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Sebastian visibly recoiled when Tiberius interjected. Tiberius could not say that the Sixteenth Legion were the Third Legion's equals, but they had their merits. Sebastian however seemed to be offended on the gut level by Akkad's presence and his involvement in their ad hoc in squad. Sebastian spoke in such a hasty spurned manner that Tiberius had no chance to respond to any of the questions Sebastian had aired. Although, Tiberius doubted if his fellow Decurion wanted any of his questions answered. Had his fellow officer been in peace time and they had time to debate matters further he would have stood firm in his stance that corporal punishment was not the answer to a wounded pride. He would have told him that the chain of command was of course intrinsic to the Legion structure and their performance. Furthermore, that was why one of them should go to the palace to aid in the defense and one of them should look for Tarvitz. The first thing the enemy would do would be to eliminate their command structure so the more spread out they could be the greater the chances of manning a coherent defense was. It wasn't about forgetting perfection, it was about trying to achieve it, more now than ever. When it really mattered.

But Sebastian would hear none of of it. Tiberius knew that. His diplomatic soul had managed to persuade, by some miracle, Akkad to accompany them and now Sebastian's rashness was putting that in jeopardy. It was the same soul that told him that Sebastian's response was inflated due to the sorrows of the day. It also told him that Sebastian needed time to cool down and Tiberius could perchance explain his actions later, with time and hindsight on his side. Sebastian broke into a run away from them and Tiberius couldn't help but flash him a condescending look under his helmet. He was like a petulant child who could not get his own way. But he could not leave his brother to run into the abyss unaided with a head that was clearly scrambled. He waited until his brother was a fair way off before speaking again. "Legionary Darius..." Darius snapped to attention, a response drilled into all Third Legionnaires. Tiberius unclipped more of his magazines and handed them to Darius. He had his Volkite Serpenta and Phoenix Spear, and Akkad at his side. He could do ok without being fully stocked on ammunition. "...Go with Decurion Aurellian. Keep him alive and report to me anything you can ascertain about our foes. Send any more survivors you find to the Palace, we will muster there. If you find Captain Tarvitz, give an honest account of all that happened here. If I am at fault, I'm sure our Captain won't be shy of telling me. Whatever happens, I want you back at the Palace in two hours. Time is not a commodity we have in abundance."

Darius clipped of a crisp salute and did as he was ordered. Tiberius sighed. Sebastian thought he was doing the best thing looking for Captain Tarvitz, and perhaps he was. Perhaps the man who had brought them word of their betrayal would be better equipped to man the defense. Tiberius supposed it was on Murder that he had picked up this self-assured attitude. They had been stranded, alone and isolated from the chain of command and Tiberius had done was was necessary to survive. He had shown initiative and flare for command that his equals had not and that was why he had been promoted. It was no different now. They were facing the most dangerous foe they had ever fought and some gambles had to be made. Perhaps Sebastian would find Captain Tarvitz and Tiberius would be reprimanded. Perhaps Tarvitz would praise his initiative in dividing his forces. Perhaps Tarvitz was dead and would say nothing on the matter. In any case, they would know soon enough. Tiberius turned away from the retreating figures of his brothers. "At least the two of them stand a fighting chance." Tiberius said as a form of defense to an accusation he was certain Akkad was about to air. Tiberius closed his eyes. He needed to steel himself. There was still work to be done. So much work. "Shall we?" Tiberius said before he himself started to move towards his destination. He trusted that, despite his short comings as a diplomat, Sebastian was capable enough to survive with Darius at his back. Now he just had to worry about his and Akkad's survival...
 

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Discussion Starter #42 (Edited)
whew, this one….



Krateron and Tiberius:

The two of you have moved at a jogging pace for about 40 minutes, relying on the data in your helms to point you in the direction of the palace. The city ruins prove extremely difficult to bypass in several areas. The map on your HUDs barely help in getting around these obstacles. The entire layout of the city has changed. Gas lines beneath the surface and inside structures were ignited by the firestorm, causing city-wide explosions and leaving what were once wide open streets as huge trenches in the earth or a mountain formed by a broken, toppled building.

Has this time been spent in silence, or filled with conversation?

15 to 20 minutes after the initial sounds of battle started up in the distance, they began to subside. The sound of gunfire has yet to cease entirely, but merely seems far less concentrated than it did at first. occasionally, more aircraft can be heard flying over the city now as well.

As the two of you drop back down onto a flat portion of road, having climbed down and through the ruins of one such toppled building, you walk into what was once some kind of intersection. Ahead of you is a building with black squares in the wall of varying heights. A grid of blown out windows. It looks no different from the countless others you have passed.

Huge crackling flames rise up into the sky from the rooftops far above, turning skyscrapers into candles. A gust of wind whispers through the intersection, and aching metal moans. Akkad starts off first, leaning into his jogging form again. He takes two steps, and almost completes a third.

Ash and rockrete are kicked up around his pale green boots. One two three four five six. Thunderous bursts crash through the intersection as more shots come down on the Son of Horus. Nothing hits the Marine directly, but he is thrown off balance and stumbles into a mound of corpse-ash.

Exploding holes in the rockrete pave a way toward Tiberius next, who spots muzzle flare from one of the blacked-out window holes in the building wall ahead. Already having his volkite in hand, he points to aim but a sudden start of bootwork to his side instantly changes the direction he aims in. A flash of green slams into him before he can fire. Tiberius looks up into the MK III faceplate of a sons of Horus legionary, yelling at him to stay down.

The gunfire pauses for a moment, the echo of eruptions cascading down the broken roadways of Hell. More shouts are heard, shouts to hold.

Akkad, half buried in the mound, does not comprehend the words. Het gets up, bolter in hand, spraying rounds into the side of the building that lashed out at him. The legionary over Tiberius turns and moves away quickly, but rounds immediately begin whizzing over the Decurion to keep him pinned down.

Krateron hears the armor running towards him, and turns swiftly, grabbing his blade in one hand to swing. Two battle roars coming out of their mouths at once, and the moment Krateron completes his one-hundred and eighty degree turn, his sword clashes with the blade of the other Son of Horus. Their strengths matched.

Tiberius finds that as long as he stays down, the rounds stop coming. Whenever he tries to move or get up, they return, but always go over him rather than into him despite laying wide open in the road. I will post as need be or work with the two of you through PM regarding your next, and subsequent actions.


Vultus:

Traversing the rough and hellish terrain on your own, you become lost in your own thoughts. You think about the past year, and conversations you've had with others about changes in the legion. One event in particular sticks out to you, when a member of 5th company had approached you, telling you about a secret order within the legion where everyone's views and opinions could be expressed without the concern of legion heirarchy weighing down on everyones' head. You had fought closely with this marine in the past, and you trusted each other, but you had turned down his offer. It suddenly dons on you, that you have not spoken since that time. In fact, you have not even seen him.

One of the signals on your HUD suddenly moves from the edge of the map in front of your eyes and into an actual location you can pinpoint, drawing you back into reality. You make your way over one hill of rubble after another trying to get to it, keeping the Standard upright as you do so. Eventually you appear to be on top of the signal, but see nothing.

Debris shifts beside you, revealing a portion of a Son of Horus in tactical dreadnought armor. You shove the standard into the debris and begin digging him out. So concentrated on digging, you barely register the sound of more aircraft in the dark skies above.

The veteran attempts to speak, having trouble at first. When you ask, he manages:

'Thoret Gorvinalis, of the 10th. My body fails me brother.'

Throwing a large rock aside you see the damage. All that remains is his midsection, an arm and a half, and his head. Blood stains everything beneath his ruined form. The power fist on his remaining arm is badly dented, useless. His helmets deep vox hides the pain in his voice well.

You tell him your name in turn.

'What just happened? I do not understand.' he tries to move, tries to grab you with his severed arm, 'Tell me... tell me this isn't real.'

