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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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#77 ·
Vultus stepped out of cover at almost the same moment Tiberius cleared the last few meters. “Vultus…” Tiberius hissed under his breath. Perhaps they needed more of an lure, but they also needed every loyal blade and gun they could manage. This trap would accomplish nothing if one of them fell. The gain was not worth that risk. However, there was no time to talk the standard bearer out of his decision. The line had to be secured if this was to be worth anything. Tiberius cursed the rashness of Horus’s sons. “…I will not let the Eagle fall.” He said finally. He had no other words. None that would matter anyway.

Tiberius worked with a disciplined urgency. He tied the industrial chord round one of the remaining pillars that kept the building intact. If he could have, he would have welded it together, but he had none of the tools and no time. Instead he layered one knot over another until he could not make any more out of the length he had left. The jetbikes would hit at considerable speed and Tiberius was certain one side would give. The question was whether the knot or the pillar would give first. He drew his spear and serpenta. His bolter ammo was running low from his gifts to others. With any luck, he could scavenge some off of those who were coming for them.

For several long seconds all Tiberius could hear was the pounding of his own blood in his ears and the hum of the jetbikes approach. His breathing was shallow and tense. In a moment they would know if his plan had worked. The humming spiked in volume. “Traitors.” Came the curse unabated from Vultus’ mouth. Tiberius gripped the shaft of his weapons a little tighter. This would be the first time he had killed fellow Astartes. It was a horrifying thought, but a liberating one also. Before, Tiberius had only proven his worth against humanity’s foes. Now he could prove himself better than those he had been forsaken for. He could prove to his Father his error. Prove the perfection that came from being a true Child of the Emperor.

To Tiberius, the noise and blinding flash of light from Vultus’ plasma pistol and the strain on the chord came almost simultaneously. A moment later a second jetbike smashed into the chord and it came through. As it turned out, it was neither his knot nor the pillar that gave way, but something on the other end. Or perhaps the chord had simply snapped in the middle. At any rate its purpose was served. Tiberius rose, firing as he went. He saw the third rider be blown to pieces from what he assumed was Gretivalus’s heavy bolter. Tiberius stopped firing. His serpenta worked on organic material best, and against the mechanical mounts of these World Eaters, it was proving ineffective.

A fourth came into Tiberius’s peripheral vision, downing Vultus. Without a moment’s thought he pulled his arm back and launched his phoenix spear into it. He was fortunate. Instead of glancing off and spinning away or shattering as it might have done, it sunk deep into the metal beast’s flank. The engine spluttered and arcs of lighting began to whip out around it. A moment later it faltered. At such speeds and so low to the ground the World Eater could not compensate fast enough. He and his bike careened into the lower level of the building opposite. Tiberius saw Gretivalus’ disappear through the floor as the level below him collapsed. Soon the World Eater would free himself and try to slay the Son of Horus.

Before Tiberius could even think about getting over to the other side to retrieve his weapon, he saw the cover near Herridon explode as the marine ducked down behind him. His staticy HUD signal stayed firm, so he wasn’t dead, but Tiberius wasted no time ducking behind the pillar where the chord had been secured. Debris splashed either side of the pillar and when Tiberius poked his head round the corner most of the cover he had been behind was already gone, chewed apart by fist-sized bolts packed with miniature explosives. “Akkad, Rydon, Solhanan, covering fire on that jetbike!” Tiberius barked.

He needed to get across the street and he couldn’t do that with a heavy bolter waiting for him to appear. Quickly, the gunfire moved on to elsewhere, likely drawn by one of the other’s fire. Tiberius made a break for it. In an instant he was sprinting back across the street he had just come from, towards the downed jetbike. He saw Muor be charged by one World Eater and another, the one from the jetbike he had brought down, scrabbling with half an arm to reach Gretivalus. The World Eater’s fervour gave him an opening. Vultus was righting himself and the others were dealing with the other jetbike. This one was his.

He quickly reached the jetbike. The phoenix spear was still stuck fast in its hull, electricity licking its haft. Tiberius put one leg on the jetbike and two hands on the spear and pulled with all his might. It came free with the screech of tortured metal and the lightning flared briefly. His armour suit flashed warnings at him that disappeared soon enough. The noise caused the World Eater’s head to snap up. Previously he had been consumed by the need to kill the Astarte he had seen fall through the roof, but now Tiberius was here and a far more immediate vent for his rage. A roar came from the World Eater’s throat that Tiberius wasn’t sure any human should be able to make. The chainaxe in his one good hand began to roar in unison with its wielder as they charged him.

The World Eater was clumsy beyond measure. Tiberius had heard of these gladiatorial pits that Angron’s dogs maintained, but they clearly were nothing like the duelist rings that his Palatine Blades maintained. Ducking under the swing Tiberius struck the World Eater’s side with a blow that should have staggered him but it didn’t. Instead it swung with a full force back hand, apparently not noticing the several broken ribs Tiberius had just given him. He brought up his phoenix spear and it met the whirring teeth of the chainaxe in a shower of sparks and broken teeth.

The two broke apart briefly. Tiberius was almost tempted to taunt the traitorous dog but he doubted if in its crazed state. The World Eater dived at him with a wild abandon, swinging his chainaxe in undisciplined arcs that were only threatening because of their terrifying speed. However, it would take more than speed to best a Decurion of the IIIrd legion, especially one that belonged to the Palatine order. Tiberius weaved, dodged and parried the blows with ease. If this were a duelling arena he would have kept the fight going, just to mock the World Eater. But this was real war and reinforcements would be here soon. He needed to end this quickly and consolidate their victory.

Another wild swing came for him and Tiberius blocked it with one hand on his spear. The collision shook his spear but he held firm. He stepped into the World Eater’s guard and elbowed the Astarte in the face. The blow snapped its head back and the World Eater took a few steps back. It didn’t even wait for its vision to clear before he came back swinging. Tiberius rolled his phoenix spear in his hand. It came up and severed the World Eater’s arm at the elbow. The chainaxe fell to the floor and kept revving. The World Eater’s hand was still locked in a vengeful fist even though it was no longer connected to its body. The World Eater had one bloody stump and one hand that was past the point of uselessness, but still it came for him.

Tiberius growled. These mindless berzerkers Angron raised just didn’t know when they were beaten. It came for him, slavering and howling inhumanly. Tiberius speared it through the chest. The World Eater didn’t seem to notice, flailing it arms to try and cover the distance by sheer bloody mindedness. Tiberius kicked the flailing Astarte off the end of his spear and brought it round in a wide arc. The blade of his Phoenix spear took the World Eater’s head from his shoulder. The body still took a few steps before it realised the pain-wracked brain that controlled it was no longer there. Tiberius took a moment to pilfer the World Eater’s ammo pouches. He found only bolt pistol ammunition. He had learnt on Murder when they had been stranded for 27 days that bolt pistol ammunition served well enough as regular bolter ammo, albeit you had to reload more frequently. He needed to survive and he needed ammunition to have the best chance of doing that. He pocketed it all.

Gretivalus was beginning to make his way from under the rubble. Tiberius sprinted over and moved aside more of the rubble. He found Gretivalus’ hand and pulled on it. The Son of Horus came out onto his hands and knees. “You ok?” Gretivalus nodded. Tiberius reached into the hole and pulled out Gretivalus’s heavy bolter. He handed it to the Son of Horus. “Get into position again. This isn’t over.” Tiberius stowed it Phoenix spear and Serpenta. The nearest jetbike he didn’t trust to keep him going. His best bet was the one Gretivalus killed the rider of. It had tumbled a little ways down the street and was currently upside down.

In the distance, Tiberius heard the familiar hum of another wave of jetbikes. He hoped they were more World Eaters, or Death Guard. Neither had any skill or finesse when it came to the art of riding a jetbike. The Sons were adequate, but he would only become concerned when the jetbikes wore the livery of the IIIrd legion. Until then, he could put them through their paces. “Whoever among you can ride with any skill…” Tiberius ordered as he turned over the jetbike. One side was splashed with blood. This was not the first fight these bikes had been in. “…grab a jetbike and follow me. The rest of you, take up positions and set up the trap again if you can. We’ll force them to come to you.” By his reckoning , if the same number came for them again and they could disable as many jetbikes as they had this time, they could all leave after this. The speed of the jetbikes would carry them away from the main advance and give them time and manoeuvrability to plan their next move.

Tiberius more frequently took to the field with his simple power pack or a jump pack, but his legion prized speed and perfection in their strikes and so was an adept jetbike rider. Far better than the skills he had seen displayed by these World Eaters. Normally jetbikes could simply ride upwards into the low atmosphere and circle back, but that would leave them too exposed. Tiberius yelled over his shoulder. “We stay low and cut around. By the sound of things those jetbikes aren’t far off. We circle behind them and force them into this street. Shoot to kill the riders. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you we need those jetbikes intact. Just…” Tiberius smiles to himself “…do what I do and everything should go off without a hitch.” He gripped the handlebars and gunned the thruster. It was time to show theses traitors the errors of the their ways…
 
#78 ·
He listened. From his perch, above the ruination, Akkad Krateron listened. He had drawn Oathkeeper, smothering the blade in ash, so not to betray his position. It was a shame, sullying such magnificence, but soon enough it would taste the blood of his brethren, regardless of their Legion. Whoever came for Krateron now, be they sworn to the Throne of Terra or the banner of Horus Lupercal, would risk his wrath. Oh, how the world has toppled, he lamented. Just hours earlier, his Legion had been whole, great - The finest of the Imperium. Now it was shattered and broken, perhaps a quarter or more of it dead, and many more would share that fate. He ran an armoured finger along the edge of Oathkeeper, scraping away the blood and cinders that clung to his armour like a second skin, and lowered himself into a crouching position. The tower creaked around him, the winds stronger here, scouring his armour.

Before him, an endless sea of broken, cleaved buildings filled his eyes. A monument of betrayal, where once the Choral City had been beautiful, it was now a hideous mausoleum. Below him, the pack of jetbikes entered the street, engines keening into a whine as they accelerated. Their riders were blue and white, dappled with blood, one bearing a wicked blade. World Eaters, Angron's savages. Subconsciously, Krateron smiled. Is this all you have?

'Traitors,' The standard bearer, Vultus, said. He was - Foolishly - Standing in the centre of the street. Everything happened so quickly, so blindingly quick, that Krateron had trouble keeping up. Vultus slew one of the World Eaters, and then was swinging his Chainsword, whilst Dillinger and Tiberius were assailing the others.

One of the jetbikes was strafing the building beneath Krateron's feet, weapons barking. Krateron leapt before he had time to doubt himself - Oathkeeper held in both his hands, and for a brief moment, he was falling. The Son of Horus landed upon the jetbike and it bucked, striking the ground. The rider's helmet swung up and Krateron buried the length of Oathkeeper between his ribs. The World Eater jerked back, yanking on Krateron's blade, and the Son of Horus let it go.

