Warhammer 40,000: Vengeance (IC, Semi-Open)

[Gideus]

Warhammer 40,000: Vengeance
To reclaim that which is lost and avenge those who's lives have been taken.
OOC

Imperial Battlefleet Peregrinus drifted through the Immaterium. The powerful Warp drives churned, projecting the ships through the Abyss. A scholar that Lord-Inquisitor Jonas Peregrinus had once read some of the works of had said something, many thousands of years before Warp travel was a possibility for humanity, was extremely fitting for the relationship between man and the hell that attempted to find holes in the Geller Fields that kept those inside of the ships safe.

"When you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."

Quite fitting for the realm that writhed outside of their safe shells of ships. Few could look into the tumbling waves of insanity that made up most of the dreamscape of the Warp without being looked back, and many of those whom looked into it would go insane. Not the Lord-Inquisitor. A Psyker of Beta-level, his faith kept him safe. And his faith had caused him to take an oath against a foul xeno, an enemy of the God-Emperor who dared to defile one of His holy relics. A Nemesis daemonhammer, stolen from a Chapter of Space Marines it had been gifted to, would not normally be something that an entire Battlefleet would be chasing. Perhaps one Inquisitor, maybe even a company of the Marines that had been offended. However, this was not the only reason to chase it. This Ork Warboss was one of a kind, a beast unlike any other seen in the history of the Ordo Xenos.

Weirdboss Zog-Ammer. Weirdboss.

Once a Weirdboy, an Ork psyker, who displayed unusually sophisticated skills for an Ork when it came to tactics, an Ork who could speak flawless Low Gothic, he was now one of the few Weirdbosses. Once captured by the Inquisition and tortured, he had taken it all in stride. Jonas had been presiding over the torture, and as the commanding Inquisitor at the time, he could have had the filth executed there and then, quickly. He could have snapped the Ork's mind with a flick of his wrist due to the lack of nearby Orks to boost his psychic power. But he had ordered an execution by beheading, to which the Ork replied by throwing a massive amount of stored psychic energy into a single attack, killing the Inquisitors and Interrogators presiding over the torture. The Ork had leveled half of the compound and found the weapon he had stolen, before escaping. Years later, he had found a Space Hulk, designated "Vengeance of the Traitor" or X197 by the Inquisition, and named it "Mork's Wraff." He had taken control of enough of it to use it to travel the galaxy, and he had not hesitated to attack the Imperium of Man. Returning to the world on which he had stolen the weapon, he fought both Imperial and Chaos forces. Completely annihilating the Chaos forces and almost completely killing the Imperials, he had turned away for pastures with more fighting. Enraged that he had been unable to catch the alien there, he took an Oath.

He would hunt this bastard down to the ends of the God-Emperor's domain and beyond. He would slay Zog-Ammer and reclaim the relic he had stolen.

This alone would not require such a large force. However, Zog-Ammer's Orks had grown even more powerful due to their participation in the War of Dakka against the Tau, and he was now headed for the Imperial system of Midghast. The Space Hulk he inhabited was unusually large, larger than almost any Imperial Naval Base. Headed for such a heavily populated system, he would slaughter billions of humans, take their resources, and rape the machinery of the system in his search for loot. In an attempt to intercept this, a truly massive force of Space Marines, Inquisitors, Guardsmen, Sisters of Battle, and other forces had joined together under the command of Lord-Inquisitor Jonas Peregrinus of the Ordo Xenos in an attempt to stop it, slay the Ork, reclaim the relic, and destroy the Hulk. Little did they know, there would be horrible things on that Hulk that none of them had expected...

Mork's Wraff broke through the walls between the Immaterium and realspace. Hellish energies trailed behind it and creatures beyond the comprehension of most mortals attempted to enter the realm of realspace before the rift closed. The jagged cut through reality shut and the screams of the damned stopped echoing through the minds of all those with the smallest psychic capabilities. The massive Space Hulk slowly pushed onwards through space, entering the outer reaches of the Binary-star system of Midghast. A system with two hive worlds, three agri-worlds, and countless mining operations in the asteroid belts and on the moons, it was a massive system that only the most un-Orky Ork would pass up the chance to loot. A few hours behind, the Imperial Battlefleet was finally catching up after months of chasing it down. The seventeen ships of the Imperial Battlefleet would slowly tear their own smaller holes between the abyss and reality, forming into assault formation to assault and board the Space Hulk. Not knowing of what terrors existed on it, they simply thought they would be fighting Orks...

Lord-Inquisitor Jonas Peregrinus stood on the bridge of his mighty warship, manipulating consoles. Sending requests for communication with others in the fleet, he pulled up those he would need to talk to. The General of the Vhermachtian Guardsmen, the Deathwatch Marine he had assigned as commander of the Marines in his general vicinity named Vertland, the Magos-Explorator, the Priest who would serve in joint command of the other guardsmen, Death Korps, with their Colonel commanding as well. Inquisitor Ibram Hess, commanding the Sisters of Battle - in particular, the Sisters of Silence - in joint-command with their Canoness. These were the forces that made up the core of the assault force, with the other forces acting for long-ranged support from their ships and for rearguard and flank protection.

"We will begin the assault in three hours. Magos, your ship will join in the landing assault. We will need bases of operations. The Retribution-class cruiser under your command shall remain at engagement range, using its Nova Cannon to cripple the capability of the Hulk to continue accelerating. We have identified what works as its propulsion system and have already sent the coordinates to you. General of the Vhermachtian, you shall join in the primary assault as well. Your guardsmen will form around my retinue and shall provide cover for us as we advance into the Hulk. We know not what horrors are in that monstrosity, so be on full alert. We will be striking directly for the heart of the Orks, we will extinguish the waste of life that Zog-Ammer is. Vertland, your Deathwatch Marines will act as part of an attack force with the Sisters, commanded by Inquisitor Hess, to attack from... this flank, where we have been able to determine a large concentration of Ork activity. By engaging them you will free up the path for the Vhermachtians and I. Mattius, you and the regiment of the Death Korps will insert yourselves after the Marines and Sisters have engaged the foul Greenskins, shortly after my force has begun its assault. Your objective will be to circle the Orks, cutting off all chances of their escape. All of their independent kroozers are located here -" he said, indicating a now lit section of the tactical map that was a model of the outside of the Hulk. "We will need to destroy these to cut off any chances of their escape." he said, and at that moment a new face joined the many faces in the conference. The Admiral in command of the fleet forces that would be bombarding and circling the Hulk to stop it from advancing too far into the system had joined in, and Jonas nodded.

"Admiral, you know your objectives. Surgical bombardments of their engines and kroozers, along with as many of their large-scale batteries as possible. When will we be within missile range?"

"Within two-point-four hours, Sir."

"Very well. Ready your troops, for we are going to begin the assault within three hours." he commanded, cancelling the conference. Proceeding to the troops ready-bay, the deployment bay, he began to run final checks on his troops. However, little did he know, there would be more than just Orks on that thing. And little did he know, the system itself would have a much larger role to play that anyone had previously expected...

[Volmachtia]

The Diligence of Purpose, the main Retribution-class vessel under which Magos-Explorator Rhan Thanox had command, began powering down engines while the rest of the fleet advanced. The Diligence was one of the several ships Thanox had been leased by his home Forge-World of Gounn XII, hoping first to prevent the destruction of valuable supply routes that fed Gounn that ran through Midghast, and second to search, as always, for ancient technology and STCs that may lurk hidden aboard X197, or Mork's Wraff as its bestial commander had declared it.

The Diligence of Purpose was only one part of the attack; Rhan had brought his personal flagship and exploration vessel, the Mechanicus battleship Foresight of Thoth, along for the attack, as well as a trio of Mechanicus cruisers. While the Diligence released its first Nova Cannon volley and halted the forward movement of the space hulk, the Foresight of Thoth would get in close and pound its defense batteries with the rest of the Imperials. The cruisers would deploy Skitarii, electro-priests, Warrior-Automatons and combat servitors to support the main Imperial boarding action; however, Thanox himself would land from the Foresight's boarding teleporter, along with an escort of a hundred Skitarii, a handful of combat servitors and priests. He would make the search for STCs while the battle raged on.

And so the battle was joined. The Diligence of Purpose fired a single, blinding shot from its main gun and significantly slowed down the space hulk; slow enough to allow boarding. Now the plan went into action. The Diligence kept at engagement range to strafe working thrusters and engines with lance-fire. The taskforce charged in as planned; and Thanox readied his force for teleportation aboard.

Within the atrium of the Foresight of Thoth, Thanox stood in the center of the massive teleporter pad, flanked first by two squads of six elite Skitarii, clad in blood-red and black robes, bearing hellguns in cold, augmetic hands. Glistening augmetic and organic eyes both leered from under their hoods with a solid determination, as if they were piercing the veil of reality and looking into the Space Hulk they were about to board. A number of heavy-weapons Skitarii, bearing heavy bolters and lascannons grafted in place of arms, formed around Thanox's personal bodyguard, and then regular (though still very heavily equipped) skitarii stood in place, weapons shouldered, in a neat circle.

Servitors equipped with light mortars and missile launchers were interspersed, as were a handful of robed Mechanicus tech-priests who seemed to glow with energy. Indeed, underneath those robes, their body was a conductor; able to fire lethal arcs of electicity and kill with vicious efficiency. They were all ready.

Transmitting his words in Binary, the holy language of the machine, Thanox said,
+++BROTHERS, WE CHARGE INTO THE DEPTH OF AN UNHOLY CREATION OF THE IMMATERIUM IN THE NAME OF ARCANE KNOWLEDGE, DESTRUCTION OF THE XENOS ABOARD AND THE MECHANICUS' SECURITY. FOR THE GLORY OF THE OMINISSIAH, SLAY ALL WHO BEAR NOT THE AQUILA OR COG. TO VICTORY!+++
His "speech" was finished in half a second, a series of rippling beeps. The men nodded solemnly and whirred praise to the Machine God.
Then they were off, whisked into the structure of the Hulk.

