Apothecary Gorgoyius was without a doubt, the most utterly expressionless Astartes in the entire company, he never showed emotion and merely just did his duty, saying only what was needed. His armour was white like all Apothecaries, with one shoulder painted blue and displaying the symbol of the Ultramarines. He was in the middle of stabilising Zachori; whose stump of an arm was spraying blood down the wall.
“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.