Krateron punched the Marine. An eyelense burst, sprinkling glass across the floor, as the jetbike spun and swerved. So this is it, Krateron thought, as he wrestled his combat-blade free, and rammed it through the World Eater's helmet. This is how the world ends.

He tore Oathkeeper free, sliding it back into his scabbard, and maglocked his combat-blade. He kicked the dead World Eater from the saddle and settled himself into it, flexing his fingers around the controls, and arched it around. The others had dealt with the World Eaters, by now, butchering them mercilessly. In his tenure amongst the Catulan Reavers, Krateron had utilised jetbikes on several occasions, but still it felt strange, now. It was not the sea-green of the Sixteenth, but rather the stark blue and green of the Twelfth. Strange days, indeed.

His eyes turned on the others. He was listening to Tiberius, as he issued orders. There was a second wave of jetbikes inbound - More World Eaters, perhaps. Either way, it wasn't going to be good.

I should leave.

I should leave and not turn back, not see these fools die for their revenge.

Krateron pushed forwards on the thrusters. His jetbike lurched off.

After Tiberius he went, cursing himself.
 
#79 ·
The battle was furious. Like a fool he had thought them almost safe. He had believed that with the arrival of the Loyal World Eater and his final charge they could break this assault, for a time at least. How wrong he had been. Here he stood now, back to back with two other warriors, fighting for his life in a way he rarely been forced to before. The distances were too close. Spectre's reach was negated and Sebastian was reduced to smashing at his foes with it's pommel and his own armoured fists.

He saw Darius's hand brutally hacked away. Lowering his shoulder Sebastian slipped the strike from a World Eater and countered the one that had brutalised his brother. For the first time in minutes he felt the rush of a blow king true as Spectre pierced the World Eater's abdominal armour and eviscerated his guts.

The victory was fleeting. A next moment Sebastian's head swam from a blow he didn't see. He barely even felt the blows that crumbled his legs. The next he knew he was looking up from the dirt at a World Eater, swinging his axe overhead like an executioner.

'So this is how I die.' he thought. Sebastian always knew he would die, he was under no illusion of the invincibility or immortality of the Astartes as many were. He knew that when he died he would do so on the battlefield, most likely badly. He had never thought it would come so soon though. He had always pictured his demise as a Lord Commander, or at least a Captain, fighting on the very edges of space, at the pinnacle of the Great Crusade that had conquered the known Galaxy. He would be brought low but some horrific xenos beast the size of a dreadnought, but not before slaying the beast himself, only succumbing to his wounds once the beasts head had been taken as a final trophy for his flagship.

But that would not be, or so it seemed. He tried to fight but the usually lithe and agile Spectre felt heavy in his hand. Even his legs were too numb to so much as attempt a desperate tackle. In his final moments Sebastian quietly pronounced his eternal loyalty to the Emperor.

Moments later, beyond all belief he was still alive. He looked up and first flinched from the warriors now around him. Even in his shaken state he recognised the livery of the Death Guard and knew there was a chance that they too were traitors to the Emperor. Had he the strength to fight he may have done, but before he could do anything he was being tended by an Apothecary. He felt a renewed vigour flow through him. His head cleared and he looked up.

"Thank you." he said, still slightly wearily as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked over at Darius and saw that, missing hand aside, the Legionary was also seemingly doing well. The loyal World Eater had survived also. Around them were the bodies of the traitor Sons of Angron who had harried them for so long.

There were a dozen questions that leapt to Sebastian's mind. The first though was simple.

"Who are you?"
 
#80 · (Edited)
Vultus waited in tense silence as the thrumming got closer and closer. He held his pistol down at his side with his chainsword leaning against his left pauldron, his fingers constantly drumming the hilt of his blade as he waited for what was coming. Whilst he knew that this wasn't his brightest idea standing in the open it would more than likely draw in traitors who would want to take the standard as the trophy and if by some miracle they were loyal to the Emperor then he maybe able to wave them off before they hit the chord.

Soon the jetbikes flew into view baring the white and blue colour of the World Eaters with Vultus starting to wonder whether or not they would fire he could see the lead bike pulling out a blade, typical of that legion when presented with any enemy they would always want to rush in like a berserker. He snarled one word down the vox to alert his brothers "Traitors." Before the first bike came flying towards him, blade descending as it went to take his head from his shoulders.

Vultus raised his plasma pistol and fired at the driver, the superheated plasma connecting and melting away the drivers arm so the the blade hit against his pauldron and only turned him rather than losing his head. The bike hit the chord and went flying out of control wrecking behind Vultus somewhere, but his attention was focussed on those in front. Four jetbikes remained up and continuing forwards as the rest of the loyalists made their presence known by firing on the bikes. Vultus didn't have a moment to pause and focus as the other jetbikes carried on forwards and he swung his chainsword rather ineffectively at them before two rounds slammed into him knocking him down onto one knee. Lucky for him the rounds didn't explode or he was sure that he wouldn't be getting up again.

As he righted himself he could see that only three of the jetbikes were still alive, one strafing the building where most of Squad Dillinger were bunkered down whilst another was dueling with Muor with the final marine fishing through the remains of the building where a jetbike crashed searching for Gretivalus. Vultus watched as the Emperors Children ran to help Gretivalus and so Vultus righted himself he grabbed his weapons and charged to help Muor out.

The traitor was fighting like a madman, something his entire legion was known for and had taken hits and ignored them. Vultus charged towards the melee and slammed into the traitor with full force, knocking both of them off of their feet. "Brother Muor finish this." Vultus snarled as he wrestled with the traitor on the ground, barely able to hold the marine on the ground it was thrashing about so much. Muor leapt forward taking the traitors head off with his blade, narrowly missing Vultus' own due to the close proximity Vultus had been to the traitor.

Vultus slowly got to his feet before retrieving the standard, a few rounds had punched through the cloth but that had been expected at the least. The Emperor's Child and one of the Sons of Horus leapt onto bikes and sped off heading towards more humming which could only be more bikes, the Emperor's Child saying to rearm the trap as he left. Vultus turned to his brothers again, "Find what cover you can and prepare the ambush again. We don't have much time and we will have to start moving again soon lest we become trapped here." Vultus said as he prepared himself for another ambush, the next time the traitors came they would have more numbers, this time he would take no chance of being bait, that was already being taken care of.
 
#81 ·
The swirling of bodies and weapons caused his blood to flow hot, the thrumming, boiling hate and anger that seemed to be in such excess within his bloodlines caused him to lose himself in the fray. His power axe tore through whatever he could direct it into. Kyros' timing and striking techniques were still carefully executed, but without the flourish or aesthetic technique of his newfound comrades in the two Emperor's Children whom he now fought alongside. Likely he looked to them to be no less savage than his Brothers who were trying to kill them.

Using his shield to push into a group of World Eaters, to drive them back and give himself an avenue of attack was successful once again, but as Kyros went to bring his shield back close to his body he found resistance. Four World Eaters gripped the shield, they bore no weapons, having broken them or simply lost themselves completely to madness. His shield was suddenly ripped away from him, and now he had nothing in his left hand, the four World Eaters clambored forward, nearly climbing over one another to get at him, the first managed to catch him with a surprise strike, a heavy punch that knocked the wind from him and caused him to stagger back hunched over. Another World Eater pushed his way to the fore, he wanted to be the first to tear flesh from their Brother who would not turn from the Emperor.

Kyros managed to get enough breath back into his body to posture up just enough to let loose a devastating slash across the approaching World Eater's mid section, the blade cut deeply and cleanly, his entrails poured forth from the gaping wound as he fell before Kyros, his own brothers killed him in their frantic race to get to Kyros. Clawing and grasping at him, he lopped off arms and hacked into the bodies of his enemies, spilling their foul blood onto the sundered ground. They didn't let the loss of life nor limb deter them and Kyros found himself with no room to maneuver his weapon anymore, bringing it back to strike and create some distance again, but he was tackled to the ground, they clawed at his armor and brought their fists down upon him, raining blows down. He kicked up at them, trying to give himself a moment where he might regain his footing. As he attempted to rise up, a hand covered his optical sensors attempting to tear his helmet off, in the process pushing him back to the ground.

He knew he would fight until his life was no more, but he did not expect that to be much longer when suddenly the thudding echoes of auto cannons roared over the sounds of the surging World Eaters. Two of his traitor Brothers disintegrated in front of him, having been preparing to land the death knell. The resound of bolter fire followed it and like the tide being drawn back out the wave of World Eaters was broken, torn to shreds with precision fire.

Kyros' groggy vision caught the familiar colors of the Death Guard, one of their number knelt beside him and he felt the familiar piercing in his arm of stimulants, fast acting, surging through his rapidly pumping blood his senses came back to him in a rush. He was coherent enough to hear the Apothecary speak to the three of them "Gather what you need, we cannot stay here." Kyros had already instinctively found his shield. He liberated a standard backpack unit from a fallen traitor, having jetisoned his jump pack what seemed like a lifetime ago in the initial scramble to avoid the virus bomb. Then, suddenly something shot into his mind. "Alaros Gillguman! Is he with your number?" His question directed to the Apothecary who had addressed them. "We were navigating this terrain together and became separated." There was a hopefulness to his tone that seemed wholly out of place in the current circumstances, but Alaros had been a very capable, competent marine, and strange as it was, had become a person Kyros felt he could wholly rely on in this dark time.
 
#82 · (Edited)
Sorry for such a large update again, but I don’t get to do it very often anymore so I feel the need to write a lot when I do ;)

Krateron, Tiberius, and Vultus:

Something in the air changes, as everyone gets back on their feet and regains their composure for the next round. You feel it, in your guts. Just as the jetbikes pull forward, and the street becomes a blur beneath you. Just as the cord is pulled taught again, the sound of it stretching matching the teeth grinding growls of the other Sons of Horus over the vox.

Solhanan runs out into the street to inspect one of the other jetbikes, but doesn’t seem to have much luck getting it up and running.

Krateron and Tiberius, seconds after you begin pulling forward, two jetbikes appear in front of you. A third, descends from above, flying over the tops of the burning skyscrapers. These Jetbikes are armed with melta guns and plasma cannons. A short dogfight ensues that forces you both back to squad Dillinger’s location, which is now a cloud filled area of further ruin, with jetbikes too damaged to function any longer.

When your boots hit the ground again, the three jetbikes you fought with will calmly set down behind you, their riders disengaging. Three other jetbikes are opposite in front of you, settling just before where the chord trap had been set.


Vultus, the Sons of Horus obey you, resetting the trap the best they can and diving back into cover. While waiting you hear a fire fight begin in the air in the direction Krateron and the Decurion flew. You hear more jetbikes approach, but then unlike the first wave, their volume significantly lessens, as if they are idling. Curious you risk revealing your position to see. Three jetbikes sit there, floating just before the chord. Without warning they begin firing their weapons into your position, all melta and plasma. Your senses become overloaded with extreme light changes, sounds, and crashing, melting rubble all around you. Your Astartes training and physiology is all that saves you, pulling you through the inferno back out onto the street.