[Lenehen]

The Illumination of Eternity quietly drifted through the dark void towards the dark stain that was Mork's Wraff. They had left the Haven Spire weeks ago, but at last their journey was complete. Y'riel gazed out of the window of his command deck at the twisted wreckage of the space hulk, how many vessels had been warped to create this unholy conglomerate?

"Exalted Farseer" bowed Exarch Rakani "We will soon arrive, what are your orders?

The Farseer paused to think, but before he could reply one of his subordinates spoke.

"Farseer, we have intercepted a message- amplifying now."

A harsh droning filled the command deck, causing several Eldar to clamp their hands firmly over their ears. Understandably, Eldar ears were perhaps the most advanced in the galaxy- such loud, barbaric noise was simply cacaphonic.

It seemed vaguely familiar, but the Farseer could not remember what this repetitive droning was. "What language is that?" Nuadhu asked as the nosie began to dim.

"It is binary, a primitive coding used by certain factions of the Imperium. It's an outdated system based on the numerical values of One and Two."

"That's all very interesting," Nuadhu replied, slightly agitated "But what does it mean?"

"One moment farseer." the young Eldar turned back to his post "Ah."

+++BROTHERS,W- *Static* INTO THE *static* THE IMMATERIUM IN THE NAME OF ARCANE KNOWLEDGE, DEST*static*N OF THE XENOS ABOARD AND THE MECHANICUS' SECURITY *static* TO VICTORY!+++

The Adeptus Mechanicus are here. Nuadhu's lip curled "The Imperials taint this place with their prescence. We cannot recover our fallen brothers and sisters whilst these primitives desecrate this place. We must hurry, assemble the fleet."

[The Realm of God]

Arch-Deacon Mattius Petarch was reading the Scriptura Imperialis in a quiet lecto divina. He was repeating his prayer Glory to the Emperor, the Emperor is one. Once he had repeated this thirty times. He put on his mitre and cassock and produced his sword-cane and diamond encrusted bolt pistol, lastly he put on his white ceramic carapace armor. He was a tesatment to the power of the Adaptus Ministorum.

Leaving his cell he followed the rusting industrial corridor of the city size vessel, to the bridge to meet the Lord Inquisitor. In order to administer his Imperiatus Euccharistum. Before the landing on the space hulk.

[The Nuclear Fist]

The Space Hulk Vengeance of the Traitor, known as 'Mork's Wraff' by the Orks, tore through the warp and into realspace. The monolithic, ramshackle leviathan spilled forwards into the cold void of space, the screaming rift in reality closing immediately as it exited, sealing off the hellish things that existed behind the maw. The sounds of the Immaterium echoed in the minds of all Orks aboard the ship, riling them up and making them even more brutal and aggressive than Orks already were. This gargantuan, sprawling warband had grown massive from endless fighting, from carving a path through Chaos-infested worlds, Imperial hives, Eldar Craftworlds, fending off Dark Eldar raids, and laying waste to many Tau planets. The Boyz of this WAAAGH stood far larger and far tougher than the Boy of most other WAAAGHs, dwarfing the size of even the largest, normal human. But the Warp's torments struck most deeply in the minds of the Ork psykers, known as Weirdboyz. They shouted and screeched and stomped, their heads throbbing from the presence of so many Orks, bodies filled with the gestalt psychic energy of the Orkoid species. Many of them were even larger than the other Boyz, having learned to harness their powers as best an Ork could, becoming Warpheads.

But deep in the bowels of Mork's Wraff was a particularly massive Ork. Standing tall enough to nearly look a Mega Dread in the eye and weighing as more than a dozen of his heaviest Boyz, yet not even a single part of its gargantuan form was cybernetic. This creature of pure, rippling, muscle under thick, leathery skin was clearly the Warboss. Or, given the circumstances, the Weirdboss. And indeed it was. This was the infamous Weirdboss Grimgor Zog-Ammer. He lumbered forward, his hunched form making him walk like an ape, using his Nemesis Daemonhammer as a walking stick. He had no cybernetic parts, the entirety of his body being a rich, deep green. He wore very little armour for a Warboss, declining the use of Mega Armour for the lighter 'Eavy Armour his 'Ard Boyz wore. His armour was made from scavenged scraps of Terminators he had bested in combat, bolted and riveted together. Although not as strong as Mega Armour, it protected him far more than the armour of any Space Marine. His iron gob, and indeed all his armour, was painted various shades of green, blue, and purple, showing that he was the most Orky, lucky, and sneaky. What was most striking, however, was the thick cloak he wore, made from the hides of a slain Ethereal Tau, Eldar Farseer, Dark Eldar Archon, Grey Knights Brother-Captain, Culexus Assassin, and Carnifex. Each hide was tanned and turned into leather, and then dyed with specially made squig dyes. The mask, made from the armour of that slain Brother-Captain, was tipped with the quills of Kroot Master Shapers who had perished from Grimgor's wrath.

The Space Hulk, containing the core of what, by the Imperium, was designated WAAAGH! Grimgor but known to the Orks as Da Big Weird WAAAGH, was bustling with teeming masses of Orks and Grots and Snotlings. Under the command of Zog-Ammer, who led less out of fear and intimidation and more out of strength, ability, and intelligence (although still quite a bit of fear and intimidation), the battle stations of Mork's Wraff were coming to life. The dozens of Bombardment Cannons, Ryza and Mars-pattern Nova Cannons, Zzap Kannons, lances, Heavy Gunz, weapons batteries, and the hundreds of torpedo silos were all being manned by Mekboyz and Grots who were at least semi-competent with their work. As the hundreds, if not thousands, of enemy vessels that made up the Imperial, Eldar, and Tau fleets closed in, a single Big Mek could be seen dashing through the winding corridors of the space hulk, smashing Grots and Boyz in the face and pelting them out of his path. His sizable girth and pot belly jiggling as he ran. Finally, the Ork burst through the doors into the ramshackle command centre, if such a term could be applied to a space hulk. He leaned forward, panting heavily. Grimgor, who had until then been watching the screens in the centre and formulating a plan, turned to face the Big Mek, slamming his hammer's head upon the ground, using the resulting quake to silence the room and gain the Mek's attention.

"What d'ya want, Rustbootz?" Zog-Ammer asked, his scowl hidden by the colourful mask he wore. Before him was Big Mek Rustbootz, the dominant Mekboy of WAAAGH! Grimgor and personal adviser to Zog-Ammer. Having caught his breath, Rustbootz straightened up and wiped sweat from his forehead with a greasy rag.

"Da senzorz is pickin' up lotsa ships. Dese er Oomie, Panzee, 'n even Blue Git fleets. But dey ain't attacked, I fink dey's tryin' ta creep up on dis 'ulk 'n zog us! What ya want us ta do, Boss?" Rustbootz explained in rapid fire Orkish.

"Let deze gits know dey ain't so sneaky." Zog-Ammer ordered, turning his back on the Big Mek and facing the screens once more. He would watch how the the battle unfolded from the comfort of his command centre. Rustbootz nodded and leapt over the railing from where Zog-Ammer stood, punting his retinue of Meks and their Grot assistants out of the way as he moved himself to the master controls, relegating everyone else to a subordinate station. Rustbootz, under the watchful eye of Zog-Ammer, barked orders into the space hulk's rudimentary communications systems, ordering the various crews of the various battle stations to stay where they are and hold their fire. The throngs of supply lines rumbled forwards, keeping ammunition stockpiled near their respective guns, meaning that successive, devastating volleys could be fired one after the other, in a plan to rapidly destroy huge swathes of the enemy fleets and overwhelm the advance, which would devastate the space hulk if given the chance. Under the order of Zog-Ammer, the space hulk went dark, so to speak. The Boyz were allowed to chatter amongst themselves in a limited fashion, many of which babbled on about various battle plans that made relatively little sense to anyone but Orks (yet all of which were false). All of which gave the impression that the Orks were being the regular, Orky selves, completely and blissfully unaware of their impending doom.

But it was all a ruse. The Orks knew exactly what was coming. They knew exactly what to do. The crews of the space hulk, as the enemy ships drew near, sat with bated breath, eagerly anticipating the battle to come. Finally, after what (to the Orks) seemed like years, but what was only three hours, the enemy vessels came within the field of fire of even the shortest range weaponry the Orks had. Suddenly, in a great burst of blood, fire, and thunder, the entirety of the weapons systems of Mork's Wraff erupted outwards. Turrets, Gunz, Heavy Gunz, Kannons, and Zzap Kannons launched a single, massive volley at the approaching fleet, walls of ordinance and crackling energy as thick as many of the ships themselves smashing into the noses of the Tau, Eldar, and Imperial fleets. In a few eye-blinks, hundreds of ships were lost in fiery explosions, leaving nothing but smoldering wreckage and corpses in their wake. Thousands of looted Imperial, Eldar, and Dark Eldar torpedoes erupted from their silos in concentrated blasts, flanked by waves of shorter range, weaker Ork torpedoes. Endless waves of short burn and Ork torpedoes peppered the flanks of approaching fleets, forcing them to condense as they moved forward to avoid the thick fields of wreckage. Guided and seeking torpedoes maneuvered through the wreckage, avoiding the defencive fire of enemy ships and destroying the most important command vessels.

Having splintered the oncoming hordes of Eldar, Tau, and Imperial ships, as well as focused said splinters into condensed waves, the space hulk began using its more powerful weapons. Covered by a virtual hailstorm of primitive Ork torpedoes, those few, precious salvos of melta and vortex torpedoes slammed into the nearest oncoming ships, ripping apart the frontlines, if such a word could be applied to a battle of vessels in space, and opening up the soft innards of the advancing fleets. Now with the enemies condensed in thick pockets, Zog-Ammer began the next phase of the attack. In total, the space hulk had two bombardment cannons, one Mars-pattern nova cannon, and one Ryza-pattern nova cannon. The cannons roared to life, slowly rotating to face the densest concentrations of enemy ships. From the bridge, a single, green finger on the hand of Grimgor pressed a red button. In the next moment, the bombardment cannons rendered hundreds of enemy ships useless, turning them to charred slag. The nova cannons did the same, all of which struck different concentrations of enemies. The effect of these weapons was amplified each time they were used, the gestalt energy of the WAAAGH making the Ork machinery that much more hearty.

