# Secrets and Lies



## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

*Prologue*

Hannith looms in the distance. A mid-sized world, dominated by toxic ash wastes and towering manufactorums, it is an integral hub in the Dalmian Star Cluster. Providing the endless billions of Guardsmen deployed throughout the Cluster and the Ultima Segmentum millions of battle tanks, Hannith is well defended, well supplied, and well fortified. Covered behind hundreds of orbital defense satellites, the might of a Titan Legion, hordes of Skitarii and Tech Guard, the Sector Governor views the planet to be nigh unto impenetrable. Only a fool would attempt to attack Hannith with anything short of a battlefleet, and even then, the rest of Fleet Dalmian is but weeks away from responding to a hail.

All is quiet as the second century in the 41st millennium draws to a close, the Dalmian Cluster has entered an economic boom greater than any on historic record. With this opulence and wealth, however, comes opportunity.

The Wrathful, lord of the Chaos Space Marines of the Venom Guard, has set a plan into motion that will not only secure his Marine’s futures and the survival of his warband, but will shake the prosperous Dalmian cluster to its core. His nefarious goals are known only to himself and those that make up his Serpentis Coven, but the endstate of the initial moves are clear: shatter the ability of the Imperial Guard to maintain a prolonged conflict. Pawns have been moved, key players set into motion...

All; The _Twisted Lie_ cuts through the outer reaches of the Hannith system, a silent predator leaving no hint as to its presence nor intent. Within it, are the ten lethal members of Squad Ventor, elite Chosen specifically tasked with lowering the defences of Hannith and make it ripe for the taking. Final preparations are being made, wargear given dark blessings by the tech heretics aboard and final engravings made by the armourers. 

It has been a short journey aboard the blockade runner, made all the more tenuous by the constant close contact with the other members of the squad made unavoidable by the relatively small interior, especially when compared to the vast flagship, the _Theta_. Tensions run high as the thought of imminent bloodshed draws nearer.

Ventor, the leader of the Chosen squad, has dictated that all partake in a final Reflecting. Within every vessel of the Venom Guard, a single, massive room is dedicated to the centralising of the individual, to balancing the humours. This room is called the Reflectium, and within it reside all the members of Squad Ventor.

Mallik, Karlin, Alsarius, Carroth,, Veygor, Ventor, Krateros, Asaenath, Korsh Soteph, and Crotalus all sit alone in the near-darkness, adorned not in your battle armour but in your simple emerald robes. Small wooden tables engraved with the past deeds of the Venom Guard, depicting the heroic last stands of fallen warriors, hug each of the walls. Each of you sits at one, hiding in the shadows, either lost in your own thoughts, prayers to your Gods, or observing and judging the other members of the squad.

In the corner nearest the door, Ventor runs the plan through in his mind. The carefully wrought out plan begins with the Venom Guard crashing down in their drop pod two hundred kilometres from the capital, Hannith Primus. From there, will you be splitting the squad up or maintaining it as one fighting unit? If the former, how will you split up the group? Who do you plan on relying on, and who will you be wary with? Many tactical decisions must yet be made as the squad nears Release Point Burning Star, the point where the drop pod will be jettisoned to the planet.

Karlin and Carroth sit in tables opposite one another, each of you lusting for the bloodshed that is to come. How do you think of the other, though? Do you view your battle brother as a hindrance in your gaining favour in the eyes of the Blood God, or an aide in your quest for skulls? What about the other members of the squad, those who have sworn fealty, or whom you _suspect_ have sworn fealty, to the Weak Gods? Do you view them as brothers or as something else?

Asaenath; you sit isolated from your brothers, in the corner farthest from the entrance. Occasionally, you see some of them glance in your direction as you marvel at the threads of fates and destinies that Tzeentch has layed before you all. At one point, the last member of the squad, Mallik, enters the Reflectium and stares directly at you. Do you greet him and beckon him to sit, or continue your cold vigil from the corner?

Mallik; you are the last to heed Ventor’s instructions to report to the Reflectium. What were you doing to arrive late? As one who views the Chaos Gods as a tool, who will you look to for either company or manipulation (for you know the sinister and tempting barbs of the promises of power have fully snagged the hearts of some of your peers)?

Krateros and Veygor; each of you feels a certain disdain for what the Venom Guard has become, either due to your own actions or the deprivation of others. How does this play into your mental preparations for the insertion? Do you think you will be able to rely on your peers, some of whom have given themselves over fully to the Dark Gods? Would you be able to trust them with your lives, if you came between them and their lust for power and glory?

Alsarius; as a master infiltrator, you know that your skills at misdirection and confusion are second to none. How do you feel about not taking the lead on this mission, instead being seconded to Ventor? You know of his cruelty, are you wary of his leadership?

Korsh, you await anxiously over your drinks. Korsh yours is a bile beverage, stinking of rot, decay, and disease, as only befits a true grandson of Nurgle. You watch the subtle nuances between the others, visible even through the shadows, as they vie for power over one another. What are your thoughts about the inevitable struggle for dominance with the squad? Do you think it will compromise the mission, your allegiances? 

Crotalus, you, above the others in the strike team, are a true son of the Legion. You, as with Korsh, view yourself as apart from the internal strife that often runs rampant throughout the Venom Guard, as its members plot and scheme against one another in an effort to gain favour either in the eyes of their Gods or in the eyes of the Wrathful. How do you feel, having been selected above your peers to be able to partake in such a momentous strike? Are you willing to step between your brothers, should they quarrel, in the name of the accomplishment of the mission?