A heat glaze covers the buildings Vultus and Dillinger had been using for cover. Plasma and Melta backwash is unsure whether to rise or fall in the confused air cycles of a planet suffering from instant death.

The soot and debris clears, showing the sea-green clad soldiers loitering back onto the street. You all feel another vibration beneath your feet. Another drawn out thud.

A clearer vision of these new jetbikes is unveiled. Three on each side of the street. The rubble of the ruins to each side too thick to make a break for it.

All six of these jetbikes are also colored in the blue and white of the XII. Chained to their front ends are what must have been Loyalist members. Stabbing through each of their scorched abdomens are the melta and plasma cannons that have been firing at you. You might notice some of their arms and legs still twitching.

Six pairs of boots hit the ground, deliberately slow. Confident. They move in towards you, the outnumbered traitors somehow making you feel squeezed in. From the most heavily decorated jetbike, steps the largest of them all.

The lower half of his armor, is painted in blood. Upon his broad shoulders is the massive fur of some feral beast, or perhaps two furs of the same species, you cannot tell. Laying over each pauldron is a bear-like head, horned, and with outrageous sets of teeth. The jaws hang lazily open, bouncing slightly with the warrior’s footsteps as he nears the chord. He must have at least a dozen chapter symbols scattered about his armor plating. You are all privy to the fact that the World Eaters are not allowed to incorporate their Chapter’s symbol onto their armor unless they earn that right.

A rack of four short spears forms some kind of hideous frame for his head, rising from his suit’s power unit. Three of them have helmets on them, the heads still inside, necks still dripping blood onto his armor. One is white with a blue vox piece and red triangles under the eyes. One is a dull white helm, with a green vertical stripe. The third is a Son of Horus. All killed within the last hour or less, there is no doubt. The fourth spike is empty.

Strapped to him, are several melee weapons. Various handles jut out from the beast’s fur at his back. More hang at his waist. He reaches over his massive shoulder and unsheathes an enormous sword, cutting through the industrial chord laughing. He takes a chainaxe from his hip, dual wielding.

Such odd timing, but all of you see several icons light up on your HUDs that had been greyed out or blinked away from view for the last hour or two. Thin green digital lines that had been boxing these World Eaters, flicker to red, and all of you hear the following:

‘Loyal sons of the Emperor, this is Captain Torgaddon of the Luna Wolves, Second Company. The Second and Tenth are at the Sirenhold, where Traitor forces are beginning to amass. The Precentor’s Palace is still in Loyal hands. We plan to make our way there for a stronger, united last stand. If you still live, you are not alone. If can make your way there, and add to our unified strength, we urge you to do so. If you cannot, as impossible as it may seem, cast your emotions aside and concentrate on what you have been trained to do and kill. Kill as many of these traitorous bastards as possible with cold, calculated precision.’

‘We have sent out a revised friend or foe indicator. It is not comprehensive, merely based on what units we know were a part of the first wave. The Emperor’s Children holding the Palace will continue to work on setting up a more stable, local vox network.

Kill for the Emperor! Kill for the Living! And Kill, for the dead!

A tag appears for the World Eater commander as he lifts his chain axe, pointing it at Tiberius.

  • Korugen Krejer -
    • Captain
      • - XII -
      • 5th Assault Company

‘I thought I would have to go to the Palace to complete my collection. How convenient. As if you were another of the Warmaster’s unworthy sons, suddenly painted purple, just for me.’

The two warriors near him, and the other three behind Krateron and Tiberius, all look formidable in their own right. The five of them, also armed to the teeth, seem to be silently seething in their armor. You know what’s happening. You know the Nails have started going to work on each of them.

Dillinger lights up the two groups of World Eaters with bolter fire, completely ignoring any dramatic effect the World Eater intended to create. A personal shield lights up around the Captain, slowing each of the bolter rounds made toward him.

Krejer yells in frustration, running forward with his men, throwing his sword at the closest enemy. The blade thrusts violently out the back of Brother Herridon’s shoulder, sticking there. Krejer makes a straight line toward Tiberius, pulling his sword out of Herridon’s shoulder on the way, not bothering to finish him off.

One of his men whips out a bolt pistol, firing what may be a surprisingly accurate shot for a son of Angron, knocking the ammo belt out of Gretivalus’s heavy bolter before he can fire.

All of these World Eaters are what I call Major NPCs. Basically that just means they have a stricter GM shield, and they are all named characters. Don’t worry about who they are individually just yet. Too much is going on for you to care about details like that atm. For now, they are all using swords, axes and chain variants of both.

As usual there are a lot of options here, some probably more obvious than others. Some I may not even have thought of.

To clarify the vox thing, you have it now. Squad icons are up too. So for example, Sebastian can be communicated with and his life status seen without any major issues. A flicker here and there, likely some static still, I’m sure. Friend or foe tags have been allocated to the Legions so that should cause less fights about who’s on what side now. In case you’re wondering, all of Dillinger squad appear as friendly!


Sebastian, Darius, and Kyros:

‘We have to move.’ Says the Apothecary bluntly, after nodding to Sebastian in recognition of his thanks. The group of Death Guard have everyone back on their feet, and everyone has loaded weapons back in their hands, including a bolt pistol for Darius’s remaining one.

The Decurion’s question comes first, asking who they are.

There are ten of them, plus the Apothecary, making eleven Death Guard and the three of you. Given the circumstances it’s hard to say if fourteen is a significant force, or not. While jogging the Apothecary speaks further, answering the question.

‘We are an ad-hoc unit of Death Guard that survived the bombardment. There was a significant amount of cover along the city wall near the fortifications that were joined by both the bunker layout and wall bastions. It seems the Warmaster, and even our own gene-fathers, have betrayed us. We are working in unison with two other similar groups currently under the command of Section Leader Crysos Morturg. Lieutenant. I believe he matches your rank, Decurion.’

‘Our current position puts us between Traitor World Eater forces and those of our own Legion. We are scouting for survivors before these forces squeeze us too tightly between them, and before more of their forces can arrive’

The Marine with the autocannon points the barrel of his weapon toward the swirling black and grey sky, saying, ‘We believe the storms from the planet’s destruction are making it too dangerous for them to plunge all they have at us at once. This works in our favor, allowing time for us to set up a sizeable defensive.’

This is when Kyros asks his own question about Alaros Gilgumann.

The Apothecary replies again, ‘We have not, but one of our other squads reported finding something just before we opened fire on your position.’

A large vibration smacks the ground under your feet, almost causing you to stop dead in your tracks by surprise. The Death Guard all look at each other, helmets turning as if they know what caused it but hate the fact that they do.

‘I am Brother Apothecary Ulligo. What are your names, cousins?’

Before any of you can answer you all receive a vox transmission that causes the entire group to halt and listen carefully.

‘Loyal sons of the Emperor, this is Captain Torgaddon of the Luna Wolves, Second Company. The Second and Tenth are at the Sirenhold, where Traitor forces are beginning to amass. The Precentor’s Palace is still in Loyal hands. We plan to make our way there for a stronger, united last stand. If you still live, you are not alone. If can make your way there, and add to our unified strength, we urge you to do so. If you cannot, as impossible as it may seem, cast your emotions aside and concentrate on what you have been trained to do and kill. Kill as many of these traitorous bastards as possible with cold, calculated precision.’

‘We have sent out a revised friend or foe indicator. It is not comprehensive, merely based on what units we know were a part of the first wave. The Emperor’s Children holding the Palace will continue to work on setting up a more stable, local vox network.

Kill for the Emperor! Kill for the Living! And Kill, for the dead!’

Ulligo looks at the auto cannon wielding Marine first, who says as if forced to be the bearer of the truth says, ‘We can’t reach the Palace.’

The Apothecary responds, ‘Agreed. The XIV must make its stand here, in the trenches, and at the wall.’

Do you three agree with that? With this new information, do you want to stay or go? You may be able to meet their lieutenant commander first to see if that is actually the final decision. It is entirely up to you. Again, any dialogue needed for the Death Guard NPCs here I will provide for you.

To clarify the vox thing, you have it now. Squad icons are up too. So for example, Sebastian could communicate freely with Tiberius and his life status seen without any major issues. A flicker here and there, likely some static still, I’m sure. Friend or foe tags have been allocated to the Legions so that should cause less fights about who’s on what side now.
 
#83 ·
At the words of the Luna Wolves Captain, Sebastian's heart briefly soared. There was hope, order. At the very least some semblance of a plan instead of the chaotic running skirmishes he had been falling into since the bombardment. There was word of his Brothers also. Those at the Palace fought on, not succumbing to the World Eaters assault that had so nearly claimed his own life. Then he looked over at the dour Death Guard Legionary with the autocannon.

"We can't reach the Palace." he said, pain obvious in his tone.

"Agreed. The XIV must make its stand here, in the trenches, and at the wall."

Sebastian's head bowed but he was focussing on the newly returned icons within his helm. The Death Guard may be willing to concede and go quietly into the night, but he had not fought through hell just to give up now.

"No." he began, he voice manifesting as a low growl through his vox grill. "There has to be a way. Those are my brothers at the Palace." He looked over at Darius taking in the abrupt stump that was all of one of his arms and slowly shook his head, then turned towards the Apothecary. "You said you were still part of a larger formation. I would speak with your Commanding Officer."

Turning away he returned to scanning the icons within his helmet and was relieved to find a familiar one. "Decurion Locolus. Tiberius, are you there? Can you hear me? It's Aurellian. What's your status?"
 
#84 · (Edited)
Tiberius snarled to himself as he barrel rolled the jetbike out of the way of a ball of raging plasma. This was not supposed to happen like this. His legion was one built one the premises of speed and perfection of their strikes. He should have anticipated that the jetbikes they had finished off would not be the only ones. What he had not expected that they would be this well armed. Even in the most productive of legions, arming an entire Sky Hunter squadron with such complex weaponry would be a massive risk and investment. Such an investment usually reserved for the command cadres of each legion.

How they came to be facing such a well armoured squadron was the least of Tiberius’s concerns right now. The white blurs of the XIIth Legion’s jetbikes had so far only scored glancing hits on his jetbike, but they were enough to significantly hamper its function. He was certain it wouldn’t last much longer. In this state, even between him and Krateron they could not defeat their foes. They were outnumbered and despite his skill with a jetbike, Tiberius could not get close enough to bring his Phoenix spear to bear on them. He could not risk an open dog-fight, since his foes energy weapons would disassemble his molecules long before his heavy bolter immobilized or destroyed their foes.

However, Tiberius was banking on one fact. If he could ground their foes, he was certain the World Eaters wouldn’t gun them down. The savages of the XIIth legion were worst that his current allies. They had to feel the blood splash against their cheeks for the kill to mean anything. Simply destroying their foe was not enough. It has to be gory, it had to be messy but most of all it had to be personal.