Somewhere inside his remaining torso he finds the energy to yell. Unbelievable, that he is still conscious at all. He Roars with anguish.

'Tell me I did not fight that many wars for this! Tell me my whole life of glory and impossibilty did not lead to me dying like this, crushed by betrayal! Tell me my beloved Primarch, our Horus Lupercal, has not killed me, killed me without a word to my face! Without a chance. Killed me by pushing a damn icon, on a screen aboard the Vengeful Spirit!'

Blood begins leaking, fresh, from the remains of his torn body. He pushes you aside the best he can with his half limb and raises it to the sky. Screaming. Some of it hardly distinguishable by his helm's vox caster.

'I'll kill you! I'll kill you and all of your Sons, Horus! My whole life was yours! My whole life was spent slaughtering countless numbers of enemies for you to be named Warmaster. Die! Death! Burn! Burn Lupercal, Burn!'

He continues yelling this word, elongated, over and over. Suddenly, you hear gun shots cry out somewhere not far off from your position. It is coming from the same direction as the remaining icons on your helm's display.

What do you do next? You can try talking to Gorvinalis further if you wish, in which case I will decide his reactions. There seems no possible way for him to survive much longer, but if you wish to try somehow, that is up to you. Do you go toward the gunfire or move away?'



Tharr, Kyros, and Gilgumann:

The three of you travel at a jogging pace for about 40 minutes, Gilgumann quite a bit behind the entire way, lugging his heavy plasma cannon with him but always managing to stay within support range. Some of the fallen buildings and structures are incredibly difficult to get over or around, but you push on all the same.

15 to 20 minutes ago the bulk of the firing you had heard nearly stopped, becoming sporadic at best. You seem to be chasing the fighting. No matter how far you travel, the gunfire sounds just as far away as it did before. However, more aircraft can be heard in the darkened sky above, now.

Finally around one corner that looked similar to the last hundred, a creeping cloud of kicked up dirt peels around the building frame. Tharr is the first to turn the corner. Kyros nearly slams into his backside as he turns the corner next, stepping aside to see the same thing as he.

The two World Eaters stare together at the atrocity laid out before them. An ocean of dead World Eater legionaries completely fills the street, laying in drying, cooling gore. A cloud of kicked up dirt and smoke covering it all in a blanket of death. Here and there in the distance, crashed aircrafts lay smoking in the sides of ruined habitation blocks.

Gilgumann soon catches up, witnessing the aftermath for himself.

All three of you slow your pace, forced to really, as you stride through the dead. Soon, faint grunting noises can be heard up ahead.

Moving toward it and rounding another corner, you all see a pair of World Eaters practically wrestling with each other inside a hole of the structure. No weapons are left to them but their fists, and neither will relent.

Before any reactions to this can be made, a blood curdling roar comes from your side. Another World Eater drenched in red bursts out of a wall beside the three of you and smashes into Tharr. With a chain axe that is too damaged and clotted with gore to operate, he hits it against Tharr's chestplate and raises for another swing before the rubble even finishes falling to the ground. He spins around still yelling, swinging at both Tharr and Kyros now, who can recognize when one of their brothers has been taken by the nails, and that is definitely the case here.

How do the three of you handle this situation? You may kill any and all three of these World Eaters if you wish. However if this is your choice you MUST PM me first so I can figure out how everything goes down. If any dialogue reactions from the NPCs are needed I will provide them accordingly as well, either through post or PM.


Sebastian and Darius:

The two of you have moved at a jogging pace for about 40 minutes, relying on the data in your helms to point you in the direction of the palace. The city ruins prove extremely difficult to bypass in several areas. The map on your HUDs barely help in getting around these obstacles. The entire layout of the city has changed. Gas lines beneath the surface and inside structures were ignited by the firestorm, causing city-wide explosions and leaving what were once wide open streets as huge trenches in the earth or a mountain formed by a broken, toppled building.

Has this time been spent in silence, or filled with conversation?

15 to 20 minutes after the initial sounds of battle started up in the distance, they began to subside. The sound of gunfire has yet to cease entirely, but merely seems far less concentrated than it did at first. occasionally, more aircraft can be heard flying over the city now as well.

According to your HUDs you are nearing where the main forces of World Eaters had landed, and therefore, where Captain Tarvitz was supposedly headed. It was an immense amount of legionnaires landing over a very large section of the Choral City however, and both of you know the chance of seeing the Captain, if he is even alive, is still very unlikely.

The two of you slow your pace as suddenly another hail of gunfire erupts, sounding so close it may have come from the next street over. You find yourselves in a plaza, with a pavilion at its center made up of a ring of scorched marble columns and a collapsed roof laying in large pieces about the flooring. Several of the columns are not fully intact, and some of the roof chunks are large enough to hide behind. It looks like this may have been a market of some kind, based on the several other ruined structures that surround the raised area of the pavilion.

The two of you take cover in the pavilion. There are five streets that lead into the plaza. Two of them are forked, side by side angling outward away from the plaza. The other three are perpendicular to the square plaza, one on each of the other sides and all leading to the center pavilion.

From one of the angled streets appear a group of five World Eaters. Though it is hard to tell at first due to how dark their armor is, being covered in blood, scorched, and caked with ash. One carries a bolter, two carry chain swords and bolt pistols, the other two only carry chain axes. They appear to be looking for something, while moving at a quick pace.

How do the two of you react? Do you try to remain hidden or interact with these World Eaters in some way? If you choose to engage them in anyway please state what your character is going to do, first, then I will decide the result of those actions. For instance if you choose to attack state that they raise their weapons and open fire and I’ll figure out if anyone gets hurt and such. If you choose to talk you can try to open a channel with them, yell from behind cover, or come out and greet them. Again, I will decide their response.


Kazimir:

Same as before. Start from the beginning and catch up to Decius Vultus.
 

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Marcus moved briskly through the charred ruined city that once was the Choral city. The sounds of battle dropped off to a dull din in the distance, bringing with it echoes of suffering and death. Conversation at that point was stifled much to Marcus' relief. He was still reeling from the deaths of his squad and the stink of betrayal that hung all around them. It sickened him to his very core leaving only a cold fury seething inside. He looked back over his shoulder towards Kyros. His features inscrutable behind the helmet. He knows nothing of the assault sergeant save for his penchant to be poetic. Marcus will discover his mettle soon enough in glorious battle.

It was all that mattered right now. The sensation of death, delivered and received.

The Death Guard Alaros kept pace with them well despite his heavy loadout. Commendable for an average man but as a legionnaire it is a given. Marcus mused as to what fates were at play that drew them here. The shamans back in his homeworld once chanted of death as the great judge. All were equal in death. Equally measured and wrought of their worth.

A sudden rise in ambient temperature rocked Marcus from his brief reverie. However it was not the fires of battle that greeted them but the sight of hundreds of cooling bodies. Every single body a World Eater. Kyros stopped behind him to witness the sight but he did not care what the sergeant thought. He was overcome first with grief and then rage. He staggered forward, his copper eyes unseeing, his teeth clenching to the point where his gums bled.

Then as if on instinct his body moved towards the carnage. His movement was clumsy and uncaring. The sounds of fighting could still be heard as a pair of World Eater legionnaires still attempted to tear out each other's throat. Marcus did not care, like a puppet with no master, he drifted onward. Perhaps Kyros and Alaros were calling out to him. Perhaps they were taking aim at his vulnerable form. Marcus did not care.

Explosions from nearby aircraft rocked them as he moved onward only to be met by the rampaging form of another World Eater legionnaire. He exploded from a ruin wall straight towards Marcus. The armour on the berserker was rent and on his hands the remains of savagely used Chain Axe. Marcus took the impact head on, his armour deflecting heavy hits from the remains of the axe.