But then something happened. The innards of the space hulk, which had long since began to overhead, malfunctioned. Combined with the heavy bombardment from enemy weaponry, the space hulk erupted into a chain of explosions, rattling and rocking the whole of the lumbering vessel. In moments, the propulsion and weapons systems went offline, either as a result of complicated machinery being rendered useless or whole components of the hulk being destroyed. In the next moment, the force field generator crackled for the last time, leaving Mork's Wraff completely exposed. Inside the bridge, Zog-Ammer laughed. On one hand, his ship was now completely open to attack. But on the other hand, he had just destroyed two thirds of the combined enemy fleets, leaving only a third of their planned forces to board and attack him. Roaring and beating his chest, Zog-Ammer grabbed his personal looted vox and barking orders into it.

"Roight, Boyz. Get yerselves in gear 'n grab yer dakka 'n yer choppas. We'z gonna 'ave ourselves a WAAAGH on dis 'ere 'ulk!" He shouted, ending his rather short speech with a loud "WAAAGH!"

[Armageddon Steel Legion]

Anna was waiting on one of the smaller Vhermactia transport ships as it was launched from the central command ship, along with three others, bringing it up to 40 Strom Troopen... Just as they were about to hit the desk, a mass barrage came from the Space Hulk, destroying the Vhermactia command ship. "Was zum Teufel geschah?!"Shouted one trooper over his radio, no reply came... The transport ships then rammed into the Space Hulk, opening up and letting the Storm Troopen in. "Bahn frei für den Inquisitor!" Shouted Anna as she picked up her VS pattern Las-rifle and fired a volley at the charging Orkz, the troopers formed into lines, leaving the corridor they were in, guarded. Shots rang out through-out the corridor as they fired at Green-skin after Green-skin. "Hold the line für den Inquisitor!"She shouted over her comm's again as they waited for their Inquisitor they were supposed to be guarding to arrive. One of the troopers held the Vhermactia flag, the banner had a Servo skull and two daggers on a red background, which would be used in close combat if the Orkz got too close.

[Jormengand]

"Lord Fireclaw, we have almost arrived."
"Excellent. What of Tash'var?"

The kroot before him swallowed.

"Our communications are down. They should begin working shortly."
"What else is down?"
"Nothing. The war sphere is ready for boarding."
"Excellent. Do we know what's causing the communication fault."
"No."
"I see. Is internal radio up?"
"Yes."
"Put me on. Then you may go."

The other kroot went to set up the loudspeaker system. Being internal did mean it couldn't be blocked or picked up.

"My friends," he began, "You may think that we have no chance of survival. Even if that is true, does that not mean we should strive to complete our mission even moreso? Do we, the genetic masters - no, the gods of reforming ourselves - do we not deserve a hero's death?

But today, today is not the day that we die. The ship is large enough to fly a war sphere in, and we can escape quickly. We will return, and victorious no less! I will show you that it is possible. I vow in the name of the greater good that I will return victorious! Will you vow with me?

And let us not forget Tash'var, with his force of elite battle suits. Would the Tau empire send such an esteemed leader out to die? I think not! We shall survive, as shall he. Will you follow me out when all is done? Or will you accept your death as inevitable? Follow me, and we will return as paragons of our kind!"

He left the question hanging, and cut off the connection. Fortunately, their communications were back up. Their position was sent to the Tau. They would know what it meant, but no-one else would. They would be unlikely to know who'd sent it.

The sphere entered the space hulk, and Fireclaw's army prepared to exit. Fireclaw had been right, it was possible to fly through the larger ship to an extent, although they'd eventually have to get out.

[The Blazing Aura]

The lone Lar'shi cruiser burst out of its small warp hop, coming across the wreckage of the fleets from the space hulk's fire, and the space hulk itself, not moving or firing as the remains of the smaller ships began to swarm all over it, disgorging there forces into the hulk.

Commander Purefire, or Tash'var as known by the Kroot and his soldiers looked out at the destruction from the Lar'shi cruiser, "Our foe seems to have outdone themselves" he said simply, before turning to Kor'el Vash'ya, the commander of the Air Caste portion of the elite task force, "We will go in by Manta, but first let us try to communicate with any of the T'au forces that survived that, for we must work as one for the Greater Good."
"Indeed" Kor'el replied,
Purefire sent out a message, encrypted so that only the Tau or any of their auxiliary allies would understand it, "This is Shas'O Tash'var Kais, to all surviving T'au forces. let us meet and work together for the Greater Good." Talking now to Kor'el, Purefire spoke again, "Let me now if we receive an answer i will co-ordinate our movements from inside." With that and a slight bow Purefire left the bridge, the rest of the strike force was ready, and so he should be as well.

Half an hour later a lone Manta slipped out from one of the bays on the front of the Lar'shi Cruiser, carrying the elite strike force into the space hulk and into the enemy.

[Legital]

Deep within Lord-Inquisitors Peregrinus' ship, near the departure bay, Ibram offered a bow to the holo-form of the Lord-Inquisitor in the small conference room as the figure disappeared. The lights were dimmed, but they quickly brightened to their sickening yellow. A dull buzz emitted from one of the lights, and Hess peered up at it with an arched eyebrow, wondering if the light would bust within any moment. But it did not, and Hess turned about and marched out of the small but common placed conference room.

Three hours, Hess thought, a little too long. But there was nothing he could do to shorten it, and just because he did not need such time, did not mean others needed it. Probably the Guardsmen will take full use of that time. Must be a bitch loading that many men into cramped ships. Thank the Emperor that I never joined the Guard. Of course he highly respected the men and women of the Imperial Guard, it was that he did not fancy the idea of dieing in a massive horde of men who may as well all be faceless. He'd put down his fair share of Guard officers and commanders. More than enough.

The hallway outside of the conference room was a buzz with crew and passengers. Tech-Priests, various ratings, and the odd Enginseer passed by in a whir of motion. Most kept clear of the Inquisitor, and the ones who bumped into him quickly apologized; not only were the apologies directed to himself, they were also directed to the God-Emperor. However, Hess found it all very amusing. He was not going to deem a poor armsmen a heretic just for bumping into him. Hell, Hess considered himself a pretty nice fellow. Seeing everyone afraid of him nearly made him laugh aloud. That would surely draw some more fear, an Inquisitor laughing as he looked over the crew.


It was not long after passing through dreary hallway after dreary hallway until he arrived to a larger room next to the ready-bay. The sign above it was faded and worn, but it clearly stated auxiliary bunk room. Fitted with all the regular necessities, nothing more. And this place was were he and his Sisters of Battle billeted. Not just Sisters of Battle, Sisters of Silence. They were an old breed, no where near as numerous as they once were, but perhaps some of the best. Their traditions have changed ever since their founding, particularly the Oath of Tranquility no longer being mandatory for all Sisters. The thing that really made them stand out, however, was that they were all untouchables, just like Hess. The crew avoided this area like a heretic to an Inquisitional cabal. That is when their limiters were off, allowing them to project their null fields. That thought made Hess bring his hand up to his limiter.

It was a small and thin metal collar with a switch. Nothing too complicated. When switched on, his null field kept to his person. When switched off, it projected around him like a bubble, engulfing the surrounding area in a psyic darkness that prevented psykers from probing the area. It also mentally, and sometimes physically, harmed a psyker to be within the field. For all other non-psykers, they all felt a felling of dread, disgust, or fear. Hess was told he made others in the area fearful of him. That made him smile.


Entering the billet, Hess' eyes adjusted to the lighting here as well. Going from the dark to light did a number on his eyes. But as his eyes focused, he spotted the Sisters all around the room.
There were a total of forty-three of them. Canoness Belquin, Hospitaller Swole, Hospitaller Sabbat (Named after the Saint, Hess correctly guessed) and forty other other Null Maidens. He knew all their names, and knew only what information about them they told him, which varied from nothing to almost everything. Hess has served with this particular mission many times before. They were often used as direct support for Hess and his trials, for various lengths of time, and they were the closest thing to a retinue he had.
Scanning his eyes around the room, Hess tried to spot Canoness Belquin. Two Sisters conversing, several Sisters preparing armor, a Sister reading, a Sister... Hess suddenly felt his face redden and then politely adverted his eyes. A Sister without any article of clothing above her torso. Hess then heard quiet laughter and looked up. The Sister saw him, and found it amusing at the intimidating Inquisitors embarrassment. Hess found himself amused too, and quietly laughed himself. But indeed it was informal, and Canoness Belquin appeared seemingly from thin air and thoroughly reprimanded the Sister. After that order of business was finished, she approached Hess and offered a polite bow.

"My apologies Inquisitor Hess. It was very informal of Sister Kys to be presentable in such a manner. I assure you she will receive proper punishment." Hess held up a hand, humor showing around his eyes. "It is quite alright Canoness. I am sure she will, but that is not the current matter at hand." Hess explained. "We have been given our orders, and the time is soon upon us." Belquin, a good few inches taller than Hess, clad in her black power armor, nodded. As if on cue, the Sisters in the room gathered around Hess and Belquin when the Canoness raised her hand. When they all gathered, Hess cleared his throat and explained the situation....

[Volmachtia]

Thanox felt like he had been struck alongside the head with something large and heavy as the teleportation tunnel that carried him faded away. His bodyguards fell around him; it came to him that the shockwave of the Space Hulk's energy systems detonating simultaneously msut have destabilized their transit tunnel. As he clambered to his armored feet, he took in the interior around him. Even his deadened senses were awestruck.