[Welcome everyone to _Secrets and Lies_! Yes, I know, not necessarily as exciting of a first post as I know some of you may have hoped for. Ideally, I would like a better feel on how all of your characters view the others, as confidence or prejudices could come into play (and interestingly so) in the future, depending on the scope of the operations (which will be, shall we say, extensive). I figured this initial opportunity to mull about what is to come, about the other members of the squad, or about how much you _can’t wait_ to bathe a planet in its own blood would provide each of you a good introduction into each other’s characters as well as get a feel of how your own will act towards them in coming scenes.

You are all less than a day from Release Point Burning Star, and the culmination of centuries of planning, what are your thoughts about being the vanguard for the Venom Guard in their quest towards dominance?]


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Alsarius sat in absolute silence in the Reflectium, his features hidden in the shadows. 

Alsarius could tell where his combat brethren were, they were hidden in the shadows as well, though he could roughly tell where they all were. This mission would best test his skills that he had developed over a life time.

He sat in his simple Emerald green robes, staring around the Reflectium. His combat blade was hidden under his robe, he never went anywhere without his knife, even if he was among brothers. He had a vial in front of him full of some form of alcohol. Without a second thought he drained it as he looked around the room. He was ready, he could complete this mission himself, being able to utilize the skills that made him the best infiltrator in the Eighth.

Alsarius was furious with his Lord and Master, the Wrathful for not choosing him to lead these chosen in this task. His ability to blend in, to be stealthy, misdirection, confusion, all these traits helped him to be the master Infiltrator that made him one of the true Alpha Legionnaires left. 

He had honed his abilities for centuries, a millenia. He still followed the doctrine of the Primach, whilst others had fallen from their paths to become mindless beasts, intent on bloodshed like the Sons of Angron, naive in their quest for pleasure like the Emperor's Children, thirst for sorcery like the remnants of the Thousand Sons, or plague ridden like the Death Guard.

In truth Alsarius hated all followers of Chaos, they were weak and needed help to compete. As such they were unworthy, however some of his own squad mates had now become followers of the deity's. The Gods should be respected, they were powerful, even Alsarius would admit that. However they shouldn't be followed, at least not in Alsarius mind. That is why he viewed on his brothers with distaste, that was why he wouldn't follow one.

He looked over at Ventor, Ventor would be best if he heeded Alsarius advice, well in his own mind anyway. He was the best at infiltration, his skills second to none. Hopefully Ventor could use his talents well, the ambitious cur. He would have a problem on his hands if he tried to kill Alsarius, he carried the meltagun, the most powerful of weapons, and if he had to use it so be it, he had no qualms about killing another brother, especially when that brother followed the Gods too closely.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Asaenath sat silent in a corner of the Reflectium, his hood up and deep in his own thought's. He had not liked the journey on the Twisted Lie, he had never got the chance to properly meditate as he could do in his own chamber on the Theta. Always some one disturbing him with their presence. Even now when every one was quiet, he could not concentrate properly. He noticed people would look at him from time to time, he wondered what they thought about him, who of them who would be the most likely to try to kill him. Tzeentch had let him know many fates, his own was not one of them.

Asaenath turned his attention towards the Khorne worshipers, Karlin and Carroth. Even if they worshiped the wrong god, they worshiped one, and that earned them a little bit respect.
"Even the blood gods servants have their uses." Asaenath said to himself.

He then turned his attention towards Ventor, the champion. "A follower of Tzeentch and Slaanesh, how interesting." He said with a small laugh to himself. He watched him for a little while wondering if he should try to earn his favour and make a exception and actually try to make some one worship only Tzeentch.

Then Mallik entered. Asaenath turned to the door and noticed Mallik stared at him for a while. Asaenath did not like him, the fool who thought the gods were only tools. Asaenath looked at him from under his hood, 
with a cold smile. "One day the gods will show you that you are the tool." Asaenath said very quietly, so that no one could hear it, but Mallik could see that his lips were moving. Asaenath then turned away his attention. Not caring more about Mallik.


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## Karak The Unfaithful (Feb 13, 2011)

Kalin remained quiet, although agitated and eager for battle. It seemed Ventor had been chosen as champion for the squad, not that it mattered. However the position was greatly sought after by all, Ventor would have to prove himself if he was to keep it.

He looked across to Carroth, whom had also turned to serve Khorne. Should he consider this marine to be his ally? Even those closest friend could always turn against you, Kalin of all people knew that. Although he made the best choice in chaos god, he would show the others that. To be honest he hated the other gods and their servants, cowardly, weak, pathetic. It was only the children of Nurgle he had a mutual respect for, they had given him aid when all others had strank away into the darkness.

They would be arriving soon and then the fight would begin.
"Blood for the blood god" he whispered quietly


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Mallik*

Mallik looked down on the small man with an air of amusement, the little thing`s fear providing a source of entertainment for these past ten minutes. In future perhaps this poor cultist would have some position of power, but for the time being he was simply a servant, a personal attendant to whom Mallik had taken a liking to of sorts. 

'Master, do you not have your superior`s wishes to heed?' The man asked nervously. 

'MY superior?' Mallik laughed. 'Well, I suppose technically that is true, but anyone with half a brain knows that it is better to be in someone`s shadow rather than casting the shadow yourself. Especially when it`s a fool like Ventor.'

'B-but master!' The serf was horrified to hear such words spoken against an astartes, even by one of their own.

'Be calm, little one.' Mallik said, placing a giant hand on the serf`s shoulder. 'I intend to honour Ventor`s wishes. After all, it is only by the grace of him and all the other fools in there that we will succeed in this upcoming task. It is only fitting that I pay my respects. See to my wargear serf, I shall be needing them soon.' 

He turned away, heading down the corridor towards the chamber where Ventor had called the Reflecting. Sighing deeply, he put on his mask of poise. He could afford to show a little emotion and laxity in the presence of a slave whose name he couldn`t be bothered to ask, but any show of weakness or fallacy in the presence of his... equals, could prove to be a fatal error.

