reach the fleets, and even then, not those directly on the forefront of the crusade. He had arrived at the 14th Expedition just as the war on Eleven-Fourteen had begun, and was anxious to get on with his job. He was sat at his desk looking over his latest images taken from around the ship, when the door chimed loudly, making him jump; he walked up and pressed the door control, where it lifted up with a loud pressurised hiss to reveal two men in the uniform of the Sixth Calth Infantry.  “Romero Descius? We are here to escort you to the surface, sir.” The larger of the two troopers said. Descius smiled, Expedition command must have finally approved his request to image the war. He grabbed his pict and marched off to the embarkation deck with the two troopers.
Five hours later, Descius and the two troopers were stood on a landing site just outside the capital city of Eleven-Fourteen.  The majority of the city had been reduced to rubble and flame, as the enemy had learnt of the populace’s support for the Imperium, they had decided to leave nothing to take and so begun to destroy the cities and their human populace. Not to say some of the mutants hadn’t blended into the human populace as well, thus why a military escort was needed. Descius took a picture of a Astartes, resplendent in blue power armour, along with a squad of army troopers escorting prisoners away from the city, before he was hit with the number of picts he was going to need, and so headed deeper into the ruined city with his escorts jogging to keep up.
A mile or so down the road, the two troopers caught up with Descius taking picts of a ruined building, a blast of some sort had flashed the outline of a man onto the wall, a pale patch on the blackened plasterwork.
“Hurry up!” thought Trooper Xeari, who was leaning against the ruins whilst Descius got on with taking picts, it wasn’t until he looked down and noticed a set of footprints in the dust that didn’t match the Astartes or any Imperial Army boots that he jumped up and grabbed his las-rifle from where it was leaning on the wall and sprinted into the ruins to find Descius.  He came across his colleague, Trooper Zachori, first and mouthed: “Building isn’t clear!” before pointing at the footprints. Zachori muttered some curse before unslinging his rifle and beginning to stalk onwards into the ruins.
Descius was examining a series of scratched markings on the wall when he heard a boot clang on a metal pipe that had fallen from the now missing roofwork. He turned around, expecting to see his escort telling him to hurry up when he jumped. A green armoured enemy trooper was stood in front of him, holding a large metal combat knife in a fighting stance. The mutant overlords of Eleven-Fourteen had further altered since the war started. They now had developed wolf-like maws to go with their fangs and green eyes. Descius dived right; dodging a heavy blow destined for his stomach, and yelled out. Zachori fired his las-rifle as he scrabbled over the loose rubble of the ruins, missing his intended target and hitting the wall behind it. The Mutant jumped at Zachori, who raised his rifle across his chest as the mutant’s blade came down, and the two collided in a shower of sparks, but the Mutant was stronger and forced his blade down as he bought his weight to bear. Zachori roared as his rifle was smashed from his hands and the Mutant scored a line down the trooper’s face with his combat knife, suddenly a burst of speed propelled the Mutant onwards, he span on his heels and sliced again. Zachori’s right arm hit the floor with a heavy wet thump; blood spattered the walls as Zachori cried out and fell to the floor in shock. Xeari came flying out of nowhere, his las-rifle on full auto; he hit the Mutant in the knees and sent him reeling to the floor. The Mutant tried one last trick, it picked up Zachori’s las-rifle and took aim; Xeari jumped sideways, but still caught the las-blast in the left knee, he dropped screaming. Descius was about to yell for help when suddenly a massive bang echoed through the ruins and the Mutant’s head disappeared in a haze of red. Stood over the ruins was a massive figure in blue armour, a white ornate “U” on one shoulder plate, “Astartes…” whispered an awed Descius, as the Space Marine lent down and brought him to his feet.
Five minutes before… Lucianus, Battle-brother of the Ultramarines Tactical Squad Antonias stalked the ruined outskirts. They had been receiving regular reports from the Imperial Army that some of the enemy had taken to hiding out in the ruins and ambushing small patrols. So he and his squad were spread out, hunting these guerrillas. He could hear distant footfalls of a group of people running parallel to his position. He carried on lurking close to the ruined buildings on the left hand side of the road, checking each individually before carrying on. After checking five buildings and finding nothing; he began hearing the un-mistakable sound of an army las-rifle on high power firing. He set off at a jog, hearing screams of pain as he got closer, before launching himself over the rubble to see a man in the robes of one of the new remembrancers crouched on the floor next to an injured trooper, whilst a mutant soldier was aiming at another trooper just in front of Lucianus, the man jumped aside, but caught a round in the knee. “Damn army!” Lucianus thought, aiming his huge boltgun and firing a single round, it hit with a massive bang, and decapitated the mutant in a haze of red gore. He lowered his weapon to see the remembrancer staring at him; he picked the man to his feet and voxed an Apothecary to attend at once.