He and his bodyguards, about seven of whom warped just with him, stood amongst a smattering of metallic plaftorms interlocking two giant cruisers; and between them, crafted into what seemed like a makeshift encampment among the rents and gashes in its hull, a frigate was wedged. Rusty lengths of superstructure had collapsed to form a bridge not far from Thanox's position. Ahead, he could already tell a firefight had broken out; Mechanicus skitarii, those of his taskforce, had been dropped onto the hull of the frigate itself.

Their enemy, as it seemed, were oily shadows slipping along the corroded plate armor of the hull, like vermin, scampering between bits of scrap that had been upturned and twisted into huts. They darted about, firing loosely with weapons that spat unstable warp-energy and corrosive acid both, matched by lasguns and heavy bolter shells.

Waving his bodyguard on, Thanox charged down the makeshift ramp leading to the encampment. As he did so, his men encountered a handful of other Mechanicus troops, huddled down or shocked by the energy of their entrance. Some, they could see, had warped right above the chasm and had landed impaled among the sharp jutting crags of sheer scrap below. Rallying those forces he could muster, the Magos clutched his axe in his right hand and his left hand retracted and morphed into a bolter barrel. Howling a charge in binary, his men lurched ahead.

Acidic shots and wild plasma whipped over his head as Thanox unloaded a volley of bolter shells, leading a charge into the outlying handful of huts in the alien encampment. One attempted to duck out of the way into a jutting bar of steel, but it was caught short and splattered by one of Thanox's shots. Visually analyzing its remains, he deduced these transient scavengers to be Hrud. Only fitting that they'd clamber onto a space hulk when they got the chance, blasted vermin.

His men fanned out, five bodyguard sticking with him, spraying fleeing Hrud with las-shots while two bodyguards and a skitarii squad flanked left to cut them off and a third group composing heavy-weapons skitarii and the three bodyguards that he could find moved in back to encircle the scrap village. The Hrud fought clinging to their homes, but found no solace from the emotionless Mechanicum warriors. Swinging his axe as he moved into what seemed like the main hall of the Hrud camp, he separated the head of one of the creatures with a horizontal sweep and then brought it back up, cleaving another in half with a vertical slash. Lifting his bolter-arm and unloading a torrent of shots, the few Hrud that huddled far in back of the rounded habitat were reduced to gore stains.

Moving back out, Thanox sent his troops in different directions to sweep for other survivors. Some tense minutes passed before they returned; they concluded that the spread of troops was wide, but all accounted, 50 or so men were ready for action. 41 were unaccounted for and 9 had died during the teleporter shock. Gathering the handful of officers, including Secutor Paraxos, commander of his bodyguard, and Lieutenant Godvar, leader of the Skitarii, he said,
"We are faced by undoubtedly extreme odds. Our first priority should be re-establishing contact with the Foresight of Thoth, then work to move deeper while being reinforced via teleporter. Our aim is to find the center of this heathen monstrosity and seize any working STC data that may lie within."

The Skitarii all nodded and moved off with Thanox leading them.

[Gideus]

The Lord-Inquisitor viewed the outside of the fleet with his witchsight. Standing in the deployment bay with his hands on his Daemonhammer, his eyes were closed but seemed to glow with an inner blue-white light. He observed the Imperial flotilla approaching the massive hulk. Something was wrong. He knew Zog-Ammer, he knew that the beast should be killing them. What was he doing... He wasn't quite within range to get an accurate read on anything in the ship. What he could read would be blocked by the Ork Waaagh!. But something was wrong...

And then he saw it. The Orkish gunz aiming and adjusting.

His warp-form rushed back into his physical body, and he raced to slam the intercom to call out the alarm. He was too late. He felt the screams of the dying and knew that their souls would go to nothing in particular in the Warp - whatever carrion bird devil grabbed their souls first would enjoy a feast. He sighed, wishing that they had at least given their lives in the name of Him, the Emperor. As it stood, they had simply had their lives torn away.

His ship, the Coemeterium, hurtled through the void, its plasma thrusters burning at max burn. The counter-thrusters would engage soon, slowing the ship enough to maneuver into deployment. The massive, almost completely custom-made ship started unloading lance strikes and precision missile barrages, opening their landing zone. Everyone deploying would be wearing closed-circuit oxygen systems, rebreathers and the like until they reached a safe zone.



The Coemeterium shrieked into the hole that had been carved. Along with the Imperial forces that were deploying with him and his closer retinue and fighters, the massive hole in the hide of the Space Hulk was boarded. The white-hot adamantine supports in the empty space stuck out at odd angles, the molten slag of the once-upon-a-time Astartes Strike Cruiser's bridge having cooled to the point they could walk. Maintaining a near-complete radio silence, Lord-Inquisitor Jonas Peregrinus transmitted a psychic message to his troops to deploy. The Guardsmen, Sisters, Marines, and Mechanicus deployed. They marched out of their deployment bays, taking positions and advancing quickly. From the few snippets of radio traffic he picked up and the psychic distress he was hearing, he determined that two-thirds of their fleet had been destroyed, with the majority of their forces that were deploying having been scattered. The main force, the ones he had talked to prior to the assault and landing, were all in position, but their support troops were far-gone.

"Men and women of the Imperium! Today we fight for the Emperor! Today we slay the foul Greenskin and save the system. We reclaim one of His holy relics and cleanse this abomination of all taint. Forwards, Onwards, MARCH!" he yelled into the radio and with his Warp-voice. Walking with his troops at a fast pace, they entered into the massive Hulk, a few of the Imperial forces already firing shots at the shadows and at things they could see.



Midghast Secondary Prime. The prime hive-world of the system, the main world orbiting the secondary sun of the system. A world of many billions of people. And someone had a plan, and someone had a large amount of the populace converted.

"Lord Faust... The Hulk has been attacked, as our sources say. Yes-yes. Whats you want us to do?"

Sortiarius Faust pondered the obsidian orb he was holding.

"Tell those we have under us... We shall begin soon."

[The Realm of God]

Petrarch ducked behind the guardsmen as they ran into incoming fire. He quickly got down on one knee and fired his bolt pistol, the huge gun was so inhumanly loud that the ears of several guardsmen burst, though the bolts were sickenly effective blowing chunks out of the running orks. As one choppa got too close for comfort he drew his sword-stick and charged screaming his battlecry 'A mighty fortress is our emperor'. The ork was a terrible fencer though incredably strong, Petrarch was more than once, knocked of balance by the huge axe, he moved quickly however as the sword stick scratched the orks wrist, it winced in pain as Petrarch went for the killing blow.

He then looked at the guardsmen, "Today we do him who is throned a great think, thou shalt not disapoint."

[Ultis Templarii]

On board the Deathwatch Strike Cruiser, Xeno's Lament, Vertland sat in the conference room of the ship, deep within the bowels of the cruiser. The room itself was small and cramped, barely fitting the Errant and two other Sergeants Vertland had selected after being chosen as the commander of the Deathwatch marines. The first was a marine selected from the Imperial Fists named Leoan who Vertland grew a considerable bond with, serving with a brother of his fathering chapter. The second was a marine from the Angels Penitent name Dragus. Vertland considered the considerable experience of the Dark Angel in their own form of warfare quite useful here. Especially considering Dragus was his senior.

As the Inquisitor finished his briefing Vertland responded with a curt, "Yes, Lord-Inquisitor." just before the screen shorted out. The marine ran his gauntleted hand over his head, running it over the cropped black hair. It was a movement he made out of habit, something he used when he was an Initiate to help soothe jittery nerves. Astartes couldn't feel fear but anxiousness still pervaded them it seemed.

"Well, you understand the Inquisitor's orders. As he said, we'll assault from this angle, on the flank of the Hulk. From there we will deploy our fifteen brothers onto the vessel, separating out into kill-teams of five. You two will head a group of your choosing while I lead the third. Take two specialist with your teams, heavy flamers if you can manage. The close quarters are going to be brutal in there brothers. I'm sure you have no doubts towards that and I don't need to remind you. However, remember our duty is to the guardsmen and the Inquisitor on board that vessel not to mention the Sisters we'll be directly fighting with. Support and defend them as much as you can. They don't have the Emperor's shield before them nor his armor."

The Errant took a quick nod before glancing towards the others, Leoan's blue eyes and olive features, and Dragus' green eyes and pale face turned towards him with dour expressions. No doubt slightly annoyed that the younger marine was placed above them. However, the Chaplain-Sergeant wasn't going to question the Inquisitor's orders. His were the words of the Emperor in the far reaches of space.

"Allow no mercy or quarter to these foul xenos, not even to the pitiful wretches that we assume might also be on the craft. Expect the taint of chaos, tyranid as well as the crude orks. Spare not a drop of quarter and give the Emperor's fiery sermon to them on the field of battle in the form of bolter and flamer. You are the avatars of the God of Man in this foul warp-spawned behemoth. Carry yourselves as such and let not a single wretch evade your righteous fury."

As Vertland finished his own form of a sermon he clasped his hands together and nodded towards the two, signifying for them to be dismissed. The Templarii stepped back and glanced over the proceeding movements of the vessels before stepping away and heading out of the room as well, moving towards the armory and his own kill-team.

Frankly Vertland was a little disappointed he wasn't to be deployed alongside the Guardsman. He saw it as a better chance to preserve the common rank and file of the Imperium, the common man who fought horrors he was expected to fight with a simple prayer and no enhancements. Not only that but his own origins always caused him to have a bit of an attachment with the common soldier. Sure he never fought with them, but he was of their same origins and was so close to being one of them. If Errant Veliga hadn't reviewed Vertland he could very well be off on some other planet as a Stormtrooper or even dead in service.

Vertland gave a small shake of his head and finished lamenting the chance to serve with the true heroes of the Imperium, preserving them and blunting the force the orks struck the normal humans. For now he needed to focus on the duty at hand and draw the orks away from the main contingent. At least he'd save lives in that capacity.