* * *​
Mallik entered the chamber, noticing that he was the last to arrive. He met the gaze of Asanaeth momentarily, seeing the marine`s distaste and noticing him mouth something inaudible. Typical of a narrow mind devoted to a false god. Chaos needed mortals, not vice versa, and one day this fool and all like him would see all there effort amount to nothing.

There was little said. None so far seemed really interested in speaking to him nor he to them, but he felt that at least something was required beyond the mere proximity to one another... 

'Perhaps a prayer?' He muttered to himself, just loud enough to be heard. He closed his eyes and grinned, bowing his head in mock prayer like a warrior of old before a battle. He could already sense disdain and anger flowing through the room. 

Good, good. Companions were so easy to manipulate when they didn`t trust you...


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## Bane_of_Kings (Oct 28, 2009)

The Former member of the Alpha Legion had several thoughts running through his head as they approached their next destination, drifting through warp space. Fully clad in his emerald green armour, the traditional colours of the Venom Guard, he reflected on how the mighty had fallen.

Indeed, the Alpha Legion were initially pure warriors, never having fallen to the false tongue of Chaos, and it loathed Veygor to be in the same room as more than one of these... Impure, tainted warriors. They posed a threat to the mission, especially the ones with the name of the Blood God on their lips. Agannon thought, with a frown - that these crazed beserkers would no doubt charge headlong into battle, their thirst overcoming them. This mission was all about stealth, an unconquerable fortress, which stood in the path of the Alpha Legion.

And his superiors brought warriors who only knew the meaning of the words 'attack', 'Khorne' and Blood'. _Typical_, The Venom Guard veteran thought, casting a look of disdain through his helmet at one of the Khorne warriors in the room. "For Alpharius," mumbled Veygor Agannon beneath his breath, and then - a voice at an even lower breath, so that he barley even heard it at all. "For Omegon."


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

The Twisted Lie, was, by it’s own admission, a pitiful ship. Small and insufficient, with a sleek hull and blackened plates - A blockade runner by trade; once owned by a corrupt merchantman, or was it one of the Eighth’s original vessels? Krateros cared not, for it did not matter - The ship was theirs now, until they reached the insertion point; and fell on the Mechanicus Forge World. 

In his many centuries of travel with the Venom Guard, this was perhaps the most humiliating of assignments. Ventor, the lack-wit, had been given command by the Wrathful - Another personnel slight between Krateros and the former-Sergeant. After all, it was not Ventor who had counseled a God; who had strode side-by-side with Omegon and his mythical Effrit, wearing the dulled plate; who had buried the Legion Banner into the sand of Eskrador, was it? 

_Some day, brother, you shall taste my steel,_ he thought, with a cruel smile.

‘No,’ Krateros rasped, a sibilant half-whisper; testing the point of his dirk against a callused fingertip, swiveling the hilt gently. A blossom of crimson grew around the point, glittering beautifully in the half-darkness, before crystallizing. 

He sat in one of the corners, wearing simple robes of emerald; with black-blue cuffs, to denote his former allegiances. Over the right half of his face, he wore a gleaming mask of porcelain; perfectly synchronized to match the left - With sculpted lips, a chip of lapis lazuli where the eye stood. It effectively blinded him - Though, he’d sooner lose his sight than suffer the shame of his mutations. 

Krateros’ eyes turned onto the others in the room.

Karlin and Carroth, the Khornite mongrels, sat together - On tables directly opposite one another. They were gibbering wrecks, driven to insanity by the Skull God’s lusts; monstrosities who should be kept on tight leashes, or preferably - On the end of a spear. Even Bravvick, curse his soul, had retained some form of intelligence. They were useful, though. Even the greatest of warriors were Krateros’ cannon-fodder, and these pair were no different.

The Tzeentchian word-smith, Asaenath, sat alone, isolated; menacing in his loneliness. An unforgivable opponent, surely, and yet, Krateros did not trust him. The God of Change’s lackeys were fickle things, forever plotting; engorging themselves in the marvels of the Warp, until unbounded insanity grew within the depths of their mind, cancerous and irremovable. Yes, Asaenath would need watching. 

Alsarius was brooding in the shadows, this one was another plotter, ambitious and churlish. A self-proclaimed insertion master, Krateros knew. How the standards of mastery had fallen, since the times of the Lupercal and the Emperor. His brothers of Effrit would be ashamed of Alsarius, he was certain of it. A child-minded, pitiful wannabe; that was for certain. And yet, he was venomous and slippery; supporting Ventor for the simple reasons of advancement; or was Krateros wrong, and Alsarius’ intentions true?

Ventor sat in the corner closest to the door, his face lined in thought. This was a mistake; a grave mistake. Too ambitious, too selfish - Willing to rid himself of his peers, should the need arise. A traitor, thrice-over perhaps. 

‘_Come and try_,’ He whispered, twirling his dirk once again, feeling skin crack. ‘_Master._’

Mallik entered last, matching eyes with Asaenath. A user, this one; manipulating Chaos at his own whim, though in reality - Chaos only allowed those which they toyed with, to toy back with them. A sadistic one, was this Mallik. He enjoyed murder far too much; despite his self-reassurance that he was not aligned to a God. Khorne would enjoy this one, perhaps his spine would make a tooth-pick for the God of Skulls..

Veygor, another hater of Chaos; sat nearby. Krateros mistrusted him, particularly holding him above the others - He was not maddened by the glories of the Gods, but rather calm and coolheaded, his attempts to remain pure were just, but ultimately doomed to failure. Krateros’ left hand went up, stroking the porcelain mask. A streak of blood decorated the cheek, from his torn fingertip. 