A melta beam glanced his jetbike, evaporating one of the dorsal wings. At such incredible speeds, the small amount of aerodynamic control that those wings afforded was crucial. Tiberius struggled with his mount. He swore under his breath, a harsh combination of syllables totally at odds with his regal voice. “Krateron! We have to fall back! We can’t break through here!” Tiberius shouted down the vox over the roaring hum of the jetbikes. Tiberius half expected Krateron to keep trying to push on, just to make his escape. However, he agreed and the duo executed a brilliant series of movements that positioned them in the same direction they had just come from whilst avoiding the scalding fire from their pursuers.

Their Jetbikes carried them back to the position of Dilinger, but Tiberius’ heart began to sink as he saw what had become of their allies’ position. Twirling clouds of dust and superheated debris surrounded the building which shone as if polished. However, they had little choice. The only allies they had might still be there and there was a safety in numbers. Besides, Tiberius was reasonably certain that his jetbike would not carry him much further than his starting position. Frustratingly, all their venture had gained them was fresh coating of ash on their armour and more wasted time.

Fortunately, as they set down their mangled Jetbikes, the shapes of Dilinger appeared from the dust, bolters and blades at the ready. The dust began to clear and the ground beneath them shook in another base-y growl. Tiberius did not like the sound of that. However, more pressing was the shapes of the World Eaters approaching them. Tiberius had been right about one thing, they wanted to finish them off up close and personally. They each sauntered from their Jetbikes, leaving their energy weapons and the poor bastards speared to them behind. Tiberius reached to his belt, slowly unhooking one of his krak and one of his frag grenades. He palmed them.

The World Eaters that approached were almost certainly veterans. Several bore chapter symbols on their armour, a mark of recognition amongst Angron’s dogs. But the most imposing of the six was the one that fixed Tiberius with a stare. The white armour of his lower half was smeared with blood. Some feral creature was draped over his shoulder, no doubt of some particular importance to the warriors of the XIIth but it meant nothing to Tiberius. Ringing his collar were four spikes, three of which were filled with the heads of fallen legionaries, one of each legion. The absence of a purple helmet made it clear to Tiberius why this creature was so interested in him.

The brute unsheathed a massive sword and a chainaxe, to signature weapon of the XIIth Legion brawlers. Suddenly a voice erupted from their vox units. It was Captain Torgaddon. Although he was not of the IIIrd, Tiberius was glad he yet lived. But the news he bore was better. The Emperor’s Children held the Precentor’s Palace. Tiberius smiled under his helm. If they lived, he could make it back to them. He was not alone.

His HUD spluttered back into life, indicating friend from foe. Mercifully, all of his current compatriots remained green. It also revealed who his challenger was. Captain Krejer of the 5th Company. He did not know the man personally, but if his skill at arms was anything akin to the Captains of the IIIrd legion, this was not another rabid hound that Tiberius could put down. It was a formidable foe and should be treated with caution.

Krejer began to speak but Tiberius zoned him out in favour of listening to his vox. Decurion Aurellian was still alive. “Status is ok for the moment. I’m with a loyal squad of Sons of Horus. We’ve confronted the Captain of the 5th Company of the World Eaters, and he is most certainly not friendly. Tell the survivors that the 5th Company are traitors, if they didn’t already know. I’ll let you know when he’s dead. Over”

Krejer stared him down and Tiberius knew the Nails were eating away at his brain, as well as the the brains of his compatriots. “Oh, I’m sorry did you say something. I wasn’t paying attention. Busy thinking about where we will head when you’re dead.” Tiberius couldn’t resist. He was unlikely to beat Krejer fairly or without injury to himself, but if Krejerwas so intent on taking his head, he would not do so without considerable cost. Without any further words, Dilinger opened fire on the out-numbered World Eaters. Some form of shield flared around the Captain. It gave Tiberius an opening.

He pulled the pin on his frag grenade and a moment later on his krak grenade. The World Eaters roared in anger and as they ran, blinded by hatred, Tiberius sent the two grenades rolling underneath their Jetbikes. With some luck the frag grenade would destabilise the plasma weapons, the krak grenade causing their ammunitions supplies to detonate, washing the World Eaters with superheated plasma, metal and burning debris. If not, it should at least destroy the jetbikes and release the poor bastards nailed to the front of them. Perhaps he should have conserved them, but if the World Eaters killed them it wouldn’t matter if they had the means to escape and with two jetbikes wrecked anyway it seemed unlikely that they would all get away even if they survived this confrontation.

Tiberius rose to his full height, holding his Phoenix spear in a position ready to move when Krejer became in range. The extra reach that his spear afforded him was likely to be his saving grace, but even then if he was doubtful that he could beat Krejer on his own. And if he could, he had to wonder at what cost? “Krateron, Vultus, do what you Wolves do best and tear out their throats. I’ll hold Krejer at bay. When you can, lend me assistance and we’ll being this beast down for good and avenge our brethren.” Krejer wounded Herridon, but didn’t pause to finish him off. Foolish. A wounded foe was not a defeated one, especially not a wolf. He came for Tiberius. Tiberius moved to meet him, Phoenix spear moving with deft grace to reach Krejer first with a battle cry on his lips. “Children of the Emperor, death to his foes!”...
 
#85 ·
Krateron:

The grenades that Tiberius throws beneath the jet bikes behind you do as he intended. The middle jet bike explodes, and the plasma blast is enough to send the other two tumbling, swirling with white hot fire. Their riders all take a scorching to their backs, pushing them off balance.

This gives Krateron an opening.

He may kill one of the World Eater veterans as they attempt to get back firmly on their feet, or he may take this opportunity to help Tiberius with Krejer right away.

He will not have time for both.
 
#86 ·
Sebastian frowned but the expression was clearly lost on his companions through the impassive visage of his helmet. It was good to hear Tiberius's voice. It was good to know that he was not alone and it was reassuring to hear confidence in his voice rather than desperation. Sebastian simply worried though whether this was confidence or over-confidence. Anyone who reached the rank of Captain was undoubtedly a skilled warrior. One who reached such a rank among the World Eaters was surely a butcher of exceptional savagery. He did not doubt Tiberius's skills, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea either.

He turned to the World Eater among them. "Kyros Straesen. The 5th Company of your Brothers are amongst the traitors arrayed before us. One of my brothers faces their Captain. Should I fear for him?"
 
#87 ·
"What are your names cousins?" Brother Apothecary Ulligo spoke and as he did, suddenly the HUD in Kyros' helm lit up and identified him as such. The voice of a Captain Torgaddon of the Emperor's Children spoke over the vox comm, clearly all could hear him speak. The Emperor's Children with him seemed to light up at the voice of their familiar Captain. Their cheer was short lived.

"We can't make it to the palace," the warrior with the autocannon spoke somberly, Brother Apothecary Ulligo nodded in agreement.

"No." Sebastien began, he voice manifesting as a low growl through his vox grill. "There has to be a way. Those are my brothers at the Palace." He looked over at Darius taking in the abrupt stump that was all of one of his arms and slowly shook his head, then turned towards the Apothecary. "You said you were still part of a larger formation. I would speak with your Commanding Officer." His words did not fall completely on deaf ears.

Kryos nodded his agreement with his cousin in purple, "I agree with Brother Aurellian," the HUD having identified Sebastien as such. "I will stand and fight wherever is necessary, but I believe we must make an effort to reach that rallying point."

Sebastien then turned to Kyros, having heard something over the vox comm on a private channel that caused him some amount of concern. "Kyros Straesen. The 5th Company of your Brothers are amongst the traitors arrayed before us. One of my brothers faces their Captain. Should I fear for him?"

Kyros let the name sink in for a moment and his eyes went a little wide underneath his helmet, gritting his teeth at the mention of the name of Captain Krejur. "You should fear for anyone who has to fight a Captain. Your friend will not defeat Krejur...The Beast of the Fifth is not an adversary to take lightly. I would think only another World Eater could best him, not for skill, but Krejur is a monster, there are whispers that he can control the Nails to an extent, his savagery is renowned throughout the Legion, not just the 5th Company. Your friend will need support to defeat him, I'm sorry Brother Aurellian, but in all liklihood Krejur will slay your friends."

Kyros looked over the rest of the group they were now a part of as a thundering crash that caused the ground to reverberate seemed to cause the Death Guard to all look at one another nervously. "If we cannot stay here then we should move, any advantage we may have by conducting hit and run strikes will be lost if we linger any longer Brother Apothecary Ulligo. Can we rendezvous with your Section Commander? Some of your Brothers were issued orders to search out and eradicate resistance in catacombs beneath the city, perhaps these caverns are accessible to us in order to get back into the city proper?" Kyros asked, he did not know locations, only the scraps of information that Gilgumann had revealed to him about his initial orders to clear out the catacombs beneath the city.
 
#88 · (Edited)
The jet-bike purred between his legs, and beneath his helmet, Krateron smirked viciously. The jet-bike was eager, thirsty for blood, as monstrous and untamed as the World Eater who had rode it, and that made the Son of Horus uneasy. I am no beserker, he thought, as the vehicle trembled, I am a hunter, a cutter-of-throats. The World Eaters were a blunt instrument, an hammer, whereas Krateron was a precise blade, a scalpel. They were warriors, a slavering horde. Krateron, clad in his dusty, sticky plate, was a killer. He shared their barbarity, that Krateron acknowledged, but utilised it differently.

And, then, Krateron was spinning his jet-bike, as flames licked past, and the fighting began in earnest. I have killed myself, he sneered, as flames blackened the jet-bike's flank, danced along his leg and arm, and fizzled away. He and Tiberius were outnumbered, and surprisingly, outclassed. The Twelfth had spared no expenses, throwing their lot into the fray, and now Krateron was afraid. Not afraid of dying, oh no, but rather -- He was afraid of failing. He spun the jet-bike around, took the brunt of a hit upon its prow, and shot back down the street, towards Dillinger. More blows hammered into the engines, and then they sputtered and died, a hundred feet away. Krateron drove the jet-bike into the ground, crumpled-nose first, and leapt free of the carnage.

Perhaps, had he been of the Third Legion, or any other, it would have been a pretty maneuver. Tiberius was no doubt fawning about it, he grinned, as he charged down the street, the World Eaters circling behind him, like a pack of sharks. In the next few moments, the World Eaters, now six, dismounted. They were surrounded, though Krateron cared little. He drew Oathkeeper, taking it in both hands, and watched the butchers.

'Ugly bastards,' Krateron grunted. 'He fancies you, that one,' The Son of Horus said, to Tiberius - Though, he doubted the Decurion was even listening - As the largest World Eater, wearing a rack of helmets and dripping scarlet, approached his ally. 'Rather you than me, cousin.'

He will be wearing your skin around his shoulders, by the end of the day, if you aren't as good as you claim, Emperor's Child.

When the friend-or-foe tags returned, and Captain Torgaddon spoke, Krateron shook it off. Hope wasn't something he needed, right now. He needed fine steel in his hand, which he had, and determination. He also had that, though of the grim kind, the kind that the Sons of Horus were famous for. Tiberius and the World Eater, a Captain named Krejer, were facing off.

