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The Choral City

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17K views 126 replies 11 participants last post by  Asamodai 
#1 · (Edited)
All:

The Choral City, Capital of Isstvan III. A beautiful place, despite the circumstances, with incredible stone and marble roads, organic shaped structures, and fantastical artwork. Statues and monuments everywhere one looked. Floral colors pristinely dashed upon the cityscape. It was also immense in size.

This morning, all of you landed in the Choral City, your squads by your side. Your men, your brothers, by your side.

With the sunrise, came the answer to rebellion, shot through the atmosphere in a hailstorm of drop pods. Those in pale green toward the heretical, massive religious site called the Siren Hold, to silence the enemy’s spirit. Those in elegant purple, towards the Precentors Palace, to cut the head from the snake.

The World Eaters landed in the city’s center, to wipe out its heart: the citizens themselves. The Death Guard were sent to the city’s western edge, to crush the massed defensive strength of the Isstvanian military.

The city’s defenders were much better prepared than you all had thought. All of you lost brothers during the fight. Forces were scattered, many landing off target, and having to fight through ground they had been given no specifics about. A shameful amount of factors were not going according to plan. Yet, despite these downfalls, it took the combined effort of Astartes from four different Legions only a few hours to achieve all of their goals and objectives, and take the city in victory. None of them would have expected any less.

None of them, none of you, expected the vox in your helmets to speak of an Isstvanian bio-weapon, a last ditch effort, a suicide bombing. All of you, for one reason or another, found yourselves Southwest of the Palace, somewhere far between it and the western edge of the City. You all scrambled to find shelter.

Within minutes, the entire world died and burned. You waited in cover, while massed screams sounded all around you, Astartes even, screaming in terror. Your shelter was superheated to scorching levels, and you waited while until it had barely cooled enough for you to finally open the barricade and step outside.

Nothing is recognizable. Nothing but ash fills the sky. Dying fires still burn throughout the ruins, sending heavy smoke trails into the air. A storm-like wind, though dry and hot, ceaselessly races through the area you stand.

It is now clear to you. The Isstvanians did not do this.

Vultus:

Your drop pod landed far from its designated target. Unsure of which direction the rest of Second Company had landed, you and the group of Marines you landed with made their way through the city the best they could by themselves. Captain Torgaddon and the other command elements with him did their best to guide you toward them, but they were bogged down by rebel forces had little time to spare in helping you reach them.

Stumbling upon one fortification after another, the squad began to dwindle in number until you came to one of many smaller religious shrines where a trio of warsingers took the rest of your squad before your plasma pistol seared away the last one’s existence. Shortly afterwards, another vox from your Captain, who told all who heard to find sealed shelter immediately. Your intuition brought you inside the shrine where you found an arched doorway opening to a long dark passageway. Never once letting go of the Company Standard, you slammed the doors shut, just before the entire city started screaming.

When you emerge, your vox unit will crackle back to life, but that is the only thing crackling back to life in the hellish landscape that is now the Choral City before you. This was Horus’s doing. There was no doubt.

Krateron:

Your drop pod had landed off course as well, never reaching the Siren Hold. You had ridden down in a squad alongside your friend and brother-in-arms, Nal Verustan.

You received little vox communication, the commanding officers of the first wave not being from your group’s Company. Their attentions were clearly already divided too many ways. Your squad did the best they could traversing the city streets, coming across several rebel strongpoints and defensive battlements. After a couple of hours had passed, only you and one other Sons of Horus legionary remained alive, your friend Nal amongst those that had fallen.

After hearing the warning message of an incoming bio-weapon attack, you ran full speed toward an Isstvanian bunker that looked like it was still intact, likely abandoned during a retreat from the World Eaters carnage-making. The other Marine who had been with you hadn’t reacted nearly as fast. You pushed the thin doorway shut before your comrade could make it in, and listened to his fists pounding on the door, and his screams as the Life Eater virus turned him to sludge inside of his armor.

When you step outside into the ash filled, firescape wasteland, your eye catches on to the only bit of color thats not gray, black, or orange. Three specks of purple in the distance emerging from their own, apparently successful, hiding spot.

You also hear your vox unit crackle back to life.

Loculus, Aurellian, and Gratus:

It did not take long for you and the rest of 10th Company to figure out that Captain Tarvitz had not traveled to the surface, Ancient Rylanor descending in his stead. Perhaps begrudgingly, you followed 13th Company’s lead into the Precentors Palace.

First, shortly after Captain Lucius had taken the head of Praal, you received word of your Captain landing in the Choral City. He moved quickly throughout the ranks of Emperor Children still in the Palace, and before you could catch sight of him, you received word that Tarvitz was on his way to warn the World Eaters of the same news he had brought to Lucius. News about an incoming viral bombardment.
Both Decurions agreed they would rather go after their Captain than risk having him die alone amongst the ranks of World Eaters.

Taking several Sergeants and their squads with you away from the palace, the Decurions sealed the fate of all but one of them. Before catching up to Tarvitz, the distant pops high up in the sky told you that you were out of time. Already able to see the smoke trails of the viral payload dropping toward the surface, the band of Emperors Children darted to the best shelter they could find. Between the virus and the firestorm, only the bunker shelter the three of you found together proved resilient enough.

When you exit the bunker, which was in the basement of a civilian building, you walk back into the street. Moments later, your vox units all crackle back to life. If there had been any lingering doubt with Tarvtiz’s news of betrayal, there was none left now.

Tharr and Straeson:

The two of you, like most of the World Eaters who had landed near the city’s center, had run rampant in your killing sprees. As long as another World Eater was still in sight, you had all kept going, butchering the rebellious populace without mercy. There was no way to tell where exactly you had ended up when you received a sudden and surprising vox communication from Captain Ehrlen warning you of an incoming bio-weapon attack from the Isstvanians and to find shelter. They were going to bomb their own city rather than let the Imperium have it back.

Apparently close to the western walls, a set of military bunkers was readily available nearby. The men of your squads ran into adjacent bunkers and battlements, but as fortune would have it, it was only yours that would withstand the full onslaught of the viral payload and subsequent firestorm. When you exit the bunker and your vox units crackle back to life, the only other Astartes you see emerge from any of the other battlements, is a lone Death Guard marine, a plasma cannon clamped to his backside.

You recognize what has happened. This was not the rebels. This was your own, still up in the sky on their space ships.

Gilgumann:

You had pushed, pushed like never before. First through one trench after another. The grinding advance toward the main city wall. Mud caked your lower half, and blood the rest along with it. There had been mines, turret fire, gates, barricades, traps, everything. Your trusted armor and Plasma weapon held true once more, keeping you alive through it all. Somehow, you found that you had pushed further than most of your legionaries. You were the only devastator of the squad left, but you were flanked by a pair of tactical marines that followed the paths you had cleared.

After breaching the main wall, and with no commands coming in to stop your advancement, the three of you simply continued on, destroying and killing what opposition you could find until finally an unnerving vox message hit your ears. There was no time to spare. Even in the distance, you could see the massive form of the Dies Irae stopping dead in its tracks and falling silent.

The two tactical marines separated from you at the last second, forcing you to shut yourself into a battlement alone. Waiting through the next several minutes, you exit the battlement alive, as true as any Death Guard could have dreamt. Hoping your brothers had successfully found cover elsewhere, you see no sign of them. Instead, to your surprise, all you see is a pair of World Eater Sergeants, as drenched in gore as you are.

The bigger surprise mutes all others, at this moment. The reality of the betrayal that just occurred, slowly sinking its dark, sickening blades into your heart. A poison your lungs were never prepared for.


None of you can interact with any of the players from another legion just yet, but you can make the decision to start moving towards any you see. The focus on this post of course, is the realization of the betrayal and its toll on the City.

Most of my posts shouldn't be this long, as this one includes an introduction as well the player pieces. Not to mention everyone is starting out separated. No promises though, as I tend to carried away...Anyway, hope you have fun writing for this beginning. As always PM me if you have any questions.
 
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#52 ·
Sebastian let out the deep breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and the tension momentarily flowed out of his chest. At least the World Eaters hadn't immediately charged them as Sebastian had been half expecting. That being said, in this time of treachery it was difficult to take anyone simply on their word, although such trickery would be unusual for a World Eater. For now he would have to take them on their word.

He signalled for Darius to keep his weapon trained and kept his head down as he responded.

"I'm with the 10th Company. I don't know all the details but our Captain, Captain Tarvitz, missed the first wave. When he arrived he warned us of the bombardment. He then left the Palace to warn your leaders. We deployed several squads to accompany him. We are all that remains. I am looking for him."
 
#53 ·
Krateron could not hear the bark-crump of the bolter. His eye-lenses were locked with those of his opponent, red and venomous, his ears pounding with the sound of blood. And then, his opponent stepped back, disengaging, allowing his blade to drop away. Krateron straightened, sheathed his shortsword, but kept Oathkeeper close - Punching the tip into the dirt and leaning on the pommel. Footsteps crunched behind him, crushing ash and bone and metal. Krateron turned his plumed head, seeing smoke-and-gore streaked green, a Son of Horus. A Sergeant, in fact.

He introduced himself as Rydon Kyrimen, a Sergeant of the 18th Company - One of Tybalt Marr's lot. Krateron had never taken to Marr, but he had known, and mourned, the loss of his veritable twin - Verulam Moy, Captain of the 19th. He found himself remembering Davin, remembering the felling of Horus, and stiffened. The Legion had become darker after that, unholier. Remembrancers and iterators had been murdered, brotherhoods and bonds - Once thought to be unbreakable - Had been shattered. Krateron had watched all of this, watched as the Luna Wolves became the Sons of Horus, watched as Isstvan had burned, and done nothing. He was as responsible for this slaughter - All of his brothers were - As Horus and his gets. Inaction had caused disaster, and this disaster would cause complete and utter destruction.