‘Best not let the Hounds smell,’ He spat, disdainfully, in the direction of the Khornites.

‘Ventor, _our dear lordling_, I grow bored of your silence. Let us reflect, _Champion_; what do you intend of us?’


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## Spehs_Mahreen (Aug 14, 2011)

*Do you hear me, my disciple?
*
The voice was incredibly deep, writhing with the demand of an ancient. He responded.
_
I am forever vigilant to you._

_*Are you prepared for it, my child? My darling child, for the slaughter to come?*_

It spoke to him in such a disturbingly caring voice.

_I am ready to contribute my token of bloodshed._

*Yes. YESSSS. Blood… Blood . .*

It sounded like its mouth was dripping with the substance. 

_Yes._ Carroth finished.
_
Blood for the Blood God._

- - -

The voice ceased. Carroths vision swam back into reality. Across from him, Karlin melded into shape. The fellow Khorne-devotee seemed deep within his own contemplation. After serving several campaign with him, Carroth could officially say one thing of his fellow brother -- He was an incredible contributor to the Skull Throne. That was all Carroth needed to trust him, whether or not Karlin returned the favor.

He cast his attention over the others: Ventor. Asaeneth. Mallik. Krateros. Veygor. Alsarius. 

He could say the same for each of them, regardless of their disposition towards the deities. Each of them had added to the eternal sea of blood.

Carroth returned to his own thoughts.

A slight smile etched across his face as he thought of the fight to come--

-- And of the gracious offerings the Imperium was about to contribute to Khorne.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Korsh sat against the rear-most wall on a plain wooden table, the foul liquids and pus already staining parts of his emerald robe a dark green. From here, he could observe the whole room. All it's members and all their changes in body language. For some of the more manipulative members of his squad, this would be a perfect vantage point for concocting plans. Asaenath, one of the true schemers sat in one of the most shadowed corners, muttering unheard words. Malik threw a barb at him and tried to make the Tzeentchian bite. Carroth and Kalin sat opposite one another on a table similar to his, whispering chants to their God probably. The rage seemed to bounce between the two, building as it did so, causing each warrior to become more pent up and crazed at the prospect of being in battle soon. Several other members of the squad stared distastefully at those who followed the Gods, himself included. He could feel their disdain, their contempt, their hatred of 'fools' who would dedicate themselves to Chaos, especially one God above all others. Korsh had heard all the lines whispered in shadows and secret places and had simply dulled his ears to the hateful words.

Korsh momentarily turned his attention to his drink. In his simple brown pitcher was a concoction of foul liquids and poisons which would reduce mere mortals to fleshy ooze in minutes. A lazy green tendril rose from it. It smelled of decay and pestilence, and Korsh sucked it up his nostrils and savored it, as one might savor the smell of a fine wine. He took a swig of his unique liquor and quickly pulled his robe up to his mouth, breathing through the material forcing the liquid to warm the back of his throat a moment longer. It was a practice he had learnt from Howzer that had apparently descended from the ancient Rooshain civilization, where men would inhale through garments after drinking alcohol to make the burn last longer. It was a shame he could not enjoy a drink with the other members of the squads as comrades. They were too busy plotting against one another, trying to engineer their own rise to power. *Fighting like children more like* Korsh thought.

Ventor would need to be careful in how he handled this group. Like children, each had their own individual traits and ways of acting up. Malik with his display of casual disobedience at arriving late, Krateros with his patronizing tone, Alsarius with his cold silence. Yes, just like children. Still, a bit of sportsmanship between siblings could be beneficial, given the right circumstances. Korsh took another drink of his brew, and let himself savor the burning sensation and the vile liquid dripped down his throat. They would be arriving at their drop point soon, and for his part Korsh allowed himself to feel a slight pleasure at being able to gift mortals with his Grandfather's blessings, even if at times they didn't seem to appreciate them. On his part, he would do his best to watch over the squad and try and prevent and conflicts which might compromise the mission that The Wrathful had set for them. Korsh drank more of the poisonous mixture of chemicals in the tin pitcher. It was half empty now, and the rest would be gone before they left the Reflectium. Korsh knew he would regurgitate the liquid that passed through his stained teeth later. It would be a shame for the mortals of the world below to miss out on such a fine brew...


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## komanko (May 16, 2010)

OOC: If I ignored anyone I am sorry. I have no Internet connection what so ever so I am forced to copy everything to word. I think it came out pretty well... But who am I to judge so I would appreciate feedback. 

OOC2: Oh god, I would've highlighted the speech parts but my browser wouldn't let me find the " so I am not going to re read it all for this crap XD

The Twisted Lie slipped past the orbital defenses of Hannith, it was a small ship, quite pathetic if Ventor was to judge. Even though it was miserably small if compared to the mighty Venom Guard battlefleet it still served its purpose, a purpose which a larger ship wouldn’t have been able to accomplish. Still, Ventor would’ve wished it to be bigger as the constant friction with his squad began to get on his nerves.

His squad, this thought made him chuckle. This squad was as much his as the Venom Guard was The Wrathful’s. No one on this ship was loyally attached to Ventor so saying that it is his squad is idiotic. Luckily, the fact that he was chosen to lead the squad did give him a measure of control which he could use.

He glanced through the wide window of his quarters. He could see the toxic world of Hannith looming in the distance. Ironically they’ve been traveling for a whole day to reach the plant even though it was always in their sight. They had to move in weird and incomprehensible patterns so that the planetary orbital sensors won’t be able to detect them, a thing which began to raise his anger.

