HE HELD THE creature, as light as a newborn in his armored gauntlet, by the throat and smiled behind his helm.
'You will not live to see the light of another dawn human', the Eldar spat in between mouthfuls of blood. 'More of my brethren will arrive. A-'
The tiniest amount of pressure was all that was required to crush the alien's throat. Letting go, he took pleasure in watching the wretched thing in all its finery slump to the floor like a pile of refuse. He spat besides the corpse and watched as the earth sizzled for a few moments.
'Vile xenos filth,' he growled, his voice distorted by his helm's vox-speakers, 'it boggles my mind to think they were once the undisputed masters of this galaxy. Such frail, pitiful things. What do they call themselves again?
'Dire Avengers,' Sergeant Astanios answered.
He scoffed. 'Such a melodramatic race.'
'Master, what do you bid us do now?'
Liege Lord Bynal unclasped the seals of his helm, letting the venting air pressure dissipate before removing it. 'We stay the course,' he said as he tilted his head to the sky, letting the heavy downpour wipe ten days of accumulated grime and blood from his face. 'Tell me. Have we any news of the xenos's disposition?'
'Aye lord. Our scouts discovered their new... hiding place
He could hear the smile in Astanios's voice even with his helm in place. It was true. They had routed the Eldar's forces days ago and they had gone into hiding in various locations.
The Consecrators were thorough and patient but above all they were a savior chapter. One that visited any Imperial war zone they came across unannounced, destroyed their foes and departed before any mention of thanks could even be given. They even went so far as to refusing the hails of Imperial forces, feeding into the paranoia and fear of friend and foe alike in regards to their allegiance, only to enter the planet's atmosphere, and unleash their cargo of drop pods upon those who would dare transgress against the Emperor.
They had a reason for their secrecy.
They were one of the Unforgiven and their eternal hunt for the Fallen called for such drastic measures.
They left nothing to chance. One mistake and their prey could escape no matter how tightly they wove their net.
Bynol turned around and faced his subordinate. They were both clad in terminator armor as black as the uncaring void save for their chapters insignia and the stripe that ran down their helms like a slit throat, the red of the unrepentant’s blood.
The other Unforgiven chapters believed their appearance to be a keepsake to the original legion that sired them all. The Consecrators enjoyed the speculation of their cousins and so never corrected them.
‘How fares your arm?’ Bynol asked.
Astanious shrugged. ‘Better.’
Both of the lumbering Astartes chuckled. The sergeant's arm was missing at the elbow, a lucky strike by one of the Eldar’s warriors.
Damn them. Their bite is sharp. Sharper than any Orks or Tyranids. We linger here only because of a rumour that one of the accursed Fallen has been sighted here. The slimmest of rumours. From the mouth of a dying pirate from a different system no less. I cannot help but wonder what a boon it would be for the Imperium were we and the rest of the Unforgiven to abandon this hunt and offer our assis-
Bynol put his helm back on. ‘Commence the eradication immediately then brother.’
‘Your will be done.’
The Liege Lord nodded solemnly before activating his teleport beacon and making the sign of the aquila. ‘Banish the shackles of old night and return us to prosperity in his name.’
‘In his name,’ Astanious intoned before shielding his face with his storm shield as the teleport device went off and bathed the immediate vicinity in a blindness-inducing light.
Lowering his shield, the sergeant turned around and bade the ten kneeling warriors in their ancient Corvus battle-plate to rise.
As one, all ten warriors rose to their feet, and readied their bolters.
‘These exodite Eldar. We fight on their world. Keep in mind they outnumber us three to one.’ Astanious spread his arm around.
All ten warriors chuckled. A graveyard of lithe alien bodies in colorful armored shells lay scattered about them.
Bynol opened his eyes. He was back aboard their strike-cruiser, the Unadorned Vindicator
‘Welcome back Liege Lord.’
Bynol said nothing to the Techpriest managing the teleporter array as he made his way down the metallic steps, his armored form causing the stairway to groan under his weight.
‘Status’, he grunted to the cherub hovering around his head.
‘My lord. Seargent Astanious is on the move. Estimated time to next engagement. Twelve minutes,’ Shipmaster Pasker replied through the Cherub’s built in vox-speaker.
Bynol ground his teeth together. He wanted to be there. But only he could further direct the campaign and he needed to be in the void to do so.