Krateron listened as Kyrimen spoke. He was dimly aware that more Sons of Horus - Three, in fact, - Had appeared along the street, one of them hefting a huge, devastating heavy bolter. That would be a pain in the arse, he thought, if things went sour. These Marines were world-weary, tired and embittered. How could they not be? They were cast-outs, unworthy in the eyes of their father, the Warmaster.

'My drop-pod was blown of course,' He said, eventually. 'I know the 18th, Sergeant. I have served besides you - I was 19th, before all of this,' He shook his head. 'Companies matter little now, though.'

'My Squad were slaughtered, by one of those screeching bitches, the Warsingers,' He continued. 'I found the Decurion here, alone, so we tagged along together. And, now, here we are.'

He stood up, and in a flourish, swung Oathkeeper around. The blade slapped against his open palm.

'Read the name, read,' He ushered, holding the blade forwards. 'Oathkeeper, it says. I have never broken an oath. Syrakul, rest his soul, knew that. Moy knew that. Horus Lupercal knows that,' He shook his head. 'I will not start now, Rydon Kyrimen. I am loyal. Why should we - But two Marines - Be trustful of you? You outnumber us, you outgun us, you assaulted fire on us. You and I, Kyrimen, are kin. We were raised from the tunnels of Cthonia, and now, we are fallen upon the hell of Isstvan.'

He shook his head. 'I would much rather we be friends, Sergeant. Friends, it saddens me to say, come few and far between on days like this,' He let that hang in the air for a moment and then added, grimly - 'I don't want to hurt you.'
 
#54 ·
Tiberius’s mind raced towards the possibility that he had just trusted a murderer and a traitor to let him rise. Tiberius refused to let his mind reach any conclusion down these dark roads though. To do so would be to invite fear and hesitancy into himself and Tiberius had long since steeled himself against any such imperfection. If he was being targeted by Horus’ traitorous brood then he would put his faith in his armour and weapons, as he had in every warzone between Terra and this hateful soil. His assumption was correct. Even though he held his position having half-risen, expectant to receive another hail of bolter fire, none was forthcoming. Tiberius breathed an almost silent sigh of relief. At least somewhere else on this blasted world there were those as wronged as him and his brothers. Another of Akkad’s brethren emerged wielding a bolter, differing subtly from Tiberius’. Crude markings adorned his armour, acid etched deep into the finely wrought ceremite. Several gold-plated skulls, both human and xenos, stared and gasped as mute witnessed to the monumental upheaval of honour that happened here today. Not once did he take his bolter stray from Akkad’s back. Tiberius was somewhat relieved that he was not the ones in the man’s sights. Although he doubted that, if this Son of Horus found a reason to fire, he would have very long before the mainstay weapon of the Great Crusade was trained on him and spitting death.



The marked Astartes seemed surprised by Tiberius’ presence this far out of the city and wondered how he came to know Akkad, although he didn't really give him time to answer before he addressed Akkad directly. Tiberius was right, the Astartes who identified himself as Sergeant Rydon Kryimen was Cthonian. The IIIrd Legion still maintained a healthy stock of Terran’s in their midst, although not as many as the VIIth Legion for example. In other legions however, there seemed to be an almost subconscious culling of the natives of the cradle of humanity that preceded this most recent massacre. As Rydon finished his introduction, Tiberius heard the sound of running boots. They were close. In a flash his Serpenta was in his hands and the moment that another Son of Horus smashed aside a portion of ruined wall, his sights were lined up with the Astarte, and the two more who came round the corner. His sights finally settled on the one weilding the heavy bolter. If it came to blows, that weapon would need to be taken out first of all. It was only when he saw the man who had brawled with Akkad wave a warding hand did he lower his weapon, although curiously they didn't lower theirs. Sergeant Rydon explained that they still were not trusted, something that bismerrched Tiberius' pride.



Tiberius was about to explain how him and Akkad had came to meet, but Akkad beat him there first. Probably better too. They would swallow the truth easier from one of their own gutter-born ilk than him. Tiberius nodded to Akkad's story, although his eyebrow cocked at Akkad's emphasis that be had been alone. Tiberius let Sebastian and Darius slide into obscurity as Akkad continued. He would mention them at a later date if they became relevant. Right now it was more important that they be unified than nit-pick at each other. Akkad presented his blade as proof of his loyalty, the quality seemed to be woven into the very alloy of the killing weapon. Up until now Tiberius had remained silent and he was aware that eyes were on him to present a plee for his loyalty too. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice like the slow peal of thunder. "I am not called a Child of the Emperor without good cause Sergeant. I wish that were enough in and of itself to prove my loyalty, but dark times as these are, I fear more is required of me. Therefore..." Tiberius opened his arms, encompassing those around him and daring them to fire on him "...let this be my testimony and make your judgements after I am done..."



Tiberius wheeled his spear so it stood upright, in a flourish of martial skill and to draw attention to himself. He planted his staff into the ground, kicking up a small cloud of ash at his feet. His voice was measured to include, but not be overwhelmed by the sorrow and anguish of the day's events but also tempered with his rage and determination for revenge. This booming regal voice reverberated of the shatter buildings and broken walls, echoing up to the heavens as if defying his brothers to come and claim his life. "...I am Decurion Tiberius Locolus, warrior of the 10th Company under Saul Tarvitz. I have enforced the will of the Emperor for one hundred and eighty years. I have defied the foes of humanity and championed it against foes uncounted. I have and will continue to serve Terra until the day I die or mankind. And for this most grevious sin..." Tiberius said with a venomous dose of irony "...I was betrayed by those I had called brother and sent here to die..." The storm has broken and his last words came with all the violence and power of lightning bolts cast by a vengeful god. Tiberius drew back into himself after allowing his anger to surface. It seemed important that this violent hoard understood that he felt their pain and rage. "...Now you have heard all I can offer. Let us either discuss what we do from here, or get to the business of seeing how many of you have to die before your treachery claims us." Tiberius hoped it did not come to that, but at least he had his weapons in hand if he needed them...
 
#55 ·
Aloros stood there as Kyros entered the fray and soon became entangled just as much as Sergeant Tharr. The two of them quickly succumbing to the rage that cursed their blood. Aloros had a heard time following their movements since they followed no logical pattern. In most fights someone skilled would have an idea of where the next blow would land, what type of grapple would be made to counter or enhance it, and countless other factors. The World Eaters spat in the face of all combat logic. Punches were thrown when doing so made no sense, grapple moves that even the filthiest street brawler in a Hive City wouldn't bring himself to do was being done in the typical primitive (yet somehow gloriously well executed) style of Angron's sons.

Of coarse Aloros didn't fire his plasma cannon and he wondered if Sergeant Kyros was already lost in rage when he gave the command. A burst of plasma from a regular mark 'gun' would have reduced them to molten slag. A shot, at this close range, from a full-fledged cannon would probably also kill Aloros or at the very least leave him horribly burned.

He was contemplating putting his cannon aside and moving in with his bolt pistol to end this madness when Alaros heard the cracking sound of vertebrae breaking. He glanced over to see one of the World Eaters who everyone had ignored had finally triumphed and turned his attack to the three wrestling Astartes.

More traitors! I’ll kill you all!’ screamed the crazed World Eater as he charged into the fight. Aloros could have taken aim and fired but again, plasma cannons were not made for melee combat.

In surprisingly short order the crazed World Eater had already pummeled Kyros into the ground.

'Working with the Deathguard too! Death to Angron! Death to Mortarion! Traitors all!’ he screamed as he smashed Kyros' face into the ground and pulled a knife.

Aloros reacted instantly and moved with one hand towards his bolt-pistol in an effort to stop this, but even as he pulled his sidearm he knew he'd be too late. Suddenly a shot rang out and the crazed World Eater slumped over with a bolt-hole through his mostly detonated skull.

For a long moment there was nothing but silence save for Tharr and Kyros' heavy breaking that was audible despite their helms.

'That escalated quickly,' said Aloros at last. He moved forward cautiously towards Kyros.

'Sergeant are you still lost to the rage,' he asked neutrally. His hand was wrapped around his bolt pistol, but oddly he held it at an angle that would allow him to shoot Tharr rather than Kyros. Tharr still had the tension in his form for murder, Kyros seemed more deflated.
 
#56 ·
Kyros looked up, his head tilted to this side with curiousity, having expected the death knell to be delivered. He got to his feet hesitantly, unsure if he would need to defend himself further, collecting his power axe from the ground, having lost it in the fray. Trying to quickly collect himself he looked first to Alaros, whose pistol was aimed in his general direction, but had not been discharged, he then looked to his left and saw Marcus standing there, plumes of smoke rising from his bolt pistol.

"Sergeant Tharr?" Kyros spoke his fellow World Eater's name as a question, as if to check if the Astartes was in fact there in any recognizable form or if he was still lost to the madness and rage that flowed freely in their blood lines.

"That escalated quickly," Alaros spoke as he moved closer, "Sergeant are you still lost to the rage?" also looking to Marcus to see how he would react. Kyros noted that Alaros had not holstered his pistol yet and his hand instinctively crept towards his own weapon before looking at the sea of bodies around them and realizing they owed these Brothers a grim debt. "These men were lost to the madness, there was nothing we could do for them...Still it grieves me to know we had to put them down to ensure our own survival."

Kyros shook his head as he came to a grim realization, they would need supplies, ammunition and as distasteful as it may have been here in front of them there was a macabre armory of sorts. "Collect what ammunition we can, we will need it. It may not be just for ourselves, we three were brought together through random circumstance, perhaps we might encounter others like us?" There was some amount of hope flitting in and out of his tone as he spoke. "...Or, if we encounter the force that did this...I will not want to run low of bolt rounds before I die." The ocean of dead was an imposing visage and as he spoke Kyros wondered to himself what force could be so destructive to cut through World Eaters in such numbers, he knew he did not want to find the answer.
 