They claimed that only a fool would try and penetrate Hannith. Ventor tasted the air with his forked tongue. The air itself was sterile constantly recycled by the Lie’s life support system. Ventor curled his lips and let his tongue slide back into his mouth; sadly it would be the last of sterile air he would taste for quite a while as Hannith was supposed to be a toxic planet. 

He noticed that the ship was beginning to close in towards the planet. They said that only a fool would try and infiltrate this invulnerable fortress, Ventor sneered, no one will call him a fool, he was set on proving the one who said that originally wrong. 

It was time to gather the squad, it was time to understand who he will need to deal with and who will ally with him for the time being. Ventor did not like this promotion which he got so hastily, sure, he might have been the best candidate, a thing which made him smile revealing sharp fangs which sprouted from his gums, but still, it involved to many dangers. He preferred being a shadow, the one who plots, and the one who deceives. A follower of Tzeentch shouldn’t be in the head of a squad…

He sighed and voxed the squad members to gather at the Reflectium. He than quickly made his way to the room, it was conveniently close to his quarters. 

Ventor stood in the shadows which seemed unnaturally cast by the room’s surroundings. He leaned across one of the room’s walls. His breathing was silent, no normal human could hear that, only the blessed, the enhanced could hear such a low sound. His robe covered most of his body; the emerald green of the robe seemed to swallow the already weak lights. 

He was unarmed, a sign of mockery, a sign of brave foolishness. For most of the squad it would’ve meant nothing but mockery towards them yet this gesture was aimed at two particular individuals. It was aimed at Karlin and Carroth, the only followers of the blood god in the squad, he aimed to show them that he fears them not, he aimed to show them that they are so little of a threat to him that he could have taken them out without any weapon, he did not care if that was truth or lie, the point was made.

The room slowly filled up, everyone was already there. Except one, Mallik. Ventor distrusted everyone in a near paranoid way yet Mallik was probably the worst of them. A real treacherous and treasons worm, he was a manipulator, an enemy of the mission. If he would be a liability he would find his own death lurking just over the corner.

Everyone took their places yet Ventor did not speak, he wanted to watch how they react, he wanted to see how they think, he wanted to taste their feelings. He had to study them as if they were his enemies because they could quickly prove to be such. Secretly he hoped that he might find some true allies with which he would be able to hold a bond of trust, a comradeship of true warriors.

He pondered about the plan he was given. It was of no use, it was nothing more than a rough outline of the squad’s first action. The plan itself was simple; they would drop using the ships only drop pod two hundred kilometers from the capital and that was pretty much all the plan that he was given. It was idiotic, a drop pod can malfunction in so many ways, and they could end up dead because of the original planner’s mistakes. A thought occurred to Ventor, maybe that was intentional? Maybe a secret enemy of his is trying to kill him without raising suspicion? It was too damn possible. 

Luckily for Ventor no mention of the plan’s continuation was made. It was up to him to decide the next course of action. He could prove his superiority once again and maybe get an even higher position. 

An evil plan came to his mind. He could separate the squad in two, leaving Mallik, the two Khorne imbeciles and two more idiots in one squad and getting them to perish. Maybe even gun them down by himself. A cruel smile crept to his face nearly invisible by the shadow that was cast on him.

Sadly, this wasn’t possible. If he would unleash them as a second squad they would probably bring peril to the entire operation and if he would simply destroy them he would have less manpower… A real shame, it was one of the many problems in being a leader.

Ventor took his mind away from such long shot planning; he had no information on their situation after the landing, no idea of their own condition after the drop. There was a simple solution, he would have to plan it after they land, for now he would try and see the others thoughts.

Scouring the room Ventor looked at the squad members, he already noted the treacherous mongrel Mallik and the Khorne imbeciles as well. 

Isolated in the darkest corner of the room Asaenath sat, a Tzeentchian, he was a plotter, a cunning one. It would be hard to hold such an individual on a leash like one can do with Khorne worshippers. He had an aura of mystery around him which sent shivers down Ventor’s spine. He would have to be wary.

He was tired of standing; Ventor sat down and continued searching the room for interesting faces.


One caught his eye, Veygor was his name. An ironic heretic. He held himself high above the blessings of chaos, a warrior so pure, one who would fear to use chaos even as a tool. Pathetic. Idiotic. He could not be trusted. His purity would be consumed by the taint of chaos. Chaos touches all; no one can escape it, not even the purest of warriors especially not a traitor Astarte who already sold his soul to chaos when he betrayed the imperial code.

As he watched Veygor he could sense another gazing at the same person. Turning his view to a different part of the room he could see Krateros, a solid warrior, an infamous one. It was a surprise to Ventor that Krateros wasn’t the one to be chosen as a leader. He was ancient like Ventor. He should be respected as he could prove to be a powerful ally.

Ventor stared at him as he smiled, his smile revealing his pearl white teeth. His handsome looks were so ironically different from his twisted insides. Ventor could tell that he was a twisted person, vile and cruel; they could be a great time… He smiled as well revealing his sharp snow white fangs.

He turned away from Krateros trying to catch sight at the last figure in the room who somehow managed to avoid his gaze up until now. A master infiltrator, one who took misdirection and confusion to the level of art. It was Alsarius. This one could be a great asset to the squad and Ventor would not shy away from asking his advice and thoughts. 

He respected those who were more skilled than him; he learned from them and used that knowledge to further his own cause and to make himself stronger. He waited to see if Alsarius was more than a infiltration machine, he waited to see if a man like him could be flexible and impulsive or was he simply a tool which was thought an art?

Ventor remained silent. He turned his eyes away from Alsarius and gazed at the squad as a whole. It was possible that they could even succeed in this mission, if the Khoronite dogs would be held on a leash…

A delightfully sounding voice cut the air, it was sweet and yet so toxic and full of poison. He knew that it was mockery hidden behind those words, he appreciated the fact that Krateros hid it so only those of more than low intelligence would be able to notice it. 

