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Tales of the Eighth Legion. (Action Thread.)

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23K views 172 replies 16 participants last post by  Nightlord92 
#1 ·
Everyone:

Within a spartanly furnished and almost entirely dark room, with little more than a metallic bed on which to sleep and a weapon stand on which a large ornately crafted sword hangs along side a dust covered bolter, sits an Astartes in complete silence and the only sounds that can be heard within the room are the low dull rumbling of the ship the room itself is seated in and the scratch of a quill upon parchment. After several long minutes the Astartes stop writing and places down his quill before he lets out a breath that escapes from between his lips in the form of a small sigh before he reaches down and picks up the book that he was writing in to read all that he has written.

“My name is Xandrek Kealisar. Once Captain of the Night Lords Fourth Company, Known as the Lord of Lies by my brothers and Father, Commander of the battle barge: The Maiden of Sorrow and son of a broken god. Now I am little more than a leader of a band of traitors, murderers and psychopaths that are happy to murder their way throughout the galaxy until they themselves are killed.

I write this so that those who will find this book will read and understand what it is that I am trying to do. All men should be remembered for the deeds they have done be they good or ill and while personality I do not care if I am remembered or not after my death I write this so that it is my closest brothers are the ones who are remembered from the times when they first turned from the Corpse-Emperors ‘Light’ to when they fell into the darkness of Death.

I guess then that I should start at the beginning but those are times that we would much rather forgot as the shame of our legion is for us to remember and us alone. So I shall start at the turning point of history when an empire fell into civil war, where brothers turned against brothers, where mortals ascended and gods fell. So my dear reader I shall start at a place you may well know as Isstvan.

Isstvan V...The site of the greatest massacre of Astartes through out the rebellion, orchestrated by a single man and when I say ‘Man’ I use the term quite wrongly. Horus Lupercal, the Warmaster, Primarch of the XVI Legion…The Arch-Traitor himself. He lured three of his brothers and their legions to their deaths upon this world where they had no idea upon landing to confront Horus that they would be betrayed by those who called themselves their brothers.

Upon Isstvan V the traitor legions of the Sons of Horus, Death Guard, World Eaters and Emperors Children battled their brothers of the Iron Hands, Salamanders and Raven Guard to a bloody stand still while four other legions tore their way through the warp to add their battle weary brothers. We, The Night Lords, along with the Iron Warriors, Word Bearers and Alpha Legion, were to arrive at the drop sites cleared by our brothers the Salamanders, Iron Hands and Raven Guard to reinforce and resupply them before crushing the four traitor legion for the glorious Imperium and the Emperor.

That of course is a lie.

Yes we made planet fall in the drop zones cleared by our ‘brothers’. Yes we took up defensive positions where the Salamanders and Raven Guard then began to fall back to. But we did not come to aid them, we came to aid Horus as our ‘beloved’ Fathers had secretly joined him in rebellion and now was the time to show our true colours

But before I get ahead of myself and tell you the bloody details of the Drop Site Massacre itself. Allow me to introduce our ‘heroes’ of this tale, my dear Brothers who even now make ready for yet another battle field in which to bloody their blades. So I shall begin the tale of our ‘Heroes’ several ours before making planet fall with the rest of the legion and who better to start with than my sword-brother, my right hand, my companies blade. Azrael.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Azreal Metun, my Sword-Brother and personal Company Champion. Of all those I call my brothers he is only one of two who come from the Throne-World itself and isn’t considered a Son of a Sunless World and for this he, like Fundae and a few others within my company are hated for not being Nostraman in birth. But what Azreal lacks in ‘birth right’ he makes up for in loyalty and skill with a blade. Although I will never tell him I would never choose any other warrior from within the rank of my company to be my champion for I know when all others fail, he won’t.”

Azrael: You are currently stood in the near-dark hold that makes up the training hall of the Maiden of Sorrow overseeing the fights of your fellow battle brothers and the last batch of recruits that had come from Nostramo just before its destruction not that long ago but while you watch your other brother’s train, mainly the ‘Young Blood’ fighting against Sergeant Xho Zhen of Fifth Claw you can’t help but think how the destruction of Nostramo has affected Xandrek as you have barely spoken to him save for receiving your orders and he has rarely left the bridge or removed his armour. Clearly he has either been deeply affected or he is too focused on what is going to happen at Isstvan, sighing to yourself you look back to the ‘Young Blood’ as he puts Xho on his back at third blood with his deactivated lightning claw and wonder if you should give the young brother some advice or try your luck with going to find Xandrek.

- - - - - - - -

“Jaekal Sarn, Fourth Companies resident Chaplain and member of First Claw. Like me he was from Nostramo but unlike myself and most of my other brothers he is far more zealous and has more in common with those pathetic Word Bearers with his constant preaching and sermons. For now he is tolerated by the rest of us for he is a fierce fighter and can for the most part, be counted on to rally those elements of my company who would rather run to fight another day after the death of their sergeants rather than carrying out there duty.”

Jaekal: You are currently stood at the front around sixty of the newest members of Fourth Company preaching to them about how the False-Emperor will be replaced by the true leader of mankind, Horus. Fifty pairs of pure black eyes matching your own stare at you in mild awe as while these recruits have only had the first few implants that will make them into Astartes they are the future of the company and therefore the legion so it is wise to have them utterly and fanatically loyal to the Primarch and Warmaster and you smile inside of your helmet as you think of how you are in a way undermining Xandrek’s command over these future warriors. After finishing your sermon that lasts another hour you dismiss the recruits to return to their normal training and those who are ready for the next stage or implantation towards the Apocatherion where you have no doubt Veptus is busy carving up fellow battle brothers who are injured for the fun of it. Now you have some free time on your hands to do with that you wish which includes visiting any fellow members of First Claw so what do you do?

- - - - - - - -

“Veptus Szland, the Corpse-Master, Primus Medicae of Fourth Companies Apocatherion and First Claws own Apocathery. Perhaps the most feared Astartes onboard this ship other than myself and Azrael and it is he who always puts us back together after every battle and every war that we fight in under the orders of our Primarch. If it was up to me and I had the power I would change the meaning of the word Madman to include the name and picture of Veptus though while he isn’t as bad as that bastard Fabius Bile he loves nothing more than to carve up any Astartes that he can get his hands on. But without Veptus it is a definitely that myself and many other members of my company would of died many years ago.”

Veptus: You stand in the Apocatherion smiling to yourself as you work on adding the next several organs needed to turn some of the latest recruits into Astartes to replenish losses that will occur during the next battle on Isstvan V. You currently stand wearing only black fatigues with a blood stained white medical apron and sterile elbow length medical gloves and you can’t wait to see if Xandrek allows you to gather up some wounded Astartes from other legions to experiment on and see what the difference between each legion. While you continue to work on the young recruit infront of you, your attention shifts to Battle Brother Shen currently writhing around on the slab at the end of the Apocatherion as he is badly burnt and missing both his legs below the knee’s and his entire left arm and while other Apocatheries could be working on him he had his gauntlets painted red for failing Xandrek and the Captain has told you Shen has not earnt the right to die and therefore has earnt himself a walking tomb which makes you smile even more. (Finish up on adding the latest organ to the recruit infront of you and it’s your choice of which organ, and then feel free to go see your brothers or start on Shen.)

- - - - - - - -

“Corvis Sejanus.” Xandrek smiles to himself. “The Young Blood, the youngest member of First Claw he lacks the ability to bond with his brothers to gain atleast their loyalty and he would have been better off in the recon squads always ranging out alone without the aid of others just doing what was require of him and that ever else he desired. The Young Blood definitely has much to learn even though he is almost eight decades old he still has plenty of time in which he could improve his dismal social skills and increase his skill with a blade. I often wonder that if he had the correct mentor within the company he might be able to accomplish something great with his life but for now I see him simply as another tool to be used in war.”

Corvis: You stand in one of the many training pits in the training hold of the Maiden of Sorrow which as usual is in near darkness as your deactive lightning claw raises and falls to parry and lash out against the Sergeant Xho of Fifth Claw who is as usual wielding his two-handed chain-sword as the bout is to third blood and so far Sergeant Xho has wounded you once slicing part of your cheek away and you have wounded him twice by having punched the four blades of your gauntlet into his left shoulder and then having carved four red lines down the front of his chest. You smiling to yourself as you match strikes against the Sergeant of Fifth Claw as all those gathered around the pit shout encouragement to you and the Sergeant to not only carry on with the fight but to turn it into a Murder Duel where one of you would die however you know that Azreal would step in if such a thing were to happen and no-one within the training hall can beat him with a blade. Sergeant Xho then swears several times in Nostraman as you manage to side step his sword and hammer your lightning claw into his chest sending him crashing down onto his back with blood pouring from his chest as the gathered crowd erupts into cheers and roars of approval. Turning from Xho you see Azrael standing there watching you for the moment. (If Azrael approaches you then feel free to work out a conversation with him through PM’s, if not then you may do what you wish.)

- - - - - - - -

“Jallus…where do I start with the warp-tainted psyker? Our legion has no love of Psykers, something which we share with the World Eaters, Death Guard and even those feral Space Wolves though as much as we hate them their otherworldly powers do come in useful when you need them to conjure up terrifying images of hell-spawned beasts or make defenders spontaneously combust amidst their own forces. While none of First Claw could say they like Jallus, he has his uses so he is tolerated by Myself and the others though I can’t help by get minor head aches within his presence and not even Veptus can figure out why.”

Jallus: You are currently knelt in what serves as the Librarium aboard the Maiden of Sorrow as you meditate and prepare yourself for the coming slaughter of Isstvan V and while you meditate your fellow brother librarians do the same either next to you or are different points within the chapel like room. Taking a deep breath you then exhale before opening your midnight black eyes to look at those around you who are still deep within meditate and of all of Fourth Company you feel more kin-ship to these fellow battle brothers than you do the rest of First Claw and you know that it is because all others regard you as warp-tainted and avoided at all costs unless absolutely necessary. Pushing yourself from your sitting position you move to retrieve your weapons from your weapons locker to the right of the room as all librarians within Fourth Company may only live within the Librarium instead of having their own cells. After retrieving your war-gear you decide that you should go and find Xandrek and the rest of Fourth Claw having sensed the Maiden will actually arrive ahead of most of the Eighth Legions fleet.

- - - - - - - -

“Zhasal is a battle brother who never should of risen as far as he should of, He is far to independent and hardly ever listens to the orders that he is given so I have found that it is often best to point him in the general direction of where he needs to go then just leave him to it, while he runs off on his own I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets wounded or killed one day for not staying with his battle brothers but for now Zhasal has his uses in that he always gets the job done one way or the other.”

Zhasal: You are currently stalking through the darkness of the lower decks that has been turned into the labyrinth by legion tech-marines under the order of Xandrek to give his warriors something to do while travelling between systems and battles which involves hunting down what ever prey has been captured and released within. The blades of your lightning claws are sheathed for now as you hunt the fifteen man strong unit of imperial guardsman who were just unlucky enough to be near Xandrek, Azrael and Veptus during the last battle you served in under the guise of being a loyalist. Smiling to yourself you can’t help but think of capturing some Astartes during the up coming battle and releasing them within the Labyrinth to give yourself and your fellow battle brothers an actual challenge during your hunts which you do not get from mortals. Stopping before turning around a blind corner you hear the terrified and quiet voices of the guardsman echoing along the corridor as you home in on your prey.

- - - - - - - -

“Raskreia like Azrael and Veptus is perhaps one of the few members of First Claw that I would consider a true ‘brother’ of mine as since his elevator to First Claw he has been a loyal brother as any son of Nostramo could be called loyal and it is he who carries the company standard into battle which often marks him out as a high priority target for who ever it seems we are to be fighting. So when ever you see Raskreia in battle holding the standard high you will often find myself and Azrael near by aswell as that is where the fighting will be bloodiest. However though I find Raskreia talked too much and I have often though of having Veptus remove his tongue and vocal cords and not have them replaced something I know which will greatly please the Corpse-Master.”

Raskreia: Sitting within your assigned room you are once again painstaking and carefully etching and painting on yet even more lightning onto your armour, this time onto the edging of your right shoulder pad and as you look up from the piece of armour in your hands to the far wall where the rest of your armour and war-gear hangs you smile as you see the company standard leaning against the wall. A banner of black cloth depicting a Night Lord stood upon a pile of bones with lightning splitting the sky in the background. Turning back to the piece of armour in your hands you finish adding the lightning before donning your armour and gathering up your war-gear including the Company standard which you then use like a walking cane as you make your way to find Xandrek, who you know is obviously on the bridge of the Maiden like he usually is, and on the way you may find yourself walking alongside Company Champion Azrael. (IF Azrael is heading to the bridge aswell then feel free to work out a conversation with him via pm’s before posting.)

- - - - - - - -

“Var, or in full: Varius Montangro. Tech-Marine and least trusted member of First Claw, We often think that all failures of our wargear happen because of some perceived slight against Var but so far none of us have been able to find any evidence of him sabotaging our war-gear, quite the opposite is usually found however as he is perhaps the most gifted master artificer within Fourth Company having repaired bolters and armour which other tech-marines would of consigned to the scrap heap into full working order within a matter of hours or days. And it is for this gift that I elevated him to First Claw though as much of an asset that Var is to this company and squad I will continue to keep an eye on him as I trust him as much as I trust Veptus not to carve up a freshly discovered corpse.”

Var: Sat deep within the vaults of the Maiden of Sorrow that serve as the armory of Fourth Company and surrounded by servitors, brother tech-marines and the Tech Adepts of Mars you stare at the schematics of the plasma gun on the board infront of you before your eyes drift down to the mangled and half melted mess of the weapon infront of you as you decide whether or not it is actually worth trying to save a weapon that has half been destroyed due to overheating and a subsequent explosion that took Brother-Sergeant Theng’s right arm and eye from him and thinking of the Brother-Sergeant your head turns to the half built bionic arm and eye to your left which were commissioned by the ‘Corpse-Master’ Veptus. Shaking your head you decide to leave the bionic replacements for that idiot of a Sergeant until after the battle of Isstvan and return your focus to the plasma-gun infront of you as your four servo-arms raise up with the barest thought to help you try and repair the weapon but before you can even start you hear the familiar voice of Fundae behind you. “Var, I hope you have repaired by flamer by now.”

- - - - - - - -

“Fundae, my heavy weapons specialist and like Azrael one of the few terrans left within the Fourth Company and if it wasn’t for him then the Ork Warboss Gragsnask would of ended my life and service to my Primarch just over thirty years ago. Fundae is a pyromaniac without compare who I always seem to find charging into some of the thickest fighting and incinerating anything within range before finishing off those unlucky enough to still be alive with that brutal double headed chain-axe of his.”

Fundae: You are currently stalking through what passes as Fourth Companies armory to find the Tech-Marine of First Claw: Var, who has since the burning of Nostramo been repairing your beloved flamer after having most of it destroyed when the fuel canister ruptured when a stray found hit the fuel line during the last loyalist engagement and if it wasn’t for the ‘Corpse-Master’ and your own reinforced armour you would of likely lost your life or maybe a couple of limbs. Kicking one of the scurrying minor tech-adepts out of the way with your boot which elects a smile from you as he yelps as you break his left leg you see Var at the far end of the armory hunched over the half melted remains of a plasma-gun and after getting within a few feat of him you decided to find out if your beloved weapon has been repaired. “Var, I hope you have repaired my flamer by now.” (Feel free to work out a conversation with Var via pm’s before you post up.)
 
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#128 ·
With every swing the Iron Warrior made, his skill with the chainglaive improved. Pelegon prided himself on his ability to learn, and the Nostraman weapon was proving to be no obstacle in this regard. He had to understand the weight distribution and become familiar with it, how to move the shaft between his fingers so as to keep the blade correctly angled and not to strike with the flat, how to alter the length of shaft between his hands and the blade for differing engagement distances. It slid up and down smoothly in his grip, which alternately clenched and relaxed, gentler when needing to adjust distance, firm when bringing the weapon up or down into the blow. Where he put his weight was also something that he was picking up, his footing becoming more fluid with each movement.

Pelegon knew that he wasn't a delicate fighter, though this was a weapon capable of drawing great swathes of blood in wonderfully controlled arcs. He was a killer, and his ruthless pragmatism would always stop him from becoming a real blademaster, but to compensate he wasn't afraid to use his body in a fight. Many fighters, particularly from the more esoteric legions such as the Emperor's Children or White Scars, would train in such a way that left their fighting style restricted to the use of only the blade. They would cut and stab, but be unable to punch, kick, headbutt and crush. What they did worked fantastically against opponents following similarly restricted rules of engagement, but did not stand up for long against one willing to use any means possible to win. Several theoretical combat scenarios played through Pelegon's head while he listened to the company standard bearer, Raskreia, lecture Tyberus. Pelegon would have let it go, but the incorrectness of Raskreia's statement irked him more than the questionable bionic hand he had procured.

Briefly the shadowy opponent in Pelegon's mind took on Raskreia's appearance, in a sequence where Pelegon grabbed him by the back of the skull with his left hand, and pulled him in while shoving the chainglaive forward and up, holding it near the head in his other hand, forcing the whirring teeth into the slight overlap between the plates covering the thorax and abdomen. Having done so, Pelegon pulled his opponent closer toward himself, the Iron Warrior putting his left foot behind his opponent's right, before shoving him, and the enemy collapsed. His own momentum ripped the chainglaive's head free, along with considerable portions of innards. Not enough to kill immediately, as he had been aiming the tip of the blade away from the twin hearts, but enough to cripple. For a kill move, he would have simply rammed the weapon into Raskreia's head or neck.

Back in the real world, the Olympian stopped his decreasingly fluid movements, standing to attention with the chainglaive held out in front of him in both hands, and dropped down onto his haunches, rising up and down again as he performed squat exercises. He wasn't defending Tyberus, though the man was likely the closest thing to a comrade that he had at the moment, but correcting a battle-brother.

"A bit rich to accuse another of stupidity considering your own position, Raskreia" Pelegon grunted in his terribly accented Nostraman "you are wrong, it is a war. Perhaps this battle will be somewhat one-sided, but I can assure you that in the greater scheme of things we do not stand nearly as favourably as you seem to assume. Do not underestimate our foe either, for our former brothers will sell their lives dearly, knowing, as they soon will, that their own survival is forfeit"

The Iron Warrior tucked his left leg under him, and continued to move up and down, now balancing solely on his right, tipping the chainglaive a little to help act as a counterbalance.