#57 · (Edited)
Lord Ramo has been in touch with me and is still planning on posting. I have not heard from Darius O's yet but am willing to spare a bit more time. Here is the update for Sebastian and Nacho since they have been waiting the longest.


Sebastian and Darius:


"I am looking for him."

Sebastian's last words trail off into silence, followed by a shrill wind passing through the small plaza.

Clanking becomes audible. Boots, guns, axes, and power armor. Some turning of your heads shows groups of figures rushing down two more of the five streets leading to the small plaza.

'I have never heard of this...Captain Tarvitz.' Says the World Eater Sergeant, grimly.

Without another second passing. Bolter rounds light up the stone and marble work. Sending clouds of debris over the two loyal Emperors Children.

They do no know exactly where you are hiding but are making educated guesses and lighting up any large enough chunks of cover they can find in the area. Again there were five streets leading to the plaza. Three of them now now each have World Eaters advancing inwards, all firing on your position. Besides the initial five, a whole sixteen more have entered view. As soon as you move to defend yourselves, it will get much harder, as the enemy will know your exact location. Any of the World Eaters will charge you the moment they get the chance. Sebastian may choose to kill up to eight between shooting and close combat. Darius may kill up to four. By the end of your posts, please make known whether your your goal is to take out as many out as possible, or to only to take as many out as necessary to escape down one of the two open streets.
 
#58 ·
The sound of the gunfire that Decius was rushing towards abruptly stopped. Cursing quietly, Vultus picked up his pace as he rushed through the ruins and debris towards where the gunfire had originated, the standard flowing as he moved quickly. The only sound he could hear now was the pounding of his feet on the ground and the crunch as he stepped upon loose bits of debris and crushed them under his armoured heels. He could faintly hear the hum of aircraft engines, but those were far away in the distance, far from him and his objective.

Ahead he found some ruins and without breaking a stride, crashed right through a thin part of rubble as he took the most direct route to the original sound of gunfire. He paused for a moment as he surveyed the ruins. It had once been a bell tower, he could tell by the giant bell, blackened from the traitorous bombardment where it had once shone brightly when the world had been brought under compliance. Now all that remained was the blackened and twisted frame of it. As he looked past the bell he could make out that it had fallen on a skyscraper that must have fallen first, probably in the initial attack. On the other side of the ruined skyscraper which now covered what was once a road he could see a group of Astartes, some of his brothers.

He recognised his own legion and despite everything felt a glimmer of hope, even the purple figure in the midst of them, obviously a son of Fulgrim brought relief to him. He paused for a moment though, what if they were traitors? What if the men he saw below were not his brothers at all, but had betrayed him. He squinted as he made out guns seemingly being pointed at one another, were his brothers in trouble down there with traitors. No friend of foe tags came up when Vultus checked his HUD.

Sighing to himself he drew his plasma pistol and hoisted the standard. If they were friends they should recognize the second standard and know he was a friendly, if they had checked the roster of those making planet fall. Though if there were traitors down there they would also recognize it and kill him. It mattered not Vultus had made his decision. He moved towards the group intent on finding out once and for all, perhaps this is where he died. Perhaps not. He would march straight towards them, he was not a subtle man.
 
#59 ·
"Damned savage sons of whores!" Sebastian growled, pulling his helmet on as he did, so the second half of the sentence was forced aggressively from the helms grill. There was little a Son of Angron could do that would surprise him but such deceit certainly did. He didn't believe it was in their nature.

Even without looking he could tell they were in trouble. He tried to separate out the sounds of individual boots flooding into the plaza and tried to isolate the bolters propelling rounds above their heads. There was at least a dozen, probably more. Without raising his head he pictured the layout of the plaza. Every detail, every piece of fallen masonry that formed serviceable cover. The World Eaters had set a decent trap, but they were no Emperor's Children. Their plan lacked perfection and it would be their undoing.

"Darius. On my mark target the group in that direction..." he gestured behind the Legionary in the direction of one of the roads. "...with a frag grenade. I will do the same with the others. While their heads are down we make a break for it this way." He gestured again to his right towards one of the two clear roads, this one having the most available cover, though still far less than he would have hoped for.

Darius nodded and drew a grenade from his belt as the Decurion did the same. Sebastian tossed the first out of cover without looking, having already judged the direction and distance of the original group. "Now!" he barked to Darius. The two of them got up just high enough to see and tossed two more grenades at the newly arrived squads. There was a loud bang and crack, followed by two more in quick succession like a heartbeat. For a moment the hail of bolter fire faltered. "Go!"

The two of them stood up and leapt over the fallen pillar that had been covering their rear. Sebastian dared a look as the group, now to his right. They were slowly recovering and it was hard to see through the cloud of dust the grenades had kicked up as they blasted apart stone and armour in equal measure. Even so he could tell at least one of the group wasn't moving. A second, who has lost or otherwise eschewed the use of his helmet was a sitting duck as he tried to clear his head. A short burst from Sebastian's bolter made it explode like rotten fruit and the body crumpled again into the dirt.

Fire started returning in drips and Sebastian fired back on full auto. A World Eater standing defiantly out of cover was clipped twice across the shoulder and a third winged of his helmet. He went down though Sebastian doubted it was a kill. Slowly the incoming fire built and Sebastian ran. Ducking low to use as much of the limited cover as he could, he emptied the clip of his bolter firing back blindly as he went.

The adjoining street seemed so near. Once they reached it they could try to lose the World Eaters in the ruins, or failing that, find a more defensible position to make their stand. But even the small space left to cover was a killing field. Decurion Aurellian lowered his head, pumped his arms and drove forward for all he was worth.
 
#60 · (Edited)
Just over an hour has passed since you walked out from cover and discovered yourself, immersed in betrayal.


Vultus, Krateron, and Tiberius:

Before Sergeant Kyrimen or anyone else can speak further, a figure makes themselves known as two of the Sons of Horus squad retrain the guns on the hill of rubble behind Tiberius, calling out their warning to the Sergeant. With a quick look the Sergeant's hand comes up telling them not to fire.

A large Standard waves in the wind, held high in the hand of its bearer. Emblazoned, proud and bold is the roman numeral 'II' in the flag's center. Second Company. All of the Sons of Horus are well aware that this is Torgaddon's Company, and that his Company, was sent down in full. This Marine is Loyal, without question.

The Marine who rounded the corner, who shouldered his weapon, but did not directly aim it at anyone speaks up to Kyrimen.

'Brother Sergeant, if these two wanderers were Traitors, they would not fight this Standrad Bearer in front of us, but even so…I hardly believe that they are part of a Traitor force. There are only two of them. They will come in larger numbers than that, I'm sure.'

As Decius Vultus completes his descent and places his boot son the road, advancing, Rydon Kyrimen relents, folding his bolted to his chest.

'I suppose you're right. There is not much more we can do about it, and I won't risk killing fellow Loyal Astartes just for cautions sake.'

He looks at Akkad.

'If you place a bolt round or blade in my back, it is not as if it would be the worst betrayal I have felt this day.'

The squad lowers their weapons together and walks in to tighten the circle as the Standard Banner joins the group, successfully not being shot at, and knowing he is in the company of allies.

Greet with Vultus and hear his side of things, anything he may know to add further knowledge to the group. A sudden song of gunfire will spring up once again, quite a ways in the distance. Perhaps the light of the Emperor is not so far away, for everyone's vox and locator networks static back into life once more, though the signal is still poor.

Tiberius will see Sebastian's link and his relative location which is in the direction of the gunfire. You may try to contact him, move in that direction, or continue trying to find the Precentor's Palace. Of course, any decision will have to be agreed upon with the Sons of Horus if he want them to stay with him and vice versa.


Sebastian and Darius:

The two Emperor's Children expertly, and professionally cover each other as they make their attempted escape down one of the empty streets.

As Sebastian reloads from firing his full clip, he slips into a thin dead-end alleyway while Darius fires back rounds into the street's mouth where it opens up to the plaza. Pounding hammer bursts sound off of the marble and rockrete ruins of building walls. Sebastian, a Decurion counting for many a legionnaire, has a handle on timing well beyond any of the other Astartes involved in the sudden firefight. The moment Darius's clip empties, his shoulder rounds the wall corner, ferrox bolter raised and firing.

The heat is on, the World Eaters no longer hunting hidden pray. The multiple squads file into the street's opening not expecting, or perhaps not caring about, such precise tactical acumen. One of them, chain axes raised high and howling, takes at least five of Sebastian's bolts to the midsection, rending the armor clear open with a wash of blood over his traitor brothers beside him.

Debris is continually kicked up by bolt rounds hitting the ground, abandoned vehicles, and fallen building chunks. An odd sensation, being on the other side of bolter fire for the first time in the two Emperor's Children careers.

While Darius reloads in cover, Sebastian moves out of the alleyway backwards while firing before finding more cover for himself. The two of them continue this leapfrog pattern the best they can. There are simply too many World Eaters on the road now to continue openly running without being gunned down.

The pressure creeps into Sebastian who quickly realizes that ultimately, he and Darius have just been found by the Traitorous forces and knows how many more there must be. Now found, is escape truly an option, or should he simply start counting down to his demise?

A glimmer of hope, perhaps, opens up to him, as his long range vox network suddenly statics back into life.