To be continued……………………

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A crack of thunder rolled across the desolate city, it’s buildings in ruins. The bombardment that had been brought down upon it was the result of a tragic situation comprised of two deathsrike missiles, fully loaded with incinerator-warheads, that had been unnaccounted for in the rush to evacuate Corola City. Knowing fullwell of the history regarding the usage of deathstrikes by orks, the PDF command needed to have them eradicated as quickly as possible, &, not trusting the task upon weak, morale-deficient troops, had not choice but to initaiate a total-coverage artillery strike upon the area.

Five days later, the missiles were found in storage three miles away from the site at which the artillery had carried its bombardment out from. They had never been sent to Corola City in the first place. Naturally, the officers of the artillery were immediately executed, along with the crew of the missiles’ transport convoy & the members of the PDF who had overseen the evacuation. These executions were primarily delivered by Commissar Lanje, who had alerted the PDF command of the “missing” deathstrikes in the first place.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Jidus Ender, who smirked to himself as the lightning cast a ghoulish appearance upon his face. This storm had been brewing for the past week now, &, like all of Fuscha VII’s storms, would let it all loose in a matter of minutes. The pelting rain had already created a waterline up to his ankles, & this was quickly rising.

“Spread out,” he said to the other two members of his team – undoubtedly that bounty hunter brute would find nothing but trouble, but he needed to find him. The broadcast, which had been sent along the planet’s vox network once – & only once, as it had wiped the entire system – had dictated that the faithful assemble here. He was surprised at how few there were – in fact, he was the only one present (the other two weren’t even followers, just hired by promises of bloodshed & an effectively unlimited amount of money). Perhaps those who were worshippers didn’t have access to a vox, or possibly didn’t even understand the aetheric tongue of the Warp. If not, then they didn’t deserve to be here anyway.

Callahan didn’t know who he was supposed to be looking for. He had expected that; Ender never gave away specifics on anything, making it impossible to try & form small-talk with him without talking about himself constantly, which was something Callahan couldn’t bring himself to do. He had enough issues thinking about it.

Still, it seemed clear to him that Ender wanted this man dead, & his eyes twitched in anticipation of the blood he would shed. It shrank almost immediately when a giant in thick-plated armour rounded the corner of the building. Callahan considered himself quite tall, almost matching the height of the bounty hunter Swazzerkrigger, but he was utterly dwarfed by this hulking behemoth. All sense of bloodlust left his body & he stiffened, pretending not to notice the Astartes walking directly past him, so close that he could see the dangling head of a PDF member hanging from its belt, the thouroughly dead man’s face stuck in a perpetual scream. Callahan quickly shifted his eyes forwards, feigning total ignorance as badly as a blind man could pretend that he could see.

The marine passed him, genuinely ignoring him, & Callahan let out a sigh of relief. But he didn’t look back. Instead, he focused on the idle pile of rubble in front of him & continued power walking.

There was a splash, mixed in with a deep *thunk*.

There-

Again.

-he is.

Champion Xeros of the Alpha Legion stepped into view. His footfalls resounding against the ground. His voice resounded even more when he spoke to Ender.

“Is this all this filthy planet can muster? I expected more from a world so torn with war.”

Ender’s words caught in his mouth. Heck, his thoughts caught in his brain, he was that nonplussed that he would be greeted in this way. He had ravaged his way through the authorities & unfaithful cults for every scrap of information he could get relating to the Alpha Legion inspecting this planet, & this was the result of his efforts? A lone marine – clearly the only one on the planet, Ender could read that much from him – who dismissed him as unworthy. He could not find a single response to come out with, so he simply sank to his knees & hoped that would be enough for the Chaos marine.

The helmet stared at him for what seemed like hours. The water level gradually rose to the giant’s waist height. Ender realised that it was getting alarmingly close to his own head. Why wasn’t the automated flood management system cutting in? At last, the Marine spoke again.