A grenade sailed through the hair, from the hand of Tiberius. Three World Eaters stumbled, and Krateron flew forwards. Oathkeeper swung upwards, lazily, and bit through chest-plate, chin and skull. The World Eater jerked backwards, from Krateron's blade, limbs twitching, blood spurting, and collapsed.

And then, he was between two World Eaters.

He cursed, crouching low, Oathkeeper held tightly.

I should have fled.
 
#89 ·
"I'm sorry Brother Aurellian, but in all likelihood Krejur will slay your friends."

It was the answer Sebastian expected and feared and the words chilled him to the core. He looked once more around the rag-tag group he had found himself in. Bar Darius these were not his brothers and though he longed to be reunited with the Emperor's Children, the true Emperor's Children, he knew that could not happen without these men around him now. Slowly he reached up and one by one unclasped the seals of his helmet and removed it. His face, still clean and handsome stood in stark contrast to his damaged and dust caked armour.

"Cousins." he began, taking the time to look each of those around him, the Death Guard in particular, in the eye. "You have saved my life. Our lives." he said, gesturing towards Darius. "For that I shall be grateful for however much life I have left. You owe me nothing, but still I must ask you for more. My Brother is besieged by the Sons of Angron. He is a fine warrior but hubris will be his demise. I am going to save him, but I fear I can not do so alone. Will you stand with me once more cousins?"

He stepped towards Apothocary Ulligo and spoke again, more quietly this time. "Whatever our next step, whether we make for the Palace or fight to the last here, our chances of success will be greater with Decurion Locolus beside us."
 
#90 ·
The squad moved quickly and efficiently, resetting the trap even though the probability of it working had fallen somewhat. Decius had moved behind cover of some rubble in one of the buildings as they awaited to hear the telltale noise of the jetbikes coming back and readied himself for another engagement with the traitorous dogs. He checked his weapons quickly while he waited, making sure that they were intact and especially that his plasma weapon hadn't overheated as that would be incredibly dangerous. Luckily the readings were in the clear so his arm wouldn't be melted off when firing.

Vultus heard the sounds of jetbikes firing, obviously his brothers had found some more of the traitors and would be leading them into the trap. He could hear jetbikes moving closer and then their engines cut significantly, as if they were idling. He took a quick peek around the rubble and saw three jetbikes stopped in front of the chord idling as their riders sought out the loyalists. He cursed himself and grabbed hold of the standard as plasma and melta rounds started to slam into the building, blinding his vision for a brief moment as the traitors started to open fire on all the buildings as they saw the loyalists, pushing them out onto the street.

The Decurion and Krateron rejoined the squad as six jetbikes slowly descended and their riders got off, all World Eaters. Vultus felt his anger and choler rise as he saw the twisted remains of loyalists tied to the front of their bikes, with holes in their bodies where the plasma and melta guns had been firing. He placed the standard once more in the ground and drew his chainsword, revving it as he prepared for combat. Suddenly a voice that Vultus thought he would never hear again spoke from his vox unit, "Loyal sons of the Emperor, this is Captain Torgaddon of the Luna Wolves, Second Company. The Second and Tenth are at the Sirenhold, where Traitor forces are beginning to amass. The Precentor’s Palace is still in Loyal hands. We plan to make our way there for a stronger, united last stand. If you still live, you are not alone. If can make your way there, and add to our unified strength, we urge you to do so. If you cannot, as impossible as it may seem, cast your emotions aside and concentrate on what you have been trained to do and kill. Kill as many of these traitorous bastards as possible with cold, calculated precision." Vultus smiled underneath his helmet. He had somewhere to go once the threat here had been dealt with. He belonged with what remained of the second and he would ensure that he arrived there alive.

"We have sent out a revised friend or foe indicator. It is not comprehensive, merely based on what units we know were a part of the first wave. The Emperor’s Children holding the Palace will continue to work on setting up a more stable, local vox network.

Kill for the Emperor! Kill for the Living! And Kill, for the dead!"

Vultus smiled despite the situation he currently was in and readied himself. The World Eaters charged forward, one firing a bolt pistol round and knocking the heavy weapon feed out of the heavy bolter. Vultus moved forwards heading towards one with a chain axe crying out "Kill for the Living!" As he descends his chainblade to meet that of his foes.
 
#91 ·
"Cousins." Sebastien began, his helmet removed and tucked under his arm, taking the time to look each of those around him, the Death Guard in particular, in the eye. "You have saved my life. Our lives." he said, gesturing towards Darius. Kyros too looked to the Death Guard with a nod of thanks, for they certainly had saved them. "For that I shall be grateful for however much life I have left. You owe me nothing, but still I must ask you for more. My Brother is besieged by the Sons of Angron. He is a fine warrior but hubris will be his demise. I am going to save him, but I fear I can not do so alone. Will you stand with me once more cousins?" At the mention of his Brothers, whose blood flowed with that of Angron, his gene sire as well his jaw clenched in anger and hatred. His hatred of them guided his actions now, fueled by betrayal and this unrelenting pulse through his veins that hungered for revenge.

Sebastien then stepped towards Apothocary Ulligo and spoke again, more quietly this time. "Whatever our next step, whether we make for the Palace or fight to the last here, our chances of success will be greater with Decurion Locolus beside us." Kyros watched with great intent and even though he had not been directly addressed by either of The Emperor's Children he rose up from his kneeling position next to the Death Guard with the autocannon, giving a nod of thanks, the warrior had taken two Traitor World Eaters down with one shot and saved Kyros' life with his crack shooting. "Thank you, I may not have the chance to repay you Brother," he spoke quietly to the Astartes with the autocannon before taking a step towards Sebastien. He unclicked the seals, a woosh and hiss of air as they unclamped and he took his helm in his left hand, removing it and mag locking it to his left hip for the moment. His uncharacteristic long blonde hair was held back by a leather cord, his blue eyes were clear, but carried a fire in them. His face was not racked with the scars and wounds one would expect of a World Eater, likely owing to his refusal to bare the Nails, his Brothers had allowed themselves to be defiled by their own savage bloodlines, allowed themselves to be used by Angron.

"Captain Krejur and those with him of 5th Company are my Brothers," he stopped and spat as he spoke of the monsters of 5th as his Brothers. "They were my Brothers at one time, I must take some responsibility here. I will stand with you against the World Eaters." Kyros then drew his power axe in his right hand, the field was inactive and took his helmet in his left hand. Carefully he ran the keen edge of the weapon across the side of the helm, scraping down to the ceramite the sections where the World Eaters insignia had previously been. He did likewise to the rest of his armor, removing the vile World Eaters crest where he could, leaving some large sections of blank white and even ceramite. "I would prefer not to wear those marks any longer," he looked at the dirt, flaked with white, red and glistening metal flakes as the wind swept across the landscape again, carrying them off. "Perhaps it will allow you to distinguish me from my Brothers when we fight them once more. I will go with you to kill Krejur and his bastard company." With that, Kyros placed his helmet back on, streaks of thinned white paint and ceramite ran all over it, but he no longer bore any marks of the World Eaters save for the colors, at the very, in his mind, he would not die as a slave to Angron.
 
#92 · (Edited)
Krateron, Tiberius, and Vultus:

Krejer’s sword and Tiberius’s spear meet only once before Krateron’s victim falls flat on the ground, a bouquet of blood blooming from the butcher’s split head.

The tip of the phoenix spear was barely visible to Krejer, an impossibly straight joust to his face. His wide, serrated blade knocked the spear straight into the ground, instead. Tiberius’s arm goes numb from the blow to his spear, not letting go of his grip on the weapon. Despite Tiberius being completely vulnerable to attack now, the Captain stops, his sword still holding down the spear. He and the two World Eaters seem shocked for a moment, staring at Krateron’s crouching form and the body beside him.

Krateron can nearly feel the cold washing off of the two World Eaters standing on either side of him, who turn slowly to face him.

‘What?’ utters Krejer in disbelief. ‘Nearly two centuries of victory...’ he roars the next part, ‘Not even a struggle, nor single strike!!!’

While shouting this the Captain flies past Tiberius. Krateron rises to meet him, bravely, and is literally smacked aside without care. Krejer skewers the fallen World Eater, raising him up. He roars wordless rage into the corpse’s face. He throws the body to one of the other two World Eaters who immediately begins hacking apart the body with his chainaxe.

This foolishness ends when Herridon hip fires his bolter with his one good arm at Krejer’s backside. Tiberius reacts similarly, whipping out his volkite serpenta and adding to the salvo.

The Captain’s shield holds up against the bolter fire, and slows the volkite round enough so that it does not go clean through him, but it does hit the suit’s shield generator on his powerpack, destroying it.

The World Eater who had been thrown the body looks up, and charges Tiberius, the other taking on Krateron. Muor and Rydon have been engaged with one, and Vultus another, while Gretivalus continues to try and repair his weapon as quickly as possible.

All of you have a short skirmish with your foe, blows will be struck and taken but no one will fall just yet.

Krejer turns toward Tiberius once more, but chunks fly off of his armor as he is fired upon again by Herridon and Solhanan. While firing his bolter, Herridon uses what little movement he has left in his left arm to detach a grenade from his belt and prime it. Running toward him now, Krejer sees this happening. He plunges his sword into the ash caked road, bites his chain axe into Herridon’s chest armor, grips the arm and kicks out towards the Luna wolf’s midsection, ripping the arm off at the shoulder where the sword had gone through previously. Krejer throws the arm, and grenade with it, into the burning ruins. Herridon swings his bolter into the side of Krejer’s head. A return punch to his faceplate sends him reeling, chainaxe still stuck to his chestplate. Solhanan charges in, blade raised. Krejer turns to him, slaps the blade aside and decks him in the face as well, knocking him backward.

Krejer kneels by Herridon, takes hold of his head in his hands and begins to pull. Just as Herridon begins to yell in pain, Kremer is tackled by three new World Eaters, all with blackened scorched section of armor and limbs and heads of Space Marines chained to their armor. Krejer throws them off, pulls his sword from the ground and cuts one of their heads clean from the shoulders. All of you are joined by a few of these World Eaters, something about the ones with Krejer is odd though. Seemingly beyond the effects of the Nails, they are proving to be stronger than any of you. One of these newcomers walks out of the ruins with his helm removed, revealing a complexion of grey skin and white eyes.

‘Beast of the Fifth!’ He yells toward Krejer. Both weapons in hand again, keeping the other two Marines at bay, the Captain looks to his assailant and laughs loudly. ‘Abhuman filth!’ he shouts back with a grin. Your HUDs reveal this Marine to be Shabran Darr of the XII Legion’s 11th Assault Company.

Krejer’s men become increasingly more difficult to fight the longer you stay engaged with them. The three of you and Dillinger may take this opportunity to make a tactical retreat, letting these loyal World Eaters settle their own score, or you can stay and continue to help. Both decisions have separate pros and cons for the future.