"I'm also not a neophyte, though I don't know whether that was some abortive attempt at an insult or genuine ignorance. Here, I'm just an observer. If it makes you feel better, pretend that I have a lens for a face and a pict-recorder unit for a body, but in the IVth I'm a Centurion. So..." Pelegon dropped onto his knees, locking the chainglaive onto his back, before setting his hands on the deck in front of him. Without a word, he rolled forward onto his elbows, then rose up until he was doing a perfect handstand, rotating so his upside-down faceplate was making eye-contact with Raskreia. The insincere tone of the words combined with the Iron Warrior's bizarre body language was making it clear exactly what he thought of the standard bearer.

"I'm going to ask you nicely to stop bleating; consider it somewhat unbecoming of an astartes. If you have a problem with my being here, then I'm sure you can shove a sword into my head at your earliest convenience. If, however, I am not so intolerable that I justify being murdered, may I suggest that we set aside our differences and work together against what is, at the end of the day, a common enemy?"
 
#129 ·
"War? No this is not a war Tyberus, this is going to be a single-sided massacre of the highest proportions. We will cripple, if not outright kill, three other Legions. That is not a war but wholesale slaughter. I would think that difference would have been blindingly obvious to a Night Lord and apparent even to a neophyte Iron Warrior. Stop being a fool when aboard the Maiden at least. When you die down there I promise to mourn for a whole second before taking nothing from your corpse especially if you insist on stupidity." Raskreia berated him, but it did not draw him to action, tempted though he was to see his power maul driven through the foolish Standard Bearer's skull, caving into his chest cavity, perhaps even damaging his gene seed beyond repair. The visualization though was enough and Tyberus stayed his hand, as Pelegon spoke up, which he misinterpreted to be on his behalf.

The odd upside down posture that the Iron Warrior took was puzzling to Tyberus as the Olympian spoke in response to Raskreia "A bit rich to accuse another of stupidity considering your own position, Raskreia," The Iron Warrior grunted and seemed to intentionally overdo his poor Nostramon accent to taunt the Standard Bearer. "You are wrong, it is a war. Perhaps this battle will be somewhat one-sided, but I can assure you that in the greater scheme of things we do not stand nearly as favourably as you seem to assume. Do not underestimate our foe either, for our former brothers will sell their lives dearly, knowing, as they soon will, that their own survival is forfeit."

A bit confused as to what to do, Tyberus, not wanting to look as if he had the Iron Warrior speak out on his behalf quickly knocked the Iron Warrior over with a light push from his left foot. "On your feet Olympian! I do not need your intervention, nor do we have the time for your foolish games." His tone was harsh, directed like an older brother who had been embarassed by something a younger sibling had done, his tone and posture grew fiercer as he turned to face Raskreia.

"You will never have the chance to decide whether to loot my remains or not little carrion crow, you will be dead long before I. You may even perish before the foolish Iron Warrior. He speaks truth though, this is but one battle that will be waged. You are a greater fool than I would have ever believed Raskreia if you believe this one battle will be both beginning and end of our secession! Yes, three Legions will die by our hands, but there are not only three Legions still loyal to the False Emperor, their are not only three Legions who will oppose us." The vitriol was practically spewing forth like venom with each word as Tyberus spoke, he was ready for war and his temper and readiness for bloodshed was at a new peak, it needed to be given how high he knew the stakes would be. "Istvaan is but our first step, for the moment we will have the element of surprise, but once our hand is revealed we will no longer have any further advantage save for our fighting abilities. This will be a war Brother Raskreia, and it would behoove you to be prepared for the most violent and savage fighting we have ever encountered. Were you to be deployed on Istvaan and on the other side of this would you simply let yourself die or would you, knowing your fate is sealed fight tooth and nail, swear to take as many enemy lives as possible before being killed?" Knowing the answer he continued "Our once Brothers will fight with great fury, not to live, but to kill as many of us as they possibly can. I say again, this will be a war and even our assault tomorrow will not be easy. The only ones foolish enough to believe this will be an easy campaign are those who will be among the first to die tomorrow, fools who thought that Three Legions would simply accept their fate and die. I go to war, perhaps you simply go to your death."

Tyberus did not even look at the Iron Warrior, irritated as he was with him, though he knew enough not to leave his inherited problem alone with the scavengers that lurked about. "Olympian, with me, I would not have you dead before we make planetfall," his voice bellowed out as he stalked off towards the transports.
 
#130 ·
Veptus had known Xandrek longer than any other member of the First Claw, and he knew the tone of Xandrek’s reply. "The promise between myself and the First Captain is something that does not concern you right now Veptus, if at some point during the future you need to be informed then you shall be. However the promise has nothing to do with the Isstvan campaign so you do not need to worry." It was a tone that told Veptus to leave the conversation well enough alone. Sometimes Xandrek enjoyed making people tease information out of him, gave him a certain rush of power Veptus supposed. This was not one of those times. “Whatever it is my lord, I trust you have not sold our lives or your own at a bargain.” Was Veptus’ playful reply.
“Whilst there are certain lives I would gladly pay to be rid of, yours and mine are not among them...” Xandrek continued “…Also, your proposal is approved. Just make sure Serhiy knows how and who it works best against.”

The rest of the journey was uneventful and in good time they were back aboard the Maiden. Xandrek told them to all equip jump packs and that he would meet them shortly. Evidently he had other duties to perform. The process of actually equipping a jump pack as an Apothecary was more difficult for Veptus than for the rest of his brothers. His back-pack stored numerous vials and substances that required fixed temperature ranges to perform optimally. They couldn’t risk being roasted by the exhaust fumes of a jump pack. So Veptus equipping such an item was a laborious process of rearranging various tubes, vials and storage containers so that they would not be compromised. The other side effect that he was unable to take his sniper rifle into battle, it’s bulky form and slow firing speed hardly matched to the speed and ferocity of the battle that was about to ensue. Instead, Veptus picked up a second pistol, a plasma pistol. Compact enough to be wielded as a third weapon alongside all his other equipment and, considering the magnitude of the slaughter that was about to unfold, the decreased range was a sacrifice Veptus was happy to make.

He had just finished donning his new equipment when Serhiy approached him with all the subtly and quivering excitement of a small child.
“I would have words with you. . . about this lovely serum. . . and the weaponizing thereof.”
“Of course my friend…” Veptus said with a grim smile plastered under his helmet to the background noise the other members of the First Claw bickering. He could not manufacture the effort to wade into the mess of a debate they were having and frankly didn’t care about the outcome. “…shall we?” The pair of them left the squabbling nest of angry crows and headed towards the Apothecarion. “I assume you want to know how this new weapon will work?” Veptus asked already knowing the answer. “Basically it is a cousin pathogen to the Life Eater virus. However, whereas the Life Eater devours all organic matter that no physiology can hope to repair, this pathogen targets specifically the nerve fibres and the capillary walls. Essentially it dissolves the blood vessels and causes body-wide internal haemorrhaging, as well as excruciating pain. It also works much slower and is less acidic than the Life Eater…”

Veptus strode into the bright sterile room, Serhiy following just behind. As he continued to talk, he began to prepare the serum. His back was facing the Destroyer as he spoke. “…In small quantities, this simply results in agony for Astartes, the chief purpose for which my colleagues and I use it for. However, our helms should protect us from most of the gas. In humans however, the results are fatal. They bleed from every orifice, but take long enough to expire that they can grab the person nearest to them and beg for help. That’s where the true genius of the toxin comes. It is blood transmittable. So, as blood pours from their fingers and the grasp for help, they doom their comrades to the same fate.” Veptus chuckled as the centrifuges worked their magic. “And on and on it goes…” He turned to face Serhiy. “…This is a weapon to be used primarily on the human auxiliaries you understand? I will not have you waste this gift by spending it frivolously against our cousins.”

Veptus let the machines behind him work into getting the toxin to a gaseous state before storing it in grenades. “While we wait for these toxin grenades to be prepared, I have another, less important query. I trust you have met our pet Iron Warrior?”
"Yes we've been. . He's curious. . . a blunt instrument forced among wolves and a hard tool just like all IVth legionnaires. . Given his expertise I would fight with him. . use his skills in siege breaking as I suspect I will be thrown at the Guardsmen and their honeycomb of fortifications. . I'll use a pict recorder to observe their reactions to your. . .medication for review later." Veptus didn’t need it reviewed. He knew what he did because he had seen it happen. More likely they would just be for Serhiy to mull over later. He’d call him a sick bastard but it would make him a hypocrite. "What opinion of him have you?" Serhiy always seemed to word his questions strangely.
“Truthfully, I hardly have an opinion. He seems to be adapting quickly, but he seems slaved to Tyberus. Something I’m sure he’ll quickly outgrow. I’m not known to rush to judgements, and I don’t intend to start now. Perhaps at a later time you can ask me again. Unless you find him strung up by his entrails, then you’ll probably guess what I thought of him!” Behind him the machines continued to whir, concocting fresh doom for those they were about to face…
 
#131 ·
In truth the seclusion was welcoming. The bickering among the VIIIth was so painfully common finding silence among the ranks would be much more disconcerting than an open brawl. Still the quiet hallways on the way to the apothecarion would lend much better to a quiet discussion. The description could only be described as delicious. He could savor every bubble and boil as those affected by it eventually choked on their own blood and infected their fellow man in shallow attempts to get help. Under the helmet was a sickly grin like a child with a magnifying glass towering over an ant hill and playing God. He did not interrupt Veptus in his description for he knew the doctor took a degree of pleasure in explaining his arts to those that would be considered uninitiated. Instead he thought briefly on the Olympian and his antics as they left. It was interesting to watch him almost like a child taunting a brother. His rate of progress was absolutely staggering and it almost worried him about the possibility of ever coming to conflict with those of the Vlth legion if they all adapted that quickly. He pushed his own concerns from his mind and brought the reality of the conversation back into focus.

The topic of the Iron Warrior continued.

"Pelegon is using Tyberus the same way a Neophyte would use an instructor to gleam knowledge. . . And he's progressing rapidly. . . You are right in your opinion he will be his own warrior among 4th company soon enough. . . Now the question remains what will happen to the host once the egg within hatches?"

He toyed at the words taking pleasure in the thoughts of suffering. He was much more like Veptus than he'd ever let on. The only true difference between them seemed to be their preferred implements of pain and their intended targets. Veptus had little concern over who felt his sting, a fact that Serhiy knew from his own experience under the Medicae's knife whereas his own interest of pain infliction only brought friends into his crosshairs when it was absolutely necessary. Serhiy paused with silence filling the air while the grenades finished their preparations and an unusual tint of thought graced the Destroyer's mind.

"What of our revolt?. . . Those flapping wind bags under Lorgar. . . the shallow daughters under Fulgrim? . . I do not care for the them. . .Likely my body will not see me to the end of this so I care little. . . But what of you? . . . What are you to gain from this?. . . Are we to exchange one Emperor for another? . . . "
 
#132 ·
Aboard the 'Maiden of Sorrow':

Xandrek looks up from the data-slate that he was writing in to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closes his pure black eyes and sighs before looking down at that which he has written so far before then hunching back over the desk and begins to write anew:

"Isstvan V, what will later become known as the Isstvan Massacare was perhaps the turning point of the Heresy when the Imperium learnt that not only four legions had turned but a full eight (It was only later that we leant that so too the Thousand Sons had turned) and that even those supposedly loyal can still drive a knife into the back of their so called allies."

"While it was called a Massacare it was and was not that, we must remember that while a full eight legions crushed the Raven Guard, Salamanders and Iron Hands you must also remember that they too like us are Astartes, and Astartes die hard if nothing else. Beside the loyal legions that we wiped out also marched the Imperial Army which the Eighth Legion spent much time in hunting down and practicing our favored way of war. But also with them marched a Titan Legion: Legio Atarus and if it were not for Legio Mortis siding with the Warmaster then I am sure that their titans would of reaped a heavy toll on all the legions under Horus before finally being destroyed."

"While there are full records in circulation which detail what happened pre-drop aboard the Lex, the Flagship of the Word Bearers Legion and home to Primarch Lorgar Aurelian himself, I can say with pride that myself and my First Claw were there during the battle plans of our primarchs. We were there when the best of us: First Captain Jago 'Sevetar' Sevetarion, our fearsome Prince of Crows first uttered the words that would be a rallying battle cry to all legions that make their home in the Great Eye. We were their and took up the call: Death to the False-Emperor!"

"After returning from the Lex we prepared aboard the 'Maiden of Sorrow' for the drop checking, double-checking and triple checking all of our wargear and ammunition stocks. Astartes against Astartes warfare is perhaps the most brutal form of combat pitting humanities greatest warriors against each other who will stop at nothing until the other has been slain regardless of the cost it takes on ones own body. We of the Eighth Legion had an advantage in this, as stated in numerous other texts that since the return of the Primarch to the Legion the Night Lords had been murdering each other for the better part of two centuries. We know how to kill and maim other Astartes but while we are still Super Human killing machines: We are Murders, very few of us could ever be truly called warriors."

"The task that the Primarch had given to myself and therefore the three companies that I lead, was to target Raven Guard Sergeants, Captains, Tech-Marines, Librarians, Apocatheries, there command structure while also ensuring their transports were wrecked before taking our bloody craft to the Imperial Army fighting. My plan was simply in that before I unleashed my men to carry out their missions and go their own separate ways during the battle as unit and even company cohesion would be near impossible with the 'Massacare' this would result it. The initial frontline of my companies where those squads who were equipped with Boarding and Combat shields, forming a solid wall of protection from the first round of return fire when our 'brothers' realized what was happening and stationed behind our vanguard were my Raptor Squads and Assault Marine squads that would make use of their jump packs after the initial shots to close the gap and allow the rest of the companies to charge in and join the fray."

"While we stood there and watched the Raven Guard retreat up the hill to us I had my sergeants mark out Raven Guard commanders as they came to us though my attention was fixed firmly on our Primarch who stood with the First Company before turning to regard First Captain as I remembered the promise I made to him aboard the Nightfall which even to this day with the First Captain gone I still honour it."

Xandrek looks up from his data-slate to check the chrono-meter on his desk knowing that they would be exiting the warp soon and preparing for planet drop on some back-water planet in the northern fringe of the Imperium where he could unleash his men who were in need of something other than each other to kill. Looking back to the data-slate Xandrek returned to writing in his flowing Nostramon Script.

"Isstvan V was also the first time that those grim bastards I called my men shared a moment of brotherhood, and when I say my men I mean all three companies: Some Four-Hundred Astartes as we laughed at joke I made over our company private vox about the Fourth Legion, the Iron Warriors although Pelegon wasn't happy about it at the time."

Isstvan V, Pre-Attack: Xandrek stands there looking up the Raven Guard at the bottom of the hill moving towards them as they await the signal to open fire, as He and the rest of First Claw stand behind the three deep wall of Night Lords carrying bolters, plasma guns and towering boarding shields. "Look at them my brothers, We come here to make history that will echo down through the ages and what do 'THEY' do." Xandrek lifts his right and to point far to the east at the Fourth Legion and the Iron Warriors. "Our cousins in the Fourth decide to come here and build a doll house to side inside while the rest of us do all the knife work. Pelegon your of the Fourth why don't you tell your brothers that they may aswell build a Beauty Parlor as im sure when we are done those fops in the Third Legion will want to correct their make up." Xandrek laughed and for once was joined by yourself (all of you except Pelegon) as he then slaps the Iron Warrior on the shoulder before looking back to the Raven Guard and then the distant fortress.

Aboard the 'Maiden of Sorrow':
"After that shared joke with my companies we didn't have to wait long for the signal. A single flare was shot from within the fortress as the Salamanders and Raven Guard came within bolter range and across our vox networks the order to open fire was given. Those who are 'born' into the Legions after the Heresy will never understand or even meet anything that compares to those opening moments. The noise was horrendous and deafening as the weaponry of four entire legions were unleashed in a single moment, it was man-made thunder that would forever stay within the minds of those who were there. The first few ranks of those coming to seek our aid simply disintegrated into bits of flesh, Ceramite and clouds of blood as they were met with a wall of bolter rounds ripping into them and I remember well the look of absolute shock on those behind them as they struggled to comprehend what had just happened. From what I've been told by my fellow captains who were there the expression on Corax's and Vulkan's faces was something to beyond and it is to my shame and regret that myself and my battle brothers were stationed away from them."

"With the order given we charged into the fray with myself and Fourth Companies First Claw along with the other Assault and Raptor Squads joining us as we crashed into the ranks of the Raven Guard, the battle if such a bloody afar as a 'Massacare' could be called that was for want of a better word: Glorious."

- - - - - - - - - -

Isstvan V Massacare​

Azrael: You slam down onto the ground just behind and to the left of Xandrek as you follow the cloaked form of your Captain into battle with your right hand flicking our burying your power-sword into throat of a Raven Guard Sergeant who collapses choking on his own blood dropping his bolter as you watch Xandrek rise from his half crouch and slamming his monstrous tower-shield into the chest of a normal battle brother of the Nineteenth Legion knocking him off of his feet before the battle brother gets tore apart by Pelegon landing on him and ramming his new Nostramon Chain-Glaive straight into the center of his chest as the Xandrek then charges off deeper into the battle with his sword licking out aiming for weak points in armour where you can see that he is aiming for what appears to be a Captain and the reminds of his command squad, including a twin-lightning claw armoured champion and its clear that Xandrek is wanting you to follow which you will do without hesitation as you suspect that even as good as Xandrek is with his blade the way that Raven Guard fight will need your own swordsmanship skills to keep this even with you dealing with the champion as Xandrek goes after the captain.

Veptus: Before joining the rest of First Claw and the other squads in their charge you sight down the barrel of your stalker-pattern bolter and nearly place a bolt round through the right eye lens of a Raven Guard apocathery aiding a limping battle brother who is missing a leg back up the hill and you smile sadistically as you watch the both of them go down, the apocathery himself silent by the battle brother going down with a cry before he gets stood on by his fellows. When you leap to join the rest of First Claw you catch a glimpse of the hulking forms of Fourth Claws Dreadnoughts slam straight into the battle line sending Raven Guard scattering and you can see that each and every one of them has crimson painted gauntlets and for a brief moment you recall that there is a single Dreadnought in forth who was not given it as a punishment though Xandrek has yet to order him to be awakened. Landing down on one knee you have the choice of either stowing your stalker pattern bolter in favor of your sword and pistol or for now you can remain crouched and begin picking off members of the command structure and apocatheries, with you being able to spot one among a command squad which Xandrek and Azrael are heading to.