Their Primarch gifted them with a fury that would never grow cold but can only be kept at bay for so long. This fury that Marcus so desperately tried to master within himself through the wrack and ruin of his life. The fury that he thought he controlled is now free. A long throaty primal roar escaped Marcus' lips as he discarded his Volkite charger and drew his own Chain Axe. His fingers finding the activation stud instantly while blocking blows with his left arm. He loosed his own volley of blows towards the Enraged legionnaire. Steel against steel. Brother against brother.

Rage was his master now.
 

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They went on, 'jogging' though in truth the speed they moved at would have been considered a sprint by any normal human. Marcus Tharr at the head, he moved almost as if he was trying to get rid of his two compatriots, though he slowed his pace every now and again to see if his Brother World Eater was still behind him, their red optics locking, and then Marcus' gaze would invariably shift further back to ensure that their Death Guard companion Alaros was also still keeping up. Alaros kept pace admirably and at confirmation of his presence Marcus turned back around and resumed his previous pace.

As they continued on Kyros again found Marcus drifting further ahead and Alaros always remaining about thirty or so meters behind, which was quite commendable given his loadout. Kyros could hear the battle just ahead, but it had been there, just up ahead of them for nearly forty minutes now and he grew tired of seemingly chasing this conflict. Still he sprinted on, again they were maneuvering through the alleys of what had been a heavily settled area, numerous decrepit buildings towered ominously over them, the darkened skies yielding the distinct 'whoosh' and whine of rockets, of what type of dropship Kyros did not know, but they continued to come down at seemingly random intervals. His inattention saw him round the corner of the passageway they'd taken and as his focus shifted back to the path ahead of him he found himself skidding to a stop as Marcus stood at the mouth of the passage perfectly still, dead silence ahead of them. Whatever fighting there had been here must have moved on ahead of them again, Kyros strode up towards Marcus with every intent of mocking his Brother's insistence at taking what seemed to be a break from their pursuit.

Kyros felt his throat tighten, the air from his rebreather no longer held enough sustaining oxygen for his mind to remain clear, he scowled, clenched his jaw and snarled in solitude within his helmet. He was thankful for his helm, for it allowed the tears, bitter, hate filled and sorrow ridden tears to fall freely. "...Our brothers...All of our brothers...How?..." He sank to the hard caked ground, he knelt as if he did not have the strength to remain standing, his right hand combing through the blood soaked dust, examining it as if that could yield the answers to his whispered questions. The world was silent save for the tears that dropped against the interior of his helm and the echoes of rage that now rang out in his heart and mind.

The sounds of a struggle then caught his attention, he rose up and drew his power axe and turned to look at Marcus and agree on a course of action. However, Marcus had wordlessly walked out into the open, clumsily navigating the sea of the dead towards the commotion. Kyros wanted to scream at Tharr for his idiocy, but not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention he refrained, at least one of the Sergeants had to keep his mind sharp he told himself. Two World Eaters fought doggedly, neither carried any weapons anymore, but still they fought, with a ferocity that could only have been honed in the gladiatorial pits aboard all World Eaters vessels.

Kyros watched as Marcus walked towards them with his chainaxe in hand, Kyros stalked after Marcus, trying to maneuver through the horrid scene, fighting himself from allowing anymore tears to flow as he stepped around, over and on his former battle brothers to reach Marcus who was easily 100 meters away now. A throaty, blood curdling war cry then resounded throughout the settlement as a gore covered World Eater leapt through rockcrete and crashed into Marcus. The blood drenched World Eater brought forth a chain axe that clearly did not function properly anymore, the hiss and whine of the motor clearly indicating that the weapon had become clogged, the chain was no longer seated properly or a combination of the two given the amount of still wet and bloodied meat that hung in strips and pieces off the weapon. Still the World Eater attacked Marcus with a frenzy that could only have come from a warrior who had lost himself to the rage of The Nails. Though not implanted with Nails, all of Angron's gene sired children carried in them an unstoppable rage and if allowed to run freely it was a dangerous proposition for all.

Kyros was at most 15 meters away from Marcus now and shouting "You fool you've given away our position!" Marcus then summarily discarded his volkite charger while blocking the oncoming torrent of blows raining down from the bloodied World Eater. Marcus then drew his own chain axe and the two warriors collided in melee as both seemed lost to the frenzy that ran in their bloodlines. Kyros gritted his teeth as he moved closer, he then let loose with a single shot from his plasma pistol aimed at the blood soaked World Eater, he was lost The Nails and there would likely be no way to reel him in now, still, the shot had been just in front of him, perilously close to Marcus as well, the blue fires biting into the ground and pluming up between Tharr and the gore covered World Eater. With that his power axe leapt into his right hand and he felt the hatred rise up in him, washing over him like a hot wave, the flickering energies of his power axe crackling around the weapon. He did not know who's blood he would have to spill, or how much of it, but he knew his 'Brothers' tempers would not be cooled by words now.

The two World Eaters that had been grappling looked up and took notice now, Kyros would fight them, kill them if he needed if they were to attack, he would fight the blood covered World Eater and kill him as well if he did not cease with his madness, he had fired a warning shot but would not stay his hand again. Kyros looked out at Marcus as well, he would fight and kill him if he felt like he needed to as well. Marcus seemed to be losing himself to the rage that was inherent to their blood lines, and Kyros could feel himself being taken into the clutches of the same borderline psychosis at the prospect of being able to exact vengeance against someone, there was a part of him that did not care if they were fellow survivors or Traitors. He took his power axe in his right hand, his left hand gripping his plasma pistol, which was expelling the excess heat generated by firing, the coils glowing blue green. "Legionaire Gilguman!" He shouted at Gilguman as if he was his to bark orders to, "be ready to immolate everything here on my order, if these fools cannot be brought to reason I will need you to kill them all with your cannon!" Kyros arrogantly strode forward, his weapons drawn, looking much more a man ready to fight tooth and nail more than a man looking to reason or negotiate with his fellow World Eaters. But within the XIIth Legion, brute force was the customary means of negotiating and Kyros' movements echoed the fluidity and confidence of an apex predator as he moved into close combat range awaiting the first to try and challenge him.
 

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It had been a fair time now since Sebastian had parted ways with Tiberius and Akkad. Now with the benefit of space and away from the riling influence of the arrogant Son of Horus, his temper had settled. He started to regret some though certainly not all of his words and actions. Now was not the time to dwell on such things however. He hoped he may have time to make amends later but now he had a singular mission to achieve.

It had not taken him long to notice that Darius was following him. It surprised him given the Legionary's leanings moments before. It was clear Tiberius had sent him. Sebastian was a little hurt, sure as he was in his own abilities that he could have completed his mission alone though he soon admitted to himself that having another gun covering his back should certainly not do him any harm. Though Darius was there though there was no joviality to be had. Sebastian kept all communication to a minimum, using battle signs whenever possible to signal his intent and when vocal communication was necessary his words were curt and to the point.

The Choral City was huge and the damage inflicted upon it made it difficult to navigate. The maps they had been provided with before the first assault were near useless as building had fallen to block streets and roads had been holes blasted into them. Even those routes that were open were difficult to traverse, the weight of power armour on free debris causing more than one small landslide that had threatened to drag the Emperor's Children away. They soon found that safety required they slow their pace to a frustrating level.

The ebb and flow of distant battle sounds were conflicting. Sebastian did not know whether to hope for them to intensify or end. The weapons of both sides were alike and it was still impossible to figure out which side was gaining the upper hand.

As they crossed the plaza they took cover in the collapsed pavilion. The area would be an ideal killing ground but there was no choice but to cross it. Sebastian felt vindicated in the decision as the sounds of additional warriors approaching reached him and he ducked down out of sight. He unclipped his helm and gently set it down beside him. As he peeked out from behind the heavy stone slap he sheltered behind, his bare head would be far less noticeable than the bright purple of the helmet.