You see Tiberius's link. Do you attempt to contact him? No other Emperor's Children links seem to be around. Your eye searches for Tarvitz in particular, but does not see anything of him either. Aside from this, continue the run and gun as best you can in cooperation with Brother Darius.(you may take control of him for this, unless Nacho has been or gets in to contact with you about it via PM.) The World Eaters are practically insane chargers, and just two of you will hardly be able to hold them back for long at all. Remember, they may not care much for cover or precision, but they are still Astartes and most of them will take quite a bit to put down. Some will make it through the bolter fire and reach your position. I trust your superior close combat skills will be enough to best these foes, however.


Kyros and Gilgumann, (Tharr pending):


Tharr's pistol arm lowers. He does not respond to any prodding by either of you. Shortly after, he simply begins to walk off through the dead. He may not be lost to the Butcher's Nails, but he is lost all the same. Unfortunately, there is no time to be wasted on him. This may be upsetting, but you know there are Traitors on the ground with more incoming, and chasing after someone who has lost their mind won't help any Loyal survivors put up a decent fight.

A sudden fire fight not too far off alerts both of you, but also gives you both a direction to move in. Though you may want to stay away from any Traitor forces for the time being, a fire fight means there are Loyalists involved as well. The two of you, now each other's only companions, have little choice but to shrug your shoulders and move to investigate.

After jogging through several hellish streets, A squad of World Eaters happens to dart out in front of you in one of the intersections. They are moving in haste towards what seems to be the same destination you are. The lead Marine practically stumbles into Sergeant Kyros. Gilgumaan is once again slightly behind due to the added weight of his weapon and armor. There is a moment, and only avery small moment of confusion and hesitation. Then, this confrontation becomes clear as day compared to the last.

There are four World Eaters here. They are all tactical legionnaires with pistols and chainswords. Capitalize on the moment of surprise. The rest of the squad, or simply just seven more of them, are a bit behind these four, and see the six of you bump into each other. Yells of a charge already fill the heavy air. There are only two of you, so be smart about how you handle this situation, and prove yourself better than these Traitor scum. You may make your strikes and shots, but I will determine the outcome of injury and death.

.
 
#61 ·
Darius stumbles behind cover as bolts impact around him and Sebastian. All around them he can see the white armour of the frenzied world eaters, they are firing their bolters and reving chainswords while screaming absurd barbaric taunts in their brutish language. As a world eater stumbled towards them, Darius sends three bolts at the marines chest, instantly cracking ceramite and pulping organs. He can't believe that he just killed an astartes, something about the act seeming morally sickening to him. He is ripped back into reality as a stray bolt shell crashes against his faceplate.

Darius is thrown to the ground with a sickening crunch as his helmet is dented in. Lying on his back he can smell the scorched air of istvaan 3 once again. That sickly charred air that leaves ones throat dry and in need of water. Coming to his senses he grabs at the remains of his helmet and rips it free as he crawls to his feet. His face is yet unmarked by the bolt shell. "Must've not detonated" he shouts over to Sebastian. Pulling his bolter to his shoulder, Darius sends a magazine of bolter rounds in to a rabble of closely packed world eaters.
 
#62 ·
If you're going to kill me, Krateron thought, wetting his lips. I'm going to cleave you from shoulder to hip.

He, and Tiberius, were surrounded. They were surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned. Krateron wasn't bothered, he had been surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned before. And, he had fought his way out of that, bloody and panting, had he not? The sole difference here, he realised, was the presence of Astartes. He had never been surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned by Space Marines, nevermind Sons of Horus, before. He groaned, inwardly. This day kept getting worse.

There was a ripple of activity in the Squad. Bolters were shouldered, over Krateron's head. He turned, slowly and deliberately, and found himself staring at a peculiar sight. A slope of rubble, twinkling with shards of glass and bone, and a Son of Horus. He clutched a banner, emblazoned with II - Second Company, Torgaddon's lot - His armour scuffed and scorched. Atomic winds made the banner flutter, and for a moment, Krateron felt nothing but pride. Isstvan was dead, but the Sons of Horus endured. Those above had tried, and failed, to crush an ants nest. And now the hive was swarming, seething for vengeance.

The banner-bearer joined them. Krateron looked at him, cocking his helmet. One of Sergeant Kyrimen's Squad fought Krateron and Tiberius's corner. Krateron was thankful for that, that took courage, and true belief. The others joined them, forming a rough circle around the newcomer.

'Were I to place a bolt or round in you, Kyrimen,' He said. 'It would be in your throat. I'm many things, but a backstabber I am not.'

He turned to the standard-bearer, and then the others. 'Now that that's dealt with, I am Akkad Krateron. My companion, here,' He waved a hand at Tiberius. 'Is Tiberius. We are all in this together,' He laughed, bitterly. 'We may as well get to know each other - You, of the Second Company,' He said, jutting his chin at the standard-bearer. 'Who are you?'
 
#63 ·
Decius marched down through the rubble towards the group of astartes, banner held proudly aloft even as he had his hand on his plasma pistol. He hoped that these men were brothers, men who would not fire upon him and had felt the sting of betrayal as he had. If they were loyal to the Emperor then he could finally find some souls on this now dead planet, some brothers that could strike back at the traitors.

However if these men were not his brothers, if they were astartes that had betrayed him and his brothers down here then he would most likely die. If he could take a few of them with him he would die content knowing he had struck back at those that had participated in this madness. As he marched he could see that they had spotted him, a few bolters were shouldered as he marched towards them and he almost braced himself and move into cover knowing the damage bolter rounds could do. However he did not he kept moving, if they were loyalists they would know he was one of them. It was common knowledge that most if not all of the II company were deployed to the surface.

They stood down as he neared, relief flooding through him as he had finally found some other loyalists, some people that shared his pain at betrayal by those they called father. As he neared he heard the conversation between the two groups, the members of his legion and one of his legion and one from the Emperors Children. Obviously that had been unsure on whether or not they were traitors or friendlies.

They formed a rough circle as Decius joined them before the one who accompanied the Emperors Children astartes spoke out. 'Now that that's dealt with, I am Akkad Krateron. My companion, here,' He paused as he waved a hand towards the Emperors Children. 'Is Tiberius. We are all in this together,' Akkad laughed bitterly at that thought 'We may as well get to know each other - You, of the Second Company,' He said, jutting his chin towards Decius. 'Who are you?'

Decius paused for a moment before replying to his brothers, "I am Decius Vultus, standard bearer of the Second Company. I am glad to find that some other astartes have survived this great betrayal, for a few moments I thought I wouldn't find any friendly forces before I found those responsible that did this." Decius paused as he planted the standard in the ground, letting it rest for a moment. "What was the plan then brothers before I entered your little standoff?" He said surveying those around him.
 
#64 ·
Before anyone could say anything else, another figure emerged from the ruined streets. Two of the bolters that had previously been trained on Tiberius moved to mark the man. With the decreased threat of firepower, Tiberius let his eyes wander to see who had intruded on this judgement and what their purpose was. The man was dwarfed by the heavy standard he bore, emblazoned with the II that marked him out as one of Torgaddon’s men.

Or should, although such things were not certain now. The fact that it was untouched by fire told him that it had likely survived the firestorm. The only way a traitor would carry that standard would be if he had prized it from the dead hands of its previous owner. That would mean that their brothers were in their midst already, which seemed unlikely, and if they were there would be far more of them than this lone marine. No, Tiberius decided, he was the genuine article.

Not wishing to continue this stand off for much longer, one of the Sons of Horus spoke up, fortunately not to say that they should murder them. He had drawn the same conclusions about Tiberius and Akkad as Tiberius had about this new comer. Sergeant Kyrimen seemed to agree and slowly the weapons trained on Tiberius lowered and he let out the tense breath he had been holding.

The Sergeant and Akkad spat levity back and forth, and Tiberius wasn’t sure to be complimented by the fact that Rydon didn’t feel the need to iterate how betrayed he would feel if they were turncoats, or offended at the implication that the Sergeant didn’t think he was capable of dealing him such a blow. Tiberius’ brow furrowed. *I’m easily worth more than any of you here Sergeant* he thought spitefully.

Tiberius screwed his eyes shut and reprimanded himself. They were his allies, friends, men he could depend on when everything else had changed or been destroyed. Nothing was certain save these men here. That thought gave him strength, but it also made him sad. Where was his legion? Surely they were more worthy than these Cthonians? How was it that they had survived and, save Sebastian and Darius, Tiberius had yet to see another one of Fulgrim’s sons.

He chose to believe it was their superiority that meant that he had not seen any of them. Horus’ legion were scattered, in small warbands, yet to have fallen back and made ready the defence to face the inevitable scouring of the survivors. His legion would not have been to easily splintered. They would have fallen back, a cohesive unit working in tandem and in good order. It was their efficiency that left him alone here as the rest of the Sons exchanged what could loosely be called pleasantries.

Suddenly, the vox network burst back into spluttering life. The signal was still maimed by the hellish atmosphere and electromagnetic disturbances, but it was there at least. Two solitary markers flashed up on Tiberius’ HUD. Unfortunately his ears also picked up gunfire also coming from the same direction, although a fair way in the distance. Sebastian and Darius were alive at least, but there was no sign of Tarvitz with them, and he could not be sure if they were only close to the gunfire or embroiled in it. “Decurion, Brother, what is status?” His voice was curt and direct, but Tiberius hoped that they weren’t in immediate danger…
 
#65 ·
Despite the gravity of their situation, despite the fact that the two of them were fighting for their lives on a damned world against a larger force of warriors they would have called Brother less than a day before, Sebastian couldn't help but spare a little pride for the execution of the withdrawal he and Darius were still in process of completing. Even under the most intense of battlefield conditions the two of them were falling back with all the precision of the training fields. Sebastian made a note, if he survived this, to make sure that Darius was properly commended.