Var: Landing with a crunch leaving a small creator from your sheet weight in the ground you flick your axe out slamming the blade crunching into the side of a Raven Guard's helmet sliding off the top half before swinging it around into the chest of a second one before taking in the situation as two raptors slam down onto a third Raven Guard battle brother with their lightning claws ripping out chunks of his armour and flesh before moving on activating their jump packs where you watch them both get shot down by return fire from an auto cannon wielding marine further back in the raven guard lines which would need to be dealt with which you could possible do yourself with your axe or you could simply through a frag grenade in his direction that would catch him and those around him. Though you will need to make your decision quickly as to what you are going to do as more Raven Guard charge towards you and the others as the other companies begin streaming down into the Urgal depression to get to grips with those still loyal to the False Emperor although given the flight shacking of the ground behind you, you are soon to be joined by those 'honoured' brothers prematurely entombed within the shells of a Dreadnought.

Tyberus: You plant both of your feet into the shoulders of one of the Raven Guard as you land knocking him onto his back and send him sprawling in the dirt as your power-maul falls down upon one of his battle brothers cracking open his helmet and bursting his skull like an overripe melon. Wrenching your maul free of the remains of the 19th legionnaire you spin on the spot pivoting on your right heel to slam it into the back of another member of the Raven Guard destroying his back mounted power plant dropping him as all the systems in his power armour fail where he is quickly finished by Raskreia dropping down next to him and planting the standard of Fourth Company through the back of the marines skull. Nodding to the banner bearer you realize that the enemies will be draw towards Raskreia because of the banner and that it would make sense to fight along side him for now so that he may owe you a debt later on and atleast to make sure that the banner of Fourth doesn't fall in the opening minutes of the battle and you along with several other assault marines help push back a small counter charge from a squad of Raven Guard Legionaries obviously intent on taking the Fourth Company banner.

Pelegon: Launching off from the ground behind the three deep line of Night Lords you follow Xandrek and the rest of his assault troops into the air above the front line and come down towards where the Fourth Company captain, his champion and his apocathery have landed and as you are still in the air you have time to see Xandrek smash a legionary off of his feet with that tower shield of his allowing you to reverse the grip of your new chain-glaive and plunge the whirring blade into the chest of the battle brother that Xandrek knocked other where you then quickly withdraw it in a shower of blood coating the lower part of your silver armour and turn to see Xandrek and Azrael set off through the melee to what appears to be a captain and his command squad. However before you are able to follow a Raven Guard Sergeant wielding a chain-sword and combat knife comes swinging at you which you are able to block thanks to the extra reach that the chain-glaive affords and you are able to quickly dispatch him with your new weapon (How long that fight lasts if up to you.) before deciding if you keep the chain-glaive our or begin unloading shots with the melta-gun that is strapped to your back.

Raskreia: You land planting the banner of forth through the back of a Raven Guard's helmet which Tyberus has knocked over with his power maul as you land several meters away from Xandrek, Azrael and Veptus which somewhat annoys you as the four of you are always at the forefront together and somehow Pelegon has taken your place by the Captain, Champion and Apocathery. Slamming your power-axe into the collar bone of a Raven Guard legionary wielding a pair of lightning claws you wrench it out as your other hand remains firmly around the banner pole as you several assault marines drop down around you to defend the banner from a small counter attack of six legionaries intent on seeing the banner of Fourth fall before the assault marines when done with the small skirmish activate their jump packs and disappear deeper into the melee as the rest of Fourth company slam into the melee with a solid wall of midnight blue armoured marines and their shields get infront of you and begin forcing their way deeper into the battle allowing you time to move off after the Captain if you wish as you can see him and Azrael making their way towards what appears to be a Raven Guard captain and his own command squad where you can see their banner bearer trying to rally the men to hold the line, From your point in the battle field you can see the whipping banner display the numbers of the Raven Guard 34th Company.

Serhiy: Having long ago used a jump pack the natural affinity with such wargear instantly comes back as you launch off the ground with your battle brothers with your left hand you throw a couple of grenades deeper into the ranks of the Raven Guard not even bothering to watch them detonate as your pistol barks out blowing through the back of a tech-marines head sending bone and armour fragments like pieces of shrapnel flying into those he called his battle brothers. Grinning to yourself you draw your other pistol and begin placing well aimed shots into the Astartes of the 19th legion as you are oddly joined by Sergeant Phalx and his destroyer squad who incline their heads in greeting as they to sending rad and Phosphrex grenades deeper into the combat clearly uncaring of who they hit as long as they kill someone with Sergeant Phalx himself unlimbering his Thunderhammer from off of his back where he then slams it two handed into the chest of a squad sergeant knocking him to the ground and all by destroying the Astartes's chest. Looking up you can see that the other members of First Claw are diving with Veptus, Azrael and Xandrek all staying together like they usually do and you can either join your battle brothers of First Claw or remain with Tenth Claw and do what you are best at.

Varial: Unlike most of your battle brothers in First Claw you did not jump to deeply into the lines of the Raven Guard as you bring your under slung missile launcher to bear while still in mid-air and sending a krak missile spiraling deeper into the masses of the 19th Legion and when you land you can see the results of your shot as several legionaries are hurled into the air missing limbs. As soon as your feet touch the ground you are able to heft your missile launcher up onto your shoulder and sight a Raven Guard Dreadnought lumbering his way towards the battle line where Var landed infront of Fourth's own Dreadnoughts and you are easily able to send a shot smashing into the dreadnoughts shoulder sending him staggering off to one side where his frame then gets peppered with heavy bolter rounds before being finished of by two well aimed las-cannon shots from further back in Fourth companies battle line. You may wish to continue looking for heavy targets as your battle brothers of Fourth give you some cover as they run around and past you or you may strap your missile launcher to your back draw your sword and pistol and set off after your captain.

OOC: For all of your im leaving it pretty open to who you attack, how you attack them, if you kill them and how many. Just remember that you are fighting other Astartes and those of the Raven Guard so they will be as quick, smart, tough and as strong as you.
 
#133 ·
Finally the time had come. All the bickering and arguing, all the brotherly bloodshed and the paranoia. It was like a fine symphony reaching its crescendo as the planet they would be bleeding on came into view. His conversation with Veptus had long since ended and he'd procured a few grenades containing a gaseous form of the deadly serum; now he was back within the armoury finalizing his equipment for departure. He carried no grenades in the strictest sense. Rather a robust number of phosphex bombs and the destructive toxins Veptus gave him and a balance of kraken rounds for his primary bolt pistol and tox rounds for his secondary bolt pistol. The solid thump of the jump pack resting on his back brought back a flood of memories and grim smiles watching worlds twist and contort into liquefied messes and mortal souls screaming in agony until they eventually drowned on their own toxic blood and crumpling to the floor. He was Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Fast forward briefly planetside and the stench of dirt and rock seemed foreign for the moment. There was an old keep here that meant that long ago the soil drank in the blood of conquest and the poor souls used as fodder in that endeavor but for how long had the land sat and thirsted unable to hear the song of battle or drink the hot red brew? The number of Astartes here staggered the imagination and it seemed like a sea of metal in every direction. Serhiy had witnessed countless abominations and things that mortal men couldn't begin to dream of witnessing and even this, this calm before the storm, this colossal arena that would hold their battle stirred within him a sense of excitement that he'd not held for countless years if not centuries. The epic shift during the play in which the plot unfolded and they would all play their parts and blood would run plentifully this day.

The crack of battle, bolters and all manner of weaponry sung from seemingly every corner of the planet and ancient God's of War must have been awoken from their slumber at the cacophony unfolding. Angels fought against Angels now and his own rocket propelled wings carried him into the fray. The view from above the battlefield would be etched forever in his mind, a sight so wonderous that could never be forgotten. Twin bolt pistols vainly cracked forth rounds drowned out by the sea of weaponry although not missed on their targets who flopped to the ground limp and lifeless. More bolt rounds rang out watching black clad soldiers fall lifelessly. Countless pings and poks dotted his armor as stray rounds glanced off his only to find others and something entirely different occurred and he was besides the Destroyers of the 10th Company. He was never one truly welcomed in the First, tolerated and respected for his skill but not someone that a soul would normally welcome at their side. This presented a rare opportunity and Serhiy found himself marching among irradiated crows much like himself. His weapons would find more use with them and they all could revel in the goo of their opponents. With a near unconscious indication a vox link was established between himself and the 10th Claw.

"Sergeant Phalx! . . .A pleasure! . . .I would fight at your side. . . What is your mission!?"
 
#134 ·
Pelegon stood quietly while Xandrek made japes at the expense of the IVth legion. He said nothing, but thought the Night Lords to be fools. The battle, one-sided as it was in their favour, could always turn against them - preparation was all. He had defensive positions to retreat to in the event of a turnaround, they did not. A small part of him wished that the Raven Guard would crush the VIIIth, purely so that he could see the looks in their eyes from the relative safety of a bunker. Pelegon wouldn't laugh, but a smile would not be out of the question.

The Olympian was a man not easily shocked, hardened as he was by a century and a half of the most grinding and brutal warzones from across the length and breadth of the galaxy, but the sight of six marine legions falling upon each other was enough to make him pause, just to take it all in. At that moment, perhaps more than he would at the Siege of Terra, Pelegon realised exactly how significant this war was. From it only one victor could emerge, and whoever it was, Warmaster or Emperor, would be king of a pile of ashes - such vicious fighting could leave nothing behind. Since the first living cells had developed from primordial ooze, they had had to compete, destroying each other to further their existence. Bloodshed had ever been the hallmark of conscious existence, spilling that fluid that was inimical to life, and the astartes were creatures created with no other purpose in mind. To watch thousands of them tearing each other apart, a seat of multi-hued ceramite, drove home that this might be the last, greatest war to have ever existed, and he was, however insignificant, a part of it. Far from feeling apprehension or surprise, Pelegon found his fingers curling into fists, and the urge to kill rising.

A century and a half of fighting, a century and a half of having his face shoved into the mud, a century and a half of holding dying brothers in his arms as the inevitable toll of attrition warfare was paid, a century and a half of rejection by the Imperium in whose names those wars were fought. These Raven Guard were a symptom of the cancer that proved that all he had fought in the name of was worthless, for even now they tried to evade their attacks and preserve their own lives - there was no sense of sacrifice, no sense of nobility. Even when their lives were forfeit they chose to try to extend what existence they had, rather than making their foe pay in blood for every inch they took. He would show them how a true warrior fought, that pain and the destruction of one's own body was not something to be avoided, but harnessed and turned against the foe.

When Xandrek smashed one of the black-armoured crows off his feet with his shield, Pelegon jumped up in the air, the roaring power of his jump-pack's thrusters hurling him ten feet up. The chainglaive was held aloft, and the Iron Warrior brought it down with all his momentum behind it. The Raven Guard died without a sound, his innards strewn over the thirsty red sand and Pelegon's greaves. The Iron Warrior withdrew the weapon, and pressed the barrel of his bolt pistol against the dead one's neck, and gave a swift double-tap that utterly destroyed his neck progenoids. Satisfied, the Olympian looked about, his well-practiced eye seeking out a new target. It found him first.

Over the din, Pelegon's ears, attuned to the din and clamour of battle, heard the movement behind him. He whirled and parried a swift knife stab that, in all likelihood, would have just glanced off his armour anyway. But it wasn't the attack, it was the method in which it was conducted that infuriated him. From behind, like a true coward, without even the strength to look Pelegon in the eyes when cutting him down.

By way of reply, the Iron Warrior headbutted the marine, whose markings gave him away to be a sergeant. He felt the crack under the impact, and when the Raven Guard staggered away, Pelegon saw the crack in his strange beak-shaped helmet. The Iron Warrior saw that he too had a jump pack, though it was of a newer pattern to accompany the weird helmet that he wore. Mark VI, a pattern of which the Olympian had heard but not yet seen. However, when the sergeant stumbled, Pelegon did not give him space to recover, instead thrusting forward with his chainglaive, driving it in the section of armour that had the most exposed power cabling, just over the abdomen. The sergeant was quick, however, and side-stepped the attack that would have seen him impaled, only to meet Pelegon's curled fist.

It was a solid blow, one that caught him right in the temple, and with Pelegon's considerable strength behind it the beaked helmet crumpled, as did the marine wearing it. Without a moment's hesitation the Iron Warrior stepped forward and brought an armoured boot down as hard as he could, the swift movement crushing the XIXth legionnaire's head and helmet into a bloody pulp. Pelegon drew his bolt pistol and placed it against what was left of the Raven Guard's neck and methodically destroyed his neck progenoids. The Olympian didn't have the time to destroy those in his chest, but this would do.

The artificer armour's HUD informed him of Xandrek's position, and Pelegon saw the captain heading for what was left of the Raven Guard's command squad, where their captain was trying to rally his men. The battle-rush was singing in Pelegon's veins, but he felt only icy calm. Their banner waved in the blood-soaked wind like an insult to the IVth legionnaire's senses, and he knew at once that it had to fall. The importance was only symbolic, but it would serve to his comrades in the VIIIth as sufficient reason for him to assist them with dispatching the command squad.

Pelegon leaped forward, the jump pack straining to keep the weighty set of artificer armour aloft, putting his chainglaive and pistol on their mag-locks, and took his meltagun in his right hand and a krak grenade in his left. His vision was now centred on his target, the banner, and upon catching up with Xandrek he decelerated, keeping pace with his commander. Decapitation of command had been his order, and now Pelegon would play his part in seeing it executed.

The banner-bearer saw Pelegon coming, and knew that the grim grey warrior, the only Iron warrior in a sea of black and blue, was making a beeline for him. He ceased attempting to rally his fellow marines and instead drew his boltgun, firing one-handed. But the crows were not practiced in fighting under these conditions, to having to react quickly and make impromptu decisions, and his shots were poorly placed, the few that found their mark impacting harmlessly off Pelegon's ceramite. The Olympian thought with satisfaction as he came close to his mark that he had been correct; the XIXth really were no match for them, being unable to cope with being at the receiving end of an ambush for once.

The legionnaire drew a power sword from its sheathe, hitting its activation rune as Pelegon drew near. He could see the faint crackle around the blade as currents began to surge through it, but he had no intention of being within its range. When less than a metre away from him, Pelegon pulled himself up, until he was two metres above him, holding in a hover position.

The jump-pack's thrusters were now close to overheating, and he could feel the shaking as they struggled to keep him aloft. Pelegon flicked the pin from the grenade in a single smooth motion with his thumb, and hurled it at the black-armoured banner bearer, who dived to the side to avoid the tank-breaching explosive. Exactly as he had predicted. Pelegon's melta-gun, with which the Iron Warrior had been drawing a bead, fired. He had known that the marine might dodge an initial shot, but he had no hope of evading if he was already in mid-dive.

The shot caught him right in the midriff, and in a blast of hot air that turned the sand beneath him to glass, the banner-bearer was gone, as was half of the banner. One of the nearby legionnaires, not of the command squad, saw what happened, and hurled himself at the banner, intent on catching it before it fell. Pelegon had also predicted this, and hurled himself at it, snatching it right out of the other marine's grasp. It felt good in his hands, a true trophy of war. After admiring the smooth black pole for a few more seconds, Pelegon brought it up and broke it over his knee.
 
#135 ·
I slammed to the ground just behind and to the left of my cloaked captain, flicking my sword out to catch a nearby Raven Guard sergeant in the throat. The marine choked on blood and collapsed, dropping his bolter as he did so.

I watched Xandrek rise to his feet, slamming his monstrous shield into the chest of a Raven Guard marine and sending him flying back. The unfortunate marine was then torn apart as Pelegon landed on him.

Xandrek charged into the milling brothers of the Nineteenth Legion, hacking his way towards the remains of a Raven Guard command squad that included a champion with twin lightning claws. I grinned wolfishly at the sight of him and dived into the chaos, swiftly catching up to Xandrek and guarding his flank as he barrelled through the press. Xandrek smashed a Raven Guard assault marine in the chest with his shield and turned his head to look at me. Though his face was covered by his helmet I knew he would be grinning just as I was. We were similar in that way, we both relished the challenge of battle. The thrill that came with risking our lives in combat and coming out on top.

I slid my sword back into its sheath at my side and grasped the hilt of my Chainsword, bringing it out just in time to block a wild swing from a Raven Guard sergeant with his own Chainsword. I acted quickly, reversing the rotation of the chain of my weapon to knock him off balance before burying the whirring blade in his chest.

I ripped it free and brought it around in a lightning fast swing that sliced the head of another Raven Guard in two, the roaring blades sending blood, brain and skull fragments spraying.

But while the thrill of battle was still there and I still felt relish at the challenge offered to me by space marines, I could feel ad small part of me die every time I cut down a Raven Guard. They were fighting for an Emperor I had served for almost two hundred years, a cause I had once believed in. But now, they were my enemy. If I could, I would’ve stayed on the Maiden of Sorrow but Xandrek needed me and where he went, I went. I made that bargain long ago and I have no intention of ever breaking it. Maybe I was a fool. Maybe I should’ve turned on the Eighth Legion, fought and died with the Loyalists to the Emperor.

Isn’t that odd? While so many of my ‘brothers’ now call him the False-Emperor, or the Corpse-God, I still refer to him by the title the Imperium gave him. I wonder which of them would be the first to cut my head off and stick it on a pike if they knew I regret my actions that day and many of the long days afterwards.

If they were aware that I believed we were wrong in our rebellion, I know that I wouldn’t have lasted an hour before I was mobbed and ripped apart.

But even if I had turned on the Eighth Legion, I know that as soon as Xandrek reached me I would’ve turned my blade on myself rather than fight him. I still would.

Loyalty. It is a forgotten concept in what remains of the Eighth Legion unfortunately. Night Lords lie and cheat and betray left and right. Only four of us remain who are still truly loyal to Xandrek and I am resigned to the fact that my time in this torturous galaxy will soon come to an end. It is only a matter of time until I encounter someone better than me. They will have to be good, for I have been Xandrek’s champion for centuries now, so long that I’ve lost track. But I am tired of the struggle. Tired of the killing. I wonder if I will even bother to fight when the next one comes. I probably will; I owe Xandrek too much to do otherwise

But brooding will get me nowhere, you wish to know the tale of Isstvan.

I was side-by-side with Xandrek when we reached the command squad but what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. The champion I was faced with was not some nameless marine whom I had never fought beside, but none other than Nirantius Cornix, a man who had once been my friend.