World Eaters. It at least suggested they were heading in the right direction but it was difficult to tell whose side they were on. They looked as if they had been through hell. That and the fact that two of them had been reduced to close combat weapons alone suggested to him that they were first wave survivors. However their manner, the way they moved, as if hunting, suggested otherwise. Of course, he also had to consider that they may have information about Captain Tarvitz.

Sebastian signalled to Darius to be ready to fire, then called out to the Legionaries from behind cover.

"Ho World Eaters! I am Decurion Aurellian of the Emperors Children! Be you friend or foe of the Legions Astartes, loyal now only to the Emperor on Terra!?"
 

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The Decurion, Tiberius, sent Darius along the way, before Krateron could hand over ammunition. Krateron gritted his teeth, beneath his faceplate, and cursed. You have signed his death warrant, he thought, watching as the other Decurion, that whore-son Sebastian, and Darius marched away. He bit his tongue, he was no Emperor's Child, and ultimately, this matter belonged within the ranks of the Third Legion. Tiberius was already moving away, shuffling over the debris, still managing to cut a regal figure in his purple and gold. Insufferable prig.

Krateron followed, and they broke into a run, crushing bones, metal, rock - All matters of materiel - Beneath each giant, inexorable boot. The Choral City had become a warren of destruction, buildings had fallen in on themselves, collapsed into the sewage system, forming skeletal, metal mountains. They jogged through narrow, jagged trenches, shoulders scraping the sides, ducking beneath dislodged spars and overturned battletanks, passing the corpses of friend and foe, now a sickening, red-brown sludge.

'Who else dropped with you?' Tiberius asked, as they advanced along a twisted, smoking street. 'Then we know who we shouldn't kill.'

Krateron glanced back at him. 'Does it matter?' He asked, bitterly. 'We are all in the same situation, cousin.'

'A Thousand Son told me once knowledge is power,' Tiberius said, pausing for a moment, allowing the thought to sink in. 'It’ll be easier to convince our brothers we’re on their side if we don’t start by shooting them.'

'Very well, then,' Krateron said, smirking. 'I won't shoot, Tiberius, I will stab,' He barked a laugh, though it was humourless. 'If I see a Son of Horus, I'll make sure to ask if he's having the same shit day or not.'

Tiberius laughed. That, at least, was a good sign. 'Good to see that your manners haven't suffered today,' The Decurion said, another soft, contagious laugh escaping his helmet's speakers. 'Fine then, whose head do you want to claim?'

The Son of Horus came to an abrupt halt, turning slowly, helmet levelled with the Third Legionary's. 'Truthfully, cousin,' He said, haltingly, searching for the right words. 'No-one's. Those Marines,' He pointed upwards, at the clouds. 'Are still my brothers. I have fought besides them, eat with them, shared oaths with them,' He grunted, shaking his head. 'I will do what I must, to survive, and nothing more. This is a cursed thing.'

'Aye, it is a cursed thing. But you can’t survive and think of them as our brothers. The past cannot be allowed to stay our hands,' Came the reply, Tiberius' own gaze turning skywards. 'Evidently, it did not stay our brother’s.'

Krateron laughed, loud and clear. 'You misunderstand me, cousin,' He said, turning away. 'I will bleed them, I will skin them, I will break their bodies. They are treacherous, they have doubted the grandeur of our majesty, and they will die for it. But, friend, I take no pleasure in that. There will be no trophies and there will be no boasting. This shames me.'

Onwards they walked, Tiberius laughing nasally. 'And there was me thinking that you had lost your stomach for war. ou are right though, there is no glory in what happens here. Only brutal necessity, as it has been with all rebellions. Allow me to rephrase my question, is there a single man you would like to see die for what they did today? Someone who holds particular contempt in your heart? Someone who holds particular contempt in your heart for this betrayal?'

'No, there is not,' Krateron replied, sadly. 'Perhaps, however,' He grinned, fiercely. 'Your fellow Decurion - Sebastian, was it not? - And I can cross blades,' He struck Tiberius across the shoulder with the flat of his hand. 'I jest, of course. What of you, cousin? Who will pay for your betrayal?'

'That’s a fight I’d like to see,' Tiberius said, his tone jovial, a smile evident in his words. 'As for those I’d like to see dead, the best I can do is arrange a pyramid of who I’d like to see die first. One thing I know for sure,' The Decurion's voice hardened, darkened, an edge, cruel and vengeful, creeping into his tone. 'I hope someone makes Eidolon’s head roll.'

Krateron snorted. 'Perhaps it will be you, cousin,' He bit his lip, thinking. 'Fulgrim is not here. Do you believe him innocent of this butchery?'

'No cousin, I do not. Eidolon may be an arrogant sod, but he is not foolish. He is a man under authority, and that authority is Fulgrim’s. If he didn’t directly order it, he at least knew about it. And if he knew and did nothing, then that is as bad as ordering this madness himself.'

The Son of Horus nodded. 'This day, brother, will live on. If we die, we shall be remembered. We defied the madness of tyranny, when all was against us, we stood, we died, facing our betrayers. Bugger Fulgrim, bugger Eidolon. If your Lord Commander wants to cross blades with me, I'll take his head and piss down his throat.'

They were descending through a sheared building, now, sliding along a floor, maneuvering around wreckage - Both human, transhuman and materialistic. They forced themselves through a ground floor - Which had become a wall - And came into a long, guttered street. Every street was long and guttered in the Choral City, now, though.

Krateron broke into a run - Went two steps, and then he heard it. Deep, echoing booms, bolt-rounds. They struck the dirt and ash around Krateron's feet, kicking up puffs, pebbles raining down on his helmet and shoulder. He stumbled, the concussive blasts knocking him off of his feet, and went tumbling into a mound of ash and glass. He tensed, gripped his bolter, and came up, roaring, dust swirling around him, bolter pointed at the opposite building. He opened fire, still roaring, combat-runes flashing over his vision. Stone and metal exploded as his rounds hit home, but he saw nothing, dimly aware that Tiberius had fallen silent.

And then, running. Heavy, crunching footfalls - Space Marine. Krateron maglocked his bolter, drew Oathkeeper from over his shoulder, and pivoted, roaring, all of this in a matter of seconds. Oathkeeper struck another blade, and Krateron was face-to-face with his opponent - A Son of Horus. Blood-maddened, his honour insulted, Krateron tensed, leaning his weight onto the blade, his free hand curling around the hide-bound hilt of Aebathan, yanked it upwards, and pressed it against the Marine's hip.

'Know me, Son of Horus,' He grunted, in Cthonic. 'Know me, Akkad Krateron, and make your choice. Drop your blade, or I'll tear your hearts out, you fool.'
 

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Choral city was nothing more than a burnt out corpse now. The metal skin of its buildings sloughed off in molten drops leaving only the bleached ashes of its bones to stand testament to what had once been here. Tiberius could hardly reconcile the blasted ash-chocked streets with the ones his and his cousin legions had stormed through less than an hour before. He was used to an Astartes invasion force, especially one of this magnitude, wrecking and gutting vast swathes of a city. However, it was rarely that he saw one as utterly demolished as Choral City. This was devastation and ruin brought into corporal form, a testament of Mankind’s failings. Its imperfection. Tiberius thoughts began to darken. He had to alleviate his mind somehow. “Who else dropped with you?” He asked, seeking distraction for his troubled mind “Then we know who we shouldn't kill."

Akkad algea-green helm glanced back at him.
“Does it matter?” He asked, bitterly. “We are all in the same situation, cousin.”
Tiberius flashed Akkad a condescending look under his helmet.
“A Thousand Son told me once ‘Knowledge is power’.” Tiberius let that sentiment hang for a moment. “It’ll be easier to convince our brothers we’re on their side if we don’t start by shooting them.”
“Very well, then,” Akkad retorted “I won't shoot, Tiberius, I will stab,” He barked a laugh, though it was humourless. “If I see a Son of Horus, I'll make sure to ask if he's having the same shit day or not.” Tiberius laughed at Krateron’s crass black humour. It was typical of a Son of Horus. Get in close where you could feel the blood run in between your fingers. “Good to see that your manners haven’t suffered today.” Tiberius sniggered again, playing up to his Legion’s reputation for propriety. “Fine then, whose head do you want to claim?”