Against any lesser foe the two Emperor's Children would have been safe now. They would either have slaughtered their pursuers in the bottleneck of the alley opening or at least reaped so great a toll that the enemy would have given up their pursuit. The World Eaters were vulnerable to neither of these things. They were Astartes and to bring down a single one was a battle unto itself. Even wounds that would have made another Space Marine stop to tend to himself, the World Eaters fought through with a psychotic lack of survival instinct. Each warrior had as little care for his brothers as he did himself and despite the bodies the Emperor's Children were leaving behind them, the Son of Angron pushed on. It seemed no matter the precision of their movement, their timing and their accuracy, they could no more hold back World Eaters than they could hold back the tide.

Beside him he heard the unmistakable sound of bolter round hitting power armour and saw Darius go down. His heart sank as he ducked behind another pile of rubble. "Darius!" he called out desperately before stepping up to lay down another hail of suppressing fire and prepared to move to the Legionary's position. Before he could though, Darius pulled off his tattered helmet.

"Musnt've have detonated." he said with a casualness that belied how close he had just come to death.

Sebastian let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and continued firing. A World Eater wielding a pair of bloodied Chain-Axes leapt out of cover and charged headlong at him. Sebastian put two bolts into his chest, but when that failed to stop him, the Decurion aimed lower. Catching the World Eater mid stride, Sebastian's bolt hit the crease at the top of the enemies greave, turning his knee to shredded meat. The warrior lived, but he wouldn't catch them any time soon.

Sebastian emptied his clip as he dropped back to the next position under Darius's supporting fire and started to reload. As he did so he was startled by the sudden burst of life that came through the vox network. A surge of hope was swiftly dashed as there was still no sign of Captain Tarvitz. Cursing, he slammed in a fresh clip as Darius emptied his own. Decurion Aurellian stood and put a bolt into the exposed head of a World Eater Darius had put on his knees seconds before, then took down a second with a flurry that clattered off the World Eater's chest, before a lucky shot slid into the soft armour under his chin and detonated, taking his head off like a grotesque firework.

"Decur...Brother, w.....status." Came over the vox. Even through the terrible channel Sebastian was certain it was Tiberius.

"Status is bad." Sebastian replied. "We're under attack by traitor World Eaters. Heavily outnumbered. Ammo supplies critical. Request immediate assistance."

As he finished the message his bolter ran dry and he ducked back down behind the low wall he and Darius were sheltered behind. Reaching for another clip he grasped only air. "Oh no..." he muttered quietly. He gently laid his bolter on the ground beside him and took a long deep breath as he reached over his shoulder for the comforting presence of Spectre. His hand gripped firmly around the handle of the long, slender bladed power sword and he listened. Despite Darius's best efforts the footsteps were getting closer. 15 feet....10....5....

Sebastian leapt to his feet, drawing his blade and thumbing the activation rune in a single perfect motion.
 
#66 · (Edited)
I was going to do the dialogue through Pm and chat like normal, but the unlikely chance of getting everyone involved in chat at the same time, and everyone reposting the same things after PMs were sorted, led me to doing it this way. Tiberius is still free to reply to Sebastian, of course, while this conversation is going on.

The Sergeant replies first, after Krateron

'We are honored by your presence, Brother Vultus. I am glad you found our way to us. Aside from these two,' he indicates Akkad and the Emperor's children Decurion, this is what remains of my squad, codenamed Dillinger. We are from the 18th Company. It took some time to absorb what has just happened, I must admit. When we couldn’t find any other survivors and heard the drop ships descend from the skies, we did all we knew how to do, and set up the best angles along this street we could find. Up until these two wandered across our sights, we held little hope in our hearts to do anything other than fight our final battle.’

he waves a hand over each of his men, introducing them.

First his hand passes over the Marine with the heavy bolter.

'Brother Gretivalus.' Who nods to the general group.

The more reserved marine wielding a bolter, who pleaded the case of Akkad and Tiberius. 'Brother Muor.' who does not nod, remaining still.

'Brother Herridon' he says, passing over the Marine who crashed through the corner of the ruined building to protect his sergeant.

'and my most experienced veteran, Solhanan' he concludes, as his hand comes to rest before falling in the direction of the Son of Horus in MkIII armor who pinned Tiberius to the ground. He carries a bolt pistol, the blade he met Krateron with, a chainsword on his other hip, and a trio of daggers across his chest.
 
#67 ·
His hopes were dashed in an instant. Decurion Aurellian’s voice was intermittent through the noise, but Tiberius could make out the definitive sounds of gunfire and coarse bellowing, rendered metallic and rasping either by their own voxes or his. "Status…bad..." Came the bellowing cackle of a response “…under attack…traitor…Eaters…outnumbered…critical…immediate assistance.”
“Aurellian! Sebastian!” Tiberius roared down the vox as the channel blinked out of existence. His hearts stopped for a moment. Had his brother been dragged down by roaring chainaxes wielded blood-crazed maniacs? Then the signal came back, but his hearts still pounded. This was not good.

He had hoped they would have more time before the first wave struck. Perhaps if the bloody XIIth weren’t led by a lunatic with a thirst for blood they would have. Mortarion would have wanted more time to plan. Horus would likely have already have had a contingency, although he might have thought his plan fool proof. Eidolon would have responded with the characteristic swiftness of the IIIrd Legion, but even he would have made a plan. Only Angron would have charged down, all strategy thrown to the wind.

Tiberius heard and sub-consciously processed the names of the new squad he found himself in, but he needed to act on Sebastian’s information and he needed to do it quickly. The gunfire was far off and from the intermittent signal from Sebastian and Darius so were they. If they ran Tiberius doubted they would find much more than mutilated corpses. Even if they didn’t, they didn’t have the man-power to turn back the tide of the XIIth. It seemed necessity of survival would compel him to leave them once again. How had it come to this, that he prioritized the lives of these Sons of Horus over his own brothers?

“Sergeant Rydon…” Tiberius said, cutting across the ongoing conversation. “…whatever plan you had, we need to move now. My brethren about an hour on the other side of the city and have already encountered the first wave of World Eaters. They will be here any moment. We are out of time…” Everyone was listening to him now. The time for idle conversation was evidently over by Tiberius firm authoritative tone. “…Even with the eight of us, if we are caught in the oncoming storm we’ll be butchered. We should fall back to either the Precentor’s Palace or the Sirenhold. Somewhere where we have a substantial force and can whether what is to come.” At least until we have a better plan. The aim right now was survival, and what Sebastian and Darius sacrifice had bought them was time. Time to move and time to ensure they were alive to deliver retribution…
 
#68 ·
One by one, the Squad introduced themselves. Krateron nodded to each, a clenched fist held over his hearts - An old, antiquated salute. Brother Muor, who carried his heavy bolter with pride, had taken the side of Krateron and Tiberius - Something which the Cthonian was grateful for. Solhanan, who had went blade-to-blade with Krateron, looked like a fierce whoreson. All blades and bolters, that one. A true Cthonian, Krateron suspected, raised from the gutter. Except, the charm of the Cthonians was, the gutter always came with them.

Tiberius spoke up. Krateron's helm snapped towards him, and he curled his lips, listening. His fellow Decurion, Sebastian - Krateron remembered him distastefully, for a moment, and then reprimanded himself, it was unbecoming to think ill of the dead, - Had gotten himself into trouble. Krateron lamented poor Darius, though he knew him not, and frowned. Tiberius had condemned him to death-

No. Fulgrim had condemned him to death. Their Primarchs, their fathers, had condemned them to death. Krateron kicked the dust.

'Neither,' He said, countering Tiberius. 'I've said it once, and I will say it again. We should run, into the wilds, away from the city. The Precentor's Palace, the Sirenhold, are graveyards in the making,' He gazed at his fellow Sons of Horus, in their battered and chipped armour, gory from head to toe, and shook his head. 'The larger the concentration of Marines, the larger the force we will face,' He paused, for a moment, listening to the howling of the winds. 'East, West, North or South - Anywhere. But here is death.'
 
#69 · (Edited)
The roar of bolter fire erupted just ahead, Kyros and his Death Guard companion Alaros had been chasing the 'battle, if it could be called that for seemingly hours. The pace had been relentless, but the offensive launched by his former Brethren had been typical of his Legion, savage, brutal and at a frenzied pace. To this point the skirmishes they'd been chasing had lasted mere minutes and they'd never been able to close the distance enough to so much as see the fire fights, let alone join in them.

They reached the outskirts of the broken and shattered section of the city, and whoever the World Eaters were trying to kill, they were fighting back. Kyros lost sight of Alaros, but he knew the dutiful Legionaire was still pressing after him, with his plasma cannon loadout he had a difficult time keeping pace directly with his World Eater comrade.

He heard the call and return of Bolter rounds, then the cry of a warrior calling to his fallen comrade "Darius!" broke the background noise of battle. Seemingly the World Eaters had killed at least one of the Astartes they had been hunting. The thought of an Astartes, still loyal to the emperor falling at the hands of his Brothers festered in his mind and tear at his heart. His teeth began to grate together as he clenched his jaw, his muscles became corded and tight as he felt the rage of his bloodlines flow through him.

He edged closer, they on a section of cityscape that he been built up on a slight plateu, and he looked down some 10 meters to get a better view of the battle. Two Astartes clambored over the debris of the city, falling back in a leap frog pattern, seeking to cover one another as they sought to retreat. Their armor was covered in soot and blood, but the regal purple marked them out unmistakably as Emperor's Children. They too had apparently been forfeited by their Primarch, sentenced to death, and it was his own Brothers who were going to carry out the execution. It grated at him, deeper and deeper into his soul as the World Eaters, pushed into frenzy by their lust for blood and the orders of Angron their progrenitor...His too.