It appeared that Krateros was tired of waiting in silence; he wanted to know why they all were gathered, a simple question with a simple answer.

With the sweetest voice he could muster he replied, his voice came out disgustingly sweet, honeyed words which were a reply to Krateros’s own mockery. “Why of course my dear Krateros, I shall indulge you with that information right away.” He smiled; his forked tongue quickly lashed out of his mouth and as swiftly went back in.

He gazed at each of the squad with his dark green eyes, trying to see what they thought. “Well, the reason that we are gathered here is because we are nearing our objective.” Ventor said, his words aimed mostly at Krateros and their sweetness did not leave yet.

“I was informed that we will be dropping using the useless drop pod, a foolish way of infiltrating if you ask me but still, these were the orders.” He said in a more serious tone. “I already have a plan set which would be revealed later when I deem worthy.” The lie rolled against his forked tongue and quickly escaped his mouth. He did not even flinch; lying was a second nature for him… “I gather that not all of us here are complete idiots.” He said, he knew that everyone understppd who he referred to yet he did not want to use names, it was probably smarter to keep them uncertain.

Standing up Ventor stepped out of the shadows. His relatively thin figure seemed feeble near the hulking mass of muscles that the Khornites were. A crooked smile twisted across his face, revealing a single long fang which glimmered in the low light. “And as I think that you have the capability to think I decided that it might benefit us all to know your thoughts about the mission. Did any of you really think of a plan or have you decided to leave it to one as superiorly intelligent as I?” He knew that some might be furious about such words; he knew that others would think him an ignorant fool. Yet the real brightly intelligent would see that he is trying to measure their reactions.

He walked in a circle, stopping with his back to the mindless berserkers, mocking them even further. “Before you speak though I think that I should state several things.” Ventor said courteously. “First of all we will be landing two hundred kilometers from the capital of this waste - pile of a planet after that we will be spreading out or staying as one squad though this is yet to be decided…” He knew that he shouldn’t turn his back on berserkers for so long so he moved forward.

“Secondly, I do appreciate skill and as uncommon as this might be I will take note of your advice or suggestions.” He stopped again judging the reaction of the squad. He raised his hand towards his mouth and picked out some dirt with his fangs from beneath his nails. “If you prove to be an asset I am sure that useless death could be avoided…” A sadistic and cruel smile spread on his face. “Now dear brothers, please, share your thoughts with me.” He said, his forked tongue twisting against his lips.


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## WarpSpawned (Mar 9, 2010)

Honored, he smiled, entering the Reflectium, yes; he had indeed been given a great honor, a simple warrior of the rank and file being selected as one of the strike force. Clad in only a simple emerald robe he sat at a scarred wooden table near the middle, positioned so he could hear or watch most of the coming and going of his brothers.

Such bickering was what encouraged strife, like that which had broken the legion, grow, Crotalus may only be a simple warrior but he knew how useful being in the right place at the right time, and what could be gleaned by simply appearing a though one heard nothing nor cared.

Korsh, a follower of Nurgle, was drinking from a noxious smelling brew, ordinarily Crotalus would have joined him, though not with one of the plague followers beverages, but for now he was here to take notice of, and memorise, aspects of is new squad.

Malik, a cunning manipulator if he ever saw one, was already testing the waters, so to speak, his barbs failing to draw much of a reaction, Crotalus idly toyed with an empty goblet, appearing distracted and lost in old thoughts to an idle observer and continued to listen and watch the interactions of the others with casual glances, not needing to feign his disinterest in his brothers sizing each other up.

Crotalus had already noticed the Chosen’s presence, his soldier’s eye noticing that the Chosen was unarmed, mockery, perhaps, and telling that he considered none of them a threat to his person, in particular it seemed aimed towards the worshippers of the Blood God. Interesting.

When everyone either arrived or finished baiting each other, Ventor spoke; Crotalus listened with interest, perceiving that this was not just a veiled insult hidden beneath his words but also a test of sorts, the Chosen was gauging them, waiting to see what reaction he elicited from the gathered squad.

Crotalus was not an ideas man, he judged by actions, not words or phrases, he simply leaned back in his chair, oblivious to any undercurrents of meaning in Ventor's words and waited to observe the reactions of his fellow Venom Guard.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Well, Ventor certainly had an interesting way of dealing with the members of the squad. Korsh sighed quietly as his leader prattled on. He shouldn't have used the sarcastic tone, he shouldn't openly taunt the Khornates with his being unarmed. And yet, for all of Ventor's choices that Korsh thought he shouldn't have made, the deliberate barbs he was throwing out to annoy and frustrate the squad showed a form of intelligence. Who reacted first? How did they react? Who would openly challenge him, and who would stay in the shadows and plot? *Smart boy* Korsh thought, and smiled at his leader. Still, to allow others to speak first would be foolish, as it would only serve to escalate the word-sparring into something potentially more problematic.

"Well..." Korsh said standing up, still holding his drink. "...I hardly think any of us are going to propose that we walk across 200 kilometers of open ground, knock at the front door and ask politely "if we may perhaps come in?"" Korsh force his voice into a posh over-tone for the last request. Korsh chuckled at the ludicrously of his hypothetical scenario, and he hoped others would laugh too. It was meant to be funny. Korsh took another swig of his drink before he continued. "However, at this point, we can no more suggest a plan than we can bend the Gods to our will." Another light joke. This one particularly directed for those who despised the Gods and those who worshiped them. He hoped that a light joke at him and and his fellow worshipers expense would bring those who despised them closer. It also served as a subtle reminder to those like himselves that the Gods were powerful beings, not to be trifled with. 