“Come, we have much to discuss, Jidus.” And with that, the hulk of power armour & genetically-engineered muscle began to wade towards a bunker. Ender stood & followed suit.

Viktoria Antheusien hurried down the street. After weeks of searching, they had found him. He was here – somewhere. It had taken many sources & a reasonable chunk of her inheritance to do it, but now they had him.

She gestured to Zeke & Kara to ascend the building, & they quickly complied. She glanced around, just in case he was here, but found nothing, then began to climb the half of the structure than hadn’t caved in herself.

Through the thick sheet of rain, she saw a figure. Was that him? Then, for a brief moment, the sky cleared & the figure became visble.

“No…”

There, 50 yards away from her perch, was an Astartes. In front of it was Ender. How could that snake associate with the likes of a space marine?

Then, she remembered. There were tales her brother had told her when she was young, about marines that were against everything in the Imperium, & wanted nothing more than to see it wiped from existence. At first she had thought them just to be stories meant to scare her, but with all the things she had seen in this galaxy, maybe…

A single word uttered itself from her lips; “Chaos”.

Nails continued wading down the remains of a street. There was a crossroad at the end of the graveyard, &, attempting to consider the next direction to take, he glanced along the road. There, he saw three people standing in a building, surveying the high street in which Ender had walked down. He looked at the closest one, & knew he’d seen her before – it was the woman that Ender had kicked out of his stolen Rhino the day that Nails had been busted out of prison. One by one, they clambered down the building & began to head towards Ender’s position. He knew something wasn’t right, & climbed through the window of the closest building.

The previous owner had evidently been a heavy drug user, as there were used hypoderms discarded all across the floor. He crunched one under his boot & took up a position overlooking the bunker. Ender was expertly rewiring the doors lock mechanism, & he saw a large, armoured foot just leave his vision as the owner pulled themself up onto the roof of the building. The intruders would have to pass in front of his position to get to his employer, & when they did, he would have them.

Viktoria grasped a ledge that wouldn’t have been there if the building was still fully intact, & nimbly leapt into the building. Stepping carefully to avoid the hypoderms strewn across the floor, she moved into what would have been the inhabitant’s bedroom, though the bed had departed with the majority of the room. A figure was crouched in the corner, oblivious to her over the battering rain & cracking lightning. Even from the back of his head, she recognised him as one of the men Ender had got to assault her, & the memory made her gorge rise. She drew her power sword – not daring to ignite it after getting it drenched in the water – & ran at him. He turned at the last moment & thrust the shotgun he was carrying in the way of her strike. She dodged back as he drew a combat knife, & renewed the fight.

Callahan finally reached the top of the hab he had clambered up to escape the floods. Of course, as soon as he had done that, the sky cleared with the suddenness of a departing train, it’s clouds expended (the automated flood management system had also finally kicked in). There, a few buildings away from him, the bounty hunter & a woman were duelling. He couldn’t just sit & watch it carry out, & so he levelled his splinter rifle, taking careful aim so not to hit his hired muscle.

Pain tore through Nails as shards imbedded themselves down his side. They didn’t feel quite like flechette rounds – he’d had enough of those shot into his body to know what those were like -, much more like large splinters of a shattered bullet. He knew of only one type of weapon that could fire those, & of only one person who carried such a weapon.

“CALLAHAN YOU FRAKHEAD!” he yelled. Another storm of splinters ripped into him & he lost consciousness.

Viktoria flinched as a single, small shard stuck itself into her leg, though the brute she was fighting with took more than his fair share of them, & toppled over. Behind him she could see a figure perched on a hab roof – another of Ender’s men. Quickly switching to her naval pistol, she fired three succesive shots at him.

Ender was surprised as to how well the meeting had gone – Xeros knew far more about him than he would have liked, but he did not want to kill him upon his recieval of Ender’s information, nor did he object to his requests. There had to be a catch, but there would be nothing he could do about it if it turned up, especially if Xeros did end up wanting him dead.

He saw Callahan upon a nearby roof, & called out for him. The rogue trader was incapable of hearing him, however, his mind too focused on death. Three shots then rang out, & he cried out in pain, toppling off the roof & hitting the ground before passing out.

“Yours?” Xeros asked. He didn’t wait for a reply, instead making off at a brisk jog towards a hatch leading to the city’s sewage system.