Akkad halted, seemingly incensed by Tiberius’ words. That a brutal Cthonian was appalled by Tiberius was enough to make him stop and consider what he had said. Was Tiberius being too harsh on his erstwhile brothers?
“Truthfully, cousin,” He said, haltingly, searching for the right words. “No-one's. Those Marines,” He gestured upwards “Are still my brothers. I have fought besides them, eaten with them, shared oaths with them.” He grunted, shaking his head. “I will do what I must, to survive, and nothing more. This is a cursed thing.”
Tiberius ran his tongue over his teeth in contemplation.
“Aye, it is a cursed thing. But you can’t survive and think of them as our brothers. The past cannot be allowed to stay our hands.” Tiberius looked up at the sky in solemn contemplation. “Evidently, it did not stay our brother’s.”

Akkad laughed, loud and clear.
“You misunderstand me, cousin,” He said, turning away. “I will bleed them, I will skin them, I will break their bodies. They are treacherous, they have doubted the grandeur of our majesty, and they will die for it. But, friend, I take no pleasure in that. There will be no trophies and there will be no boasting. This shames me.” Tiberius gave a quite nasal chuckle.
“And there was me thinking that you had lost your stomach for war.” Tiberius continued their walk after their brief pause. “You are right though, there is no glory in what happens here. Only brutal necessity, as it has been with all rebellions. Allow me to rephrase my question, is there a single man you would like to see die for what they did today? Someone who holds particular contempt in your heart for this betrayal?”

“No, there is not,”Akkad admitted with sadness in his voice. Tiberius wasn’t sure if it was sadness at what had happened, or that he did not have one man onto which he could pour all his wrath “Perhaps, however, your fellow Decurion - Sebastian, was it not? - And I can cross blades,” Akkad slapped Tiberius’ shoulder guard “I jest, of course. What of you, cousin? Who will pay for your betrayal?”Tiberius smirked at the notion of Akkad and Sebastian duking it out.
“That’s a fight I’d like to see.” He admitted, his tone matching the obvious jest. He wondered if Akkad’s brute force and gutter fighter style would be enough to overcome Sebastian’s blade-work. Either way, it would likely serve as a lesson for both of them. “As for those I’d like to see dead, the best I can do is arrange a pyramid of who I’d like to see die first. One thing I know for sure…” Tiberius fixed Akkad with a fierce stare, his voice becoming dark and ill-fitting one of such noble origins “…I hope someone makes Eidolon’s head roll.”

Akkad snorted. “Perhaps it will be you, cousin,” Tiberius mulled over that thought. Perhaps he could take Eidolon’s head and deprive the traitorous part of his legion of one of their Lord Commanders. He dismissed the thought though. One did not become a Lord Commander by accident, and Tiberius doubted he would be able to defeat Eidolon in single combat. Besides, as he had said before, one man’s life was irrelevant in the face of all that had happened. “Fulgrim is not here. Do you believe him innocent of this butchery?” Akkad’s postulation that Fulgrim might be innocent was one that Tiberius desperately wanted to cling to. The idea that their Primarch alone stood against Horus’ madness was a heartening one, but ultimately false. “No cousin, I do not. Eidolon may be an arrogant sod, but he is not foolish. He is a man under authority, and that authority is Fulgrim’s. If he didn’t directly order it, he at least knew about it. And if he knew and did nothing, then that is as bad as ordering this madness himself.”

Akkad nodded, at least the knowledge that their primarchs had signed their death warrants unified them.
“This day, brother, will live on. If we die, we shall be remembered. We defied the madness of tyranny, when all was against us, we stood, we died, facing our betrayers. Bugger Fulgrim, bugger Eidolon. If your Lord Commander wants to cross blades with me, I'll take his head and piss down his throat.” Tiberius gritted his teeth a little harder in response to Akkad’s words. Damned if they were harsh, brutish and vicious, like the man who spoke them, they fanned the flame in Tiberius’ soul. They were making their way through a toppled building now and Tiberius wasn’t quite sure if their armour boots were breaking shards off the ceiling or the floor. It was strange in a way, the direction of Tiberius’ very life had been thrown into question and he was focused on what part of the building marked his presence.

The two of them came out into another ruin of what had once been a street. Akkad ran ahead, bolter held against his chest. Tiberius ran behind his hands holding his Volkite Serpenta and Phoenix Spear. The burning roofs of buildings illuminated their path, the death-throes of this city their guide. Akkad made it only a couple of steps before gunfire started up. Not the distant gunfire that had died ways about half way into their journey, but very close, very real gunfire. Akkad stumbled into a nearby ash-pile. If he was wounded Tiberius didn’t know. His priority right now was the shooter. The muzzle flash had been from a nearby building, easily in range of his Volkite. As the bolts continued to chew up the earth as they headed towards Tiberius, he took careful aim, preparing to fire.

Suddenly, footsteps to the right caused Tiberius to rapid change his target. Something much closer was coming for him. He turned, preparing to fire blindly into whatever or whoever was coming for him. A blur of green, the same green as Akkad, slammed into him. “Stay down!” the Mark III helm yelled at him. Tiberius was aware that the gunfire stopped and then started again, somewhere else. The Son of Horus got off of him still yelling at him to stay down. *Not a chance.* Tiberius thought. He wasn’t about to be left exposed in the middle of the street to be gunned down.

As the Son of Horus sprinted away, Tiberius motioned to rise. However, the gunner in the building fired again and Tiberius immediately flattened himself against the dirt and ash, dirtying his pristine warplate further. As soon as he was flat on his belly, the gun-fire stopped. Whenever he motioned to rise, the gun-fire started up just above his head, making rising further than a few inches off the ground perilous. None of the shots were to kill, Tiberius quickly realized. The Son had not stayed to wound him or even tried to if he could have done. The fire from above was only to keep him pinned, not to kill or even wound him. Tiberius deduced from this that these were their brothers, not the traitorous dogs that had sent them to die. There would be more of them and they would know who to kill and who not to. These men were unsure, unwilling to harm them until they had confirmation of their allegiance. Exactly like Tiberius would be in their position.

Tiberius was almost certain that those who had mistakenly fired upon them were on their side, but he needed a plan in case they weren’t. He made to rise again and the bolter fire resumed. He fell flat again, but let his left hand fall to his hip, obscured from view by his body. Tentatively he reaching into one of his grenade pouched and grabbed a frag grenade. His thumb slipped into the pin, preparing to pull it at a moment’s notice and roll it into the ash pile by the side of the road. The heat from the explosion and ash cloud produced coupled with his armour’s integrity and refractor field should offer him enough shrouding to make a break for cover. But that was only if he was wrong and he hoped he was not. “We are friends, not foes…” Tiberius yelled, his helmet amplifying his voice to be heard by the shooter “…We are betrayed, same as you. Stop this violence and let us talk as brothers in arms, not enemies at war.” Tiberius made to rise once again, hoping that no gunfire would come this time, but held his contingency a little tighter just in case…
 

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Vultus moved through the rocky rubble that had once been a sprawling city, before the rebellion, before the Astartes, before the betrayal. He found himself thinking back on previous campaigns, conversations anything that would explain why he had been forsaken by his brothers that he had stood shoulder to shoulder with, knee deep in xeno bodies. He remembered so many brothers that he had fought with previously not being accepted to join the speartip that had been sent down here to die. Where they part of the betrayal, part of the curs legion that had betrayed him. Had they also been betrayed, purged throughout the fleet? He doubted that very much.