"So, Champion Ventor, why don't you tell us what is near us. Are we landing in a barren wasteland, or the middle of a city? Are we near any sewage systems, or air filtration systems? What operatives do we have in position? Perhaps with some information, we might actually be able to suggest a plan that is worth listening too." Korsh finished there, cautious that he might have already said too much. Still, his response had forced Ventor to speak again, meaning he had hopefully stopped any of his fellows making rash or foolish comments. It also gave them a moment of breathing time to calm themselves. If there was any anger from Ventor, any barbs, they would be directed at him, and Korsh could ignore them like las wounds. Another drink and then he met Ventor's gaze at the opposite end of the room and smiled warmly, and waited patiently for the information he had asked for...


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## Karak The Unfaithful (Feb 13, 2011)

The so-called Champion ventor was trying to taunt him and Carroth, He had no weapon. This was typical of any champion, prove yourself stronger than the strongest outside of battle so when the fight came he would have confidence. Kalin didn't need any form of support, Khorne had taken away all his needs and replaced it with one thing...

Blood...

So he did nothing, time will tell. So this 'champion' began to talk and tell them about a 'plan' which could fail in so many ways. Korsh was the first to point this out: "So, Champion Ventor, why don't you tell us what is near us. Are we landing in a barren wasteland, or the middle of a city? Are we near any sewage systems, or air filtration systems? What operatives do we have in position? Perhaps with some information, we might actually be able to suggest a plan that is worth listening too."

"I agree with korsh, this is a terrible plan" he stood "do you want to know what the real plan is?" he paused for a moment and let them take that in "we will land wherever the hell Ventor wants to go, which could be part of something else our 'champion' has in store for us"

Kalin returned to his seat and faced Carroth, the only person aboard this ship he could really trust in any way, and spoke directly to him:

"i don't care for plans, plots and infiltration" he growled "the blood god is calling us"


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Asaenath sighed as he listened to Ventor and Korsh. Ventor had a good idea with asking the rest of the squad if they had any plans, to test and see who could think or not, but as Korsh pointed out it was hard to make a plan without any information about the landing place.
"Korsh, maybe the Imperials will be so shocked that they will let us in if we ask nice enough." Asaenath said with a small laugh.
Asaenath then turned to study Ventor to see his reaction when Kalin stood up and said his thoughts about the whole thing. Asaenath nodded, he has the right idea at least he thought. But then when Kalin sat down again and said that he needs no plans Asaenath sighed very loudly.

"So you would go to a Imperial planet, with no plan and hoping to kill everything that moves? And get blown to bit's in matter of seconds. I would rather go in silent, and do our job quietly, I rather like being alive." Asaenath said without looking at anyone. He then turned towards Ventor "Ventor, or would you rather be called Champion or Sir? Would you tell us your plan so we can help you improve it. And just for the record, I don't think splitting the squad would be a very smart idea."
He then leaned back waiting for a answer.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Krateros stood, his robes fluttering. Emerald clashed against grey and black, emboldening his broad-shoulders and saturnine face. The porcelain mask glittered lifelessly, the lapis lazuli bright and magical. His revealed lips twisted queerly, teeth bright and pearly; while the porcelain rendition remained unmoving, red and cold. 

‘Quiet,’ He rasped, in the direction of the Khornites. ‘Or you’ll find that insolent tongue of yours on my blade.’ 

He gave a twirl of his dirk, jabbing it angrily in the direction of the slavering fools. His attentions turned towards the Nurgle worshipper, who had made a joke out of the events. The stench was pungent, matching his unhealthily-coloured skin. 

‘Jests are not made for the battlefield, mongrel. Keep them to yourself - I, for one, do not appreciate your childishness.’ His nostrils flared, while his teeth grated one another. ‘Omegon would weep for the injustice which has become our Legion,’ He snarled, to all, jabbing his dagger in their directions. ‘False ideologies have corrupted your minds, the Blood God cares not for you, nor does the Plague Lord.’

He snorted derisively, before it became a chortled laughter. ‘We go not where Ventor tells us; but rather where the Wrathful has decreed. Should a problem arise, seek it out with our most benevolent former-Sergeant.’

The former member of Effrit retook his seat, leaning back casually. He grinned a savage grin, and stared on at Ventor. 

‘Reign in your hounds, kennel-master. A disobedient dog is in need of a good beating,’ He smiled woefully, before pursing his lips in thought, and continuing - ‘Forge Worlds are a notoriously tough egg to crack, simply walking up to the gates will not suffice. I propose, children; we use the _Twisted Lie_ to its full capacity - A fire ship. Perform a close-proximity Warp jump, transmitting distress beacons.’

‘If the Mechanicus respond, it will draw considerable amounts of vessels away from orbit - Loosening the noose, and opening the way for the _Theta_,’ He pricked his finger with the knife. ‘We’ll be on planet by then, tightening our iron fingers around the neck of the Fabricator-General.’


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Alsarius listened as Ventor and the others began to debate the plan, most of them putting on posh accents and what not for some unknown reason. Were they trying to hide their true emotions and thougts? They did themselves no favours, though some of them spoke some sense in the matter. Alsarius slowly stood up, smoothing his robes down before he silently made his way from his table to the center of the room, making sure he didn't seem threatening as he walked, he didn't know how his Champion would react to this, if he was tense or worried he might try something.

*"On the contrary Asaenath, I do believe that it would be best to split the squad. We are astartes, and some of us are... Unable or unwilling to how should we say, stealth. We could utilize our operatives to sow confusion throughout the imperial lines, maybe some explosions would do the trick. I think if we split the squad we will have more of a chance of succeeding."* If the khorne dogs were put into one squad then that would help the group to succeed without them going berserk and giving their position away.He was sure the champion would think of this, but he would mention it more discreetly soon enough.