I knew he recognised me when he froze for a moment before offering a nod. I nodded in return, sheathing my Chainsword and replacing it with my power sword. We were in a little clearing in the press, Xandrek and the Raven Guard captain off to our right hammering away at each other. Night Lords and Raven Guard were hammering at each other but not one stepped foot inside the invisible circle that surrounded us.

“So Azrael, you followed your captain into this betrayal.” It was not a question, merely a statement of fact made in Nirantius’ calm and low voice.

“I did Nirantius,” I said wearily. “Now he will expect me to kill you. I take no pleasure in this my friend. I owe you my life and this is how I will have to repay you. Please go. Please, just leave. There is enough blood on my hands already, without adding yours.”

“You know that I cannot betray my captain, just as you couldn’t betray yours.”

I laughed bitterly. “Looks like we’re both fools old friend. If you are to win this duel and kill me, do me one last favour. Make it quick.”

“I will my friend. I trust you will do the same for me.”

With that he leapt at me, lunging with his lightning claws at my chest. I stepped to the left to evade one of them and batted the other aside with my sword, smashing my boot into the leaping Raven Guard’s chest to send him flying back. I rushed forward, hoping to reach him before he got back up. But I was too slow and Nirantius was already upright and lunging for me.

I ducked under his claws just in time to meet his foot as he kicked out, catching me in the face and sending me sprawling.

It took a moment for my vision to clear and when it did so I cursed, rolling to one side just as Nirantius’ right lightning claw buried itself in the ground where my head had been. I lashed out with a foot to his groin, doubling him over and giving me time to stand. Then we flew at each other, meeting in a near deafening clash of blades. The claws made him a lethal opponent and their rarity in the Legions made him all the more dangerous, for I had little experience against someone using them as opposed to someone using a sword or axe.

He caught my sword blade between his two claws and I knew he would be smirking beneath his helmet. After all, he could snap it simply by twisting his wrists. To avoid such an ignominious end to my blade I let go of the hilt to let it drop to the ground, yanking my Chainsword from its place at my side and thumbing the activation rune.

The blade roared to life and I drove it forwards at Nirantius’ sternum. The teeth chewed into his plate and almost breached it before he leapt away, leaving my unbroken power sword on the ground in his haste to avoid before skewered.

I sheathed the old weapon and spun the Chainsword in my grip, switching it from hand to hand occasionally as I watched the Raven Guard champion. On the side Xandrek had finished beating the Raven Guard captain into submission and swung his sword with a great cry, severing the man’s head from his shoulders. I saw Nirantius tense, evidently about to leap at Xandrek. I swung my roaring Chainsword at him before he could, stopping it just before the teeth would’ve bitten into his helmet.

“Go Nirantius,” I whispered. “Go. Live to fight another day and maybe you will get a chance to avenge your captain. But know that if you try to strike down Xandrek now, I will kill you old friend. As much as it pains me.”

Blinded by grief and rage Nirantius threw himself at me. I ducked beneath his diving from before driving myself up into his midsection, launching him up and over my shoulders into the press. I saw him turn back to me momentarily before moving away from where I stood, hacking his way through every Night Lord in his way. I turned then, coming face to face with Xandrek, the displeasure of whom I could feel radiating from him
 
#136 ·
As they careened forward, launching from their elevated position at the crest of the hill Tyberus looked down mid flight and took in all that he could. The roaring echoes of bolters, rockets, thudding auto cannons, every weapon imaginable as whole Legions collided into one another. Veritable seas of destruction were being wrought this day.

Tyberus looked out at the fray immediately beneath himself and the rest of First Claw, shots ringing out from his storm bolter, each round chipping away, the loud thudding volleys creating craters and gouges into the armor of the Raven Guard below. But they were not facing some rebelling Imperial planet, or quashing some minor Xenos incursion, no, they were fighting their Brothers, equipped with the same weaponry and armor as themselves. As he came in with great speed his feet slammed into a Raven Guard who had been busy returning bolter fire down range at his fellow Night Lords but had neglected to look up.

His storm bolter was mag locked before his feet touched the ground, the Raven Guard being slammed onto his back, Tyberus stood over the man, his laughter booming from his vox grille as he brought his power maul crashing down onto the downed Raven Guard's helm, crushing his head utterly and causing the pulped insides to splatter about like a squashed grape.

Spinning on his heel he brought his power maul down on another foe, this one's power unit crumpled utterly, the Astartes' armor robbed of its power the man slumped forward, trying to pull himself to his feet. Before Tyberus could bring his maul down for the death knell, Raskreia skewered the man through the back with the speared end of the company banner. He looked to his battle brother and nodded, seeing as the Raven Guard flocked towards him, seeking to take the banner down.

"I can see their banner Raskreia! We are in battle with the 34th!" Tyberus yelled over the cacaphony of savage war that swept around them, he drew his storm bolter again, taking his power maul in his right hand, holding it about midway up the weapons haft so as he could use it one handed. His storm bolter barked out as a Raven Guard with a jump pack swooped down at them, lighting claws brandished and crackling bright blue and white. The Raven Guard however had been spotted too far away for his talons to be of any use, Tyberus unloaded on the man, his wrecked and bloodied form crashing into the charred landscape just in front of them. The Raven Guard sought to pull himself up, bloodied and mangled as he was now. Tyberus summarily swung the maul down, a massive crater formed where the ceramite of his back plate utterly gave way, blood flowed freely from the gaping hole as Tyberus brought his weapon back to a readied position, scanning his surroundings for a new target.

He moved back closer towards the banner bearer, shouting that he could just barely see Captain Xandrek through the waves of bodies. "We should move towards the Captain!" As he spoke he reloaded his storm bolter and began firing again, seeking to clear a path for himself and the standard bearer to reach their Captain and engage the enemy, the banner of the 34th of the Raven Guard could be seen, whipping in the wind near where he had last glimpsed Xandrek, which meant the enemy's command squad was likely nearby and they needed to rally around their Captain at this critical juncture.
 
#137 ·
Veptus pondered Serhiy’s question. It was entirely possible that his body would fail before their rebellion saw its conclusion, but a bolt round or well-timed blade to the gut might cause the Destroyer to outlive any of them, and as a man who had presided over life and death of his ‘brothers’ for his entire career Veptus knew this better than anyone. All Serhiy’s profession did was give him another possible cause he might die from. It was like Raskreia carrying the standard into battle, which instantly drew more attention than anything else, or Veptus being clad in white and midnight blue. They all carried their own risks. They were all choices each of them had made.

“Nothing…” Veptus began “…will be the same after this. Before, humanity was united, determined it and it alone was to be the sole ruler of the stars and that everyone would be of one mind and cause. Now…” Veptus shook his head and chuckled quietly as he heard the centrifuges cycling down. “…, now humanity will be forever wary, nervous that his brother will usurp him and take his throne. Neither Horus nor the Emperor will win this war. The only winner will be chaos…” Veptus spoke the name of the primordial annihilator frivolously, not comprehending its true meaning.

He turned his back to the Destroyer and collected the canister, now full of the gaseous toxin. He took several empty grenade shells from the racks. The Apothecarion was the manufacturer of most of Destroyers bio-weapons. Slowly he filled each grenade with the noxious fumes until none remained. He took the four grenades he had created, two in each hand, and turned back to Serhiy. “Of one thing I am certain…” He walked towards the Destroyer and handed over his new weapons. “…with so much paranoia, people will need to be kept in submission. We will always help to shape humanity’s path.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Veptus watched as the flare rose from Horus’ bastion. It illuminated the battlefield like an evil sun, malevolent and cruel. He already had his bolter drawn and his sights were searching through the press of Raven Guard heading towards them, heading to die. No shot had yet been fired. Muttered apologies were being made by those who knew members of the Raven Guard, knowing they would have to kill warriors whom they had fought besides. Veptus was not as fervent in his joy at this betrayal as he knew the likes of Jaekal were, but he did not mourn it either. Such things were in the nature of humanity, for one man to seek to have the powers others had and betray them to do so. In his more philosophical moments, Veptus surmised that this was why the other legions hated them so much. They showed them what monsters humans truly were.

The first shots were fired and the entire gunline roared in the most horrific cacophony. Veptus’ autosensed near muted the noise coming through his helmet, and even then it was almost too much for his ears to stand. The Raven Guard died in droves. Elsewhere Salamanders were being cut down by those they had called friend too, and no doubt wherever the Iron Hands were they were faring no better. Veptus lined up his sights on an Apothecary clad in the darkness of the XIX Legion, helping his wounded brother up the hill to die like the rest of Corax’s warriors. There was a universal truth being expressed here. Veptus knew this as he fired his weapon, blowing the brains of the medic out the back of his skull, causing him and his comrade to fall to the floor. Death came for all men, great and small.

In the grand scheme of things, Veptus’ kill was practically meaningless. In the space of a few hours, three whole legions would be decimated to nothing more than a few stragglers who desperately fled their massacre. But, at the same time, Veptus was aware of its importance. That Astarte had been several people’s friend and trusted brother. They had depended on him for support and he had likely saved their lives. Now he was dead, his brain being ground into the dirt as the killing continued unabated. With each shot, each blade swing, each life taken, other lives were torn apart and mangled by grief. Even the 4th Company Dreadnought, those men who had so displeased Xandrek that he saw fit to encase them in a unfeeling torment for eternity were afforded the privilege of destroying bonds that had endured centuries. All save one.

Already the rest of the First Claw were jumping into the fray, their jump packs roaring and their trophies of war clattering as they flew towards their foe, only to be drowned out by the din of gunfire. Veptus could have stayed back and continued to take out select targets, but he didn’t. Partly because he needed to be close enough to the First Claw when the press of combat lead them to, inevitably, take injuries. Mostly because he wanted to be in the heart of the killing frenzy. So, he mag-locked his sniper-rifle to his thigh and drew his two pistols, jumping after his brethren.

Veptus was still one of the most proficient marksmen in the 4th Company, even in the air. As he soared over the ranks of the Raven Guard, his plasma pistol and volkite serpenta spat death at his cousins below. His weapons were specially chosen. Both disintegrated flesh and destroyed matter, leaving nothing to recover. For an Apothecary, there was no greater mark of spite than to select weapons designed to deny his cousins a chance to recover from this blow. Whole sections of marines vanished and were consumed by organic fire.

As he landed, Veptus shot a Raven Guard Astarte through the gullet, his flesh being consumed by the energy of his volkite weapon. A Raven Guard sergeant came at him with a heavy chainsword swinging towards his head. His plasma-pistol vaporized his chest and the man fell to the floor. His plasma-pistol began to feel hot in his hands. His rapid firing from above had clearly strained the fragile circuitry of the weapon. Further use for this moment would be to invite a meltdown. Veptus holstered the pistol and drew his power sword.

Xandrek and Azrael were just ahead of him, ploughing into a command squad of the 34th Company. Pelegon kept pace surprisingly well. Raskreia seemed to have fallen behind. No matter, Veptus was sure the standard bearer would catch up. The more pressing concern was the spot of white scattered in a sea of black and blue. Veptus sprinted, cleaving lives as he went, not stopping to kill those he only maimed. Others would do that for him, and he had his orders. His doppelganger had to die.

The apothecary went bear-headed, Veptus assumed he had lost it earlier, but he could tell it was not the old Apothecary of the 34th Company. Veptus wondered how he had died, and how recently, but he doubted this marine would be inclined to tell him. There were no words to say as the Apothecary spotted Veptus, just a wordless cry of hatred and anguish. Veptus laughed psychopathically as the two figured in white ran at each other, their weapons raised.

Unfortunately, this particular Raven Guard apothecary was still bound by the foolish notions that even after being betrayed that Veptus would fight him with some honour. Not so. As they approached each other, Veptus fired his jump pack so that his knee collided with the Apothecary’s jaw at a bone-shattering velocity. This sent the man sprawling, only just being able to roll out of the way as Veptus stabbed the earth where his chest had been. The apothecary got to his knees before Veptus swung his power sword down, it’s crackling energy field stripping the teeth off of the Apothecary’s raised chainsword.

The Apothecary drew his bolt pistol and fired into Veptus’ mid-drift. At such close range, he could not avoid such shot. The best he could do was hop back and to the side, allowing the bolt rounds to only impact and ricochet off of his side. He felt the explosions of two of the shots, but they didn’t pierce the armour fortunately. Being winded and having to retreat gave the Raven Guard the time to rise to his feet, although his helmet was a crumpled mess which leaked blood in a slow drip. He came at Veptus, his half-blunted chainsword roaring.

But the swing was too high and too clumsy, the Apothecary either being blinded by rage, pain or both. Veptus weaved underneath the blow and stuck his sword into the Astarte’s chest, puncturing a lung and his primary heart. Not wasting time, he brought his serpent up to underneath the Apothecary’s chin and fired. The laser-pulse tore through the fibre-bundles and bit into the flesh beneath, consuming the skin of muscle. Veptus fired his jump-pack again, rocketing up briefly. He pushed the twitching body off of his sword, letting it fall to the earth beneath him. He killed his jump pack a moment later, falling to land on top of the Apothecary’s face down corpse as the man vials he carried smashed and bled into the soil. As he came up from landing, another Raven Guard with a bolter ran at him. His sword licked out and tore out his entrails. The Astarte doubled over before Veptus drove his sword into the man’s brain pan. Quickly he moved on, anxious to keep pace with Xandrek and keep the blood flowing…
 
#138 ·
Var watched the lone crimson glimmer of light as it rose high above the sea of Space Marines before him. Everything else seemed to fall silent as Var took the precious moment of relative calm to simply enjoy the beauty of that flickering light, high up in the sky. But then, that peace was shattered by a deafening cacophony of death as the roared orders to open fire echoed through the vox networks and the entirety of four Space Marine legions opened fire all at once.

The noise was indescribable, and as Var watched the loyalist Adeptus Astartes who were surging towards the newly arrived “re-enforcements” get slaughtered, he leant his head back and laughed, although the sick grating bark that came from his mouth was lost in the sheer roar of the battle all around him. A fine mist seemed to have settled on the Loyalist legions as their battle-brothers were reduced to nothing but flesh and clouds of blood.

Despite the death all around him, Var couldn’t help but marvel at the speed that the remaining loyalists adapted to this new threat and formed battle lines against their newly arrived brothers. With the order from Xandrek still echoing in his ear, Var’s jump-pack roared into life as he leapt into the air, his newly repaired “tail” already twitching with anticipation for the blood it would soon spill. Var knew that all around him other members of the Night Lords were also taking to the air to bring the fight to the Raven Guard before them.

Var hovered for a brief moment above the battle before plunging towards the ground. Disengaging his jump pack just before he hit the ground, Var slammed into the ground, his sheer weight throwing up clouds of black sand as he left a crater in the ground. Taking advantage of the clouds of sand all around him, Var quickly straightened up and, with a simple flick, drove his Power Axe’s blade into the side of the nearest Raven Guard’s helmet. Never knowing what hit him, the Raven Guard fell to the ground, the top half of his head, still encased within the helmet that had offered no protection against the glowing weapon in Var’s hands, slid away. Continuing with his swing, Var struck the chest of a Raven Guard that had burst through the rapidly disappearing loud of sand around the Techmarine. Satisfied by the crunch of contact and the thud of a body hitting the ground, Var took a moment to look around.

Even as a third Raven Guard raised his Plasma Gun to target Var, two Night Lord Raptors dropped from the sky and all but tore the loyalist Space Marine apart with their lightning claws before launching into the air once more, leaving nothing but a mangled mess in their wake. Yet even as Var watched on, the same two Raptors were blown from the sky by heavy-calibre shells fired from the ground. Quickly targeting the new threat, Var spotted the auto-cannon wielding Raven Guard responsible. Even as he watched, the Space Marine released another burst of focussed fire, and another Night Lord fell to the ground, his screams abruptly cut short when he crunched into the ground.

Setting off towards the auto-cannon wielder, Var broke into a run. Year of constant training and killing taking over his body, Var dropped his shoulder as he slammed into the back of a member of the Raven Guard, sending the Space Marine sprawling to the sand, where he subsequently silenced by a Bolter Shell through the head by an unknown Night Lord nearby. Not breaking his stride, Var sprinted through the ranks of the Raven Guard towards his desired target. Too late the Raven Guard spotted the rapidly approaching Var. Turning his weapon towards the Techmarine, attempting to bring his heavy weapon to bear, Var was quicker. With one swing of his Power Axe, Var sliced the autocannon’s barrel in half. Dropping his now-useless weapon, the Raven Guard had no time to react as Var slammed his head into the face of his opponent, the impact crumpling the helmet. Even as the Raven Guard bellowed words of bloody vengeance and treachery, Var’s servo-arms tore open the chest-plate of the Space Marine, exposing his heaving chest to the open air. With only a split-second hesitation, to savour the glorious moment, Var’s tail plunged downwards, easily tearing through the flesh and muscle , and even punching through the membrane within the Astartes to protect his vital organs, before puncturing the Space Marines heart. Not yet satisfied, Var pulled his tail back, crimson blood spurting from the fresh wound and covering Var’s face with bitter, hot ichor. Striking again, Var cut deep once more and sliced through the Raven Guard’s second heart, hidden as it was in his right side.

Finally silenced, Var let the corpse drop to the ground with disgust. Flesh was so weak, so vulnerable. Only the machine would prevail.

Even as Var thought that, he felt the sand beneath him shift and smiled. It seemed that those most “honoured” of the Night Lords would soon be joining the field of battle. When Dreadnoughts walked, men and alien died in their droves.

With the thirst for death coursing through him, Var laughed once more before charging the nearest Raven Guard, roaring a war-cry that only he could hear and swinging his Power Axe.
 
#139 ·
Azrael: Xandrek stares at you with the helmet of the Raven Guard captain now attached to one of the rusted and blood stained chains at his waist for several moments before he levels his sword at you. "I will deal with you later Azrael, you will not be getting off lightly so hope that you can find your death on his field before you deal with me." With that Xandrek was off on the move again with Veptus at his side as he activates his jump pack and goes deeper into the melee slamming in amidst a group of Raven Guard marines trying to bring their auto-cannons to bare where his and Veptus's blades flick out taking off arms at the elbows, opening up throats and severing legs at the knee. How do you react to Xandrek's words and what kind of punishment do you think you will face? Will you be joining those 'brothers' with crimson gauntlets? Will you be replaced after Xandrek has flayed you alive and fired you from an air lock or knowing Xandrek has he got another punishment in mind? You then decide to set off after Xandrek as it is likely he will be in the deepest and heaviest fighting of all of Fourth Company and there is a good chance that you can keep him alive and perhaps find your death before he has a chance to punish you. (You may kill up to another four Raven Guard in your post, so feel free to describe it how you want.)