Vultus’ thoughts turned to a conversation he had with Sergeant Leotz of the fifth after the campaign on Murder, the only time that Vultus was invited to join the lodge that had secretly been growing inside the legion. Vultus had remembered he had been shocked when he heard Leotz offer, a place where the opinions of all ranks could be expressed with no concern of the hierarchy that had been established. Vultus had fought with Leotz on countless battlefields, and respected him as a courageous fighter but had refused the offer, saying it was an affront to meet secretly. Vultus stopped in his track as he thought that he hadn’t seen Leotz since that conversation, or talked to him via vox or anything. Was this the reason he had been selected by the Warmaster to die.

He noticed as he was stood still a signal on his HUD light up. He studied it seeing the signal point ahead a few blocks. Vultus hoped he would find some brothers perhaps the Captain but doubted it, he had been much further in. Rushing forward he made his way over hills made of masonry and rubble that had been destroyed either during the battle or by the bombardment. He kept the standard upright as he moved, hoping that if it was some of his brothers they would be able to see the standard and use it to rally to.

He reached the top of a pile of debris were the signal originated though he could not see anyone. He felt the debris shift underneath him and looked down to see the unmistakable colour of his legion, a brother was still alive though buried. Decius shoved the standard into the debris and started to move what he could out of the way as he tried to help his brother out of his predicament.

He ignored any other sound as he shifted through the debris, revealing at last a veteran of the legion, unmistakable due to the tactical dreadnought armour that he wore, a terminator. His brother struggled to speak and eventually managed 'Thoret Gorvinalis, of the 10th. My body fails me brother.'

Decius removed the last rock before he could see the true damage that had been wrought to Gorvinalis, nothing remained below his midsection and an arm and a half. He could see the ruined armour, the damaged powerfist and the blood that covered the masonry underneath. It was amazing that he could speak through the pain, and his vox masked that very well. “Brother Thoret, I am Decius Vultus standard bearer to the Second.”


'What just happened? I do not understand.' Thoret replied as he tried to move, trying to grab Decius with his severed arm. Decius knelt next to his brother as he tried to survey more of the damage though it was clear he would not make it. 'Tell me... tell me this isn't real.'

Before Decius could even respond Thorat roared like a primal animal as he snapped, the pain of betrayal to great for the veteran to handle.'Tell me I did not fight that many wars for this! Tell me my whole life of glory and impossibilty did not lead to me dying like this, crushed by betrayal! Tell me my beloved Primarch, our Horus Lupercal, has not killed me, killed me without a word to my face! Without a chance. Killed me by pushing a damn icon, on a screen aboard the Vengeful Spirit!'

Decius just knelt there shocked that his brother was even still conscious, and finding himself unable to answer his brother, he still found it hard to believe himself even though he knew what Thorat spoke was true. Blood was leaking from Thorats broken form and he tried to push Decius aside as he hoisted his half limb to the sky as if he was pointing at the vengeful spirit above. ‘I'll kill you! I'll kill you and all of your Sons, Horus! My whole life was yours! My whole life was spent slaughtering countless numbers of enemies for you to be named Warmaster. Die! Death! Burn! Burn Lupercal, Burn!'

Decius sighed, he was broken the marine was consumed by grief and anger, as he continued bellowing over and over. Decius snapped his head to the left as he heard the unmistakable sounds of bolter rounds. It was apparent right now Astartes were fighting one another. He pushed himself up so he stood once more as he looked to the sounds. He needed to investigate there could be brothers that needed aid against the honourless dogs, and he wanted some vengeance of his own.

He stared down at his brother for a moment still screaming at the sky, he could not take him with him he knew, Thorat was a dead man it was obvious. Decius couldn’t leave him either. He found his hand reaching for the plasma pistol that was maglocked to his belt and quickly made his mind up. “Brother, we have been betrayed. I will kill as many honourless curs as I can before I join you and all the other Luna Wolves that have perished in this great betrayal. I am sorry.” Decius said as he placed his plasma pistol to the head of his brother, pulling the trigger before his brother could realize what was going to happen.

Decius grabbed a hold of his standard and turned toward the gun shots. He would make all those that betrayed them pay for what they did. Decius moved forward breaking into a run as he charged towards the shots snarling as he did so.
 

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They had been running for throne knows how long, Sebastian running ahead and Darius following close behind him. There was an aura of anger in the air around the decurion and Darius knew it. He had a right to be angry due to the first betrayal, but the second...when his own brothers had turned from his side in favor of the decision from an astartes from the 16th legion.

Communication between the two had been kept low, but for what reasons?. Was it just caution? or was it something deeper?. Either way the most he got out of his superior was the odd hand signal or a forced sentence.

It was amazing the damage that could be caused by virus bombs, once a great city was now a burnt out husk with buildings in the distance looking like giant matches as their top floors burned. Darius scanned the ground as he ran, seeing scorched slabs of astartes battle plate buried in the dust that remained of the whole istvaanian population.

Pulled from his thoughts as he heard the jeering of a group of world eater that had come out of the ruins. Decurion Aurellian signaled for him to prepare to fire. "sir this cant be g....." Darius tried to say in a private channel, but before the message could be heard, the decurion raised from cover and bellowed "Ho World Eaters! I am Decurion Aurellian of the Emperors Children! Be you friend or foe of the Legions Astartes, loyal now only to the Emperor on Terra!?"
 

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As self-directed, Alaros took up the rear guard of their ad-hoc squad. The ruins of Choral City were all around him as they pressed deeper into its murky, half-crazed forest of leaning and melted structures. The Death Guard noted every possible avenue of ambush or attack and in all of his calculations he realized just as exposed they were. Nothing to be done about it now, he reasoned. The city itself was a mess with fallen towers blocking the wide roads forcing them to either go through or around. Toppled statues or other architecture just added to the clutter and overall misery of hauling such large hardware across difficult terrain. Alaros knew he could not keep pace with the adrenaline-spiked World Eaters but he didn't need to and if he was honest, didn't want to. At any moment they could re-establish contact with their Primarch. World Eaters were prone to disobedience but he had heard the tales of Angron, the Red Angel, and doubted if his sons could stand before him in defiance. The most likely case was that they'd drop to their knees in supplication.

Unbidden the thought of Mortarion's impossible betrayal knocked at those blast doors to his hearts again. Could he stand before the Death Lord? His instinct told him yes but then Primarchs transcended instinct, logic, and most other things besides. The Death Guard was lost in his own thoughts until he heard the sounds of roaring engines in the clouds above. It took him a few minutes to realize that the engine sounds had replaced those of gunfire. They had been following the battle for nearly an hour but whoever was fighting was obvious highly mobile.

Up ahead he noticed Sergeant Tharr turn the corner to a road and skid to a dead halt, Kyros came up behind him and did much the same thing. Alaros immediately slowed down and slung his plasma cannon into firing position, his twin hearts spiking for a moment as he anticipated battle. He crept up slowly behind the two sons of Angron.

'Brothers,' he said, 'What do you see?'

The legionnaire turned the corner and for the first time in his long life, he was speechless. Before them stood an ocean, a literal ocean, of Astartes corpses. All were glad in the white and blue of the Twelfth Legion. Alaros had seen countless fields of war in his long centuries of warfare across the stars. He had seen whole companies of Death Guard perish, he had seen Russ' savages dragged into the mud by their dozens, he had even watched a cabal of Thousand Sons sorcerers overwhelmed by hordes of chattering insectoid xenos some decades past. Never had he seen so many dead ...

'What in the name of the-' he began before he closed his mouth. He did not like these World Eaters but this was clearly going to be a trying moment for them. He noticed Kyros slump to his knees.

"...Our brothers...All of our brothers...How?...", said the World Eater sergeant. His voice carried grief even over the vox distortion.