Ender didn’t even look at the trader who had been with him for the past eight months, instead glaring up at the figure who had shot him.

Her.

He briefly considered taking her out to proove himself to Xeros, but realised it would be a pointless exercise – the marine wouldn’t trust him any more than he did now because of it, & the woman with the heavy stubber would make short work of him before he’d even got more than ten paces. He too ran to the sewer entrance, & leapt into the darkness.

She didn’t have to wait long before she realised he had gone. Just to check, she jumped out of the waster’s room & went behind the building she’d last seen him near.

No one.

There was a splattering of blood from where the man she’d shot had fallen – though the frakker had survived & managed to escape – & a trail of footprints from where Ender & the marine had stepped in the blood. It lead directly to an entrance to the sewers.

Zeke appeared behind her, dragging the man they’d taken hostage – though it’d be easier for her to have just killed him.

“Take it that’s where we’re going then?”

Jailbreak

I don’t know why but the sheer incompetence of Imperial Arbitrators still amazes me, I can’t believe they actually released every prisoner just so I wouldn’t put a bullet through their colleague’s temple, I think he was dead already anyway. I confess it wasn’t the best plan but I was desperate, the strange man had abandoned me and the men he’d recruited were all dead or dying. I had no idea if Zeke or Kara were still alive but I had to hope that the chaos I had created would allow them to escape the facility if they were.

Maybe I should step back and tell you why I am crouched in the corner of cemetery with a mouthful of my own blood, fighting for breath thanks to an indeterminate number of broken ribs, watching all manner of dangerous criminals and lunatics stampede out of a burning Imperial Incarceration Facility, praying my friends will make it out alive and wondering just how many Imperial laws I violated this evening?

- – - – -

The light was beginning to fade when I met the strange man near the Arbites Incarceration Facility, he smiled, well I believe it was what passes for a smile in his case, and pointed out the 6 shapes moving in the shadows near the facility wall. Accompanied by 3 cyber-mastiffs were the 3 heavily armed men I saw during the previous fiasco with the Arbitors. Their body language, the way they moved and spoke to each other made it clear they weren’t planning on this being a stealthy endeavour, they were here to fight!

I didn’t trust the strange man, in fact being this close to him made me feel almost nauseous, it wasn’t anything tangible, just an aura. I had experienced something similar before when the pirates killed my Father, their leader had the same sort of presence. I felt sure if he didn’t consider my being here was furthering his aims he would’ve have killed me where I stood but if Kara and Zeke were still alive then this was my best chance to free them. Throne! He was unarmed and walked away from a fight with at least 5 Arbitors; he must be gifted in some way I don’t yet comprehend.

The facility seemed far too quiet, we checked but there didn’t seem to be any patrols so we approached the door, it was locked but I punched in a standard override code and to my amazement the lock disengaged. The door slid open and one of the heavily armed men, who I’d, heard the others call Smith, ordered the cyber-mastiffs to wait and led the way into the facility. I let the others follow him in and looked at the strange man

“Remember the arrangement my dear” he said “bring my people out and I’ll make sure you’re adequately compensated for your trouble, oh and do try not to get yourself killed.”

By the time I reached the turned the first corner inside the facility it was sheer bedlam, the alarm was blaring and bullets were flying. I hung back and tried to see if there was a way around the Arbitors rather than through them, it wasn’t like I could help much anyway, the corridor was tight and the growing mounds of dead and dying men only made it tighter. The fire fight was swift and brutal, I think I killed a pair of Arbitrators with pistol shots but it was difficult to tell. It seemed neither side was gaining any ground then Smith fell to the ground clutching his shoulder and I suddenly found myself staring at 4 Arbitrators, all of whom had shotguns trained on me, a quick glance around and I realised I was the only one left standing. I grabbed the nearest body, luckily it was an arbitrator, pressed my pistol into his temple and shouted to them

“Shut the alarm down and release the cell doors now! Do it or I’ll blow his head off!”