He watched as his Brothers closed the distance, like a tide ebbing in, as if a clash against the proverbial rocks was inevitable. Surprisingly one of the Emperor's children laid his bolter down on the ground .You fool! Kyros thought, and then watched as the same warrior drew an oddly thin bladed power sword. He means to make a stand in close combat?! Against my Brothers that will be suicide The thoughts flood through his mind, and his only idea was also suicidal, but he could not stand back and just watch.

Knowing he would not have time to try and coordinate anything with the Emperor's Children he relayed a message instead to Alaros who had been a truly impeccable battle brother in the brief time that he had known him. "Legionaire Alaros Guilguman, it has been quite an honor to serve with you." He sighed, "But I would suggest that you continue with our initial mission, to find whoever gave us warning, find the rest of our Brothers who are loyal, you can join a greater stand...But I must stop my Brothers here and now."

He watched as the Astartes with the thinly bladed power sword advanced, making deft strikes against his foes and looked into the throng of Wolrd Eaters advancing on the two Emperor's Children. His roar was carried across the din of the skirmish by his vox grille "Death to those who would turn their back on the Emperor!!" His plasma pistol echoed his roar, the white hot blue plasma blast tore into a World Eater's chest plate, immolating him in a wreath of excrutiating fire. Kyros leapt into the fray, his power axe glowed bright blue and pink as the energy field swirled around the weapon, his shield at the ready. As he crashed into his Brothers, he took full advantage of the momentary surprise, hacking and slashing, letting his fury take the lead. "Sergeant Kyros Straessen! I shall fight beside you this day Emperor's Children!" he roared over the battle as a means of introduction while his axe tore into a World Eater's shoulder joint, slicing deep on a downward stroke that ended at the warrior's opposing hip bone.

Kyros did not think of life or death, he thought only of killing, any of his former Brothers, as many as he could, perhaps he and these Emperor's Children could enact some for of vengeance, perhaps they could survive...He didn't know. "DIE!!" his voice turned beastial as he dug his axe into the helm of a World Eater who had tried to bring their chain axe upon him. Kyros stood his ground, using his shield and axe to kill any that he could.
 
#70 ·
Tiberius, Decius, and Krateron:

The Sons of Horus Sergeant takes a few steps to the right, then one to the left, head lowered, thinking for a moment. With his bolter still hanging in one hand, he only uses one to aid his speech.

‘Brother Krateron is of my blood, but I do not feel a bias is mixed into my thoughts here. I agree with him on this. If the goal is survival, then we stay small, and hidden. As Traitor forces move toward the Palace, we may be able to slip through them, group by group, until we find our way out of the city. Like rats, as much as it pains me to say it. We only sink our teeth in, when the opportunity is clear, or the need is real.’

Though the Standard Bearer is technically of the highest rank present, he remains steadfast, and silent, arms crossed, listening to the group in front of him.

Ultimately, The seven Sons of Horus begin moving in a direction away from where they estimate the Palace to be. The Decurion, hesitantly, moves in the opposite direction. Though his feet carry him on, in his mind, he is still unsure of what decision to make.

Before the two colors separate any further, two sounds come.

The first is less of an audible noise than it is a rumble beneath your feet. The second, is a buzzing. A thrum. Jet Bikes.

Squad Dillinger does not hesitate to find cover. There is plenty around. Building Ruins, chunks of building, fallen statue pieces, piles of corpse dirt, etc. They all disappear within moments. Rydon urges the three of you to do the same. But of course, you can do what you want. Hide, run, or simply stand your ground and wait to see if anything comes. As has been the case so far, your actions will continue to be affecting how Squad Dillinger reacts to you.

Darius, Sebastian, and Kyros:

As Sebastian leaps to his feet shouting the final count, Spectre sparks with with power just before plunging into the World Eater’s gut, becoming submerged to the hilt. He pulls it hard to the side ripping it free of the Traitor’s midsection.

However much the Decurion’s skill with a bolter was better than his foes, his skill in close combat was even more so.

Subconsciously he places himself in a loose ring of scorched, destroyed vehicles, having backed into a wider area now out of the narrow street. Darius, now out of ammunition as well, leaps over one of the vehicles with one hand, his gladius on the other. Some World Eaters run through the gaps, some leap over the tops as well, and some simply charge the wrecks aside. No matter their approach, they are either cut down wholly by Sebastian, or finished off by Darius.

Soon, the two notice that the force of Traitors is divided, or distracted rather, no longer coming at your position in full force. Another weapon, sparking with life, gleams through the clouds of dirt and swirling ashes.

Had Tiberius changed his route and come after them? Was it someone else? All the Emperor’s Children could see were World Eaters. Through the fighting, it dawned on them, that at least one of Angron’s sons, was still loyal to the Throne.

Push through the handful of World Eaters between you, and combine your efforts. Please, though, do not go overboard with kill tallies here. Remember, these are Astartes, your equals. The fact that the World Eaters throw strategy to the wind in preference of brutal ferocity is not necessarily a weakness, but it is something that can be exploited by those skillful enough to work around it. You are lucky they are crazed and desire to finish you off up close. Any of the other three Legions, by all likelihood, would have simply cut you down by bolter fire by now. By the end of your posts, getting out of this alive will still seem impossible, however.
 
#71 · (Edited)
Tiberius watched the group of algae coloured marines walk away from him. Away from their brethren. Away from the fight. He had never taken Sons of Horus to be cowards, but how could he think anything else of them. They were leaving their brothers to die. They were running. They were hiding. Bastards! Tiberius thoughts turned sour the longer he held them in his head. But there was something worse, something that offended him even more. They could rationalise leaving those they could not see. They might be able to convince themselves that their brethren were dead. But he was in front of them. He was here. He was living, breathing, fighting right here. And they were abandoning him. They only wanted to survive.

As he watched the Sons leave him he realised that, despite his objection, he had still not made to move towards the Palace. That shamed him quietly. He would have liked to have turned around indignant and defiant, marching proudly to meet his brothers and die with them. Even as he turned around and made to make his own way, his footsteps were slow and resistive. That was what really irritated him. Not that the Sons had left him. Not that they had left their brothers. Not that they wanted to live rather than die. It was that they were right. He wanted to live, and he couldn’t deny it.

He had dreamed that the Imperium would last forever and that the Emperor’s Children would be known as the exemplars of all that it meant to be Astartes. That his Primarch would be lauded as the image of perfection; above Guilliman, above Dorn, even above Horus. Such a dream was in tatters now, but whilst he still clung onto life he could be certain that the legacy of the IIIrd Legion would not be entirely tarnished. He had been deemed unworthy, unsuited, and imperfect. He wanted to live, just to spite those who had rejected him. He wanted to turn their plans to ash and ruin and stand triumphant over their corpses. He wanted to prove he was better, that he had more honour than them. He wanted to prove that he was perfect.

His footsteps were pensive. There was still time to turn back, to run and join those he called cousin. But that meant abandoning those that he called brother. Was that right? Could he do that? Did his pride mean so much to him that he could not do what was required of him and march back to his brethren, even if it meant marching to his death? He could rationalise that him staying out here meant he could be an asset to his brothers, a man behind enemy lines feeding them information. He tried to but he couldn’t. The vox was a mess and even if he lied to everyone else, he would always know that was not the reason for his decision.

Going back to the fold meant going back to what was familiar, with men of his own to command and commands being told to him. The discipline and security of the Legion’s ranks beckoned. Our here he would be little more than a nomad, another wanderer with men he barely knew and could scarcely trust beyond the fact that they were betrayed same as him. That was what the choice came down to, ultimately, certainty or uncertainty. Back at the palace he would be worth as many men as he killed before scything blades and blistering shells brought him low. Out here he had the chance to escape, survive, and maybe even warn others. Or he might be ambushed and die alone, forgotten, and remembered in shame as the one who abandoned those who called for him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar buzzing sound and the rattling of the earth beneath his feet. *Jetbikes* Tiberius thought. They would be on them soon. Tiberius swore under his breath and turned once again, running at full sprint towards the group of Astartes who were scattering like a startled flock into various ruins, behind rubble and whatever hiding places they could find. He followed the man Rydon had identified as Muor into the burnt out floor of a nearby building.

Running alone in the opposite direction made no sense and until this immediate threat was passed he knew he should stick with squad Dillinger. But he still had to make his decision. “Sergeant Rydon, I must ask…” he took a deep intake of breath, something the Son of Horus would hear over their vox link “…why do you want to survive? Is it just for your own sake, or do you plan to do something with the time given you, be it making our erstwhile brethren bleed or warning others? ” He had to be candid. He could not abandon his brothers for self-preservation. But there may be other ways he could serve them. However, if he did not leave now it was likely he would never make it back to his brothers. At least, not without a good chance he would be killed along the way.

At last Rydon responded, initially simply with laughter. “If I simply valued living for the sake of living, I would have given up being an Astartes a long time ago. I've put myself on countless battlefields, fully willing to die, prepared for it, even. All Space Marines have the same fate, Emperor's Child” Tiberius sneered at that. He knew they were destined to die in a battle on some world far from their home. Any sense of pride had not deluded him about that. He just never imagined it would be at the hands of his brothers.
“…One way or another, we are destined to die in battle. You outrank me, Decurion, I doubt I have to remind you of this. I don't know exactly what we can do if we get away from the city, but I know that if we find a way to survive, we have a much better chance of figuring out something, some better way to spend our lives in trying to turn this tide. Maybe I am wrong and we could do more damage adding our might to a larger defence, but we don't know if a larger defence exists, and we can't stand around all day thinking about it.”

That was a possibility he had not considered. He couldn’t imagine that there was no one left but them. So many back at the Palace had heard Tarvitz warning. But it was possible, although he didn’t want to think about that. What mattered is Rydon was not doing this for himself. His survival had a purpose, even if that purpose was vague at this point. That was enough for Tiberius to assuage his conscious that he was striving for nobility, for honour, for perfection, by joining forces with these Sons of Horus.
“Thank you Sergeant Rydon. Now, if you could get your squad to cover me that would be splendid.” His last turn of phrase was more jovial than it had any right to be. It was like he was talking to his own squads, as if no change in the course of human history had just taken place. But more importantly, as if the foes they were about to face were just like any other foes.