Alaros shook his head in mourning and a little anxiety. World Eaters never died easily. As he scanned across the corpses he noticed that some of them were locked in combat as they died. He kept looking around as Markus began to move forward almost in a trance like state. He noted that many of the wounds were inflicted by the distinctive chain axe weapon. Slowly Gilgumann understood that it hadn't been another legion that had killed the World Eaters. They had fought themselves.

This wasn't a massacre or an ambush ... this was fratricide of an unprecedented level. Alaros moved forward slowly, behind Kyros and Markus. He saw what they saw. The two World Eaters fighting hand to hand in the dirt. Marcus moved forward towards them, Alaros supposed to break up the fight. When suddenly the wall next to him exploded. Chunks of masonry and shards of reinforcing steel punched out like a frag grenade before the crazed World Eater slammed into Marcus like a Rhino and speared him into the ground. The two fought in the mud, exchanging blows. Alaros took a step back and swept the cannon behind their position since this looked like the beginning of an ambush. Even as he turned around he heard Kyros shouting at Marcus and heard the other World Eater's reply come in the form of a primal roar that blasted from his vox. Alaros glanced back to see Kyros and the other warrior exchanging blows for a few moments.

"Legionaire Gilguman!" shouted Kyros. Alaros turned around the others voice radiating with the authority of one of rank. The Death Guard inwardly chastised himself for obeying so readily.

"Be ready to immolate everything here on my order, if these fools cannot be brought to reason I will need you to kill them all with your cannon!"

He marginally raised his plasma cannon as Kyros stepped forward. Technically he was obeying a direct order. However, as Kyros moved forward, he probably didn't realize how precariously close Alaros' aim was to immolating him along with all of his crazed cousins.

'By your will sergeant,' replied Alaros deadpan.
 

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There is a good chance I will be posting for each group after initial reactions or sending out PMs with further instructions. It depends on what happens, of course.



Krateron and Tiberius:

The concussive sounds of bolter fire come to a close.

'Know me, Son of Horus,' mutters Krateron, Tiberius’s voice ringing out in the background, echoing off the ruined buildings, ‘We are friends, not foes…We are betrayed, same as you. Stop this violence and let us talk as brothers in arms, not enemies of war.’

‘Or I’ll tear your hearts out, you fool’.

Another figure clad in the sea green of Lupercal’s sons emerges from the shadowy entrance of the threatening structure. He wields a bolter with a box magazine attachment, and makes quick long strides across the street, never taking his weapon sights away from Krateron’s backside. The Marine locking blades with Akkad gives way, stepping back with a quick maneuver, weary of the blade placed to his side.

The Son of Horus with the bolter speaks. Akkad recognizes the symbols of a Sergeant.

‘Never in my life...to believe one of the Emperors Children before one of my own blood.’ he speaks to himself, then, his voice raises yelling to Tiberius, ‘Decurion! How have you come to be here and not at the Palace? How do you know this brother of mine?’

His voice softens again, speaking to the closer Akkad, ‘The dirt of Cthonia rests on my tongue, brother, for I do not know your name. I am Sergeant Rydon Kyrimen, and represent Dillinger Squad, 18th Company. Our objective against the Isstvanians was to provide perimeter support for the main force of World Eaters, drawing them in to our cousins’s blades, and making sure they stayed in.’

His pause indicates he expects you to explain your reasons for being here, and here with a Decurion of the Emperor’s Children, no less.

Tiberius has already gotten back to his feet, by this point.

Running boots become audible again, and another Son of Horus turns around the corner of the side street so fast that his shoulder guard smashes through the weakened corner of the building. He drops to a knee, aiming a bolter with a crude yet vicious bayonet toward Tiberius. The Marine who locked blades with Akkad quickly raises a halting hand to him. Yet two more follow suit, rounding the corner in haste. A second with a bolter shoulders his as well. The third, with a plume of scarlet over his head similar to Krateron’s, adding a heavy bolter to the situation and pointing it toward the Emperor’s Child as well.

‘What’s left of my squad.’ continues Kyrimen, ‘Now, on this treacherous day of days, gain my trust, or join the ash and dirt.’

Gain the sergeant’s trust, or do whatever else you want to try.


Vultus:

The sound of gunfire ceases. The movement of your suit, pushing off various surfaces of ruins and debris, is the only sound that remains aside from the far distant hum of aircraft and whispers of wind.

You make your way through and over what was once a massive bell tower. You reach the giant bell itself, scorched black and warped from the inferno. From here, you can see that the bell tower fell on top of a large skyscraper that went down first. On the opposite side of the ruined building covering what was once a roadway, you spot a group of Astartes in the distance, in the middle of what must have been an intersection for ground vehicles. All of them are of the same legion, your legion, all but one whose purple armor shines in strong contrast to the rest.

From here, crouching in the cover of the enormous bell, it is uncertain what is going on. Guns seem to be pointed. You have heard the aircraft coming in since before finding Brother Thoret, and friend or foe tags have yet to come up.

You may choose to reveal yourself, or remain hidden. If you choose to reveal yourself, it will happen during my next post, but be sure to include how you intend to do so.


Sebastian and Darius:

As Sebastian shouts from behind his cover, The five World Eaters stop suddenly, instantly realizing they are in the open and likely being targeted, they each move to the closest amount of cover they can find. For some of them, this is not very much.

One of the World Eaters shouts back. Darius, looking down the top of his bolter still concelaed by his own cover, can see that it is one that wields a chainsword and pistol. Darius can make out enough details to be fairly certain this individual is a Sergeant.

‘Tell me, Decurion, why is a lieutenant of the Emperor’s Children all the way out here? If I’m not mistaken, all of the loyalist forces from the III Legion landed at the Precentor’s Palace! How can we trust you while you hide and aim your guns at us?’

He pauses.

‘Our own Legion brothers have come down to slaughter us, why should I believe cousins from another would be any less merciless towards us? Now that my men have found some cover of their own, let my opinion be known. We are World Eaters, loyal to the Throne and its true king!’

They wait for some form of reply. Your reactions to this does not need to be long, in fact if one of you posts first and says something sufficient it may be enough for me to add the second part to your update.


Tharr, Kyros, and Gilgumann:

Tharr and the legionnaire pay no heed to the warning shot fired by Kyros. They continue to exchange brutal blows. Kyros gives his command to Alaros, and charges into the fight. With intent to break up the fight and only kill if he must, he elbows and shoulders the Legionnaire to the side. Tharr, lost in rage himself, swings his fist into the side of Kyros’s head with another roar, pushing him back as well.

The legionnaire comes back, his chemically induced reage renewed. He throws his blunted chain axe into Kyros’s chest and swings at Tharr who catches the wrist and kicks out with a heavy foot. Lost to Nails, the Marine seems to feel no pain and comes back once more. All three fighters end up taking blows from each other, the sergeants lost to madness for their own separate reasons and the legionnaire insane.

The Deathguard devastator stands back, watching.

Between the two Sergeants’ blows, and his blocking weapon discarded, the World Eater’s face becomes bloodied. Blood sprays from his mouth. All signs indicate a broken chest cavity beneath his battered armor plating. Punctured lungs, broken bones, who knows? Kyros sees this and begins to let up his assault. Tharr does no such thing and brings his whirring chain axe down, grinding it into the collar bone of his assailant. A scream of pain is followed by a bellowing roar. The World Eater knocks the chain axe aside with his hand, rising again, gripping Tharr’s throat.

Kyros’s power axe lashes out with a blow finally meant to kill, and it does just that, decapitating the body that surely was already dead, technically, from severe internal wounds. A spray of blood catches both sergeants as the corpse spins round during its descent to the dirt.

The cracking sound of bone comes from the wrestling pair to the side. When everyone looks to the sound, one of the two World Eaters is charging at Kyros, screaming, glaring, the other legionnaire a broken heap with a loose neck.

More traitors! I’ll kill you all!

Saliva flies from the corners of his lips like a savage.