Sebastian and Kyros:

Realizing the scarcity of time, Ulligo begins a vox conversation with his commander about the situation. Lieutenant Morturg quickly decides that a traitor Captain of the XII legion is a much more significant objective than anything else currently at hand, hoping to dispose of him quickly, get the Emperor’s children Decurions and the World Eater Sergeant on their way to the Palace, and be able to return to help defend the walls before the Traitor forces amassed too heavily on the loyal Death Guards’ major positions. Barely a half an hour passes before you both find yourselves quickly traversing the catacombs beneath the city streets in the direction of Decurion Loculus with about thirty Death Guard.

About fifteen minutes ago, the other group under Morturg’s command Ulligo mentioned joined up with you coming from another pathway of the Catacombs. Most of the Marines in the other group wear black armor with their legion symbol on the shoulder - Destroyer Marines carrying a hefty number of rad-weapons with them. They brought with them a second Apothecary as well. Not only this, but the other survivors Morturg’s units had found were remnants of the betrayed Mechanicum’s Ordo Reductor, including their leader Magos Reductor Calleb Decima. In fact he runs with the group now, five servo-automata with him, and the rather eerie sound of Thallax cohorts following somewhere in the distance of the Catacombs behind you. Morturg and the rest of his assembled men are supposed to meet up with the group soon enough.

Kind of a short update for you guys. You can talk to each other or the NPCs which I can create replies and other dialogue for. Any other thoughts your characters may be having please feel free to include. It will be harder to communicate with anyone not in the immediate vicinity over the vox while in the catacombs. Kyros knows the Fifth Captain's reputation, how does he feel about potentially having to fight him himself. Sebastian may suddenly be struck by the fact that he never found Captain Tarvitz. Though injured, at least Darius still remains by his side. It has only been a few hours since the virus bombing, where will everything lay by the day's end?
 
#93 ·
They were sick, these World Eaters, damaged. Rabid, accursed, beyond redemption. Krateron regarded them with a mix of hatred, disbelief and pity. Behind his helmet, his face twisted into something foul, as he flicked blood from Oathkeeper and prepared to face the others. Around him, he could hear the sound of battling - Footsteps muffled in the dust, weapons clattering together, blood splashing across the ground. Combat-stimms pumped into his bloodstream, and he laughed gratingly. 'Your brother died in vain,' he mocked, unsure if the World Eaters could hear, or comprehend, his words. 'And you, too, shall follow.'

And then, Krejer was coming at him, frothing at the mouth, maddened by the death of his companion, maddened by the Legionary's failure to down Krateron. The Son of Horus rose, Oathkeeper held in both hands, and stood his ground. Krejer was not fazed, however, and swung a huge, bloodstained gauntlet at Krateron - Almost apathetically - And sent the Marine stumbling, blood filling his mouth, helm ringing like a clarion. Stunned, spitting blood and cursing his luck, Krateron turned and went back at Krejer - But it wasn't Krejer. One of the World Eaters came at him, chain-axe looping through the air, and roared. It was unintelligible, the cry of a beast.

'Coward,' Krateron sneered. 'Twisted, broken thing, mindless beserker.'

The chain-axe plummeted down, blood-mist spraying from the jagged teeth, and Krateron met it with his forearm. He felt it bite deep, into his armour, and thrust forwards with Oathkeeper - Viper-quick. Crimson blossomed from the Eater's white plate, and both reeled away, bleeding and panting. And then, they went back at it, jabbing and swinging, hurling curses at one another. Punches were thrown, sword met chain-axe, and then they were apart again. Krateron watched his opponent, circling right, and laughed. The Twelfth have no place in the Imperium, save for butchery and slaughter. When the Imperium is old, your Legion will be long gone, you slavering cur.

And yet, as Krateron continued to scrap with the World Eater, he realised that he was wrong. The Marine, beneath his veneer of hatred and determination, was calm and composed.

'Headtaker,' The Son of Horus said, straightening. 'Axeman, heh, yes. Flee, now, and I will let you live. Know my name, Akkad Krateron, and tell your loveless father - Today, you faced a worthy opponent, a Son of Horus, and were bested.'

Bait the bastard and gut him, Krateron thought, when he realised that more World Eaters were pouring from the ruins, tense and ready to fight.

He glanced at Tiberius, and then at the World Eater named Shabran Darr, and opened a communications to the Emperor's Child.

'Decurion, perhaps now we should leave.'
 
#94 ·
Tiberius was pleased his grenades had achieved something close to the desired effect. The explosion bloomed behind the charging World Eaters and staggered the two flanking Krejer. In his peripheral vision he saw Akkad move with a feral speed and end the life of one of them. His focus was on Krejer though. The thin end of his phoenix spear seemed to disappear from view as he held it perpendicular to the ground. Energy crackled along its length. Krejer came roaring. Tiberius jousted straight for the faceplate, hoping the razor thin edge of his spear would make it through this beast’s guard and end this fight quickly.

Krejer was no novice though and, despite the distasteful barbarity of the World Eaters, retained enough concentration to spot the incoming spear. His huge serated sword smashed into the polearm, forcing it to the ground. The force of the blow vibrated up the spear and sent Tiberius’ arm into temporary shock. By Terra, Krejer was strong. His spear was held down by Krejer’s weapon and Tiberius went to break the deadlock when he noticed all of the World Eaters momentum had died. He simply stood there simmering in rage.

Suddenly there was an explosion of violence, but not at them. Krejer battered Akkad away only to get at his own fallen comrade and abuse his corpse. Once he was finished thrashing his fallen brother he threw him to his lap-dogs who proceeded to dismember him. Tiberius was shocked by the barbarity on display, only the bark of Herridon’s bolter snapped him out of indecision. His serpent was in his hand in and instant adding to the volley of fire striking Krejer’s shield. He didn’t aim for Krejer’s head or flesh however. His shield would protect him, Tiberius wagered. No, this was the first opportunity that Krejer had shown him his back and Tiberius fired at the power generators on the World Eater’s back, hoping to damage his suit or, better yet, the shield itself. At least then he would have that over Krejer.

Whilst the shield robbed his shots of much of their destructive power, they found their mark none the less. Organic fire fried circuitry and ceremite and finally Krejer’s shield spluttered and died. However, by this point the rabid dog that had been thrown his comrade to dismember has tired of his latest toy and so charged for Tiberius. He hastily holstered his pistol and brought his spear to bear. Tiberius sneered under his helm. “Your treachery will not save you cur.” The World Eater did little more than howl and whoop as he came, his axe spraying the blood of his comrade everywhere.

The two met in a blaze of blows. Tiberius had the reach, but the World Eater had the speed and sheer bloody-mindedness to push through him. Chain-axe and phoenix spear clashed. The World Eater forced the spear-point up by sliding his axe down to bite into the Tiberius’ vambrace. Tiberius pulled away. A sensible opponent would have pulled back but the World Eater kept coming and was rewarded with a spear digging into his side for that. The energy field cauterized the wound and Tiberius had to swiftly pull away to avoid the frenzied swings of the chainaxe. One caught his shoulder guard gauged holes into the III emblem emblazoned there. Tiberius resorted to punching him, fracturing the World Eater’s left visor.

They came apart and suddenly more white and blue bodies began to press in. Tiberius expected to be fending off numerous blows, fighting until sheer number brought him down. Surprisingly, none of these new World Eaters attacked him, but instead he found himself with a common enemy as these barbarians. Yelling from Krejer brought his attention to the man now identified as the Beast of the Fifth. Akkad wanted to run. Perhaps he should too. But something in him wouldn’t let Krejer’s challenge slide. He had challenged the might of the Emperor’s Children, and to leave him to an uncertain fate at the hands of these World Eaters would not do. Tiberius wanted to see his head separated from his shoulder. He would justify that Krejer needed to die to deprive the traitors of an element of their command structure, but that wasn’t the real reason. It was not in the nature of the IIIrd Legion to back down from a fight and even if his brothers had cast aside their loyalties, it still fell to him to uphold the honour of the Emperor.

“Flee if you wish Akkad, but I will see Krejer dead before I leave this battle. And if I can, I would see you help me in making it so.” Tiberius expected Akkad to run, but he didn’t. Some ragged sense of honour or duty kept him here, when his survival instincts told him he should flee. Whatever it was, Tiberius was glad for it. He voxed Vultus “Vultus cover Gretivalus. Once he has his weapon operational, kill the traitorous dogs. Akkad and I will bring down this Beast.” Tiberius forced his way through the crowd. Krejer still duelled two of these new loyalist World Eaters. Tiberius drew his serpenta and fired, hoping to wound Krejer further before he had to face him. As soon as Krejer turn his attention to them, he would holster it, giving him full use of his phoenix spear. “Shabran…” Tiberius spoke to the leader of this band of World Eaters. “…we stand with you. Let us bring down this Beast.”
 
#95 ·
Vultus met the snarling World Eater head on, chainsword descending to be met by an upwards stroke from the chainaxe of his foe. Vultus struggled holding the marine at bay, the nails had taken the World Eater and he had far more strength than Vultus had. Vultus backed away as the World Eater struck at him, hoping that he would over extend himself in his fury. The marine didn't however, an experienced veteran obviously to be with Krejer. Vultus strike was met by the chainblade again and the marine lashed out with his fist, slamming it into Vultus helm and knocking him back a pace. Vultus was forced to roll underneath the next blow just to regain his vision. He struck as he righted himself only to be met once more by the chainblade.

Suddenly Krejer roared as one of his men fell without landing a single blow or indeed even striking. The melee seemed to pause for a moment as Krejer barreled past Tiberius and smashed Akkad aside so that he could get at the body which he threw to two of his men with a roar with them hacking it apart. Vultus didn't have time to see what happened next as he and his opponent met once more chainblades crying out and slowing as they ground into each other.

Vultus kicked his opponent in the midsection and followed through with the momentum as his opponent stumbled back and brought his chainblade down. His opponent managed to twist himself out of the way so instead of hitting his helm the blade bit deep into his shoulder guard. Vultus snarled as he put more pressure on the blade as it bit into the guard only for his blade to jam. His opponent lashed forward with his blade biting into Vultus midsection drawing blood as his blade cut into Vultus. Vultus snarled and kicked again, knocking his opponent back though his blade was still stuck in his opponent shoulder.

Loyal World Eaters erupted from the ruins and began to attack the traitors, seemingly they wanted to kill Krejer as an act of revenge. Tiberius voxed him and ordered him to guard Gretivalas. Vultus responded as he leapt at his opponent, one hand grabbing hold of his opponents arm as he brought his axe down to kill Vultus with the other grabbing his blade and yanking it free. "I agree we stay in the fight and see this beast put down." He cycled his blade and silently thanked his luck as his blade coughed into life again just in time for him to knock aside his opponents blade. "Brothers, we stand here and put these rabid dogs down. Once that is achieved we can meet up with our brothers again and form an organised defence. Let us show these traitorous dogs our anger. Kill for the Living!" Vultus yelled to the squad as he placed himself near to Gretivalas ready to intercept any opponent headed towards him if necessary whilst battling his own adversary.
 