One of the arbitrators stepped back into the room behind him and turned to the bank of screens on his left. I was stunned, he actually did it, this wasn’t just a bluff in so I’d drop my guard, he actually shut off the alarm. Then I heard shouts from an adjacent corridor, he had released the locks on the cell doors too and the inmates were loose. The shouting became louder and more intense then there were people everywhere, guards trying to establish what was happening, Arbitrators trying to restore order and prisoners trying to decide if they should take a measure of revenge against their captors or just run. I threw myself into an alcove to avoid a group of prisoners rushing along the corridor, a shot rang out and one of the prisoners in front of me fell to the ground. I turned and ran towards the exit.  I was bundled out of the exit by another group of prisoners and as I was pushed to the ground I saw the  strange man was stood in front of a Rhino APC with it’s engine running, there were 2 other men with him, I guessed these were the people he wanted liberating from the facility.

“Get in” he said gesturing towards the Rhino

“We need to wait” I replied “My friends are still inside”

“I am not here to help your friends, you seem to misunderstand our arrangement, you are here to help me”

I squared up to him

“HELP? HELP YOU? Where were you whilst I was doing all the dirty work? The others got killed in there and what were you doing to help?

He didn’t shout back, he just stared into my eyes and I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. I felt him looking directly into my soul, I could feel the pain of the thousands he had killed and the fear of those he would kill in the future. I was totally paralysed by sheer agony and abject terror, it was as if I was a prisoner in my own body. Then he spoke, not in a raised tone but a whisper that felt like a thousand needles boring into my brain.

“You petulant little girl, I could end your pathetic existence with the merest thought and yet you dare to question me. I have looked into the very fabric of your being, I know your fears, and I know your dreams. I know you are on this planet to retrieve an artefact for a servant of your corpse god but you must now know you can’t succeed. The artefact you seek will make a fine weapon in the hands of a truly enlightened being such as me; I must thank you for telling me it is here.”

He closed his eyes and I simply crumpled, every muscle in my body felt like jelly and I couldn’t move, he stood over me and the 2 men with him walked over. He nodded to them and walked away round to the side of the Rhino. A boot struck me in the side, followed by another and another. Something, a rifle butt I think, caught me in the temple and everything started to look fuzzy, the 2 men were kicking and beating me, I was powerless to defend myself and could feel myself drifting into unconsciousness. I fought against it and tried to focus on moving my arms and felt a little strength return, I was able to get my arms up to protect my head just as one of them stamped down with a blow that probably would’ve crushed my skull. They didn’t let up in their assault and I felt several of my ribs snap under another kick. Just as I began to believe I was going to die here I heard the sound of several shotguns firing at once. The men stopped kicking me and looked at the building, a group of Arbitrators had emerged intent on recapturing as many escapees as possible.

“Jidus, you want me to finish her off?” shouted the one man

“No time for that, get in here, we’re leaving” came a reply from the Rhino

The 2 men disappeared from view and I heard the Rhino’s hatch slam shut. The engine revved and I realised I was directly in front of the tracks. Summoning every ounce of energy I could I just manage to roll to my left in time and the tracks barely missed my shoulder  as the Rhino raced away. The arbitrators were currently engaged in a running battle with several groups of escapees so I was able to crawl unnoticed into the nearby cemetery and prop myself up on a gravestone.

- – - – -

I think that brings us back to the situation I currently find myself in. I can see Kara and Zeke outside the building now. I think they have seen me as they’re heading this way.  I know need to find Inquisitor Tarthus’ artefact before the strange man, who I now believe is called Jidus. More so I know I must stop Jidus, I am certain he has murdered hundreds and will kill thousands, maybe millions more.

Every breath hurts, I can feel my ribs grinding against each other and I think I just spat out a tooth. Zeke is kneeling next to me

“Frak me Vik! You look like hell”

“Jidus…”

I pause to spit out another mouthful of blood, I am aware of someone lifting me onto their shoulder and as the I slip out of consciousness I manage to finish

”he…must…be…stopped”

- – - – -

]]> http://www.diceanddecks.com/2010/04/inquisitor-campaign-chapter-3-jailbreak/feed/ 0 http://www.diceanddecks.com/2010/02/inquisitor-campaign-prelude-landings-at-corola-city/ http://www.diceanddecks.com/2010/02/inquisitor-campaign-prelude-landings-at-corola-city/#comments Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:00:27 +0000 Robbie http://www.diceanddecks.com/?p=14 A write up of the action from the prelude to the Inquisitor Campaign by Martin Hogg

“Forward, on me,” sergeant Ross (though they all called him “Rosie”) moved up the street – or what remained of it. The bombardment had reduce half the city to rubble.