Veptus: After igniting your jump pack you land next to Xandrek and catch the entire of his short one sided conversation with Azrael (See Azrael's update above.) before the Xandrek jerks his head at you for you to follow as he guns his jump pack once again sending him hurtling into the sky once more where as you join him you catch another glimpse of the larger battle and see that while the Raven Guard, Salamanders and Iron Hands are being slaughtered they are trying to take down as many of their traitorous brothers as they can while fighting a fighting retreat back to their own transports, you also managed to catch a glimpse in the distance of a amethyst armoured white haired Demi-God battling his onyx armoured 'Brother' before you land next to Xandrek and seven members of the 'Night Raptors', Sergeant Xheng's assault squad where you can see Xheng himself slam his lightning claws into the gorget of this squads sergeant. You have landed admits a squad of Raven Guard heavy weapon specialists who are all wielding Auto and Las-Cannons which they are hastily trying to bring to bare on you, Xandrek and the others but before they can between you and Xandrek you manage to bring down a total of eight of them by aiming for arms, throats and knee's. (Describe how you bring down four of the Raven Guard, killing or maiming is your choice.)

Var: The marine you charge towards dies before you even have the chance to get within range as he is literally cut in half by a scream of heavy caliber shells as the shaking of the ground under your feet increases and you recognize the shells as 'Kheres' pattern assault cannon shells as Brother Shen charges past you and deeper into the melee with his oversized power-fist sending raven guard flying into the air or pulping them to a red smear. You half turn to see the other nine members of Fourth Companies 'Honored' brethren come stomping towards the battle, all sealed within the 'Contemptor' pattern dreadnought bodies they all sport a manner of different ranged weaponry though all have their right 'arms' replaced either with a massive lightning claw, fist or siege-hammer that they are using to great affect against any marine that comes too close. One of them approaching stops next to you and looks down at you as they tower easily twice the height of a marine: "Tech-Marine Var, an honour to fight beside you once more." if you could you probably would of smiled as you see the name: Brother-Sergeant Eck'Lius on the front of his coffin, one of only thee night lords of fourth not to have red painted gauntlets. (Decide how you are going to reply then you may go and kill up to four Raven Guard how you wish.)

Tyberus: You manage to fight your way closer to where you last saw the Captain and are in time to see him decapitate the Captain of the 34th with a backhand swing before having a short conversation with Azrael before setting off with Veptus deeper into the melee where the two of them crash into a group of auto-cannon wielding Raven Guard where they set about a bloody slaughter as the legionaries struggle to bring their heavy weapons to bare in such close quarters before you then lose sight of the Captain and Corpse-Master again as though you can see the rise and fall of Xandrek's blade above the press of bodies. As you fight your way towards them Raskreia is following you and you and then shortly joined by brother Shen, the latest of Fourth Companies Dreadnoughts slams into a knot of Raven Guard infront of you with his massively oversized powerful pulping 19th legionaries and sending their corpses flying into the air as his Kheres assault cannon chews up black armoured bodies and the ground alike. (You can kill up to another four Raven Guard how you wish as you make your way to Xandrek.)

Pelegon: The Raven Guard who watched you break the banner lunged slamming into your midriff and sending you both crashing down into the mud where the both of you roll about for a few moments using what ever you have in your hands to strike at each other, for the Raven Guard it is the stock of his bolter as his chainsword is sheathed at his waist and for you it is the broken shaft of the banner now with a sharpened edge perfect for the weak points in the armour of an Astartes. Dispatching the legionary you are hauled to your feet by Chief-Librarian Sevestus who nods his head in greeting to you before thrusting the point of his staff out towards a tech-marine of the 19th legion sending a bolt of psychic lightning slamming into his chest with enough force that the Tech-Marine simply explodes into goblets of flesh, bone and metal. Turning back to Xandrek, Veptus and Azrael you are just in time to see Xandrek dispatch Raven Guard Captain by decapitating him and then founding on Azrael who managed to throw what appears to be a still living Raven Guard Company Champion at your feet and is now dealing with the ire of his captain. The Champion then surges to his feet and impales Sevestus on his lightning claws before turning his attention to you as the Chief Librarian slides down to his knee's and collapses.

Raskreia: OOC: You still need to post for the previous update Seraph.

Serhiy: "Burn....Them." Was the only reply you get back from Sergeant Phalx who had been a destroyer so long, having joined them when he was first recruited back on Terra that most of his organs had been replaced with bionic ones and his vocal cords and vox unit so ruined that he spoke even more haltingly than yourself and those he led. At his order he motions to his squad who throw grenades deeper into the melee before un-slinging flamers and hand-flamers before depressing triggers and sending toxic green flames into a mass of oncoming Raven Guard which reduces their armour to a half liquefied mess while leaving the still dying warriors inside their armour screaming in agony. Phalx then nods for you to join the Destroyers of 10th Claw adding yourself to their group display before activating his jump pack and setting off deeper into the battle with his destroyers at his side. (You may kill up to 4 Raven Guard in your post, so be as descriptive as you like.)
 
#140 · (Edited)
The Raven Guard legionary slammed into Pelegon with the force of a freight train, the ground meeting the Olympian's back with an equal impact. He kept his grip on the two halves of the flagpole, jabbing them into the other marine's side. Unfortunately, his stabs were not calculated, and scraped harmlessly of the black-armoured legionnaire's flanks. Meanwhile, he was slamming the butt of his bolter into Pelegon's helmet. The armour was comfortably absorbing it, and the marine, whether in fury or stupidity, was hitting the Olympian's forehead rather than his faceplate. He had forgotten to try to pin Pelegon's arms to the ground using his knees, leaving them free to move; a mistake that the Iron Warrior would not have made. He reached up with both hands and wrapped them around the Raven Guard's helmet, establishing as firm a grip as he could; his left around the beak, and his right behind the head.

The neck of an astartes, made of bones harder than ceramite and muscle stronger than steel cable, was not the easiest thing to break - but in this regard, the Iron Warrior was assisted by his own excessive strength and the strange shape of the Mk. VI's beak. It served as a good handle, and the Iron Warrior gave a well-practiced 120-degree twist and pull, dislocating his opponent's neck in a single smooth motion. The marine went limp and collapsed, to the last unaware of the mistake he had made in his rushed attack, and the Iron Warrior put both hands under his shoulders and shoved him off; as he did this, a hand grabbed him by his armoured gorget and hauled him to his feet. A moment later Pelegon found himself eye-to-eye with their librarian, Sevestus, who greeted him with a nod before obliterating a Raven Guard techmarine, who collapsed into a pile of molten slag.

Pelegon bore him no ill-will for their altercation earlier, and was wary of the librarian for the power he had just exhibited - the psychic energy caused Pelegon's teeth to ache, and his mouth filled with the taste of iron as the blood began to pump in excess round his tongue and gums. At this, he remembered the squad he was now a member of, and checked his HUD; Xandrek had briefly had an accelerated heart rate, but now it was dropping...the blood pressure, however, was not. Their Captain was not exerted, but he was angry - and at that moment, Pelegon realised why, seeing their champion, Azrael, staring at the retreating back of a Raven Guard whose claws and honourifics marked him as a champion - or at least the champion was retreating from Azrael. He was advancing toward Pelegon and Sevestus.

With chainglaive in hand, the Iron Warrior lunged forward at the Raven Guard, attempting an impaling stab with the chainglaive, coming up from below. Sevestus synchronised his attack with his staff, swinging it down from above, but the champion evaded the librarian's blow while catching the shaft of Pelegon's glaive between his claws. The Iron Warrior realised that the weapon was lost, and released his grip barely a second before it was sliced apart - unsure what to do, he stepped back. Unfortunately, during this lull, the champion, recognising the librarian for the threat he was, stepped forward and ran both claws into Sevetus' chest. The librarian collapsed bonelessly, and the flatline on Pelegon's HUD indicated that both hearts had been impaled - the Iron Warrior realised the mistake that he had made by relenting his attack, and hurled himself forward at the champion, who again sidestepped the attack, moving like a liquid. Pelegon landed on his chest, but ducked his head between his shoulders and rolled, coming up on his feet beside Sevetus' body, kicking up a deal of sand in the process. Now he was disarmed and facing a much more dangerous opponent. He needed to buy time.

"At last, a son of Corax who has the strength and courage to attack from the front" Pelegon grated, his voice a guttural, barely human rumble. He was doing his best to suppress his anger, and it was working, but at some toll to his ability to concentrate. The loss of the chainglaive irritated him; to go for so aggressive an attack without knowing his opponent's strength had been foolish.

"Our standard bearer was brother Laridus. He fought by my captain's side bravely for more than a hundred years, and did not deserve the death that you gave him" the champion responded, his tone flat and emotionless. If he was trying to use guilt, it wasn't working.

"Your standard bearer died trying to save his hide from my meltagun" Pelegon sneered, and kicked the head of Sevestus' fallen stave. The weapon flipped up, and the Iron Warrior caught it in his right hand, snatching it out of the air. He had no ability to use it as a psy-focus, but it had a power field around its head and haft, which would mean that at least it would stand up to the champion's claws better than the chainglaive had.

The two began to circle each other, the Iron Warrior cocking his head to the side as he analysed the Raven Guard's stance, and the way his claws were absolutely stock-still. He wouldn't have time to draw his meltagun and fire - which removed the easy way out as an option. He would use the staff to block incoming attacks until he had gap-closed, then try to get the champion in a grapple. That, he knew, he had a decent chance of winning. All sons of Olympia knew how to wrestle, and he was willing to bet that the sons of Deliverance did not indulge in such an activity. Perhaps they chalked it up to being too brutish for their tastes.

"Why does an Olympian fight among a company of thieves and backstabbers?" the champion asked, and dived forward, his claws crackling. Pelegon stepped to the side, swinging the stave, and missed. The two returned to their circling, and the Iron Warrior could feel the champion's eyes burning into his even through his helmet's visor.

"Backstabbers? A rich accusation, coming from you. I fight because I was ordered to the ranks of the VIIIth. What is your name, crow? I want another term for you beside the shit I'll be scraping off my armour later"

"Nirantius" the black-armoured marine responded, his voice low and cool, not rising to the bait "we fight with more honour than you ever could. I have the courage to look my foe in the eye as I end him. I feel their breath on my face, their blood on my hands. I do not cower in a trench and order bombardments from afar. Never hold yourself above me, Iron Warrior"

"Then tell me this..." Pelegon responded. He had a plan now, a formula for an attack. It would either work, or see him dead. In any case, now he would crush the life out of the pathetic crow. The field on which they fought was strewn with boulders, and just such a one would serve to give him the edge that he needed. "How do you look your foe in the eye while plunging a blade into his back?"

With those words, the Iron Warrior advanced, holding the staff high. When within distance, he swung it down, and Nirantius, as expected, raised one claw to deflect it, while lunging at Pelegon's abdomen with the other. Contrary to what the Raven Guard would have expected, the Iron Warrior stepped forward right into the attack, thrusting his hip to the side so that the claw would skitter off the armour there. While doing so, he swept out his other leg, right under the other marine's feet, with the intention of knocking him down. Nirantius staggered, but managed to keep his balance, but that crucial half-second of defenselessness was all that Pelegon needed. Dropping the staff, the Iron Warrior grabbed the marine and grabbed him in a bear hug, pinning his elbows to his side. Nirantius struggled, but Pelegon tensed his muscles with all his strength, his hands meeting behind the small of Nirantius' back and locking themselves in.

Pelegon picked up the Raven Guard, who now kicked and struggled with all his might, but failed to dislodge him. He could feel the servos in his armour straining to keep up with his own muscles, but the readings from his armour did not reach worrying levels. Nirantius engaged his jump-pack, trying to fly away, but built as it was for the lighter Mk VI, it had no chance of lifting both himself and the monstrously-armoured Iron Warrior. Pelegon felt the weight get lifted from his heels with each thrust, but managed to push forward regardless, walking toward the nearest boulder that he judged to be of adequate size. It was only a few metres distant, and though he could not see where he was going, with Nirantius' midriff blocking his vision, his armour's siege-auspex told him when he had reached it, and pushed Nirantius' back into the rock.

"Now, Nirantius" Pelegon grunted, and gave a little wriggle with his shoulders "I'm not holding myself above you. It's the other way round"

With that, Pelegon stepped back, and then drove himself forward, slamming Nirantius into the rock as hard as he could, making sure to swing him what little he could to get as much momentum as possible behind the motion. He felt the thudding impact through the Raven Guard's body and armour, but without a moment's hesitation stepped back and forward, smashing Nirantius against the rock again. The Raven Guard realised what was going on, and his efforts to free himself redoubled, but to no avail. He simply could not free himself from the grip of the much stronger Pelegon, who had him exactly where he wanted. The Iron Warrior beat Nirantius against the wall over and over again, and felt as the other marine's armour began to crack under the impact. The jump pack loosened, then eventually came off altogether, falling into the dirt with a thud - Pelegon kicked it away and kept going, neither slowing nor relenting.

Silent and intractable, like a titan of ancient Terran legend pounding a city into the dust, Pelegon broke Nirantius apart. Warm liquid began to run over his arms, and the Raven Guard's struggling weakened, and Pelegon became aware that the formerly intact midriff armour was now covered in a web of cracks. After what felt like only a handful of seconds, but had been, in fact, nearing on three minutes, Pelegon judged that that was enough, and then continued, counting another twenty impacts. By this point, Nirantius was decidedly deformable and soft in his grip, a bleeding bag of broken bones and ceramite shards loosely held together by the tattered remains of his black carapace. Pelegon dropped him, and the Raven Guard slid down the rock, no longer able to move. His breath was a blood-moistened rattle that caught in the shattered remains of his throat. His helmet had survived the worst of the damage, and the Iron Warrior wrenched it off, looking Nirantius in the eye. His face was a mess of bruises, his nose broken and one eye so badly swollen he could no longer see out of it. Pelegon leaned forward, towering over the sitting marine and backhanded him across the jaw; with a pop his mandible came loose. The Iron Warrior changed his pose, grabbing a handhold in the pitted surface of the boulder in his right hand, and Nirantius in the left, and began to climb.

The boulder was some fifteen feet high, flatter on top, and the Iron Warrior dragged his way up with little difficulty, in spite of the weight of the near-dead marine and his own huge jump-pack. Nirantius was a limbless heap, leaving a long blood streak on the rock behind him where he hit hit. When the Iron Warrior reached the top, he surveyed the hectic battle - he would be a prime target up here, but it was no matter. Nirantius would serve as an example to all. He pulled one of the melta-bombs from his belt, along with a mag-lock from one of the spares he kept there, and fit one to the other, and then primed the deadly explosive.

"Get up" he snarled, and with one arm hauled Nirantius to his feet, holding him up by the collar. He leaned forward, the brutally sloping helmet touching the champion's shattered nose, and breathed out like a bull, the condensation visible in the air.

"I will look you in the eye, Nirantius" Pelegon continued, and with his left hand he clamped the melta-bomb onto Nirantius' midriff. By this point, the Iron Warrior was completely holding him up "I'm giving you a death standing on your feet. Consider it an honour, as you seem unable to do it yourself. Is this cowering in a trench, Nirantius? We are the IVth. We are strength, we are will made manifest. We are Iron!"

The champion opened his broken mouth, trying to reply, but before he could so much as begin to vocalise his thoughts, Pelegon shoved him back as hard as he could. The other marine began to collapse, and Pelegon kicked as hard as he could, planting his foot in Nirantius' midriff. The Raven Guard flew back, and made it four feet away from the boulder before the meltabomb exploded, obliterating him in a superheated blast. Of Nirantius, there remained only a broken jump-pack and a lot of dried blood. Pelegon felt his fingers curling into fists as he realised that he needed something more to kill, and drawing his meltagun, hurled himself back into the fray, intending to reconvene with Xandrek and the rest of the First.
 
#141 ·
Xandrek was lost ahead in the press of bodies, busy practicing his deadly craft. Veptus gunned his jump pack, his sword slicing diagonally through the helmet of a nearby Raven Guard as he took off. Only a short burst was needed to make it over the thronging masses killing one another and reach Xandrek. Veptus had anticipated landing in the middle of a furious melee with Azrael and Xandrek taking lives with every swing of their blades. Instead he found a comparative lull, and Xandrek pointing his blade at Azrael.
"I will deal with you later Azrael, you will not be getting off lightly so hope that you can find your death on his field before you deal with me." Xandrek turned away from them ad Veptus glanced sideways at his Terran brother.
“What have you done?” His tone came out harsh over the melee, but there was a heavy note of sadness in it.

However, the roar of Xandrek’s jump pack told him that the time for talking was over. What time they might have had had been squandered already and they had many hours of killing to get back to. He hoped that he would not have to stand over Azrael and visit Xandrek’s punishment on him. Azrael was one of the few Night Lords he could trust, and that was a rare thing in the VIIIth Legion. As Veptus rose up in a parabola behind Xandrek, he took in the sights, hit volkite raining down on those below. In the distances two demi-gods, one glade in shimmering amethyst and the other in blackened iron, moving in murderous blurs of motions that he could not follow. There was the rise and fall of a silver shard, whir of a golden block, but more than that he could not tell. For certain though, it was a combat only one would survive. Perhaps neither if the day continued on its course.

Veptus briefly wondered where his father might be, but daren’t look to catch a glimpse of a flying shadow in case he caught the murderous attention of the wrong bird. He wanted to keep his power sword at the ready, but as he descended after his captain Veptus drew his plasma pistol. In a syncopated succession of thuds, Xandrek, he and other members of the First Claw landed with Xheng’s Raptors, who were bust disembowelling the closest Raven Guard squad. By Terra this was a massacre. There was no reprieve in any corner. He imagined the Iron Warriors sitting safe in their bunkers and wondered if they missed the feeling of the blood running between their fingers, the rush of adrenaline and the cries of exhaustion as men too tired to go on fought to stay alive.

His closest quarry was a quartet in black, each either with an autocannon or a lascannon in various stages of readiness. Veptus’ plasma pistol was up in and instant, blasting into the barrel of one almost shouldered lascannon. The bolt of plasma bored right through and ate away the Astarte’s shoulder. As soon as he had fired, Veptus was moving. An autocannon was moving to fire on him, the man behind it already depressing the trigger so that the first bolts ate only earth. Veptus closed the distance fast and took the end of the barrel off with a flick of his sword. Another few bolts fired blindly into the sky, exploding the shortened barrel and ricocheting in unpredictable directions. He went so slash as the man wielding it, but his opponent brought up the now useless weapon to block the strike.