Once within the billet of his team, Vertland explained the situation to them. Each of them nodded and stated their acknowledgement. There was a Marine from the Ultramarines, Daedalus, a Marine from the Imperial Castellans, Ferister, one from Novamarines, Angels Encarmine, and the Storm Lords. Telrus, Sagitatus, and Helgan respectively. Daedalus was a brute of a marine and carried a massive heavy flamer, adjusting the tanks mounted to his armor. Telrus was the additional heavy weapon user, carrying the bulky heavy bolter of the squad. The other marines were carrying Hesh-Pattern bolters although with their own individual accouterments, Sagitatus for example carried an archaic Chain-Bayonet.

Shortly after they had been informed of the mission's intentions they had loaded onto a boarding pod with the two other kill-teams, launched into space at incredible speeds to burrow their own holes into the cluster of orks and begin the righteous slaughter.

[Armageddon Steel Legion]

"AVE EMPEROR, TO VICTORY!" Shouted Anna as she fired three more shots from her las-gun, cutting down a Ork boy. She then pulled her Vhermactia saber out, the troops followed suite and then charged forward, but four Storm Troopen kept around Inquisitor Jonas. The banner of Vhermactia flashed a brilliant red with each stain of blood it received on it's material. "FORWARD, TO VICTORY!" Screamed one trooper as he and two other's then tackled a larger Ork boy and began to stab him with their swords or bayonets, their red eye pieces flashing in the darkness as they then formed a line and began to slowly advance, flash-lights starting up as Anna then held onto her VS pattern las-rifle."Lord Inquisitor, sir. The corridor is clear." She said, with a thick Vhermactian (German) accent. "Praise the Emperor, men!"

[Lenehen]

Y'riel head hurt, as his vision gradually returned he could see blue blurs standing out in a void of darkness. The damned Orks had blasted his flagship out of the sky, the pride of his fleet was now just another wreckage in the space hulk. He slowly got to his feet and stumbled towards his comrades.

"Farseer," exlaimed Exarch Ranakis, hurrying over to him "For a moment, we thought you lost."

"Where-" Y'riel clutched his head as a flash of pain seared his skull.

"Do not try and talk, just rest." the Exarch smiled "You took quite a fall, your concussion might last a while."

The farseer gritted his teeth "I have endured worse." he muttered, nursing a large gash on his forehead "Where is everyone?"

"Kysaduras, Kelmon and Arienal died on impact. Requiel and Elarique gave their lives to keep the Genestealers at bay after we had crashed." he said, his voice full of melancholia "We still have a handful of Avengers and a squad of my Warp Spiders but the shards of our fleet are reluctant to return whilst the ork artillery is still operational."

"We must move, if the Broodmind knows we are here, it will soon be upon us again." Y'riel got to his feet and unholstered his pistol "Get any we have left, we must seek solace elsewhere."

The Eldar moved silently through the darkened corridoors for what seemed an eternity, listening carefully for the scrabble of talons in the darkness. Amazingly, the primitive Imperial machinery that was now the tomb of The Illumination of Eternity still functioned after countless millennia in the warp. Doors still opened automatically, and as they had learned the hard way, the security auto-turrets were still functional. Y'riel examined the weaponry on one of the broken sentry guns,

"How archaic" sneered Rakanis, his voice hushed to a whisper "A heavy bolter; loud, destructive and ugly. The weapon of a barbarian."

"The humans know the science of war, but not the art." the Farseer mumbled, not looking up from the corroded bolter "They still have much to learn. But it makes it no less deadly."

The warparty continued into the darkness for some time, gliding through the abandoned corridoors in perfect silence until a series of loud cracks brought their attention to the walkways above where a small division of Imperial soldiers were fending off an green tide of ork boyz.

"The Imperials." the Farseer could barely contain his disgust.

"What would you ask of us farseer?" hissed an Avenger "Will we strike?"

"No" breathed Y'riel "No, we will remain hidden. Observe the mon-keigh, it suits us better to let them fight our foes. Come, let us change position- whether they are victorious or slain, we can learn from these Imperials. Get to a better vantage point. "

[The Realm of God]

Y'riel head hurt, as his vision gradually returned he could see blue blurs standing out in a void of darkness. The damned Orks had blasted his flagship out of the sky, the pride of his fleet was now just another wreckage in the space hulk. He slowly got to his feet and stumbled towards his comrades.

"Farseer," exlaimed Exarch Ranakis, hurrying over to him "For a moment, we thought you lost."

"Where-" Y'riel clutched his head as a flash of pain seared his skull.

"Do not try and talk, just rest." the Exarch smiled "You took quite a fall, your concussion might last a while."

The farseer gritted his teeth "I have endured worse." he muttered, nursing a large gash on his forehead "Where is everyone?"

"Kysaduras, Kelmon and Arienal died on impact. Requiel and Elarique gave their lives to keep the Genestealers at bay after we had crashed." he said, his voice full of melancholia "We still have a handful of Avengers and a squad of my Warp Spiders but the shards of our fleet are reluctant to return whilst the ork artillery is still operational."

"We must move, if the Broodmind knows we are here, it will soon be upon us again." Y'riel got to his feet and unholstered his pistol "Get any we have left, we must seek solace elsewhere."

The Eldar moved silently through the darkened corridoors for what seemed an eternity, listening carefully for the scrabble of talons in the darkness. Amazingly, the primitive Imperial machinery that was now the tomb of The Illumination of Eternity still functioned after countless millennia in the warp. Doors still opened automatically, and as they had learned the hard way, the security auto-turrets were still functional. Y'riel examined the weaponry on one of the broken sentry guns,

"How archaic" sneered Rakanis, his voice hushed to a whisper "A heavy bolter; loud, destructive and ugly. The weapon of a barbarian."

"The humans know the science of war, but not the art." the Farseer mumbled, not looking up from the corroded bolter "They still have much to learn. But it makes it no less deadly."

The warparty continued into the darkness for some time, gliding through the abandoned corridoors in perfect silence until a series of loud cracks brought their attention to the walkways above where a small division of Imperial soldiers were fending off an green tide of ork boyz.

"The Imperials." the Farseer could barely contain his disgust.

"What would you ask of us farseer?" hissed an Avenger "Will we strike?"

"No" breathed Y'riel "No, we will remain hidden. Observe the mon-keigh, it suits us better to let them fight our foes. Come, let us change position- whether they are victorious or slain, we can learn from these Imperials. Get to a better vantage point. "

Petrarch ordered his men to cease fire as the orks withdrew, knowing his men were tired. The Arch-Deacon ordered his men to rest, the Death Korps troops took up defensive positions, placing a heavy stubber on top of some oil drums, while the rest of them cooked up a basic meal of potatoes and grox. Petrarch was thinking about preaching a sermon, he was still deciding what to do. He was to hold his position until his men were fit to fight on, though he couldn't help thinking about what horrors lay beyond his defensive line.

[The Blazing Aura]

Kor'el transmitted through to Purefire soon after the Manta left off, "Shas'o, we have recieved communication from Shaper Fireclaw and the Kroot, theier position is not that far away from yours, sending the co-ordinates to the Manta now"
"Acknowledged Kor'el" Purefire replied, "We'll land with their warsphere, following their path now in the Manta, for the greater good"
"Indeed" was the reply before they shut off communications. The Manta spotted the Warsphere as they flew in low, moving deeper into the spacehulk than their original access point would of allowed the to do, setting up short range-communications Purefire sent a message to the Shaper, "Fireclaw, it is good to see you and your Kroot still live, Let us land and start cleansing this hulk for the greater good, and so we can more easily destroy both it and its pilot."

[Legital]

As time passed closer to the three hour mark, the Sisters of Battle began donning their power armor and gathering their equipment for the upcoming assault. As this was happening, Hess retreated to his adjacent private cabin and began to prepare as well. His power armor was already set in place on his bead, and he began to strip his current clothes. Once he was stripped down, Hess slipped into a padded black body-glove which provided comfort while wearing the power armor. Reaching for the first piece of armor, Hess began to attach it to his body from the bottom up.

Hess' power armor was custom built, thanks to a good sum of money from the Inquisition. The armor itself mimicked Adepta Sororitas armor, which in turn was made similarly to Adeptus Astartes armor. Besides it fitting a regular human build, the armor was effectively the same as an Astartes'. Without the implants and augmentations however, no human can fully benefit from their power armor like a Space Marine can.
His power armor was black, with white trim. It was very light weight, but provided excellent protection and mobility. With the enclosed helmet, the armor would then be fully sealed and could hold up in a hostile environment such as a vacuum. Boarding an unstable Ork vessel may very well make that feature life saving.
The entirety of the armor was slick and streamlined, including the shoulders which were encompassed in a similar fashion as an Astartes, but no where near as bulky. In fact, he could slip his storm coat over it and still wear it regularly, which he would.
After a while, Hess was fully dressed in his power armor. Reaching for his helmet, he flipped it around to peer at the front of it. It was quite similar to an Astarte Mk. 6 pattern, but it was no where near as large or long. On the side of the helmet, at eye level, there was an external flashlight which had a lifespan of nearly 200 hours. Hopefully he would not use it for that long.

Checking his armor one last time, Hess then attached his combat webbing to his armor and slipped his storm coat on. His power sword was fastened to his side, while a Bolt pistol was on the other. Under his left arm in a holster, he had another Bolt pistol, and under his right arm he had a backup Laspistol. A regular Bolter was slightly too much for him, so he may as well bring enough pistols. He then slung a small backpack on, which held some general equipment he may need.
Bringing his gold Aquila to his lips, he kissed it before muttering a short prayer. Glancing at his Chronometer, he realized there were about fifteen minutes before the attack would initiate. With that, Hess left his cabin fully prepared.