As him & the rest of Delta 208 stepped forward, one of the more intact buildings let out a long groan. The structure had already been cleaved in two by a shell, & Rosie knew that it was on the verge of collapsing completely, much like the morale of his men. He wasn’t surprised, he was still shaken by the ruthlessness in which the shells had fallen upon their ranks & even now couldn’t believe his team hadn’t suffered any casualties.

Though that wasn’t what really unnerved him. He hoped that the rest of the squad hadn’t noticed, but looking up to the sky he had observed with horror the direction in which the shells were falling from – their own lines. He knew not why command had betrayed them, but he knew they could not stay. With their ranks shattered, the path was now clear for the invaders.

Then, about 50 metres down the street, he saw it. It wasn’t hard to miss, really; the green of its skin & the way the creature moved easily stood out against the drab, grey background.

“Ork,” he spat.

“For the glory of the God-Emperor!” And with that he charged forwards, revving up his chainsword to prepare it for the grisly feast it would soon experience. He shot his laspistol once, twice, with private Jason joining in, bright red beams cracking from his lasgun.

The beast barely even flinched.

*

Organ followed his sergeant, keeping a perfect 20 paces behind. Side-by-side with Aston, they moved forwards, sweeping their lasguns through the air, keeping a look out for any more of the beasts.

And then he heard it. A low, rumbling chug coming from near the river – no, wait; IN the river! As they past an open alley, it was visible plain as day. A boat, ferrying two Orks across the water, both of them jeering & brandishing their ramshackle weapons at them. The front of the boat was taken up by a large object appearing to depict some form of head, from the top of this it spouted another Ork, appearing to be the pilot. He & Aston opened fire on it, but their shots simply bounced off the metal he was sitting in. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Boric running through the graveyard – ironically the only thing they found unscathed – & also taking pot-shots at the pilot, though he fared no better. Where was Maxtor?

*

Gripping his grenade launcher to his chest, Maxtor followed Boric through the graveyard. Suddenly, his ankle caught on something & the world spun, before turning brown. He lifted his head, shook away the dirt, & clambered out of the empty grave, continuing forwards.

*

Sampson could hear the gunfire erupting around him, & he knew they were doomed. He had hear stories of these things overrunning whole cities – Terra, even worlds. He stood still, frantically debating with himself. Should he run now, & betray his squadmates & his sergeant? Or should he stay & fight to the bitter end? He felt warm, moist air pant over his shoulder, then a cold, sharp pain erupted down his back, & he knew his decision had been made for him. He turned to block the next blow, survival instinct & training kicking in, shoving his lasgun two-handed into the path of the of the huge pickaxe the Ork was wielding. Then he backed off & let loose a shot into the beast’s arm. It then collapsed from a torrent of fire from Jason, Boric & another – what was the new guy’s name again? He couldn’t remember, though he was whole-heartedly grateful for his intervention.

Even if it was just postponing the inevitable.

*

Maxtor finally reached the top of the graveyard’s hill, after tripping over a gravestone eroded by the centuries it had stood & clambering over a brambles bush (only afterwards realising there was a simple path around it). He had a perfect viewpoint of the boat from here, & let off a shot at the greenskin he assumed was piloting the thing.

*

A blast of heat & shrapnel enveloped Kaptin’ Barak o’ “The Mighty Barma”. He loved his ship – he’d built it himself without even needing any help from the Mek -, but he would go with a brawl any day.

“Cam on boyz! We gotz sum fightin’ to do!” Leaping off the boat & into the water, he swam ashore. Instantly he saw one of the ‘umies. The man was as spindly as all of their race, but what struck him was the beard the man brandished. He doubted he could grow anything like that with the hair squigs back at the settlement. He decided that he’d loot this man’s hair squigs after the fight, & with that thought in mind he fired his slugga pistol twice in succession.

*

Organ stared in horror as blood spurted from Jim’s chest & his right leg completely blew off. Jim fell backwards, & his eyes stared at Organ for a brief moment before he blacked out.

He opened fire on the Ork who’d shot, glancing down every few seconds at the unconscious form of Jim. Emperor, that man had a nice beard.

*

Maxtor had seen the Orks swim ashore, & although he fired two shots off at them, he did look for a brief moment at the boat that was continuing to float downstream. With that he considered; aren’t we all just boats that are steered down the course of life? And even when left unguided, will still move forwards. Never going back, never looking back.