‘How dare you betray us. Honorless bastards!

No shot from the plasma cannon comes.

He is on Kyros who swings his axe, again aiming for the neck, but somehow this Marine plows through the strike, knocking it off course. His fist is the next to his Kyros square in the faceplate, putting a harsh dent into it.

‘Working with the Deathguard too! Death to Angron! Death to Mortarion! Traitors all!’

His punch throws Kyros off balance, and the World Eater takes advantage, tackling the Sergeant to the ground. Through a scuffle, Kyros ends up with his belly to the ground, a hand on the back of his helmet shoving his head into the ground.

‘Time for you to be stabbed in the back, you bastard!

Tharr, still lost in madness and wanting something else to attack, raises his bolt pistol and puts a see-through hole into the legionnaire’s head. The noise stops. The gladius falls harmlessly.

What are your reactions? Does Tharr come back to his senses?
 

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Sebastian let out the deep breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and the tension momentarily flowed out of his chest. At least the World Eaters hadn't immediately charged them as Sebastian had been half expecting. That being said, in this time of treachery it was difficult to take anyone simply on their word, although such trickery would be unusual for a World Eater. For now he would have to take them on their word.

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

"I'm with the 10th Company. I don't know all the details but our Captain, Captain Tarvitz, missed the first wave. When he arrived he warned us of the bombardment. He then left the Palace to warn your leaders. We deployed several squads to accompany him. We are all that remains. I am looking for him."
 

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Krateron could not hear the bark-crump of the bolter. His eye-lenses were locked with those of his opponent, red and venomous, his ears pounding with the sound of blood. And then, his opponent stepped back, disengaging, allowing his blade to drop away. Krateron straightened, sheathed his shortsword, but kept Oathkeeper close - Punching the tip into the dirt and leaning on the pommel. Footsteps crunched behind him, crushing ash and bone and metal. Krateron turned his plumed head, seeing smoke-and-gore streaked green, a Son of Horus. A Sergeant, in fact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head. 'I would much rather we be friends, Sergeant. Friends, it saddens me to say, come few and far between on days like this,' He let that hang in the air for a moment and then added, grimly - 'I don't want to hurt you.'
 

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



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



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



Tiberius wheeled his spear so it stood upright, in a flourish of martial skill and to draw attention to himself. He planted his staff into the ground, kicking up a small cloud of ash at his feet. His voice was measured to include, but not be overwhelmed by the sorrow and anguish of the day's events but also tempered with his rage and determination for revenge. This booming regal voice reverberated of the shatter buildings and broken walls, echoing up to the heavens as if defying his brothers to come and claim his life. "...I am Decurion Tiberius Locolus, warrior of the 10th Company under Saul Tarvitz. I have enforced the will of the Emperor for one hundred and eighty years. I have defied the foes of humanity and championed it against foes uncounted. I have and will continue to serve Terra until the day I die or mankind. And for this most grevious sin..." Tiberius said with a venomous dose of irony "...I was betrayed by those I had called brother and sent here to die..." The storm has broken and his last words came with all the violence and power of lightning bolts cast by a vengeful god. Tiberius drew back into himself after allowing his anger to surface. It seemed important that this violent hoard understood that he felt their pain and rage. "...Now you have heard all I can offer. Let us either discuss what we do from here, or get to the business of seeing how many of you have to die before your treachery claims us." Tiberius hoped it did not come to that, but at least he had his weapons in hand if he needed them...
 

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Aloros stood there as Kyros entered the fray and soon became entangled just as much as Sergeant Tharr. The two of them quickly succumbing to the rage that cursed their blood. Aloros had a heard time following their movements since they followed no logical pattern. In most fights someone skilled would have an idea of where the next blow would land, what type of grapple would be made to counter or enhance it, and countless other factors. The World Eaters spat in the face of all combat logic. Punches were thrown when doing so made no sense, grapple moves that even the filthiest street brawler in a Hive City wouldn't bring himself to do was being done in the typical primitive (yet somehow gloriously well executed) style of Angron's sons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Sergeant are you still lost to the rage,' he asked neutrally. His hand was wrapped around his bolt pistol, but oddly he held it at an angle that would allow him to shoot Tharr rather than Kyros. Tharr still had the tension in his form for murder, Kyros seemed more deflated.
 

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Kyros looked up, his head tilted to this side with curiousity, having expected the death knell to be delivered. He got to his feet hesitantly, unsure if he would need to defend himself further, collecting his power axe from the ground, having lost it in the fray. Trying to quickly collect himself he looked first to Alaros, whose pistol was aimed in his general direction, but had not been discharged, he then looked to his left and saw Marcus standing there, plumes of smoke rising from his bolt pistol.

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

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

Kyros shook his head as he came to a grim realization, they would need supplies, ammunition and as distasteful as it may have been here in front of them there was a macabre armory of sorts. "Collect what ammunition we can, we will need it. It may not be just for ourselves, we three were brought together through random circumstance, perhaps we might encounter others like us?" There was some amount of hope flitting in and out of his tone as he spoke. "...Or, if we encounter the force that did this...I will not want to run low of bolt rounds before I die." The ocean of dead was an imposing visage and as he spoke Kyros wondered to himself what force could be so destructive to cut through World Eaters in such numbers, he knew he did not want to find the answer.
 

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Discussion Starter #57 (Edited)
Lord Ramo has been in touch with me and is still planning on posting. I have not heard from Darius O's yet but am willing to spare a bit more time. Here is the update for Sebastian and Nacho since they have been waiting the longest.


Sebastian and Darius:


"I am looking for him."

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

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

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

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

They do no know exactly where you are hiding but are making educated guesses and lighting up any large enough chunks of cover they can find in the area. Again there were five streets leading to the plaza. Three of them now now each have World Eaters advancing inwards, all firing on your position. Besides the initial five, a whole sixteen more have entered view. As soon as you move to defend yourselves, it will get much harder, as the enemy will know your exact location. Any of the World Eaters will charge you the moment they get the chance. Sebastian may choose to kill up to eight between shooting and close combat. Darius may kill up to four. By the end of your posts, please make known whether your your goal is to take out as many out as possible, or to only to take as many out as necessary to escape down one of the two open streets.
 

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The sound of the gunfire that Decius was rushing towards abruptly stopped. Cursing quietly, Vultus picked up his pace as he rushed through the ruins and debris towards where the gunfire had originated, the standard flowing as he moved quickly. The only sound he could hear now was the pounding of his feet on the ground and the crunch as he stepped upon loose bits of debris and crushed them under his armoured heels. He could faintly hear the hum of aircraft engines, but those were far away in the distance, far from him and his objective.

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

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

Sighing to himself he drew his plasma pistol and hoisted the standard. If they were friends they should recognize the second standard and know he was a friendly, if they had checked the roster of those making planet fall. Though if there were traitors down there they would also recognize it and kill him. It mattered not Vultus had made his decision. He moved towards the group intent on finding out once and for all, perhaps this is where he died. Perhaps not. He would march straight towards them, he was not a subtle man.
 

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"Damned savage sons of whores!" Sebastian growled, pulling his helmet on as he did, so the second half of the sentence was forced aggressively from the helms grill. There was little a Son of Angron could do that would surprise him but such deceit certainly did. He didn't believe it was in their nature.

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

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

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

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

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

The adjoining street seemed so near. Once they reached it they could try to lose the World Eaters in the ruins, or failing that, find a more defensible position to make their stand. But even the small space left to cover was a killing field. Decurion Aurellian lowered his head, pumped his arms and drove forward for all he was worth.
 

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Discussion Starter #60 (Edited)
Just over an hour has passed since you walked out from cover and discovered yourself, immersed in betrayal.


Vultus, Krateron, and Tiberius:

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at Akkad.

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

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

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

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


Sebastian and Darius:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Kyros and Gilgumann, (Tharr pending):


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

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

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

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

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