He pulled out his length of industrial chord, strong enough to support the weight of several Astartes rappelling down cliff edged too high to simply jump off. He handed one end of it to Muor. “Secure this. Make sure it won’t move.” As soon as the end of the chord was in Muor’s hand, Tiberius vaulted out of the window. He spoke as he sprinted across the open ground towards the building opposite, the whine of the jetbikes getting louder. He was certain he had seen a green Astartes duck inside that building, but he couldn’t be sure who it was. “Any members of squad Dillinger in the building opposite Muor’s position, get ready to receive the end of a length of industrial chord. With any luck, we can take a few riders off of their jetbikes with it.”

The noise of the approaching jetbikes was getting louder. Tiberius was going at full sprint, his footsteps kicking up clouds of dirt and ash as he ran. He would reach the opposite building soon, although he would likely throw the chord to make it reach its destination those crucial seconds sooner. There was several large pieces of rubble strewn across the street that he could have hid behind, potentially moved carefully from one to the next and decrease the chance of being spotted. However, if he was cautious and the jetbikes passed before he could get the cable to the other side, his risk would have been for naught, and so Tiberius sprinted harder and faster than he could ever remember sprinting.

The usual weapons jetbikes sported were heavy bolters, munitions his armour and refactor field could hopefully withstand at least a few hits from. However, the heavier weapons, plasma-cannons and multi-meltas, weren’t things he was hopeful of surviving if he suffered a direct hit. All the more reason to reach the building before he was hit. Either way, there was little chance that either he or the dust trail he kicked would not be spotted. That was good. They needed a reason to investigate; else they would have little chance of falling for his trap. The challenge was giving them that reason without getting killed in the process...
 
#72 ·
Upon the Sergeant's agreement, with Krateron, the Son of Horus let out a quiet, thankful sigh. Whilst the Sergeant seemed doubtful about running into the wilds, almost disgusting, Krateron was not. It had always been his way, from the sump-hives of Cthonia to the stalk-forests of Murder, Krateron had run. He did not run because he was a coward, even as a child he had been brave and bold, but rather because it was the logical decision. Running, surviving and fighting another day was always the preferable course of action, when the alternative was violent, messy death. Tiberius, being the stubborn, proud Emperor's Child that he was, could not see that. To him, fleeing would be an abandonment of his duty, of his brothers. He cared about what his fellow Legionaries thought about him. All the Legionaries that Krateron cared about were either dead, or still embarked on the Vengeful Spirit. He winced at that thought.

When it was time to part ways, Krateron did not negotiate with Tiberius. If the Decurion wanted to die, if he wanted his last stand, then the Son of Horus wasn't going to interrupt that. He did not cast his friend a second glance. Nowadays, friends would come few and far between. Holding onto them, Krateron decided, was not a good idea. They were different Legions, the Sons of Horus and the Emperor's Children. They strived for different things, one complete and utter conquest, in the name of the Emperor and Horus- In the name of the Emperor - And the other sought only perfection. Krateron had no doubt, that in more peaceful times, Tiberius would have been an artist, or a sculptor, or a musician. Krateron, on the other hand, would have been a thief, a murderer or a rapist. They were cut from different rocks, the two Legions, and that would ultimately shine through, as it did now. The Emperor's Child, so determined to die with honour. The Sons of Horus, willing to slink away and hide, for their own betterment. No, for tomorrow.

And, then, he heard it. He felt it. Pebbles quaked at his feet, shook and bounced. Puffs of dust and ash flew into the air. The Sons of Horus shared a few curious glances.

'Jet bikes,' Krateron muttered, but everyone was already scrambling for cover. Krateron glanced around, saw one of the Marines - Herridon - Run into a broken-backed building, and followed him in. Bones crumbled beneath the two Space Marine's footfalls, pieces of armour cracked and crunched, releasing liquefied remains. Krateron had seen worse. He had gazed upon Serghar Targost countless times, after all.

Herridon lowered himself down into a window, and Krateron joined him. Outside, the atomic storms still raged, and much to Krateron's shock, Tiberius was there. Running towards them, with a wire in his gauntlet.

'That daring bastard,' Krateron grunted, and then turned his attentions to Herridon. 'Secure the line, keep this safe,' He dropped his bolter to the ground unceremoniously, and jogged away.

Most of the building had been gutted - The roof, and most of the floors above, had caved in. Krateron punched his fingers into the wall, and climbed. He was quick, making handholds with his huge, armoured fingers and toes. On the fourth floor, he turned, nimbly, and threw himself across the gap. He landed on a lip of rock, rolled to his feet, and nearly tumbled out a window.

He looked down, grinned, and licked his teeth. 'Death from above,' He whispered to himself. 'Or.. Just death.'
 
#73 ·
Spectre lashed out in a blur of ghostly pale light and another World Eater died, the soft armour linking his helmet to his cuirass severed and the throat beneath along with it. Under his helm Sebastian's face was a mix of grim determination and a sneer of condescending superiority. Here in this moment all he had been raised to believe and trained to accomplish was true. Here he proved the superiority and perfection of the Emperor's Children as he stood on the bodies of so many barbarian sons of Bodt.

Another chain axe swung for him from his left and Spectre clipped the head from the haft. The reverse stroke severed the wielders hand and the final blow struck up under his arm, turning everything between his broad shoulders to bloody pulp. Sebastian withdrew the blade and spun away, flourishing his proud weapon flamboyantly as he fell back into his stance and awaited the next victim.

None came and Sebastian momentarily allowed himself to think he was safe. then admonished himself for such laxity. Nearby, Darius was still standing. The Legionary continued to impress the Decurion with his skill and resilience. With the moments respite Sebastian looted the fallen bodies around him for ammunition. There was little to be had. Whether the World Eaters had used their own supplies or shunned them in favour of their axes and blades was unknown but he took what he could, tossing some to Darius.

Sebastian signed for Darius to follow him and with Spectre in the lead, they cautiously stepped out of the circle past a burned out Istavaanian troop carrier a World Eater had shouldered out of place in his fury to attack.

What they saw from there confused them. World Eater fighting World Eater. Such was to be expected now, here, in this dark time but in this very moment his took the Decurion off guard. He did not know if the World Eaters had turned upon themselves, taken by their fury, or if Loyalists of Angron's legion had taken to the fray. The thought occurred to him to leave now. To make their escape and leave the World Eaters to kill one another. But if their were other loyalists here, he owed it to them to assist them.

Firming him grip on Spectre, Sebastian charged once more into the fray.
 
#74 · (Edited)
Vultus stayed quiet as the group of Sons of Horus and the lone Emperors Child spoke on what to do. He was content to die if necessary though he found himself agreeing with the plan on living for another day. It was not cowardice, it was a tactical move. If the loyalists to the Emperor were defeated then any spare loyalist forces could either attempt to infiltrate a ship and warn the Emperor's forces of the traitors. The sooner that was done the sooner this rebellion could be put to rest and Decius would find content in the death of the traitor whore Horus. Vultus still felt the sting of betrayal from a being that he would have followed into the jaws of death willingly before this horrendous act.

The group split with the Sons of Horus agreeing with Krateron whilst the Emperors Child, probably cursing the Sons of Horus as cowards began to make his way to the palace. Vultus spoke up as the group parted, taking hold of the standard as he began to move with his brothers, "While I agree with leaving the city and living to fight for another day, our first priority should be getting a message back to Terra of this betrayal. Any opportunity to take a ship whether it is one that has somehow been spared from the attack and bombardment, or if we have to stow away on an enemy ship is an opportunity that I will not miss. Word must be taken back to Terra, and I am sure that if the majority of loyalist forces were deployed here there is very little chance that a ship has somehow escaped the Warmasters fleet." He said as he walked.

It started as vibrations along the ground before the sounds of jetbikes hit Decius ears, turning he watched as the Emperors Child ran over to them as the squad immediately separated taking cover in ruined buildings and where they could. Decius snarled under his breath as he hefted the standard ready to charge into cover in a building before he saw what the Emperors Child was doing. He ran from the building he had taken cover in, trailing behind him industrial chord as he sat a trap for the oncoming jetbikes.

Vultus smiled under his helmet as he opened a vox channel, "A brave move Decurion, and one that might work if they have a more visible target to focus on than you and your dust trail. I shall act as bait to draw them in. The standard should provide distraction enough I hope." Vultus said slamming the standard back into the ground so that it stayed there, motionless as he stepped in front of it drawing his plasma pistol and chainsword. "Brothers if I fall this day do not allow the traitorous dogs to take this standard. I will not have it presented to that whore Horus as a war trophy. If necessary see to its destruction." He said as he voxed the squad and prepared to meet whatever danger was coming his way head on. It pained him to even think and suggest that course of action but he would not allow the traitors to desecrate the standard, to desecrate the only thing that still meant anything to him.
 
#75 ·
The whirring and thrumming of chainblades swirled around him as his own Brothers swarmed around him, each taking their turn to poke and prod with wild slashes of their chain axes, testing Kyros' defense with his shield and his counters with his own power axe. There was a sickening, mad laughter of sorts that came forth from his blood lust stricken kin, they were so lost to The Nails and the poisoned words of Angron, their mutual father that they could not be swayed from their course of action.

An unaimed burst of plasma erupted from his pistol as he sought to open a route for himself to maneuver to a better footing, or at least buy himself a moment so he was no longer surrounded. Quickly darting through the opening, jumping over the burning corpse of a World Eater he landed, pivoting on his left foot to face his attackers again. This sequence had already played itself out several times, each time, like a tide, the Traitor World Eaters flowed back and encircled him.