---

It took only a minute to arrive at the bunk room the Sisters of Silence were billeted at, and when Hess slipped in, he noticed they were all armored and ready to go. In fact, Canoness Belquin was waiting for him when he arrived.
"Inquisitor," She said with an incline of the head, "I was about to send a sister to find you. I take it you are ready?" Hess looked over the twenty-four sisters, all clad in their black armor with their helmets on and their Bolters ready at their chests. "Indeed I am Canoness. We have ten minutes before departure. If you will allow me, I would like to lead in prayer before departure." The Canoness nodded. "I would be honored, Inquisitor Hess." Reaching into his storm coats pocket, he removed a small red book. It appeared to be well worn, and it was evident it was an Imperial prayer book. Hess motioned for everyone to kneel, and he did so as well.
Turning a few pages and clearing his throat, Hess began the prayer:

"Those who follow false Gods, Who work to deceive and destroy the Imperium, know this: There is but one Truth. All things are known to our Emperor, And He shall judge their lies. They shall know the wrath of Man, And when they cry out to their false gods, They shall find silence by His servants hands."

O glorious God-Emperor, watch over in our coming trials as we purge the foul Xenos. Let your hand guide ours, and allow us to find glory by your side. We are ever faithful, we are ever your servants.
The Emperor protects!"

Every being in the room chanted the ending abjuration. Hess stood, placing his prayer book back into his inner coat pocket. "Well, if we are all ready, I'd like if you were to all follow me. Our ship is prepared to bring us to the Ork vessel. We should be departing very soon." With that, Hess turned and walked out of the door, followed by all of the Sisters. Canoness Belquin, with her longer legs, strode up beside Hess as he walked down the hallway.
"I apologize if I stole your duty from you. It has been a while since I have led a prayer." Hess said, glancing up at the tall and lean woman. "It is not a problem at all, Inquisitor. It was an honor to let you lead our prayer." she said, "It has been a long time since a worthy man has done such." Hess raised an eyebrow, "Is that so, Canoness? I thank you then." Hess then thought he noticed a slight smile form on the Sisters lips. A rare occurrence. However, Belquin simply nodded, "I believe that having a man lead them for once is good for their moral. For battle, and for prayer. This is a rare thing, and since you are an Inquisitor, highest servant of the holy Emperor, I can think of no other person to lead them besides He Himself." Hess smiled. He hoped the compliments were genuine, and not just being said because of his position. The near smile on the Sisters face made him believe the former.

---

On their way to their ship, the Lord-Inquisitors voice came over the intercom, on a fleet wide call, and issued the order to begin the assault. People moved in a flurry of motion, making the hallways packed and almost slow moving. But Hess and the Sisters of Silence were on board their ship, and soon enough, it departed into the dark void of space.

[G-Tech Corporation]

"To look upon the face of the Warp is to court damnation and destruction; only those of the sternest mental steel may peer into its maddened depths and be permitted to live. We have sent ships deep into the heart of the Eye of Terror behind masses of unimaginably powerful Geller fields, into that great nexus of Chaos and the Great Enemy of Mankind. Our soldiers have espied the foul denizens of those secret places, the laughing terrors of the Chaos worlds where reality itself is the plaything of dark gods. Those that have returned seldom speak of what they have seen; endless seas of crimson blood, moons with leering sinister faces, the very laws of physics subverted and rended asunder by the insanity that lurks there. But their resolve is strengthened, and their hands are hot with hate as they strike down the foes of the God-Emperor, hallowed be His Name.

There are, of course, those who do not return from their voyages. Emperor preserve them, but they are now the toys of the vile creatures that lurk in the madness. Death would be a sweet reprieve for them. But I fear it is a privilege that they do not enjoy." - Inquisitor Alexi Vessak, Discourse on Expedition CX.XII to Fallen Chaos World Krinar

---

The voices of his armor whispered to Aritas as he sat in contemplation deep in the heart of the monolith space-wreck that was the Hulk. Some spoke lustily for his attention, seductive words in sultry tones speaking of temptations and debauchery to come, the will of Slaanesh manifest in the Warp. But those were not his concern.

Others burbled merrily, chortling pronouncements of death and decay, seeking to turn his mind to visions of flesh dripping from bone and immortality, of cities lying dead under plagues and the insidious corruption of hope. The one they called "Grandfather" Nurgle was teasing at the edge of his mind too, his facsimile of kindness and generosity a lure for the weak-willed and fearful, and offer of an escape from the specter of death that so many fell under. But he heeded the joking speech not; that was the province of pallid souls, not his.

Brazen tones crashed into his awareness, voices like the thunder of guns and the crash of arms a cacophony of war and slaughter demanding he pay heed to them, ordering to kill for Khorne. Rivers of blood crossed his vision, endless carrion on unknown battlefields; the paean of violence and destruction trumpeted loudly to all men, for the Blood God waxed powerful in the endless war of the Galaxy.

But no. His was not to slay mindlessly, for no purpose other than the thrill of battle and arterial spray.

The quiet voices spoke to him, and he listened. His master's will suffused his body and thoughts in barely heard whispers of the secrets of the universe, knowledge and hidden things expanding his mind. The forbidden taint of understanding, a principle so hated in the dominion of the false Emperor, was sweet upon his lips, and he drank fully of the cup that the Architect of Fate supplied him. Tzeentch was a kind lord; his followers did not fester in sores, or debauch themselves in sickening rituals of so-called pleasure, nor slay themselves mindlessly for the amusement of their deity. No, the Changer of Ways asked only for his servants to work his schemes, set his traps in motion, and ensnare his foes. The Great Conspirator had many accomplices and consorts, even those that thought they fought his wile and sought to destroy his plans were but puppets upon strings, actors in the cosmic drama that Tzeetch had been directing since the dawn of time. Aritas smiled, accepting his place in his master's plans, and opened his eyes once more.

Around him huddled a multitude of cultists and lesser sorcerers, underlings useful for his task here. Their features were garish in the soft purple and blue light that shone in the large chamber where his force had massed; facial scars marked many, and other had been gifted by their Lord in ways far less savory than his chosen servant. Some were twisted with grotesque limbs and claws, others molded into facades of his greater Daemonic servants, yet others still bound with arcane energies into forms barely human. All served him as his slavish retinue. Aritas took no pleasure in their suffering, but recognized their desire to serve him and advance. Their eyes watched him closely, ready to fulfill his every whim if it meant being elevated to his sorcerous retinue, eager to please their lord and through him Tzeentch; the favor of a powerful sorcerer like the Keeper could do many great things for a lowly cultist.

He smiled again, more insidiously this time as the Warp bore him new knowledge, and some of the wizened beings before him cringed away from his grin. Several had offended him and perished, so their terror was not unjustified. Chaos, and by extent its servants, was capricious and not to be trifled with by the weak-willed. Only the favor of the Architect of Fate maintained the coherence of thought of Artias Orgus on a daily basis, and even then when he dwelt in the madness of the Warp his mind was not always a whole thing. The great hulking form of the Keeper rose at his mental command, an immense object of occult power armor imbued with the power of the Dark God built around the human that was more than mere flesh and bone at its heart.

"Our Lord has a task for us. Serve him through me. His purposes are not yours to know, but he shall reveal all in time." That sent a flicker of greedy flame through the eyes of all the cultists and freaks assembled; Tzeentch called even the pathetic who desired knowledge to him. It might have started with a simple desire; the secrets of a competitor, the way to a woman's heart, even how to do greater good and prevent tragedy. But seeking understanding of the black heart of the universe was perilous, very perilous. Truly the foul Imperium was right in restricting their servants from a quest for knowledge; the Great Conspirator lurked behind every question, hid silently behind every challenged precept, poised and ready to snare those whose minds were to open and make them his own.

In a mass the cultists rushed forth from the chamber at a pointed finger from Aritas, a seething sea of human and inhuman bodies leaving his sorcerously hidden lair at the bidding of the Changer of Ways. Through empty corridors they marched, past the mummified remains of unfortunate crew members. They ran with eager footsteps before the striding immense form of the Keeper, his body resplendent in eldritch energies of the Immaterium. Ere long his wards had faded behind the mass of Chaos, and they entered the area of the immense drifting Hulk that the Orks and other despicable creatures wandered. Black and purple flames licked around his great sword Yurzcal as he drew it from its five-foot long sheathe, and a deep chuckling filled his mind. Aritas merely chuckled back to the imprisoned servant of Tzeentch within the infernal weapon, his lust for the knowledge the sword would bring him as great as its own desire for the souls of mortals.

Ahead of the boiling mass of Chaos a large intersection of two crumpled ships opened, and in it a few greenskinz had made a form of fetid camp. Some humanoid roasted over a low refuse fire and the Orkz lounged about it muttering in their guttural tongue. With piercing cries and wailing chants for the glory of the Great Conspirator the vermin of Chaos rushed upon their foes. Aritas didn't even bother to attack the fetid creatures; Yurzcal needed more substantial victims to sate its lust, and these barely-sentient creatures would be like trying to sup on air alone. Las blasts and infrequent bolter shells rained onto the hulking beings as the rabble of cultists closed the distance.

[Ultis Templarii]

The three drop pods from the Xeno's Lament struck deep and true against the Ork vessel, blasting their way through the outer hull and smashing their way into the bowels of the vessel, leaving gaping holes in their wake. The pods themselves were the massive Shark-Class torpedoes capable of carrying up to ten marines in each boarding pod. For now though they each only carried five highly trained marines, intent upon the destruction of the foul xeno menace within the hulk.

The pods had landed within what once was a hangar or a cargo bay, now turned into a house of horrors by the chaos spawns that roamed the hulk in transit or the Ork menace that found unlucky crew members or vessels. The ships themselves were in a terrible mess as well. A frigate from the looks of it had planted itself into the hull of the vessel and the majority of the hangar from the side cutting parallel to the outer bulkheads. The ship was tilted at a twenty degree angle causing the floor to slope upwards in broken, jagged patterns. Scattered pieces of cargo crates and various pieces of debris or what used to be external plating was littered everywhere.