#96 · (Edited)
Upon their arrival at the rally point Kyros was struck by the relatively large number of Destroyers present, with their rad weapons in tow, their armors blackened with the continued use of the radioactive weapons they were proficient with. He looked around and took note also of the Magos of the Mechanicum and his servo-automata, the hissing of the Thallax echoing from the catacombs at their rear. This was as ad hoc a group as Kyros had ever seen, Mechanicum, and representatives from the Death Guard, Emperor's Children and himself a World Eater. He could sense their eyes on him, he was the lone World Eater who was among them and it was his Brothers that they had all been in combat with thus far. Though they were all betrayed by their own Legions, the World Eaters thus far had been the ones that had been actively sweeping the scarred planet, hunting and cutting down what resistance they encountered.

Kyros could sense the hatred for his Brothers, the ill will he suspected was also aimed at him, he seethed under the surface, he felt that somehow he was responsible. His squad was dead in its entirety while following his orders, though the spread pattern he'd elected to use to scout the terrain was tried and true, nonetheless, it was his choice. When the planet was wreathed in the toxic blend of the virus bombs he alone had made it to safety, and only by the sacrifice of his closest confidant.

His mind shifted to other, more current concerns. Krejer, The Beast of the Fifth awaited them, along with his retinue of Veterans. Kyros had seen them in action once during a 'pacification' operation. He had never seen a warrior press so deep into enemy lines in such short order before, they'd broken the planet's rebellion within mere hours, and Krejer took the bloodiest toll himself. Kyros thought back...

"Sargeant, we're getting word that Captain Krejer is closing on our position!" Ulix shouted over the vox as he continued to pour bolter fire at the dug in vermin, their heavy turrets were keeping them pinned down. Reka was keeping hold of the prisoners next to Kyros as per their orders, ranking officers from the Guard that had been stationed planetside who had in turn brought about insurgency. They were to be captured and executed publically. The walls behind them exploded, showering them in ceramite, shrapnel clanging harmlessly off of their armor.

"Who is in command here?!" The voice boomed with the authority of a warrior who'd seen countless campaigns. "Straessen, of 10th Company," the voice roared with mockery. "You can't send a dog to do a warrior's duty. Straessen, why do you have prisoners?!" The voice of Krejer became enraged as he stood over the smaller Straessen. "Our orders stated that these ranking officers of the Guard were to be taken prisoner and then to be executed publically at a-" Krejer backhanded him so hard and unexpectedly he sent him stumbling for a few feet. "We are World Eaters, we take no prisoners!" With that Krejer drew his chain axe and drove it through each of the four men in bindings, their blood spray coating the armors of the warriors in the vicinity. Krejer's men roared in approval and cheered, laughing while Kyros brought himself up to his feet. "Captain Krejer, our orders were-" the blink of an eye and several of Krejer's chosen Veterans were raining blows upon him, their chain axes flashed to life for a moment, but a quick bark from Krejer halted their violence. Kyros was left bloodied and staring up from the dirt at Krejer. "Do not ever question my actions again welp! You do a disservice to our Legion!" With that Krejer spat at the dirt in front of him. He'd been judged as unworthy by a Captain of the Legion for following orders, and yet it was men like Krejer, crazed with the blooding of populations and not even bothering with orders outside of killing.
That was the type of warrior that Angron championed, and Kyros knew that he would always be an outcast even among his own brothers.

He looked up, not focused on the present again, if he had to face The Beast himself he would, he saw it as a responsibility, something he would have to do to prevent the death of any of his new comrades. He looked to Sebastien and Darius, "Well, it appears we will follow you to your friend, hopefully they are still alive." He made as if to walk away, then paused and turned back to Sebastien, "If I fall before you, I would ask one favor of you, if you have the opportunity, take my axe and shield. Both are serviceable weapons and deserve to be in hands loyal to the Emperor."
 
#97 ·
Sebastian walked at the head of the formation, alongside Ulligo, Darius and the newly arrived second Apothecary. When making his plea to Ulligo and his unit he had never expected to receive such overwhelming support. He had a deep new respect for the Death Guard and when he finally met this Lieutenant Morturg he would have to thank him graciously. It felt good to be leading men again whether they were truly his men or not. To be leading a force again was what he was trained to do, not run alone from skirmish to skirmish through these hellish ruined streets like some kind of brigand.

He wished that these had been his men, true Emperor's Children. It had only been a few hours but he missed the feeling of being part of something exquisite, something perfect. His face dropped inside his helmet. Most of his men were gone, burned alive by the barrage. It had been his choice to leave the relative safety of the Palace. His men had paid for that choice. He would not blame himself however. He did not kill them. The traitors hiding in orbit had killed them, blasted them like insects to be exterminated. They had deserved better and Sebastian would reap a bloody toll upon their murderers until his final breath.

That choice he had made had been to locate Captain Tarvitz. Saul Tarvitz was a great man, a fine warrior and a strong leader beloved by his men. None had questioned Sebastian's choice to go after him in the moments before the world ended and even in this ruined apocalypse he had stuck by his decision fervently. Though fate had drawn him away from his pursuit it was never far from his mind. At this point though the Captain could be anywhere. Any intelligence they had had before the barrage would be horribly outdated by now. Any chance he had of success would rely on re-establishing stable communications. Maybe that was something else the Death Guard could assist him in. For now though he knew where another of his Brothers was. He knew the exact peril he was in and he had the power to save him, so that was what he would do.

Kyros appeared beside him, snapping him out of his introspection.

"Well, it appears we will follow you to your friend, hopefully they are still alive."

"Aye my friend." Sebastian said, clasping a hand down upon the World Eaters scarred shoulder plate. With the symbols of his legion wilfully desecrated it seemed inappropriate to still think of him as one of the XII Legion but such was deeply ingrained in him now and he did not know how his companion would feel about it either. If he survived the coming conflict with this Captain Krejur he would resolve to ask.

"Thank you for your assistance, both now and before. I do not know what it is like to cut down those one has so long considered brothers in the defence of strangers. It must be hard and whatever happens, I shall see your name remembered." he said reverently.

Kyros bowed his head slightly and made to slip back into the crowd.

"If I fall before you, I would ask one favor of you, if you have the opportunity, take my axe and shield. Both are serviceable weapons and deserve to be in hands loyal to the Emperor."

The chain-axe was little used among the 3rd Legion. It was an indelicate weapon, wielded by savages and barbarians. Sebastian had been forced to train with it before so as to be familiar with any weapon that may present itself on the battlefield and he had no love for it, not while Spectre was in arms reach. Who was he to deny such a simple request from one to whom he owed his life though?

He nodded. "That I shall. May they reap death among the Emperor's enemies long after we are both gone."
 
#98 · (Edited)
Krateron, Vultus, and Tiberius:

Krejer starts to say something else, but his words abruptly falter as he hunches over, twisting his head at odd angles, groaning and yelling in apparent agony. One of the two loyal World Eaters tries to take advantage of this, raising his chainaxe high for a powerful downward strike. But he is not quick enough.

Krejer shoots back to his full height, swinging his weapons outwards. His sword lops off the Marine’s arms at the elbows and his chain axe runs through his knees simultaneously. The last surviving loyalist jumps at him, clawing at Krejer’s collar plating. Krejer headbutts the similarly nail-bitten marine, kicks him down and plants the tip of his sword through the chest.

Krejer now heaves instead of breathes. His eyes are wide and unblinking, and his teeth are trapped in a grimace. Any further attempts to communicate with him will not illicit a verbal response.

Shabran Darr leaps onto the street, breaking into a run towards the Beast of the Fifth. Tiberius does the same, letting the Loyal World Eaters shove past him to get at their traitorous brother. Several of the Luna Wolves do the same. Solhanan grabs Herridon, helping move towards Gretivalus’s position where they meet with Vultus, out of the way of Krejer.

A third wave of jetbikes zips over the burning rooftops. They lower onto the street and their riders practically leap off of them toward the melee. One of Krejer’s veteran elites shoves his opponents away for a moment. With a single, curt command of his hand, the newly arrived traitors halt their charge just long enough to prime krak grenades and toss them onto the remaining functional jetbikes, destroying them all.

At the same time, more of Darr’s loyal followers spill out from the ruins behind him, differentiated by their defaced legion emblems and blackened weapons.

When Krateron attempts to join the fight against Krejer, he will be blocked by the veteran and newly arrived traitor legionaries. “I will tell him that today his son, Intukthelo, faced yet another worthless maggot and slaughtered him like the rest. This need to be adored by your Primarchs; makes you all foolish children.”

Upon seeing Tiberius coming to meet Krejer he turns to the Decurion and says, “This one is mine, Emperor’s Child.” Tiberius makes his intentions known, refusing to back away from the challenge. Both parties become thankful for the others’ support, however, once they each begin their fight with Krejer.

Vultus and all of squad Dillinger become huddled together apart from the swirling melee that has erupted around them which begins to move through the burning ruins as the traitor World Eaters subtly follow their Captain’s movements. This fighting goes on, with only a few bodies dropping, for nearly fifteen minutes as all of the Nail-bitten World Eaters hack and slash each other apart but refuse to finally go down.

Vultus and Sergeant Rydon both see movement at the far end of the street by the next intersection over. A large shape that rolls into view. Its livery is nearly impossible to tell with the thick smoke and ash in the air and the firelight playing tricks on the eyes. Figures appear, moving in and out of the light, and begin advancing up the street.

Gretivalus is finally able to repair his weapons belt feeder and the Luna Wolves nod to each other and move toward the only cover available, a handful of destroyed jetbikes. On their way past, Rydon interrupts Krateron, pressing his hand into his shoulder pauldron, a silent gesture that is clear in its meaning: You should stick with your brothers, and move with them.

This choice is up to you, Krateron. It is the same for you, Vultus. If you would rather stay in the melee than help your fellow legionnaires, then that is your call.

Dillinger sets up behind the jetbikes. No sooner than Gretivalus stabilises his heavy bolter over one of the wrecked hulls does bolter fire begin streaming past them and into the crashed vehicles; the explosive ammo detonating all around them. Gretiavlus lets loose with his giant weapon, the thunderous booms of its fury nullifying the World Eaters’ clashing. The enemies get just close enough for their colors to be seen.

Vultus and Krateron, whether you have joined them in cover yourself, or hear Rydon say it into your vox units... your hearts skip a beat.

‘Sons of Horus’
.

A firefight begins and it holds at a temporary stalemate for some time as the advancing Sons of Horus find cover for themselves, while the melee continues on. Some twenty to thirty minutes pass during this post. Deus, you may detail the fight with Krejer however you wish, none of three of you will take any mortal wounds.