This time however, the tide was split, between himself and the two living Emperor's Children who he could spy from the corner of his eye, their purple armor every now and then flashing through the mob of white and red. His armor bore the scratches and tooth marks of multiple chain blades, in the face of such numbers he had managed to make those blows that did connect hit home as nothing but glancing strikes that slide off his armor, rather than bit and dug into the armor. A fresh paint coat would likely sort his armor out, provided he ever made it to a facility wherein he could enact such repairs. It was far more likely that his armor would bare these marks until the end of this horrible affair.

His own rage was flooding his veins, but unlike his brethren his rage was not chemically induced or amplified and as such he was able to maintain his wits. His left, shield baring arm slapped outwards at an incoming strike with a chain axe. The wielder's weapon was redirected harmlessly off the shield and Kyros brought his own power axe down, first in a strike that slice into his foes collar joint and dug as deep as his strength would allow before tearing the weapon free, a burst of blood showering himself and the World Eaters who again began to close in on him. They absently mindedly clambered over their freshly slain Brother, like ants, they swarmed right over one another as they fell, each racing, pushing and shoving to get to Kyros, looking to tear at the choicest cuts.

"Children of the Emperor!!" Kyros bellowed over his vox, battling as he spoke, his axe gleaming in the grit, grime and gore that was the backdrop against which he fought. His armor was coated in blood spray, ducking another vicious, but ineffective slash from another World Eater, bringing his own power axe upward in a motion that nearly bisected the World Eater, his life and organs spilled out of him as yet more blood coated Kyros' armor. "Have you any plan Legionaire of the IIIrd!?" his vox carried his words across the battlefield to the Emperor's Children, whether they had any plan or not, he did not know. "We can keep fighting them, but they will continue to flow like a tide! I will stand and fight with you for however long I still breathe!" There was a savagery in his tone that likely the two members of the IIIrd would balk at given their sense of superiority and civility, but Kyros was a wild animal, trapped in a corner with no choice but to fight. He would not simply let himself go quietly, no matter the odds even in their combined stand.
 
#76 ·
Krateron, Tiberius, and Vultus:

The kicked up cloud of dust and ash created by Tiberius begins to fade away, revealing the sacred banner of the Sons of Horus Second Company. Vultus stands in the middle of the street, ready and waiting for whatever may come. Krateron looks down from above, able to see the street clearer now with the rising of the dust. Though just a few stories higher, he can tell the wind from the surrounding storms is stronger there than on street level.

Across the street, diagonally, he sees Gretivalus, his heavy bolter aimed and braced in the shadows of the ruined building.

The thrumming sound of the jetbikes continues to increase. The other vibration beneath your feet, hits again like an inaudible bass drum.

Tiberius sinks into his covered position staring hard at Vultus. Even if he worries the Standard Bearer may ruin the trap, he recognizes the Marine’s higher rank.

A tense moment, tightens the rope around the nerves of all eight Loyalist Astartes.

The humming of the jetbikes spikes in volume. They have turned the corner. They are on the street, and they are not slowing down. In fact..they begin to speed up.

Vultus stares down the incoming speeder. A blue and white shape, rapidly increasing in size, heads straight for him, with more of them behind the first. He wonders if the large barreled gun protruding from its front end will open fire. Instead, the edge of a blade catches the firelight. It makes a wide arc through the air as it is unsheathed from its bearer’s side.

Vultus makes one statement over the vox to the other seven Space Marines, before the cataclysm.

‘Traitors.’

The following takes place in about 15 seconds:

Right before the World Eater’s broad, bashed blade connects with Vultus’s throat, he raises his pistol arm, firing off a shot. The plasma bolt burns the traitor’s sword arm clear off. Scorched flesh splatters onto Vultus’s chest plate, and the sword clangs off of his left shoulder guard with such force that it turns him, nearly sending him to the ground stumbling but - his head remains with him.

Before the light from the plasma shot has fully faded, before the flesh of the traitor has even fully disintegrated, the front end of the Scimitar pattern jetbike hits the industrial chord. It flips over the chord so fast that nothing but a blue and white blur flies past the view of the other loyalists. Only its crumpling like a can can be heard as it finally hits and rolls endlessly somewhere further down the street. The second jetbike makes a futile attempt to turn, the rider diving off. The entire flank of the bike hits the chord and smashes into the ground, rolling as well. Tiberius and Brother Muor only had a few moments to anchor the chord, and so, the second jetbike rips it loose.

As soon as Gretivalus sees the chord loosen and fall, he lets loose with the heavy bolter. The other bikes open fire with their own heavy bolters into the general direction. Three large holes punch through the Second Company banner. Vultus takes a swing with his chainsword but only grazes the third Jetbike. Immediately after, several holes are punched along the length of the bike, and the rider’s chest cavity all but explodes as he rides through Gretivalus’s line of fire.

A further barrage of rounds dances around Vultus’s feet. Most kick into the ground, but two glance off of his armor, and as if he were blessed, neither explode. They dent the armor, heavily, and hurt enough to bring him down.

The crash of the third bike is heard.

A Phoenix Spear penetrates the siding of the fourth after it downs Vultus. The jetbike smashes into one of the building fronts opposite and quickly comes to a stop, a flaring of electric bolts whip around its damaged engine for a moment. Unfortunately, it takes out the support of the floor Gretivalus was on, and he falls through as the ruins cave in.

The Fifth jetbike slows down, realizing there are more survivors hiding in the ruined walls here, and begins strafing at an angle, firing his heavy bolter into the fronts of the buildings that Tiberius, Herridon, Rydon, Solhanan and Krateron hide in. Muor, and Gretivalus are on the other side of the street.

Tiberius and Herridon take the main brunt of the initial strafing fire, their cover exploding all around them. The Sergeant and Solhanan are a bit further down the street, and Krateron, is above.

The World Eater from the second jetbike who lept from the vehicle before it struck the chord, rises, and moves into the ruins where Muor was hiding, a chain axe raised. You see a trio of bolt rounds from Muor fly clean through him, but somehow they fail to stop the Nail-stricken psychopath and he dives out of view into the ruins.

(The second, fourth, and fifth riders are still alive. The Second and Fourth are on the same side of the street. The Second will be duelling with Muor in melee. The Fourth will have a half flattened crooked, broken arm but with his remaining hand will be digging through the rubble looking for Gretivalus, hoping to finish off the Marine he saw fall through the ceiling. The fifth is the one still on the jetbike doing strafing runs on the ruins. You may take out all three of these World Eaters without much incident, but how and who does what is up to you. PM me for cooperation with the members of Dillinger. Vultus, though you went down, you are able to get back up in a timely manner. You all hear a second wave of jetbikes on their way.)

Sebastian and Kyros:

With the voice of Kyros ringing out, his loyalty to the Emperor is defined. Secured with no more doubt, Sebastian and Darius throw their back to him, forming a tight defensive circle.

There are simply too many World Eaters to fend off for Sebastian to form a cohesive response regarding Kyros’s question about a plan. The sound and feel of melee conducted by the sons of the Emperor engulfed them, fully. Clanging of plasteel, ceramite, and adamantium. Yells and grunts. Hardly any strikes made kill the World Eaters now. A strike that falters one simply makes room for another. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see one of Darius’s hands hacked off. The steadfast Marine barely makes a noise when it happens. Sebastian’s sabre quickly finds the assailant’s gut, dropping him.

The defense of his comrade creates an opening, and he is struck in the head by a blunt object or fist, unsure of which. A chain axe rips into his thigh before his sabre is brought back to bear.

Kyros fends well with the aid of his shield, blocking and striking, repeatedly. Keeping his focus despite his fury. not long after the two Emperor’s children take their hits, he sees four pairs of white armored fingers grip the edges of his shield. His former brothers rip it away from him, violently. At the same time two more come in for the now open opportunity. One punches him in the chest so hard it knocks the breath out of him, but the other finds Kyros’s power axe splitting his side.

Sebastian is brought down to a knee. Looking up through his helm at a traitor World Eater about to swing a chain axe into his neck, it seems he has come to his end.

Very loud, explosive blasts echo off of the surrounding structures. The top half of the World Eater about to finish Sebastian is completely blown off. A single round splits two World Eaters in front of Kyros into pieces. Bolter fire cuts through more of the Traitors as they turn their attention toward this new threat. World Eaters that the three Loyal Marines cannot even see due to being surrounded by so many, are blown apart, some of their pieces flying high enough for them to see.

A few chain weapons clash. More blood is sprayed.

The three of you, barely conscious, find arms suddenly holding you up. A circle of Marines quickly surrounds your blurred vision, wearing the green and off-white colors of the Death Guard. One of the Astartes in the circle kneels, and begins reloading a massive auto-cannon. They continue to put holes in the remaining World Eaters. The circle parts for a moment, and a Death Guard Apothecary skids to a halt beside the three of you. As he does so, you feel a heavy vibration shake the earth beneath you. It doesn’t seem to come from anything going on near you.

(The two of you are given enough stimulants and pain relievers to stand on your own again. Afterward, the Apothecary goes to work on Darius’s severed hand. It won’t take long for the Death Guard to finish off the remaining Traitor World Eaters. Regain your composure the best you can. The Apothecary will announce that the group can’t stay here for long and needs to get moving again. The decision to go with them is up to you, ultimately. Do you regain your fallen weapons, the shield, the bolter? I will do any responses from these Marines, if you want to PM me about any dialogue. Do you try to contact anyone, maybe these Marines have a better signal with other loyalists than you? What are their objectives versus yours, etc. Anything you can think of and wish to say, pretty much. You can talk to each other now as well, of course.)
 
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