Vertland stepped out of his pod, glancing around to the area and taking in the scenery with a small glance. His helmet's autosenses picked out any possibly life signs poking over the vacuum sealed corpses of the crew and Orks. The Templarii hoped that if anything the sound of tearing and screeching metal would've alerted the nearby cluster of greenskins enough to cause them to strike an interest in the marines. He'd rather have all his men in position and placed for a proper killing field than have to send one out to grab their attention.

The Errant flicked his hand towards various positions directing his squad towards their positions. Daedalus was placed near the front position of the killing field where he would be able to maximize the use of his heavy flamer against the mobs of xenos in the narrow passage into the hangar. Sagitatus formed on the Ultramarine's left forming a stronger anchor point for the marine. Ferister was placed alongside Telrus in the central portion of the position, where the bolter would have the most area to fire and longer firing lanes. Vertland and Helgan formed on his left flank.

Vertland glanced at Helgan as they all moved into position, noting that the Storm Lord had found a boarding shield to use in the engagement. The sound of heavy bolter slides clicking forward echoed in the empty chamber, along with Sagitatus revving his Chain-Bayonet. Vertland checked his own bayonet, tapping the activation rune of the Crozius Arcanum slapped to the bottom of his bolter. It wasn't as large as most Crozius Arcanums, the item more of a short club than a large mace the true Chaplains and Treyl received. Either way, slapped onto the bottom of his bolter it would find it's use as a club by gripping the base of the folding stock or simply removing it from the locking lug.

Two small beeps echoed into the Templarii's helmet, signifying that Dragus and Leoan had found themselves into position. Leoan Vertland had directed to place into on the left flank, digging in and using his Imperial Fist training to firmly anchor the position of the Marines and Sisters. Dragus was placed onto higher gantries and positions to provide overwatch, using the heavy bolter and plasma cannon of his squad to decimate the ranks of the Orks and whatever else this Emperor-Damned hole had to offer.

The commanding marine touched the side of his helmet tapping a vox rune, opening up a channel towards the Inquisitor in charge, "Lord-Inquisitor, this is Errant Vertland. My marines are in position and ready to dispense justice." A second tap opened up the channel to the Inquisitor and Cannoness in charge of the Sisters of Battle. "My Lord-Inquisitor, my marines are ready and waiting for you to reinforce our positions. I expect the greenskins to descend upon us soon and we'll have to move fast if we wish to support the main contingent. My torpedoes left large enough gaps, I think you can maneuver your way through. If not advise me and I'll have Brother-Sergeant Dragus lead you here. Errant Vertland out."

With a glance around his brothers, the Templarii opened up a channel to his marines, calling out in a splendid tenor voice rooted deep within his massive diaphragm preparing for a sermon. "My brothers, join me in prayer before we join battle."

"The Emperor is my beacon; I shall not wander.
He sendeth me unto the fields of war: But I shall not stray.
He leadeth me against the tepid touch of treason. And I shall not stray.
He restoreth my soul and preserves my being.
He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name' sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy Bolter and thy Crozius, they comfort me.
Thou directeth me against the cowards and traitors
Thou swellest my breast with fury; My heart runneth over.

Surely I shall stand beside him for all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the Light of He forever.

The Emperor Protects"

And with that, the entire Kill-Team chanted out the final line of the Psalm, belting like a torch against the darkness and using it as a verbal battering ram against the impending xeno wave. Vertland formed the Aquila symbol over his breast with his hands before hefting his bolter and gazing down the sights towards the fields that would most certainly be stained with blood. Whether xeno or daemon or even his own was yet to be seen.

[Volmachtia]

The cacophony of noise that was battle wrapped itself like a cloak around Rhan Thanox as he plunged into the mass of mutant warriors blocking the next docking plug. They were moving in deeper towards the core of the Space Hulk, determined to carve out any ancient technology within. All told, those forces he had found scattered totaled about 52 skitarii, 3 electro-priests and 7 combat servitors, while an additional 30 were unnacounted for and the rest were dead or assumed dead.

But 62 Mechanicus warriors were still a serious threat on the battlefield; Thanox himself, a mechadendrite on his back unfolded and spitting plasma blasts at close-range, his axe whipping with inhuman speed to cleave his opponents, and his bolter-arm deployed and roaring death, was fighting with the fury of any Astartes, Sister of Battle or Stormtrooper. These ugly, despicable heathens blocked their path to knowledge and enlightenment. Therefore they must die. A particularly hulking mutant, nearly ten feet tall and face bearing at least five eyes, mouth lopsided and with more teeth than any man should have, screeched at him and hefted an ancient heavy stubber, letting loose a vicious volley down what had been a docking tube.

His bodyguards picking off mutant gunners at a distance, Thanox waited for the big mutant to wait to reload before leaping back into the fray. The passage was thin and low, and he retracted his legs slightly to give him more room. Mutants had to duck and navigate in order to even aim at him; but he? Thanox was a machine-man. The powers of both and weaknesses of neither, save mortality. The big mutant fumbled with an ammo box, trying to fit the mismatched feed into the receiver, grunting in exertion. It looked up at Thanox and his bodyguard charging, roared, dropped the stubber and drew an autopistol, hissing as it fired. Dodging with little effort, Thanox slid low under him and struck sharp with his axe, cleaving off a leg, the mechadendrite spinning around and finishing him off with a plasma shot to the face.

Pirouetting like a Gevher dancer on Gounn XII, Thanox leaped and let fly with his bolter-arm, clearing passage by passage until the dock tube was clear. This one led into a decaying, collapsing Cobra destroyer, its Aquila heraldry faded and tarnished by age. The docking tube fed directly into a narrow killzone held by a different group of mutants; they bore different facial and body paint, and it struck Thanox they were likely enemy warbands feuding for territory. Holding his men back from entering the wide hangar and into the sights of the heavy bolters mounted on a landing above, he sent out Electro-Priest Fehn, a master of the art of death.

Fehn bounced with the skill of a gymnast, twisting out of the way of heavy bolter shells until he got upright on his feet and brought up a shield of electrical energy that caught the metal shells. Moving his hands in a circle, Fehn directed the field back around and launched the shells back from whence they came, killing the heavy bolter crews while the Skitarii and Thanox poured through to finish off the scattering survivors.

------

Skitarii Sergeant Rohke stood around the small fire with the few brothers in arms he had managed to find. Around sixteen in all he had discovered, warped all across the hulk's interior instead of the intended cargo bay they had selected as the target. Of Thanox and his retinue he could not say; was the Magos dead? Again, he knew nothing. He had found a Skitarii or two impaled or tangled amongst scrap on the deep pits far below where the Hulk's endless body of dead ships met under the suspended platforms on which Rohke's group moved.

They had killed off a small group of genestealers, hideous Tyranid beasts, that were happily devouring the flesh of a small mutant encampment they had butchered. The scrap huts scattered onto the suspended platform they resided on were smeared in odd-colored blood, human and xenos, though only one of the Skitarii under Rohke had fallen since they warped aboard, set aflame by a mutant with promethium tank traps. Sitting around him, some watching the campfire that was burning since they arrived, others ensuring both mutants and xenos were dead, Rohke cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Brothers, we need to get moving. If Thanox is dead, we must carry on his mission and seek out technology for the Omnissiah, or make contact with other Imperial forces to call for reinforcements to invade the center of this wretched abomination."
The skitarii all, almost in perfect unison, got to their feet, loaded weapons and were ready to march. And march they did, moving across a chasm upon which what had been a communications spire acted as a bridge. As they neared the remains of an ancient coolant plant, they heard shouts- bestial, guttural. Rohke signalled for his men to hold back and sent a scout ahead, the light-footed Hypaspist Dellt. Dellt spoke quickly.

"Greenskins, about twelve or so, manning an encampment. Imagery daubed onto the main hut, built into a crew compartment, is congruous with that of the Weirdboss's heraldry. Our course of action?"
"We kill them." Rohke said, unhesitating.

As the Skitarii moved silently, with understandably machine precision, into the encampment, they got a better look. It was a circular room, with a shack at the far end and a large passage to the right. The shack was made of part metal like the room, as well as assorted bits of scrap. A Big Shoota was mounted on its roof, a snoring Ork lazily sitting back in his firing seat. Other greenskins milled about, bickering and hitting each other pointlessly, in the front of the shack; about five. More of them were inside. Aiming his lasgun at the Ork gunner, Rohke had his skitarii sight the others to kill them in one volley.

Firing a single shot, the las-blast punctured the gunner's neck, startling it, and as the xeno tumbled off the gun and collapsed gurgling and hacking onto the roof before expiring, the Orks around the shack were mowed down with impunity. Other greenskins piled out of the shack into a killing field, unable to close the distance with the Mechanicus troops before their combined lasguns took them down. A couple of surviving Orks stayed in the shack, firing Shootas out of windows, wounding one of Rohke's men. Rohke, unwilling to be slowed down, grabbed a frag grenade, raced ahead and slid up to the shack's main window, tossing his explosive in and waiting for it to detonate. The firing stopped. As he got to his feet one Ork, bleeding and raging, tore out the door and clawed viciously at him, but he fell back just in time to draw his chainsword and decapitate the monster.

Collecting themselves and reloading, the Skitarii moved unknowingly into the Weirdboss's territory.

[Lenehen]

"When you told us to observe the humans" grumbled Kaelis "I imagined that there would be more activity than this."

He had a point, in the hour and a half that they had remained hidden in the walkways overlooking the makeshift Imperial camp, the Imperials had been tediously inactive. Several guardsmen sat in a small circle talking quietly, an slight edge of hysteria in their infrequent laughter- another pair bunched up against a small fire shovelling hastily prepared rations into their hungry mouths and a few sat behind heavy stubbers and scanned for any signs of movement. The highlight of their watchduty was watching a whiteshield accidently pull the pin on his grenade, and causing a minor avalanche of machinery as he threw it into a stack of broken cogitators. One more stood silently,watching over the others- due to the impracticallity of his clothing, it could be safely presumed that he was their commander. His overcoat was garishly adorned with Imperial Aquila, his hat pompously large for such a small man and his weapon was coated in bright metals and shiny stones, certainly reducing it's effectiveness. He was no doubt the leader.