Sebastian and Kyros:

After what seems like jogging for far too long, you finally reach the catacomb exit that should be closest to Decurion Loculus’s last position that Sebastian could see. The group of Marines and Automata waits for another ten minutes or so before ascending to the streets in order for Morturg and the rest of his men to catch up. The Thallax belonging to Magos Decima caught up some time ago, able to move faster than the rest of you on foot. While waiting for Morturg, Decima mentions that just before these Death Guard forces found him and his machines, they had taken down, and taken apart, a Traitor Death Guard Contemptor that was part of a Seeker squad dropped onto the edges of the western wall. Unlike the other Legions and the rest of the city, the open area of the trench networks outside the wall allowed the Death Guard to drop their Seeker squads practically on top of top of the surviving loyalists.

‘I recorded his designation into my memory,’ said the red-robed Magos to Ulligo, ‘Kahgor Lothsul.’

Legionary Herut, the one with the autocanon responded cooly, ‘His first engagement as a contemptor.’ Typical of the Death Guard, rather than laughter there was only a silent air of shared amusement that followed.

The Black Shield, Crysos Morturg, arrives. His armor is incredibly damaged and covered in his own blood, but still he stands. The first Marine whose vambrace he clasps is the other Apothecary's, whose name is Daeka, who then inspects him quickly. This is where you may greet him if you wish. 'The first two hours,' he says, slightly short of breath, we barely made it from the trenches to the industrial zone. We passed several cites of World Eater dead, and I've already had to kill dozens of my backstabbing brothers to get this far. From the sounds of it, you have as well, Sergeant Straesan. Even so, this is far, far from over.'

After this, Morturg nods toward an ornate set of heavy doors made of dark, blood-red wood and intricately bordered and embroidered with fine gold and brass ormolu workings. Two Thallax Warriors use a hand to push each of the doors slowly open. Immediately, gunshots are heard echoing off the ruined buildings. Before you is an enormous, scorched marble stairway. The steps are long and wide, gradually climbing to street level where two sickly shaped statues made of beautiful material and color stand broken at the the staircase head.

Astartes clad in pale green jogging by the staircase notice the massive doors at the bottom opening and turn their attention to it.

There are sections of Aegis defence line barriers located along the stairs, and lesser cover such as chunks of building rubble and lines of sandbags set up by the Isstvanians.

Three of the Thallax warriors burst out of the Catacombs first, each one of their heavy steps cracking the marble beneath their lumbering charge. Bright flashes of lightning bolts streak over your vision as they fire their lightning guns. The crooked bright blue lines punch right through the first wave of Traitors descending the stairs, leaving scorched black holes in their armor and heavy dead bodies tumbling down the next couple of steps before stopping. Several of the Destroyer Marines aim their irradiation launchers and lob rad-missiles up to the top of the stairway and over. Astartes armor is very good at protecting against radiation, but it will help slow their advance nonetheless, and you see at least two die from the barrage outright.

It will be a tough, uphill battle, but fight your way to the top of the stairs and secure a perimeter at street level. You will only be fighting Sons of Horus legionaries at the moment. They carry standard wargear such as bolters, pistols, flamers, missile launchers, grenades, and chain swords.
 
#99 ·
He thundered towards Krejer, death upon his mind, Oathbreaker held loosely in his hands. Curses fell from his lips - Cursing Tiberius, cursing the World Eaters, and louder than all, cursing his honour. He was caked in dust, human residue and blood - Both his own, that of the World Eater's, and the congealed patina of the Istvaanians, all dark brown against his ocean-green plate. The opalescence was gone, along with his pride, washed away in an ocean's-worth of blood and violence. His topknot, once bright red, now sagged dejectedly, frayed and unkempt. I will cut it free, Krateron thought, sadly. It is a danger, now.

More jet-bikes rose over the jagged buildings, sending vibrations through the ground, and World Eaters launched free, a savage lot. A trio of Twelfth Legionaries, two new arrivals with long, hide-bound axes and the veteran who Krateron had bloodied, stepped between Krateron and Krejer. He skidded to an halt, swinging Oathkeeper up in a defencive position, and grumbled.

'I will tell him that today his son, Intukthelo, faced yet another worthless maggot and slaughtered him like the rest. This need to be adored by your Primarchs; makes you all foolish children,' The veteran, Intukthelo, then, said.

'Angron was ever the negligent lord,' Krateron shot back, heatedly, weary of the other two World Eaters. They circled him, like sharks, and Krateron felt his hearts hammering away. Even now, adrenaline and combat-stimms were flooding his bloodstream. 'Alas, whore-born, you will tell the Red Angel nothing - I will cut your tongue out and feed it to these mindless lackeys of yours.'

His words had the desired effect. The newcomers launched forwards, spittle on their lips, axes swinging through the air. Krateron sidestepped the first, sloppily, and put his shoulder into the second. Away they stumbled, and then Intukthelo was at him, calm and composed. Oathkeeper was a sturdy blade, and held under the World Eater's unrelenting onslaught, though Krateron himself gave way - Peddling back across the ground. The other two World Eaters pounced, but Intukthelo growled something, and they slunk away like whipped curs, waiting for their opportunity. Such pack mentality was always more befitting the Thirteenth.

'You are an unworthy adversary,' Krateron hissed, low and sibilant, as he kicked Intukthelo away. It was a lie, and if Krateron was honest with himself, he was struggling - Worse, he was fearful.

And then, Sergeant Rydon was there, and he added his weight to the duel. Intukthelo went tumbling away, bleeding from a fresh wound in his thigh, and Rydon pushed past Krateron - A hand upon his fellow Son of Horus' pauldron. Come, now, the action said, and Krateron nodded shallowly. But not yet.

He flew at the other two World Eaters. Oathkeeper danced in his hands, cleaving through one's hand, and then Krateron was on the second.

'Headtaker,' He laughed, deep and mocking. 'I gift your skull to the Emperor, Blessed of All.'

Oathkeeper bit through throat, bone and muscle. The World Eater teetered for a second, his head rolling away, and then sunk forwards - Into Krateron's waiting hands. He gripped the ruination of the Marine's throat, spurting crimson, and swung the body around. Intukthelo, charging blindly, tumbled into his brother's corpse, and down they went in a limp tangle.

And then, he was running, laughing madly - Laughing at his survival and his victory. No doubt, he realised, Intukthelo and the others would come for their revenge. Let them come, he thought, launching himself over the destroyed jet-bikes, and amongst his fellow Sons of Horus. He clasped gauntlets with Rydon, nodded at the others, and smirked.

'Let them come,' He whispered. 'Let them taste my blade.'

Rydon spoke, then - 'Sons of Horus,' - A poisonous whisper, and Krateron's world shattered further.
 
#100 ·
This was taking too long. Every moment they waited was a moment Tiberius came closer to death. They could push forward now and the Death Guard second wave could reinforce them when they arrived. But Sebastian wasn't in charge, and so they waited. Eventually the rest of the force arrived, led by a brutalised officer. The newcomer greeted the second Apothocary and Sebastian realised that this was Lieutenant Morturg.

"Lieutenant Morturg. I am Decurion Aurellian of Emperor's Children, 10th Company." Sebastian said formally, clasping the Lieutenant by the forearm. "I owe you debt." he stepped back, taking in Morturg's battered but unbroken form and listening intently as he recounted the events that had brought him to this point.

When Morturg finished he nodded towards the doors and the Thallanx warriors pushed them open. Sebastian checked his bolter, nodded to the Lieutenant and made his way to the head of the formation. As the doors opened, the grand marble stairway rose up ahead of them. Sebastian pushed forward but halted as pale green Astartes ran by ahead.

"Sons of Horus." he muttered into his helm.

The Thallanx warriors pushed forward and all hell broke loose. The air was filled with the discharge of lightning guns and rad weapons. Sebastian generally disdained the use of Destroyers but here in the wreckage of Isstvan the seemed no use in worrying about their side effects.

"Children of the Emperor!" Sebastian proclaimed, momentarily losing himself.

"Death to his foes!" came the single reply from Darius beside him as the two moved forward.

Sebastian moved up behind a Thallanx warrior, opening fire with his bolter. His first salvo knocking a Son of Horus off his feet.

"Forward! Drive them back!" Sebastian shouted. Behind him the Death Guard warriors were pushing out of the doors. Overwhelming bolter fire roared up at the traitor legionaries and they appeared to hesitate as the strength of the oncoming force revealed itself. Sebastian gunned down another of the traitors and ducked down behind a large block that had fallen from the archway. Even with their superior numbers, reaching the top would be a struggle, but the Decurion would not be denied.
 
#101 ·
Kyros greeted the Apothecary Daeka in passing, merely nodding and acknowledging the Death Guard's rank with respect, "Apothecary." Morturg spoke 'The first two hours,' he says, slightly short of breath, we barely made it from the trenches to the industrial zone. We passed several cites of World Eater dead, and I've already had to kill dozens of my backstabbing brothers to get this far. From the sounds of it, you have as well, Sergeant Straesan. Even so, this is far, far from over.'

At the mention of the word 'Brothers' Kyros perked up, a great swell of rage flowed through his blood, from within his bones, within his heart, his whole being ached at the mention of that word in reference to his former Legion. "With respect Lieutenant Morturg, those of the XII Legion that I have killed today were not my Brothers, they were usurpers and traitors. My Brothers are dead and I am eager to see their lives avanged."

Kyros took up a position at the front of the assemblage of varying units of Death Guard and the Mechanicum. As the Thallax Guards powered the massive ornate doors open to reveal a passing patrol of green and grey, The Sons of Horus, those who fell under the sway of the WarMaster himself. Traitors of the highest order, the Death Guard Destroyers opened up with their radiation weapons, lightning guns crackled from the Mechanicum and Sebastien roared out the the warcry of the Emperor's Children, which was responded to only by Darius, his loyal comrade.

Kyros had no attachment to the warcry of his own Legion, he wanted nothing to do with that heritage, but it was his and he could do little but accept it, and use the curse of his blood to the benefit of vengeance. As the fire began to pour forth from both sides, he knew they would need to close the distance to most effectively use their numbers.

The barrage of radiation missiles from the Destroyers felled two members of the descending Sons of Horus, but the rest seemed uneffected for the most part, however, the explosion had rocked them, taken their footing out from under them and caught them off guard.

The blood raced, pulsing through his body more rapidly and he felt a surge within him, he saw a moment to capitalize on the Sons of Horus as they clambored back to their feet. He knew of only one way to fight, his combat shield was firmly braced about his left forearm, his plasma pistol in hand, his power axe flared to life and he was off, like a snarling rabid dog that had been let loose of its tether. His hatred fueled his charge, his anger took hold, and he let it, walking a fine line of being in control and losing himself completely in the excitement of killing the enemies of the Emperor. He sprinted as fast as he could until he reached the Sons of Horus who were retaking their posture. A squeeze of the trigger of his plasma pistol saw a bright blue globe of searing hot energy roar forth, without waiting to see what targets he may have struck he brought his axe to bare in a series of slashes, each one followed with his left arm returning to its protective position, placing the shield directly in front of his torso, protecting his most vital spots. He was banking on surprise, supressive fire from his comrades and above all, sheer hatred of his enemies.
 
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