Veptus’ sword bit deep into the body of the gun, and then became stuck fast. The Raven Guard hurled Veptus around, forcing him to let go of his power sword and stumble backwards. The Raven guard fought to free the stolen weapon from his gun. Veptus went to charge him when another swung at him with a chainsword. He side-stepped one blow and ducked under another. The Night Lord delivered a right hook into his opponent’s side. Although it only winded him, a moment later the Carnifex from his Narthecium sprung into life and tore through the fibre bundles and soft flesh beneath. With a savage yank, Veptus pulled the adamantium piston through flesh and fibre, causing a deep red gash in his opponent’s side. An instant later a scalpel was in his hand and he drew it across his opponent’s throat, leaving the marine to collapse and bleed out on the black sands.

The other lascannon wielding marine had finally got his gun to bear and would have fired it if Veptus had not blown his legs out from under him with his plasma pistol. The XIXth legionnaire dropped to the floor. A moment later Veptus kicked his head with such force that he was certain he heard the vertebrae in the Astarte’s neck snap and the body went slack, either paralysed or dead. The one-armed Astarte came at him with his combat blade in a clumsy swing. Veptus turned the blow aside, embraced him and stabbed him in the side with his scalpel. Again and again the razor sharp metal bit through flesh and muscle, causing him to bleed profusely. When his fury was expended, Veptus brought his fist up against the man’s head and sent his Carnifex into his brain.

Veptus ended his deathly embrace and heard the sound of a power field being activated. Veptus turned. The Raven Guard had finally dislodged Veptus’ sword from his gun. “That’s mine.” Veptus growled. The son of Corax barked a harsh laugh.
“Oh really, traitor…” The words were practically spat as the two circled each other. “…then come claim it.”
“Fine.” Veptus said, his voice still its odd sing-song. The raven guard came at him with an admirable opening strike that Veptus would have been hard-pressed to block or counter, even if he had a blade.

So he shot him. It was a draw shot that was barely aimed on anything other than instinct, but it still tore away a good chunk of the man’s side and caused his strike to falter. Not wasting a moment Veptus kicked the man’s left shin with such force that it buckled underneath him. The pain in his side and suddenly being off balance caused the Raven Guard to falter and fall. He stamped on the Astarte’s neck and held his foot there, compressing what was likely and already fractured wind-pipe. “Shhhh…” Veptus cooed, stooping down in the little centre of serenity he had created in this maelstrom. His Narthecium gently pressed into the base of the Raven Guard’s brain-stem. “…be at peace.” And so he was. Veptus quickly gathered his sword and looked for Xandrek. He did not want to find himself apart from his captain when he needed him…
 
#142 ·
The horribly distorted voice retorted in turn. It was somewhat funny listening to the undoubtedly ancient Destroyer marine speak. He was likely held up by nothing more than sheer willpower and hatred at this point; Serhiy couldn't help but wonder what human bits of the Sergeant remained. The entire claw produced grenades and flamers geared towards the same sickly art that he so thoroughly indulged and belched death. Within a moment his own view of the 1st Claw subsided into the background still present but not nearly as much as that within 10th Claw. He did note that at the moment Xandrek seemed particularly perturbed although at what he could only speculate. Undoubtedly he would know when a Night Lord didn't return or only returned with some of their extremities intact.

The thought subsided and Serhiy depressed the trigger on his own flamer and the slight spray shot out just before the pilot light caught it and belched outward joining in the destruction of the 10th brought. Within scant moments he was airborne and baring witness to the entire bloody scene. In the distance he thought he caught a glimpse of two warriors separate from the entire conflict. Two Gods only visible in their stark contrast to their surroundings seemingly locked within a bubble at a higher speed than the rest of the scene. They had to be Primarchs, fathers of their respective families bloated with such power that he only could fantasize about. He could see the monstrous Titans looming on the horizon like ominous harbingers of untold destruction. They were colossal beings and a special place in his heart was held for those machines that brought the destructive force of most of a legion to bare in a single terrifying entity. And then his attention came back to the ground where they were landing. He found his weighty frame landing directly onto a scout marine. The poor soul could likely not understand the immense gravity of the battle he was locked in and what the outcome would mean and now he would never be able to share his story.

The marine crunched underneath him as the less robust scout armor buckled and crumpled under the blow and a magnificent fountain of blood involuntarily shot skyward from the marine's now bloody maw. He stomped the marine's abdomen again, and again, chuckling in the same grating distorted garble as the marine spat blood like a squirt gun until he didn't move anymore and a twang announced the presence of another scout trying to save and then avenge his brother's death but the lack of armament did little to help the Neophyte's cause. With superhuman reflexes his left arm shot out grabbing the armored chest piece of the scout; he was still laughing. The collar proved a capable handle and at once the scout was airborne being pulled towards the Destroyer like a catapult to have his soft unprotected face meet the brunt of the Mark III helmet pulling back revealing a face little more than hamburger but still breathing. Seeing the likely last two scouts from the group he cast the soul at them like a ragdoll watching the others try to dodge or catch their dying comrade which only eased his intent as he brought the flamer to bare and bathed the unsealed scouts in toxic fire. By now his chuckling had become a maddened laughter with the likeness of an unoiled machine screaming as it's metal parts scraped against each other only matched by the screams of the charring scouts as they became little more than black husks. He moved to join the 10th only to fall face first into the soil. He couldn't hear it; how could he over the noise where cannons the size of cities thundered forth. He couldn't be certain but judging by the fact that his left knee screamed in pain could only tell that a scout had used the precise sniper rifle to plant a round in the back of his knee cap. He felt it move so thankfully it was fired from a higher angle and moved down through his calve instead of blowing the knee cap out fully but it caused him agony for the moment.

Pain suppressants flooded through his system and he found himself numbed to the gunshot and climbed back up and kept moving. There was no second shot thankfully meaning either the scout was dead or moved onto other targets. He moved with a limp which meant little to the already slow lumbering speeds of the 10th Claw but that made it no less annoying.
 
#143 ·
“What have you done?”

Veptus’ tone was harsh over the combat and I laughed bitterly. “I didn’t strike down the Raven Guard Champion when I had the chance, because I owed him a life debt older than you brother. Now I will face Xandrek’s judgement on my crime. I hope only that the punishment will leave me with the ability to continue with my duties.”

Then combat snatched away any chance to continue the conversation as Xandrek’s jump pack launched him into the sky. Veptus followed closely after the captain, both of them landing amidst the Raven Guard some distance away. I didn’t follow, instead standing in the open space that remained. Night Lords surged around me, pressing deeper into the Raven Guard forces. I knew that I wouldn’t be returning from Xandrek’s punishment the same man that went into it, but then again the Azrael I once was died when we turned on the Imperium.

It all seemed so hopeless then, so pointless. I had no wish to fight in this war, doing so only because I was loyal to Xandrek. But did he deserve my loyalty? I had followed him for decades, but little I had seen truly explained my previously unwavering loyalty.

I was so tired. So weary of the struggle, the struggle to keep who I was amid the bloodthirsty savages that were my brothers. There were those who I respected and even liked. Xandrek, Raskreia, Veptus. But my legion was sick. It was a sickness that had been spreading ever since we found Curze and began taking recruits from Nostramo. That planet had corrupted my Father and my brothers, corrupted them beyond salvation. So many of them were twisted and vile, people who delighted in cruelty and revelled in blood lust. I sometimes wonder if it would’ve been better had we simply destroyed Nostramo when we first arrived in orbit. Maybe then we would’ve remained as the proud legion we once were, instead of what we became.

I was to be punished and the punishment would be a cruel one. It would be painful and long. I was being punished because I spared the man who saved my life one hundred and seventy years before.

It was a simpler galaxy then. We knew who our enemies were; we knew why we were fighting. Now? Now everything is blurred. I no longer know on which side of the line I stand, whether I am right or wrong. During that time we were told we were fighting for a cause. That we were fighting because the Emperor couldn’t be trusted to lead Humanity. But look what became of us, of all those who fought in the Heresy for Horus.

Horus died to the Emperor and his legion fled to the Eye of Terror, painting their armour black in mourning and sallying out against the Imperium occasionally in an attempt to finish what was started on Isstvan and ended on my home world. On Terra itself. Each time they are thrown back by the people they declare weak and incapable of defeating us.

Lorgar and his ilk would see all of reality condemned to madness and corruption, I often wonder if our father made a mistake saving him from the claws of the Raven. They sacrifice everything they once held dear for the power granted by fickle gods, gods that care naught for the struggles of mortals and watch us only for their own amusement

Angron and his World Eaters are now berserkers in truth. There is no sanity left in them, only the rage and the desire to kill, maim and burn everyone in their way. They led their Dominion of Fire across the stars and struck the Imperium in the first war for that planet they call Armageddon, but both times they failed. In their desire for what they believed to be power, they sacrificed that which made them great

Magnus is now far more powerful than he ever was before, despite the interference of the Son of Russ known as Ragnar, but his legion is broken. Save for a few, his once proud marines are nothing but dust in ancient armour. All the power at his command couldn’t save his Thousand Sons.

Mortarion and his legion are nothing but bloated plague carriers now. Festering husks filled with disease. Everything that made them who they once were is gone, replaced by the ‘benedictions’ of Nurgle.

Perturabo cowers on Medrengard and his Iron Warriors do so with him. They hide in their fortresses of black steel and stone and call themselves masters of the siege while practising their skills on each other.

Alpharius vanished and his Alpha Warriors did so with him. They wreak havoc throughout the Imperium, infiltrating its worlds and its infrastructure and tearing them apart from within. But they fear to face the Imperium in open warfare and flee when danger threatens.

Fulgrim and his legion are now a mockery of what they were before. They yearned for perfection once, a noble if unattainable goal. Now they revel in excess, uncaring of all they once strove for. Fulgrim was once called the Pheonician in remberance for how his legion rose from the ashes but now they have willingly returned to them once again.

Curze is dead, the Night Lords are broken. We haven’t been a legion in a long time. We are a motley collection of war bands, led by men who once called themselves captain but now demand to be addressed as lord. These men who call themselves lord fear each other to the point where they always stand alone. They stand alone, they fight alone and they die alone.

These are the names that once made the whole galaxy tremble. Some of us were praised by the people we met, greeted as heroes and saviours. Others received respect, viewed as conquerors. Now we are demons in the night, terrors that haunt the dreams of Humanity

How far we’ve fallen.

More and more often as of late I find myself thinking that it would be better if I just put my pistol to the side of my head and pulled the trigger. But no. My debt to Xandrek is paid in full and I would have my death mean something more than my life did.

On that dark day however I followed my captain into the thick of it once again. I cut down two men without breaking stride, but lost my left forearm to the third when he opened fire with a plasma rifle at point blank range. My power sword sliced the weapon in two even as my arm was incinerated and the Raven Guard screamed as the gun exploded, bathing him in incandescent blue.

I was in agony from the lost arm, but I refused to cry out. I knew I had far worse to look forward to when Xandrek punished me for my actions. Still, it dazed me for a few seconds and gave a fourth Raven Guard time to leap at me, firing several shots with his bolt pistol and swinging with his Chainsword, only for me to duck out of the way.

He too fell to my blade, recovering too slow from his wild attack to stop it plunging into his throat and out the other side. I ripped the blade free in a spurt of blood and drove deeper into the chaos.
 
#144 ·
The ground shook as the trampling Brother Shen tore past Tyberus, pressing into the lines of Raven Guard that tried to stand their ground and fight back the monstrous Contemptor Dreadnought. The massive power fist wreathed in crackling white and purple energies crushing and sundering Raven Guard as they rushed towards his armored form, their bolt rounds panging off harmlessly as he tore those close enough to him into pieces. The rapid thud of Shen's Kheres assault cannon echoed over the immediate surroundings, but were still somehow lost into the background noise of the awe inspiring conflict they waded further into.

"Take flight and rain terror onto them Brother Tyberus!!" The heavily digitized voice of Shen erupted over the vox, so loud and grating that it was almost painful to Tyberus' ears, but he did as ordered and fired his jet pack, bursting off of the ground and again he was able to look out onto the battlefield in its greater expanse, it was breathtaking and incredible, the flares of gunfire and screams of war as far as his eyes could see. Firing his thrusters again, he careened down into the midst of the Raven Guard that were advancing onto the position of Raskreia, some 15 or 20 meters ahead of where the banner of the 4th Company fluttered in the wind.

His power maul struck the ground with the concentrated force of a meteor, the shockwaves of the power field that the weapon created seemingly caught the advancing tactical squad offguard. Tyberus quickly scanned the squad, assessing them in the order in which he would need to dispatch of them, a Raven Legionaire wielding a meltagun quickly jump to the front of the pack in his mind. Fluidly he brought his maul back up, the Legionaire was trying to bring his gun up in order to fire off the shot that would turn the Night Lord into super heated pulp. Tyberus unusually powerful build however allowed him to wield the maul with surprising speed and accuracy, he wondered how wide the eyes were of his foe when he brought his maul crashing down into the meltagun, the weapon shattering like glass upon impact, the Raven Guard's hands disappeared in a gush of gore and crackling energies. The stroke of the weapon carried through on a downward trajerctory and the power maul continued on its destructive path, striking the Legionaire in the groin. The shriek that emerged from the Legionaire was reminiscent to Tyberus of the cries and screams of Nostramon women in the slum hive cities as they were murdered or raped. The sickening thought made Tyberus grin wildly, hidden by his helmet, tearing his weapon back from the ruined form of the doubled over Raven Guard and stomping on his neck after he hit the ground.

The crunch underfoot of the meltagun Legionaire's neck was audible to all within striking distance of Tyberus. Planting off of the dead Legionaire's neck Tyberus swung his maul around, bringing the weapon up and striking home under the jaw of a Raven Guard who had stowed his bolter and drawn a chain sword. The maul took the Legionaire's head clean off, leaving his body to fall asunder to the dirt.

Finding himself in a rather off balance position from the upward strike Tyberus quickly drew his stormbolter and unleashed a salvo into a Raven Guard that stood just out of melee range. The thudding, alternating barrage of the stormbolter took its toll as huge chunks of ceramite were gouged out of the Raven Guard's armor. When he was pushed back by the storm bolter the Legionaire tried desperately to bring his own bolter up, but at such short range the Stormbolter continued to chew into the armor until each resounding thud was no longer met with the 'shunk' sound of hitting ceramite and instead the bolt rounds made a wet slapping noise as they tore into the flesh of the Raven Guard Legionaire. The sheer volume of bolt rounds almost instantly took him down and Tyberus' arrogant laugh was the last thing the Raven Guard would hear before his world went black.

Bounding in to support what was likely his squad, a Raven Guard warrior wielding dual lightning claws emerged, sprinting, pushing his way past several Brothers to meet the power maul wielding traitor. The lighting clawed warrior was quick, even by Astartes standards. The distance he closed was incredible and at the last Tyberus was able to stow his stormbolter and take up his power maul with two hands to block the two handed downward slash the Raven Guard attempted. The smell of burning metal and ceramite could be picked up through his rebreather grille as the very tips of the Raven Guard's claws dug into the lower section of his reinforced MK III helm, his gorget also bore the claw marks of the Raven Guard. With a mighty shove he pushed the Raven Guard back, and the battle seemed to flow around them as the Raven Guard gave way to what appeared to be a Veteran Sergeant, allowing him to dispose of his Night Lord foe in one on one combat. "Whatever your name is beast of Kurze, you shall be remembered as nothing more than a traitor who's life was taken at the hands of Sergeant Atilia, Loyal to the Emperor!" The name was of no import to Tyberus, but Atilia was a veteran sergeant of with a very comendable service record and had Tyberus known who he was, he might have second guessed himself against such a master of close combat. "I shall rip and tear your wings and break you little bird!" Tyberus snarled back and lunged forward, swinging his power maul with near wild abandon with a slashing motion that took the weapon from an overhead angle down and to his right.

Atilia was as graceful in combat as a raven might be in flight and expertly brought up his left lighting claw, placing it in the path of the power maul. The Raven Guard sergeant did not place force enough on his left hand to try and outright block the strike, instead he applied just enough, redirecting the weapon just slightly to ensure that it would miss him wide to his left, leaving an opening for his lunging right lightning claw.

Too late Tyberus saw his folly, but his reaction time was still impeccable, turning his left shoulder as much as he could so the piercing lightning claw would only dig into his shoulder. Atilia sought to press his claw deeper and the claws dug in deeper, now pushing past the thick ceramite and into the muscled shoulder underneath. Tyberus let go with his left hand and with his power maul only in his right hand, he jab out with the weapon, striking Atilia squarely in the chest with the energy wreathed maul, cracking the ceramite plate and knocking the Sergeant back. "Keep using your body as a shield savage, I have no qualms with bleeding you dry!" Atilia called over the battlefield, his attempts to goad Tyberus unfortunately worked on the arrogant and savage Night Lord.

Tyberus again leapt after the Raven Guard Sergeant, again he brought his maul overhead and brought the weapon downwards. He could see Atilia setting his feet and readying his claws to again redirect and counter. The maul then crashed down with all of his fury and weight into the ground just in front of Atilia, the tremor and backlash of energy crackled upwards sending the Raven Guard Sergeant's feet back, knocking him off balance. In that moment Tyberus brought his weapon back up in a fluid followup, this time bringing the weapon out wide and then slashing it back across in a horizontal strike aimed at Atilia's right shoulder.

The Sergeant had no choice but to brace himself, bringing up his right clawed hand in an effort to shield his head and torso to 'block' the oncoming blow. In that sense his tactic was successful, but the crunch and pop as the power maul struck, followed by the laughter of Tyberus was enough to know that the lack of feeling in his right arm was as much to do with the shock his body was experiencing as much as it was due to his arm no longer being there. Tyberus snarled out and he then jabbed out again with the maul, this time striking the pauldron protecting Atilia's left shoulder. Atilia, dogged and experienced as he was made use of his remaining claw, trying to parry and redirect what attacks he could, but without his right arm he no longer held much threat of a counter and Tyberus pressed his advantage relentlessly.