With that he turned his head forwards again to observe the carnage he had wrought. There wasn’t much to see. Green obscured his vision as one of the brutes was charging directly up the stairs at him, waving his axe in the air & bellowing contempt.

“Oh shi-” he was cut of by the distinctive crack emitted by a lasgun set to full power. The Ork promptly fell to the ground mere inches from Maxtor, his chest cavity blown out.

Stepping gingerly over the body, prodding at it with the tip of his boot as he moved, Maxtor ran over to Aston, who was sheltering with Jacoby behind a broken wall, firing their lasguns at the remaining two Orks by the river.

“Get out of here!” Aston shouted over the noise emitted by the firefight he & Jacoby were establishing. Maxton didn’t need much encouraging, he could see another craft coming into view. This time it spouted a massive missile launcher from its prow.

*

Organ didn’t even see it coming. He was too busy to notice the second boat turning the corner. Too busy providing support for Aston. Too busy worrying about the sergeant, about the state of the war itself. He had seen where the bombardment was being initiated from, he wasn‘t an idiot. He wandered what would happen when they made it back to HQ – would the Commissar execute them anyway for diligence of service? Would their tale spoil the trust the population placed in its ruling power? He didn’t want to know. He almost wished he would simply die here so he didn’t have to worry about it.

And with that thought, he exploded.

*

Sampson had had enough. Jim’s injuries were gruesome, but when the gory remains of Organ splattered him in the face, he knew it was time to leave. He sprinted down the street, pushing the redshirt out of the way, directly past Jason, & practically skimmed the dual between sergeant Rosie & the first Ork they’d spotted. He knew he could have helped. He knew he was a coward.

But he also knew he didn’t care.

*

Boric saw everything. He had the high ground, & was above Jim when he was shot down. He could see the Orks charge up the alley at his comrades. He watched as Organ was obliterated by the boat’s missile, the killer then moving onto the shore & unloading yet more Orks. And then he saw Sampson run.

Coward. Deserter. Betrayer.

He would catch that frak-head. Forget the Commissar or the Orks, he’d kill him himself. He leapt over the graveyard wall, landed in the growing pool of blood pouring from Jim’s lack of a leg, slipped, & knocked himself out on the pavement.

*

Rosie wasn’t doing very well. He’d expected this Ork to go down immediately. But it blocked every swipe he made at it, sticking its massive knife in the way. By all rights the thing should have shattered, but it held intact in a way only Ork weaponry could.

He made a thrust at it, parried a jab from the blade, & swept at its legs. Again it blocked him!

Then the worst happened. The blade jammed itself between the teeth of his chainsword, shattering one & sending the rest flying everywhere. Several flew into Rosie, biting deep into his flesh, whilst the rest bounced harmlessly off the Ork’s thick hide. The pain wasn’t so bad, what hit him hardest was the fact he was now unarmed. He’d holstered his pistol when the combat began, allowing him to perform two-handed manoeuvres which he thought would be successful.

The greenskin tore the knife free, & raised it, bellowing victory.

“Saaaaarge!” Jason ran into his field of vision – which was considerably narrowed by the bits of his life flashing before his eyes – & rammed the barrel of his lasgun into the Ork’s abdomen. The beast’s stomach ruptured, & it’s torso folded over as it crashed to the ground.

“How the frak…?!” he asked. He could hear the sounds of battle continuing behind him. He turned in time to see Aston & Jacoby receive a thorough peppering of fist-sized bullets through their bodies. Jim was lying on the ground missing a limb – what a waste of a good beard, he thought – & Boric was now righting himself, the entire front of his body caked in blood. Maxtor ran up to him.

“Come on, sir, it’s time to move,” the grenadier said. He was right, they’d wasted far too much time here. The four of them fled down the street, shoulder-to-shoulder, no longer bothering to check corners or keep an eye out for threats. Rosie knew they’d be dead soon, but why hurry it?

*

In the midst of the carnage, one Guardsman stood still, considering his options. He knew he wasn’t appreciated by the rest of the team, but that changed nothing. Not his attitude, not his performance, & certainly not his loyalty. He slowly walked over to the body of Jim, threw it over his shoulder, &, hunching his back, set off at a jog. Such a beard couldn’t be wasted.

***