"Would you have me take his life, farseer?" Whispered Veldon, examining the human through the scopes of his rifle.

Y'riel snorted "Save your ammunition ranger, I would not wish to submit anyone to a rabble of leaderless Mon-keigh. If he is in charge, he can control them. He is clearly not a mindless grunt like those he leads, he will keep them on a tight leash."

An Eldar scream pierced the darkness and the two turned to see a trio of genestealers emerge from the darkened corridoor, their claws still wet with eldar blood. Maalienir, the Banshee, shrieked a psychic sceam before charging with her power sword aloft- the shurikens from her pistol harmlessly bounced off the thick chitin of the Xenos' abdomen but her blade easily seperated the abomination from it's head. A blast from the Ranger's rifle quickly reduced another's head to a bloody pulp- flailling in it's death throes and spraying foul-smelling ichor all over the floor. But another swarm burst from a tear in the wall, charging towards the beleagered Avengers. By now the Imperials had noticed their prescence and a flurry of bullets ricochetted off a nearby pipe, expelling a burst of steam towards the ceiling- most of the Guardsmen had grabbed their lasguns and were forming firing lines, whilst the lavishly dressed human had unholstered his sidearm and was watching intently as the Eldar were being assulted by xenos.

Y'riel cursed as a volley of lasbolts impacted on the crates beside him "Withdraw! Triskel, Kiliak- cover our retreat! Veldon, do something about those damnable snipers! Fire a kinetic pulse!"

[The Realm of God]

"When you told us to observe the humans" grumbled Kaelis "I imagined that there would be more activity than this."

He had a point, in the hour and a half that they had remained hidden in the walkways overlooking the makeshift Imperial camp, the Imperials had been tediously inactive. Several guardsmen sat in a small circle talking quietly, an slight edge of hysteria in their infrequent laughter- another pair bunched up against a small fire shovelling hastily prepared rations into their hungry mouths and a few sat behind heavy stubbers and scanned for any signs of movement. The highlight of their watchduty was watching a whiteshield accidently pull the pin on his grenade, and causing a minor avalanche of machinery as he threw it into a stack of broken cogitators. One more stood silently,watching over the others- due to the impracticallity of his clothing, it could be safely presumed that he was their commander. His overcoat was garishly adorned with Imperial Aquila, his hat pompously large for such a small man and his weapon was coated in bright metals and shiny stones, certainly reducing it's effectiveness. He was no doubt the leader.

"Would you have me take his life, farseer?" Whispered Veldon, examining the human through the scopes of his rifle.

Y'riel snorted "Save your ammunition ranger, I would not wish to submit anyone to a rabble of leaderless Mon-keigh. If he is in charge, he can control them. He is clearly not a mindless grunt like those he leads, he will keep them on a tight leash."

An Eldar scream pierced the darkness and the two turned to see a trio of genestealers emerge from the darkened corridoor, their claws still wet with eldar blood. Maalienir, the Banshee, shrieked a psychic sceam before charging with her power sword aloft- the shurikens from her pistol harmlessly bounced off the thick chitin of the Xenos' abdomen but her blade easily seperated the abomination from it's head. A blast from the Ranger's rifle quickly reduced another's head to a bloody pulp- flailling in it's death throes and spraying foul-smelling ichor all over the floor. But another swarm burst from a tear in the wall, charging towards the beleagered Avengers. By now the Imperials had noticed their prescence and a flurry of bullets ricochetted off a nearby pipe, expelling a burst of steam towards the ceiling- most of the Guardsmen had grabbed their lasguns and were forming firing lines, whilst the lavishly dressed human had unholstered his sidearm and was watching intently as the Eldar were being assulted by xenos.

Y'riel cursed as a volley of lasbolts impacted on the crates beside him "Withdraw! Triskel, Kiliak- cover our retreat! Veldon, do something about those damnable snipers! Fire a kinetic pulse!"

Arch-Deacon Petrarch was thinking about ordering his men to move out, when a scream, not a human one filled the interior of the corridor, then the stubbers opened up. The roaring gun drowned out all noise, leaving comparative silance between bursts.

"Honour the Holy Emperor the shield of humanity." The prayer escaped his lips before he ordered his men to form ranks "Form ranks you faithful, form ranks and harrow The Alien
." A rank of guardsmen formed vollying las bolts in the Mordian Style, while the grenaders positioned a flamer and white shields changed the barral of the Heavy Stubber allowing the xenos some time.

[Lenehen]

Veldon levelled his rifle and time slowed as he prepared a shot. The Mon-keigh scurried around like vapour rats running from a gyrinx, if they weren't trying to kill him, he might found it amusing. He pulled the trigger and a bright pulse of light accelerated towards the Guardsmen, knocking them back as the projectile burst and released a wave of energy. The garishly dressed human picked himself off the floor and cracked off a flurry of shots from his bolt pistol at the sniper, one impacting mere inches from his head.

"Are you quite finished Veldon?!" shouted Y'riel, parrying a blow from a Xeno with his diresword.

"No," replied the Ranger, looking again down his sights "Not yet."

His targetter scanned the imperial camp, not there, not there. He knew time was not on his side, the Mon-keighs would soon gather their wits (That was the problem with a kinetic pulse, it was good at disrupting infantry but caused little actual damage) and assult his position, it was a desperate gamble but one that would work in their favour if he won. He had to find a way to prevent the Imperials from following them, they could have no interruptions once they had started to salvage their fallen kin's soulstones from the crashed ship.

"Veldon!" screamed Y'riel through the amplifier in his helmet "We're falling back, move!"

The ranger did not look up from his task, even as more Xenos surrounded their position and lasbolts tore chunks out of the wall behind him. Not there, not there, ah- there. He pulled the trigger and tore open the thin metal sheeting on a seemingly normal wall, to expose a darkened cavity beneath, before hurrying back to his Farseer whilst suppression fire from his comrades' shuriken catapults kept the four-armed xenos at a safe distance.

"You stayed behind for that?!" asked Nuadhu "Why?"

The ranger simply smiled and hurried through the open door to rejoin his comrades, closely followed by the mystified farseer. Down below in the Imperial camp, the fire had ceased and the Guardsmen were packing up and getting ready to pursue. But in the darkness of the wall cavity, talons scuttled in the darkness- sensing the prescence of fresh hosts, a brood of genestealers burst from their now-opened prison and screeched as they charged at the unprepared humans.

[Legital]

The ride towards the Ork Hulk was bumpy, to say the least. Sporadic incoming fire made the pilot jostle the craft in any direction necessary. Within the holding bay of the small ship, the Sisters of Battle and Hess were tightly strapped to their seats. The lights were dim, which Hess was thankful for. It would have been a pain to be tossed around while tightly strapped to a hard seat while the lights were painstakingly bright. Glancing to his right, Canoness Belquin sat perfectly erect against the seat. "We are almost at the landing zone, Canoness. Any last moment questions?" Belquin turned her head to look at the Inquisitor, and she shook her head. "No, my Inquisitor. I understand the mission objective. We work along with the Emperors Astartes while we advance into the Xenos flank. We are to expect a wide array of various hostile Xenos, and we are to let none live. Once we are situated, Sisters will be assigned to certain Imperial assets to utilize their unique traits." Hess was impressed. What was he saying, of course he should be impressed! These were Sisters of Battle. A militant arm of the Inquisition. If they were not impressive, they would not be where they are. But before Hess could reply, a voice came over his vox-bead, and he pressed it against his ear to hear the message.

"My Inquisitor, my marines are ready and waiting for you to reinforce our positions. I expect the greenskins to descend upon us soon and we'll have to move fast if we wish to support the main contingent. My torpedoes left large enough gaps, I think you can maneuver your way through. If not advise me and I'll have Brother-Sergeant Dragus lead you here. Errant Vertland out."

Hess glanced back at Belquin again to see if she also got the message, which she did. Thumbing the vox-bead, Hess spoke back.

"Thank you, Errant Vertland. I believe we have room to maneuver. In fact, we should be arriving momentarily. The Emperor protects."

The Inquisitor closed his vox-bead and grabbed his helmet. "Helmets on and Bolters at the ready!" There was a general but short clatter as the Sisters grappled with their helmets and hefted their Bolters up to bare. Hess racked the slide to his Bolt Pistol, and awaited for the light to announce their landing. One, Throne of Terra. Two, Throne of Terra. Three, Throne of Terra. Four, Throne of Terra.... There was a slight shudder, and then the craft seemed to settle. The light above the door turned green and Hess tore off his harness. The door opened slowly, and when it was fully down, Hess walked forwards with his Bolt Pistol in hand. Behind him, Canoness Belquin followed, and soon the rest of the twenty-three Sisters.

They were all wearing similar power armor, however they all seemed to have their own personality. A purity seal here, a banner there, a tome there. Besides the miscellaneous items, they all had different colored cloths and fabrics hanging from various parts of their armor. The only person who had none was Hess, but his great high collared storm coat made up for that.
Hess looked around the large room. Indeed it appeared to be a fusion of various ships and junk, and the floor was absolutely littered in devices that came off of the ships, including scrap. It was, in a way, appalling. The only thing more appalling were the things that could be lurking in the shadows.

It was only a second before Hess picked out Vertland, and he strode over to him. "Errant." He said, inclining his head and making the sign of the Aquila. "Are we ready to advance, Errant Vertland?" Hess asked, staring into the lenses of the Astartes helmet. As he rested his other hand on the hilt of his Power Sword, that was when he noticed how much...shorter this Astartes was. Indeed the man was taller than Hess, but it was not by a massive amount like the other Space Marines he had met.


Outside of the hanger, Hess could faintly make out the resonating sounds of combat.