Again his jabbing maul struck the left pauldron, this time the plating gave way completely and Tyberus follow up with a strike precisely at the shoulder joint. Atilia screamed in agony as his arm fell away from his body. Less in pain and more in anger and frustration that, without either arm, he would fall prey to this savage beast that belonged to Kurze's flock of murders, rapists and traitors. Tyberus kicked Atilia square in the chest knocking him onto his back. Tyberus quickly stowed his power maul and picked up the remains of Atilia's left arm, its claw was still in tact, but no longer held any power field, having been disconnected from its power source. The sadistic Night Lord hefted the ceramite covered arm in his right hand, "Lighter than my maul," he observed, his tone was tinged with sarcasm. He swung the severed arm down upon Atilia as he struggled to get to his feet. Kicking him in the torso until he fell over again and he struck him with his own severed arm repeatedly. The impact was enough to jar Atilia's head around, but these were not killing blows, they were meant to antagonize and prolong the death of an Astartes whose exemplary career did not deserve to be mocked in such a way. All the more reason he -did- deserve it Tyberus thought. Finally he upended the severed arm and drove the unpowered claws down into the vox grille of the fallen and prone Marine at his feet. He then produced his maul and drove that down on top of the severed arm, the crackling energy of the maul effortlessly tore through the arm and into the head of Atilia. The Veteran Sergeant's headless, armless body was left to be claimed by the dust and grime of the charred soil they fought upon. Tyberus strode away from his kill shouting "I told you I'd rip and tear your wings!!", wading further into the battle, seeking to rendezvous with his Captain.
 
#145 ·
Azrael: You manage to begin cutting your way towards the Captain and Veptus however they have been using their jump packs and you have not so they are still quite a way ahead of you and getting further and further into the main battle itself and because of the loss of your arm your reduced to using only your sword in your right hand giving any opponent that comes at you an advantage when ever they attach your left side. Which luckily for you isn't many as more and more of all the other companies of the Eighth Legion begin streaming down into the Urrgal Depression intent on claming as many trophies from their 'loyal' brothers as possible before the slaughter is complete though the three loyalist legions are putting up one hell of a resistance.

Carving your way for two assault marines of the Raven Guard Legion you see Brother Shen come charging past you and slam into a knot of Raven Guard marines scattering them like leaves in the wind as he lays about with his monstrous powerfist and opening up with his kheres assault pattern cannon, clearly intent on venting all of the rage and pain he is feeling at being turned into a dreadnought when he was still able to serve without being interred, and you think to yourself that it is entirely possible you will be joining Shen and so many others of Fourth Company sealed inside of a ceramite and adamantium tomb to wage war until Xandrek orders you torn from your coffin and burnt. (Feel free to kill up to another 3 marines before catching up with Xandrek and Veptus.)

Veptus: What ever Azrael had done had clearly annoyed Xandrek as the economical swings and thrusts of Xandrek's usual fighting style where gone as he simply hacked his way through any Raven Guard in his way leaving them without limbs bleeding on the floor, with opened gushing throats or toppling headless corpses and any that weren't within range he simple raised his bolter that was in his left hand with his tower shield firmly attached to his fore-arm, and shoot them. "Keep up Veptus, we have much knife work to do today." You hear Xheng's voice over your vox followed by the cackling laughter of all of the rest of his Raptors as they tear through the Raven Guard with six of them leaping into the air to deal with some oncoming Raven Guard assault marines.

Ravens and Crows, what an unusual aerial fight that would be you muse as you manage to catch up with Xandrek as he extracts his blade from an apocatheries face place and slams his foot down on the gene-seed vials at the marines waist. "Veptus, you have the codes for your Apprentices and Colleagues vox channels. I want an update from every apocathery under my command." While you turn your vox into the apocathery channel your plasma pistol takes the life of a veteran Sergeant of the Raven Guard helping one of his squad members to his feet, or it would of been feet if he hadn't been missing his left leg from the knee down. When you ask of a report from the others of the Apocatherion you get a reply back from almost all of them save Brother-Apocathery Thex and Apocathery-Minoris Caleb, which after some inquiry (should you even bother) you find out that the two of them got caught by as you so eloquently put it: The Wrong Bird which means that the Lord of the Nineteenth is near, something you must warn Xandrek about as you see him stop to observe the Word Bearers finally getting stuck into the fray as the Captain then nods to you and points up towards where you can see the Urizen standing with his First Chaplain and First Captain on the ridge.

Var: OOC: Still need you to post for the previous update.

Tyberus: You manage to follow the cleared path that Shen has opened up in the ranks of the Raven Guard and find yourself confronted with Azrael who is missing almost all of his left arm and judging from the marks on his arm it was taken off by a plasma weapon, something he was lucky of because if the angle had been shallower judging by the burns on his chest plate then it would of killed him almost instantly if it had indeed connected with his torso. You can either try to help Azrael or you can ignore the Champion of Fourth and set off after your captain whose crested helmeted head you can see further in the distance with the form of the Corpse-Master near by along with all of Xheng's raptor squad as they lay about a group of Raven Guard with some of the Raptors locked in an aerial duel with assault marines of the Raven Guard.

As Shen continues to smash his way through the Raven Guard to your left you see the other bulky forms of the rest of Fourth Companies dreadnoughts join him and crushing all those stand before them with their armour being proof against almost all forms of attack save those lucky las-cannon shots which rock them back or to the side thanks to the shielding build into the form of the Contemptor Dreadnought chassis. You are now able to join your Captain and Veptus where the two of them begin heading off further into the melee with only Xandrek himself having any idea what he is doing with the rest of First Claw simply just trying to keep up with him. (Feel free to kill up to another 3 raven guard.)

Pelegon: You jump forward off of the boulder and slam down in between a rough circle of ten figures and with half of them turning their helmets to regard you to see if you are an enemy before each of them giving you a slight nod. You look around at the circle of ten figures and see each one towers over you, each armed with either a power sword, lightning claw, power fist in one hand and the other carrying combi-bolters with two carrying reaper auto-cannons. You then realize you have landed admits Second Claw, Fourth Companies single terminator squad as the ten of them trudge their way forward in an effort to keep up with their faster moving brothers as you see that while each suit of armour is heavily customized and bearing trophy wracks and chains, some of which have raven guard heads and helmets hanging from them, the suits themselves are Cattiphractti mark terminator armour. Your vox then lights up and you get a message from their sergeant, Brother-Sergeant Nyx who you recall from looking over the rosters of the three companies aboard the 'Maiden' has served with Xandrek since them both being elevated at the same time.

"You are far from your squad Brother-Pelegon. The Lord of Lies and the Corpse-Master are far ahead of us, you will need to 'grow' some wings in order to catch them." Nyx appears to be speaking in low Gothic which is heavily accented given he is Nostramon. "Unless of course you wish to fight with my brothers and myself then we could use that Melta-Gun of yours. We are hunting after that." Sergeant Nyx, the foremost of the terminators raises his chain-fisted left hand to point at a knot of three Raven Guard Contemptor Dreadnoughts currently smashing their way through the ranks of the 157th Company. the third most company of the 'Maiden'.

Raskreia: OOC: Making you an npc until you message me.

Serhiy: You manage to keep up the members of Tenth Claw for a few moments before they gun their jump packs and set off into the skies obviously heading off towards where ever the imperial army was at the other end of the crater where their weapons would have much more effect than the heavily armoured bodies of the Astartes. As you limp toward someone crashes down beside you and you see that it is Apocathery Rasiel who is on one eye as he raises his bolter to his right eye and puts two shots into a Raven Guard assault marine blowing out both of his eyes lens with marksmanship almost equal to that of Veptus and you remember that Rasiel is the Corpse-Masters main apprentice and eventual successor should anything happen to the half-sane Nostramon Primus Medicae of Fourth. "You are injured Brother Serhiy, if you wait but a moment and keep these Ravens off of us I shall see to your knee and that you will be able to catch up with 10th Claw or set off after our Captain."

Rasiel places three move shots into the throats of two more 19th Legionaries before examining the wound on your knee for a moment before he sets to work with his Narthecarium probing your wound before extracting the solid round from within the flesh of your calve, reattaching some of the muscle together and testing the ligaments and nerves before covering the wound with synth-flesh. Standing up he nods his head to you before setting off deeper into the fray allowing you to make a decision of where you go from here. (Feel free to kill up to another 2-4 raven guard how you wish, along with either making your way to Xandrek or going after 10th claw.)
 
#146 · (Edited)
Clearly whatever Azrael’s sin was, it weighed heavily on Xandrek. Veptus watch his Captain, usually so careful and economical with his thrusts and parries. Now he simply battered his foes into submission, all grace and fluidity was gone from his motions. Xandrek may as well have wielded a hammer for all the subtlety his movements had to them. It could be simply fatigue, but Veptus had seen Xandrek fight for longer than this and not tire. No it was Azrael. If his actions cost Xandrek his life because he would not focus on the massacre around him, Azrael’s sin would compound itself and Veptus would exact Xandrek’s vengeance for him.

"Keep up Veptus, we have much knife work to do today." Xheng’s maniacal laughter sounded through the vox as he and his Raptors tore into more Raven Guard.
“I had entirely forgotten. My thanks brother.” Veptus barked back in a sarcastic lullaby. Xheng cut down another Raven Guard and did a little bow.
”I live to serve Corpse-Master.” Veptus sneered. Preening ass. Veptus disembowelled another XIXth Legionary with a vicious flick of his sword Xandrek was moving further into the press of black all around them and Veptus kept having to gun his jump pack to keep up. He couldn’t look around him. He didn’t know if they were moving up unsupported. All he knew was he had to keep pace with Xandrek. That was his duty and he would not fail in that.

Veptus landed behind Xandrek, a slice of his sword taking off the arm of a Raven Guard. A forceful kick sent the man stumbling back to be cut down by a Night Lord Veptus didn’t know. Xandrek noticed his presence. "Veptus, you have the codes for your Apprentices and Colleagues vox channels. I want an update from every apocathery under my command." He nodded curtly, his plasma pistol firing and ending the life or a Veteran Sergeant who had stopped to help his brother up. Foolish really. The only one Veptus would pause to help would be Xandrek. The others would have to struggle through whatever wounds they suffered. He would attend them later.

He blink clicked his vox channel to all the Apothecaries of the 4th Company. “Apothecaries, I want reports.” He waited as several Night Lords pushed past him, putting distance between him and the killing blades of the XIXth. Repots began to filter back from each of his apothecaries. Brother-Apothecary Ja’Thul sounded ragged and Veptus suspected he had sustained wounds to his throat or chest, but he reported in. Apothecary-Minoris Belamey reported in. This was his first battle as an Apothecary and he spoke of many casualties. That was expected really.

Several others reported in, telling of men they had killed and those they had given peace to. Each had killed at least one apothecary of the Raven Guard, some more than one. However, two he received no reply from. One, Brother-Apocathery Thex, his vox unit had died. That meant, if nothing else, that his helmet was destroyed. However, others reported see him cut down. Other merely reported hearing him die. In any case, Veptus could be sure he was dead. Another simply didn’t respond, Apocathery-Minoris Caleb.

“Does anyone have eyes on Apothecary Caleb?” Veptus snarled. His veneer was beginning to crack. A long silence.
“I’ve got him in hand.” It was Brother-Apothecary Rasiel, his successor.
“In hand?” There was a sigh.
“He’s a mess sir. Torso’s torn apart, leg missing, arm…” A muffled grunt, then a tone of surprise. “…fucking hell, he’s still alive.” Another pause, although Veptus could make out a barely audible sound of gargling. “He says it was Corax. Corpse-Master, I’m about 1 kilometer from your position.” Veptus knew that, and the thought of the Lord of the XIXth bearing down on them was not a pleasant one.
“Give him peace and then continue with your orders.” He responded authoritatively and various chimes of acceptance sounded through the vox.

Whereas they had once been at the forefront of the melee, Veptus and Xandrek were now several row behind the front-line. Xandrek was watching the hillside and Veptus followed his vision. A tide of red was pouring down the hill side. Lorgar’s sons had finally decided to join the fray. He spotted some of their number that he would swear were bounding forward on their hands and feet, like animals. Veptus’s eyes looked for any reason not to look at them, and found one at the end of Xandrek’s outstretched hand. The Urizen stood on the ridge surveying the battle with his First Captain and First Chaplain. Veptus didn’t like them. There was something serpentine about them. “That is not the primarch we should be looking for Captain. Corax is nearby, looking to take vengeance for this betrayal.” Veptus let the words hand and waited for Xandrek’s lead, for where the Lord of Lies went, Veptus was duty bound to follow…
 
#147 ·
The path was rough with a leg that despite the localized anesthesia still refused to function properly but Serhiy's Astartes willpower dragged him forward just enough to keep up with the 10th Claw. Unfortunately a thump of thrusters sent the squad off to fulfill their deadly deed leaving the injured Serhiy behind. The leg would likely not hold during the jump and subsequent landing which made the situation all the more difficult for the injured Destroyer. Multiple Crows surrounded him, some oblivious to his presence and others actively shooting at him plinking bolt rounds off his armor. Serhiy fell to the ground laying low while sending out bolts from his own pistol in return.

It would've been a far from proud last stand when a true Deus Ex Machina descended from the heavens with a mighty crash besides the Destroyer and with precision that rivaled the Primus Medicae dispatched the most pressing Raven before turning to address Serhiy.

"You are injured Brother Serhiy, if you wait but a moment and keep these Ravens off of us I shall see to your knee and that you will be able to catch up with 10th Claw or set off after our Captain."

The redundancy brought a mild chuckle from Serhiy who didn't bother to respond but merely produced his second bolt pistol and sent out rounds with precision that paled laughably with Rasiels but it made due it kept the assailants away from the duo. Rasiel obliterated two more Ravens and brought forth his tools tearing out a round from the leg and patching it up. Despite the anesthetic Serhiy could feel the flesh moving and spreading as Rasiel worked first removing the round then patching the area with maddening speed and like that the Apothecary nodded and was a ghost flying into the distance leaving Serhiy alone once more.

It was always a lovely yin and yang how the Apothecarion and Destroyers interacted. One to preserve life and the other to take it gruesomely. Rasiel was a capable blade and would be a very fitting replacement should Veptus ever fall but he didn't have the sheer experience that the Primus did madness or no madness and Veptus knew more about Serhiy's body than any of the Apothecarion combined. One crow, a simple tactical marine with a bolter rushed forth with combat knife in hand hoping to capitalize on the wounded marine. He had no armor markings and no heraldry, likely a fresh recruit not understanding what he was up against or attempting to claim an impressive prize. Either way it was foolish, two bolt pistols identical in design came to bear side by side and suddenly the charging marine twitched as round aver round assaulted the armor. Some simply plinked off the armor but a trained hand at close range delivered several rounds to the fine space between the breastplate and helmet where there was no ceramite. It lasted only a moment and the marine was lying beside him gasping and thrashing about as his own blood filled his esophagus. Serhiy took that moment slowly and stood up looking down at the fallen marine not with contempt or pity but with a simple non-discriminating observation like Death itself before a lumbering Mark 3 boot shot down like a piston and crushed the helmet bringing the thrashing body still.

No. . . The Imperial forces are the pressing matter.

And with that turbines hummed to life rising to a scream and the Destroyer marine was airborne following the 10th claw. Larger structures seemed to loom in the distance and Serhiy knew his prey was in hand and that the fine serum provided to him by Veptus would soon be spread like a sickly gift to all the souls unfortunate enough to be inferior soldiers ungifted like the Astartes.
 
#148 ·
Beneath his helmet, a tight semi-smile graced Pelegon's features. His meltagun was deadly enough, but it would not suffice to destroy three contemptors. The Iron Warrior nodded, and with the release of a lever and shrug of his shoulders offloaded his jump-pack. It was close to overheating, not being designed to take his armour's immense weight, and the Olympian had abused it to within an inch of tolerable parameters. With a slight whirr the antenna from his nuncio-vox extended itself from the powerpack's casing, and it switched itself on, hooking into the communication grid; however, it was the that of the IVth legion, not the VIIIth.

"Understand that the men you will lose to this is still far less than what those contemptors will manage unchecked"

Nyx looked puzzled, but he was not a stupid man, and understood, nodding. Pelegon scrambled up a boulder to get a better view, the scrape of ceramite on sandstone inaudible over the cacophony of battle. When up, Pelegon observed the trio of contemptors; black-armoured monstrosities that were tearing through the Night Lords with abandon. Ideally, he would have told Nyx to order the 157th to disperse, but that would risk the contemptors doing the same in order to pursue. As it was, they were tightly packed and perfectly situated, and at that moment the Iron Warrior's arms itched for a missile launcher or lascannon. With one of those in his arms, he was confident that he would be able to dispatch the three in less than a minute. As it was...

Pelegon's cogitator contained a map, and it took less than a second for the marine's augmented mind to find what it was after; gun emplacements belonging to the IVth legion, of the IInd, XVth, Lth and CXCIInd companies were south-east of their current position, and in a few moments he had voxed through to two emplacements, having already calculated exactly what was needed for the situations.

"This is Centurion Pelegon of the Ist Grand Company - 132mm saturation bombardment, 0.57 tons, 25-1, 38-5, targets moving south-by-south-west at approximately 1.7 metres per second"

There was a brief pause as Pelegon's signal credentials were verified - he licked his lips, hoping that his ranks and permissions hadn't been revoked for the duration of his placement in the VIIIth. Luck, insofar as it existed, was on the Iron Warrior's side that day.

"Affirmative. Danger close inbound, Centurion, twenty seconds. Iron Within"

"Iron Without" Pelegon growled, and disconnected, hopping off the rock and landing with a thud that shook the ground beneath his feet, Nyx and his squad staring at him as if demanding an explanation - by way of reply, Pelegon turned to watch the trio of contemptors, pointing with a finger.

The gunner had been as good as his word - eighteen seconds later, a familiar whistle filled the air - the Night Lords in and near the fire zone had time to glance up - exactly two seconds later the contemptors disappeared in the storm of mud and sand the explosions threw up. Every muscle in his body tensed, Pelegon watched his legion's glorious handiwork as shell after shell tore into the earth, beating it with fists of fury as if daring it to defy their might, the whistling of a successor audible as soon as one shell had detonated, such was the speed with which the Iron Warrior gunners could reload their pieces. Within ten seconds, it was over, exactly fifteen shells having been dropped in an area not more than thirty square metres.

The Iron Warrior narrowed his eyes, gaze well-adjusted to picking out targets - usually to butcher them with volley after murderous volley of bolter fire before they could recover from the hellish barrage that Perturabo's master artillerymen had just unloaded onto them. However, this time it was purely an intellectual pursuit, and he nodded in satisfaction as he saw that the three giants had been reduced to twisted scraps of ceramite so bent and broken that no individual surviving part was larger than Pelegon's arm, covered in mud, dirt and strewn this way and that. Of the handful of Night Lords, Pelegon would guess no more than two or three, that had been caught in the barrage, nothing remained. Those near the explosion zone, but not within it, had been thrown back off their feet, but the Iron Warrior could see them rising to their feet, shaken but alive. The fools, not to divide so much as a meltagun or meltabomb among so large a company. That, or they had been so busy clambering over each other in an attempt to save their own skins that no weapons of sufficient power to bring down the dreadnoughts could be brought to bear.

"Iron Within, Iron Without" Pelegon growled, the tension simmering in every clenched muscle and the strain of his voice. How he yearned to fire a cannon, to feel the earth rumble from its recoil, to see roaring death sailing toward his enemies...all this and more he yearned, but was not to be, at least not for now. Pelegon would do his duty, and that was good.

"Brother sergeant, I hope that I have been of assistance. Do you require further help, or may I regroup with Captain Xandrek?"
 
#149 ·
Tyberus moved forward, "My thanks Brother Shen!" he shouted to the massive Contemptor who carried on with his carnage, his Brother Dreadnoughts joining him in savaging the lines of the Raven Guard before them. Much of the fire was now shifting towards the assemblage of Dreadnoughts and Tyberus walked forward, towards Captain Xandrek.

As he pressed forward, firing into Raven Guard as he did so, he saw, embroiled in combat the Champion of the 4th Company, Azrael. The Champion's left arm was gone almost in its entirety. TYberus had few words for Azrael, beyond simply urging him onward, "We must rally to the Captain!" His march continued, as he got closer to Xandrek and Veptus, and further from the Dreadnoughts the Raven Guard paid him some attention.

Two Raven Guard quickly came at him ins swooping passes utilizing their jump packs with expert skill. They dropped down low, their lightning claws positioned to rake along his power armor. Tyberus grinned beneath his helm, bringing his storm bolter up, the thumping percussion of rapid fire bolt rounds roared to life, chewing into the ceramite of one of the Raven Guard. His jet pack was struck and the propellant within was ignited by the percussive bolt rounds. With a wail, the Astartes was engulfed in explosive flames as he was veiled in a sudden wreath of fire that plumed out and up. The second Raven Guard landed and made reckless attacks with his lightning claws, the signature weapon of his Legion. Tyberus snarled, bringing his maul up in both hands and bringing the massive weapon down in an overhead strike. The distance was just enough that the Raven Guard was out of range to use his own lightning claws, and his only means of defense were his lightning claws, brought up braced against each other.

The crushing force of the maul was simply too much for the Raven Guard to repel. The maul broke through, under the sheer power of Tyberus, the power fields briefly flared up in unison and then the sickening wet thud of the maul connecting with the Raven Guard's helmet echoed out. The Raven Guard's body fell lifelessly as Tyberus kicked the body over and pressed forward, calling out to his captain. "Captain Xandrek! What are your orders!?" He bellowed readying himself to be flung along with the rest of his Claw deeper into the waves of combat that crashed about on the surface of Istvaan.
 
#150 · (Edited)
Kesh Yael (introduction) - please let me know if this sounds ok?

Lamentably late to the battle, their lander had impacted hard upon the rocky surface, crushing it's skids and undercarriage into nothing due to the pilots' eagerness to make up for their tardiness.
Showers of sodium yellow sparks cascaded from it's belly as unyielding rock tore screeching rents in the transport's belly, carving huge gouges along it's flanks and smashing apart the nose before half-burying itself into a small outcrop.

Momentarily dazed and confused, a handful of voices cursed the aviators. But a glance into a demolished crew compartment sprayed with arterial juices told them that vehemence towards already-departed souls would be pointless.

Almost half the unit had already been lost...granite and other rocks had impaled and torn them in two. Halved bodies still strapped into their chairs, they hung like so much dripping meat upon butchers' hooks.

"Spare no thoughts for the dead!" his Sergeant shouted to the remaining men as Kesh thought of the loss of his brothers before they could even draw weapons.
"It only leaves more enemy for the rest of us!" he yelled back in reply, drawing laughter from the rest of the unit.

With his brothers already trying to manhandle the remaining door open, Kesh took a little extra time to turn away whilst attaching the shield along his back. Although it was too bulky to wear during flight, he still swore at himself for the time it took.

Kesh had never really put much faith in luck or chance before, but those additional seconds certainly saved his life: The whoosh of several incoming rockets could not be masked by the battles outside, but there was scant cover amongst the scattered boxes of wargear and none of them would ever stoop so low as to use a living brother as a shield.

The Krak warheads took care of the (formerly) reluctant door, opening it in milliseconds and -like peeling fruit- broke open the Astartes armour ranked behind it.
As flaming plate-sized pieces of metal and armour careened through the hold, only his remote position and shield saved Kesh from a similar fate.

When the hellish reverberations had stopped and he picked himself up, Kesh scanned for signs of life but found none. Finally he knew in his heart that there could be no turning back from the war he had been thrust into.

Cautiously peering around the edges of the shattered portal, he spied a shotgun-armed Raven Guard scout approaching to inspect their Legion's handiwork.
When the enemy rounded a corner and peered into the darkness of the smashed craft, Kesh drove his deactivated chainfist deep in, shattering the man's carapace armour chest-plate. The Raven Guard's young body spasmed wildly as it came to terms with the sudden impalement.

Gazing into his foe's clouding eyes, Kesh whispered: "You thought my unit dead, but the 8th Legion shall show you there is still one who draws breath."
Thoughts of revulsion and loss filling his mind, Kesh turned his face away as the chainfist activated and tore the trainee into a bloody mass of chunky gobbets and rent entrails.

Cold rationality returned to his mind: with no unit to call his own, Kesh would need to prove his mettle to a new leader. He began scrolling through his memories of names and unit-designations for a suitable chief, settling upon one named Xandrek as a worthy leader.
 
#151 · (Edited)
I was at a disadvantage without my left arm, and many of those that targeted me took advantage of it, coming at me from that side. Nevertheless, I cut them down time and time again, sheer bloody skill making up for the loss of a limb.

I was in a rage at everything, but unlike many where rage reduced them to unskilled brutes hacking and slashing at anything in range, I had honed my anger into a weapon in its own right. Ice cold fury drove me to be faster and stronger, better in almost every way.

The number of men attacking me had declined however, for more of the Eighth Legion were swarming down into the Urrgal Depression. They seemed intent on claiming as many trophies as possible and I shook my head in disgust at the sight of Night Lords tearing their loyalist brethren apart and fighting over the scraps. It was conduct I would’ve expected from animals, not the marines of my once proud legion.

I let myself fall to my knees and skidded beneath the roaring chainblade of a Raven Guard assault marine, swinging my sword back to hamstring him as I did so. A shout of pain was my reward, but I had little time to savour it as a second marine leapt at me, forcing me down onto my back with his weight. He fired two shots from his bolt pistol, but one glanced my pauldron and spun off while the other only dented my chest plate.

I used his own momentum from his leap against him, rolling back and using both feet to kick him off me before coming to my feet. The hamstrung Raven Guard attacked me again. While I’d severely hampered his movement by my actions, he could still fight it seemed. It was the work of a moment to throw his weapon wide and drive my power sword through his breastplate and into his left heart, and it took only a flick of the wrist to slice it through his secondary heart as well.

I kicked his corpse off my sword and flicked the blade to divest it of his blood before bringing it round in a backswing that stopped the second Raven Guard dead in his tracks as it scythed through the air mere inches from his throat.

His second of hesitation was all I needed as I stepped forward, attacking with fast lunges that drove him back. I let my foot slide out from under me on the bloody plate of a fallen marine and cried out in feigned fear as I did so. The Raven Guard roared his victory and raised his Chainsword above his head, preparing to bring it down in a devastating blow that would’ve cut me in half had it connected.

He never got the chance to strike.

The crackling tip of my sword’s blade erupted from the back of his skull, sending a spray of blood, bone fragments and brain matter into the open air.

I pulled my sword free and stepped away from his body, my attention already focussed elsewhere as it collapsed to its knees and keeled over behind me. I found my eyes faced with the mighty form of Brother Shen as he smashed through the Raven Guard lines, laying about himself with his monstrous Power Fist and letting loose barrages from his assault cannon.

As I looked at his mighty form I wondered if that was the fate that awaited me. To be locked in a metal box and driven insane, released only in times of great crisis and simply pointed in the direction of the enemy. For a man such as me, it would be a fate worse than death. To lose all that makes me who I am, to reside in a hellish trap of ceramite and adamantium until Xandrek decides it’s time to tear me from it.

Tearing my mind away from the dark pit it had fallen to, I searched for Xandrek’s iconic helmet in the melee, finding it some distance away as the captain tore through his foes with Veptus by his side. I ducked beneath the slice of a Raven Guard Lightning Claw and activated my jump pack, rocketing into the sky in the direction of my captain, leaving my attacker behind.

I landed on the shoulders of a Raven Guard about to attack Xandrek from behind and drove him into the dirt. Still standing atop his dazed form I deflected the lunge of one of his fellows and flicked my blade out in a counter-stroke that the man had to throw himself backwards to avoid. In one smooth motion I withdrew my blade from the attack and thrust it downwards, slicing deep into the spine of the man I stood on and killing him instantly.

I stepped off his bloody corpse and moved swiftly, striding towards the second Raven Guard. He’d already recovered from his earlier stumble and he swung at me. I paused for a moment to allow it to pass me before taking another step forward and raising my sword so that the tip of the blade was pressed against his chest plate. His eyes widened and he tried one last desperate attack as he brought his weapon back around in a backswing that would have cut my head from my shoulders, but before it could move even a few inches I was pushing my sword through his breastplate and deep into his chest.

His eyes widened and his jaw slackened as I pulled my sword free, and it was in those eyes that I saw the crackling of a Power Fist just a split-second before I heard it. I ducked and the incandescent weapon went over my head and caught the dead Raven Guard in the chest, pulverising it in a wave of force even as I rolled away.

I came to my feet with my sword held out behind me in half of a classic duellist’s pose. Unfortunately, the other half required my left arm.

The marine with the Power Fist was older than all that I had fought that black day save Nirantius, and more skilled too if I was any judge. The Power Fist was a clumsy weapon, but in the hands of a master it was one of the most dangerous tools possessed by the Adeptus Astartes and the man I was facing proved himself one such master.

The trick to using a Power Fist was to always keep your body covered, so that an opponent couldn’t take advantage of the slowness of the weapon. There were certain techniques through which a man could do so, but they were hard to learn and difficult to put into practise on the battlefield, but this man managed it. After our second exchange of blows I stepped away and gave him a slight bow, which he returned.

Then I leapt forward.

I didn’t bother to block his swing at my left side, instead letting it connect and using the force to spin me around and bring my sword around in a scything backswing that decapitated the Raven Guard.

But while it had won me the fight, my move had the consequence of almost completely demolishing the armour of my left side and leaving much of the flesh exposed.

Ignoring this dangerous disadvantage, I hurled myself into the fight alongside Xandrek, knowing that if he fell this day because of his anger at me then I would never forgive myself, nor would I survive what Veptus would do to me.
 
#152 ·
Azrael: As you charge forward to side with Xandrek, the Captain of Fourth goes flying passed you after your helmet auto-senses reduce a loud metallic 'clang' to bare-able levels and you see that where Xandrek once was is now the iron clad form of a Raven Guard Contemptor Dreadnought bearing two monstrous power fists. Playing back the moment in your mind you remember Xandrek looking to the west at the Urizen and the Word Bearer attack before Veptus shouts a warning to him. The captain had then brought up his stormshield just in time to intercept the Dreadnought's mighty fist which was the source of the resounding gong ling clang. However as you back up out of the way of a swing of the Dreadnoughts fist you notice that the link to Xandrek has gone completely dead without even the sound of his armour flat-lining, which means he is either dead and his armour heavily damaged aswell or his power generator has been destroyed and his armour has completely shut down making him even more of a target as you then see the Dreadnought unleash a hailstorm of shots down at the prone body of Xandrek, luckily though Veptus is there with that fortress of a shield that Xandrek wields.

You notice that you have been joined by Pelegon who seems to of been fighting with Second Claw if you pay attention to the Tank-and-Dreadnought hunting terminators vox channel which you have of tuned into to request their aid, and Tyberus who seems to of come out of no-where. Though it appears that Serhiy is still fighting with his brothers of Fourth Claw. You will need to come up with a plan while the Captain is down to deal with the Dreadnought along with the Servitors and Raven Guard Forge-Lord that have now appeared behind it.

Veptus: You watched Xandrek as he continues to look at the Primarch of the Word Bearers and you notice something large rear up infront of him over the ridge and just have time to shout a warning as you see the silhouette of a Contemptor Dreadnought with two monstrous power fists bearing the heraldry of the Raven Guard. Xandrek is able to turn in time to bring his shield up to intercept a power fist which still sends him flying from his position and crash into the ground behind him and you hear him swearing as he flies through the air and then the vox goes quiet as his head smashed into a rock and he lies still but from your position you can see its just that his power back has been heavily damaged and his power armour has lost all power.

Turning from Xandrek you see the raptors scatter away from the Dreadnought as it stomps down towards you and the other Night Lords including Azrael who has joined you and you now can see he is missing his left arm from what looks like plasma weapon scorch marks. At the moment none of you have the weapons to deal with a Dreadnought though if you can contact Second Claw (Nyx) or Pelegon then you may be able to stand a chance against the Dreadnought as he raises both of his power fists and you can see the build in stormbolters aiming at the Night Lords gathered and especially Xandrek. If you dive now you would be able to grab the stormshield that Xandrek uses and protect your Captain though you might end up taking a couple of bolter shells into the back.

Var: NPCED until you contact me.

Tyberus: You see Xandrek turn to look at you as something large rears up behind him on the ridge over the bodies of the Raven Guard and hear Veptus shout a warning to him, you then watch your captain get smashed from his feet to slam into the ground behind Veptus by the power-fist of a Raven Guard Dreadnought who stomps his way down towards Veptus and Xandrek firing at the two of them as Veptus manages to get Xandrek's stormshield up. You see that Pelegon has now arrived aswell however Sergeant Xheng and his Raptors appear to be backing off as none of them have any weapons capable of harming the dreadnought although their Chain-Glaives could probably harm it they all appear to be unwilling to get within range of its two power fists.

Ducking behind an out crop of rock as the Dreadnought fires in your direction you are able to see what standing behind and to its right appears to be a Raven Guard Tech-Marine wielding a Thunderhammer and directing Servitors bearing heavy bolters up the shallow hill and points down towards you and the others as the Raptors of Fourth Claw scatter as the servitors open up with their high caliber weapons, it seems that today is just getting better and better. From your position you can see Pelegon eying up the Tech-Marine though he wouldn't be able to get close with those servitors and Dreadnought keeping all of you pinned down, if you were able to dispatch them someway then you might be able to allow Pelegon to deal with the Tech-Marine as Veptus and Azrael deal with the Dreadnought.

Pelegon: Sergeant Nyx and the first of Second Claw watch the Dreadnoughts get smashed apart by precision Iron Warrior ordinance and chuckle to themselves over the vox which you are able to hear and simply continue smashing and tearing apart Raven Guard who get too close as they stomp forward. "You may return to First Claw if you wish Brother-Pelegon, though when you do see if you can convince the Captain to allow some more of you Iron-Wearers aboard to over see the use of our war machines. You seem far more competent than our own Tech-Marines." says Sergeant Nyx. How do you take this request from the Second Claw Sergeant?

You are able to go and find First Claw now if you wish, and when you do get there you see that Azrael is missing his left arm from what looks like Plasma weapon scorches, and Veptus is running towards the downed form of Xandrek who appears to not be moving though he doesn't have any visible wounds. With a crunch and the sound of swearing you see that the reason why Xandrek is down is because of a Raven Guard Dreadnought stepping towards you with two large power fists and under-slung stormbolters aimed forwards Xandrek as it begins to fire down at the Captain though Veptus manages to bring up Xandrek's shield to protect the Captain, with Veptus, Tyberus and Azrael you might be able to deal with this Dreadnought as it seems Xheng and his Raptors are backing off and you are able to see that next to the Contemptor stands what appears to be a tech-marine with a four armed servo-harness wielding a thunderhammer and bolter directing some servitors up the hill to engage First and Fourth Claw.

Serhiy: You are once again joined by Tenth Claw and crash in admits the Imperial Army loyal to Terra with a grin on your face and you can hear the chuckles of the other members of Tenth Claw over the fox as they unhook grenades and chemical canisters from their armour and send them hurling into the human forces. You do the same and enjoy the results of weaponry designed to kill in the most gruesome ways especially against unprotected humans as you watch some of the grenades explode and cover guardsmen in chemical fire that burns through clothing and skin, liquefying muscle and turning bones black. Others you see falling to their knee's retching as blood spews from their mouths as their lungs and internal organs are turned into bloody mush as the virus and chemicals eat their insides.

You then also see the affects of the chemicals that Veptus had created begin to take affect as humans stand there looking terrified as their blood simply seeps through all of their pours plastering them a deep rust red before they collapse from exsanguination, and it is in this moment that you realize how much you miss being apart of Tenth Claw after being promoted to First Claw, as it is Tenth Claw who are able to kill and maim in the most gruesome fashion of all of Fourth Company though at the cost of pain and sickness throughout all of their service in the Destroyers.

Kesh: You easily dispatch the scout who had come to investigate and upon scrolling through the names you settle upon the Captain of Fourth Company: Xandrek Kealisar, The Lord of Lies and your HUD indicates he is not too far from you. The only problem is that between you and your new captain is a battlezone filled with enemies legionaries of the Raven Guard who while they are retreating, in some positions they are making last stands or daring counter attacks. Moving off towards your destination you dispatch another three Raven Guard scouts who were apart of the squad whose other member you just killed and you rest a ridge to look out across the battle field and see a sea of midnight blue and shadow black bodies hurling themselves at each other to tear each other to pieces but behind the Night Lords front wave you see that further back those wounded or dying and being preyed upon by the Eighth Legion and turned into grisly trophies.

Sliding down the ridge with you spy what appears to be the Fourth Company command squad as you see their banner being held high by Raskreia as he fires into the Raven Guard putting bolter rounds through eye lens and throats but you see the Captain of Fourth, or who you assume to be, get send flying as he raises his stormshield to fend off an attack by a Contemptor pattern dreadnought as then an apocathery rushes to his aid and oddly an Iron Warrior steps in to help depend the fallen captain. You also see that a group of servitors bearing heavy weaponry are being directed by a Tech-Marine just behind the dreadnought.
 
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