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Mallik*

Mallik sighed softly as the "squad" began to discuss strategies. Ventor had his plan decided to be sure, but his leadership had ever been a tenuous thing and already others had begun to voice doubt. In truth Mallik was not fooled either, the mention of the squad being divided caught his attention immediately. Splitting the squad was a tactic used for two purposes; Either to strike multiple points simultaneously or to keep fools out of the way. 

He glanced over the khornites briefly, his mind already joining dots. Luck would likely see Mallik paired with the imbeciles if Ventor considered him a threat. Mallik did not in the slightest relish the idea of fighting bneside these loonies. 

Fortunately, it seemed that Ventor`s orders were vague. He seemed to have little in the way of true planning in regards to this upcoming mission other than they were to be inserted via drop pod. Really?! Such unreliable methods had been all but abandoned millennia ago with good cause. As argument engulfed some of them, Mallik simply sighed again. 

But then his eyes rested on the only marine present who had yet to speak. The ancient Crotalus, one of the few original members of the old Eighth Company, sat back in his place with a detached silence, seemingly content to listen and watch. Instantly Mallik recognized an individual worth trusting, at least a little. Crotalus was judging them all and would likely be one of the few left standing when this was all over. 

Mallik suppressed a smile. Though he was uplifted by the thought of a worthwhile ally (or pawn if Crotalus proved to be a disappointment) it would simply not do to show his true face this early. 

'Ventor,' Mallik said at last. 'It troubles me that you weren`t trusted with further details. Why would this be?' 

He then turned to Alsarius, the fool who had just voiced favour in splitting the squad. 'Come now, surely it is not as bad as that? Granted their views of battle are... simpler, than ideal, but would you really want to be without their strength at your side?' 

He was not in the least concerned with having the fools as reinforcements of course. But being the unfortunate sap who was paired with them remained an unpleasant thought.


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## komanko (May 16, 2010)

OOC: I know the last part is as good as a dildo but still, had to do something about all the other posts and I did not want to go remake the post and thus post it only tomorrow after more people would have posted...

For a mere moment silence befell the small hall, no one wanted to be the first to speak. Did they fear his reaction? Did they fear him? Maybe. Why not? It was possible. His arrogant side of mind told him how much of a fear inspiring figure he was but he knew that it was not the sole reason for silence, some were doing the same as he: waiting to see how the squad reacted.

A voice was raised, it sounded like a swamp decided to grow a mouth and speak. The voice was low and distorted like it was coming from the throat of a creature which his lungs were filled with snot and mucus. Ventor turned around in surprise and saw a figure which he did not note before. 

A bloated hulk of a man. Its skin decaying, its face melting away slowly like watery mud. Rotten yellow teeth. One would say disgusting, another more knowledgeable will say blessed.

A follower of Nurgle, that much was obvious. Ventor wondered how he managed to miss such a figure when he scoured the room. He should’ve noticed him by the smell alone not mentioning the flies which flew around it. 

It seemed that the man’s personality, if it could be called a man, was pretty much contrary to his looks. He was warm in a way, jolly and friendly, something rarely seen with renegades and followers of the dark gods.

Closing his eyes Ventor managed to recall the name of the thing from a summary he was given before the mission. Korsh was his name.

The bloated figure stood up, in his hand he held what seemed to be a mixture of snot and rot in a glass, it appeared to be a drink for that deathless warrior. The murky voice sounded again as he suggested the most ludicrous plan anyone could have come up with. When he finished portraying his idiotic plan he suddenly busted in laughter which resembled a man choking buy muck than a laughing person.

Though it was disgusting in a way Ventor could not help but laugh full heartedly. Yet than it struck him, as insane as that plan sounded it was genius. If it seemed insane to Ventor it would not even appear in the mind of a normal man due to its idiocy. He could think of a way to use such a plan and he quickly rolled a scenario in his mind.

He took in his options. They were a squad of ten. In the squad were two mad blood thirsty berserkers, a bloated decaying plague marine, and another seven relatively normal marines. These three presented a problem, the khoronites with their bloodlust and the plague marine with his smell which would attract anything up to a thousand miles. It was a wonder that the plant’s governor couldn’t smell him from where they where now. 

For such a plan to work they need to know information about the forces garrisoning the planet. If there were any space marines in there it could be used as an advantage rather than a disadvantage. They will need to know if there is any inquisitor on the planet as well, as does tended to ruin many plans for anyone. After that they would have to get security codes from somewhere… As ludicrous as it sounded it was possible though to many variables would have to be taken into account.

He had a way to eliminate the plague marine from the variables but it depended on if there is a space marine presence on the planet. If there was they could disguise themselves as the inhabiting chapter and sneak in while disguising the plague marine as a dying comrade or a plague struck citizen yet they would have to cover him somehow so most of his body won’t show.

The short scenario – simulation ran its course and Ventor refocused on the present. He quickly reran the scenario in his mind to remember it for later, his eyes glimmered with green madness as he stored the plan away somewhere in the depths of his mind.

He began listening with more intent to the marine; he was smarter than he looked. Of course that was not hard to achieve considering how he looked. The plague marine threw another joke into the fray, this one involving the dark gods. Ventor laughed lightly again though he saw the real point in that joke, it was a warning of sorts for some as well as a joke. He indeed was smarter than he looked.

Korsh was curious of their surroundings after the landing. Embarrassingly Ventor could not recall what exactly was shown in the rough map that he was given. He would have to come up with an alternate plan or answer to put off that question until later. Still the plague marine was correct, they couldn’t speculate about anything without the having details. 

When the bloated figure finished speaking it took a sip from its disgusting drink and met Ventor’s gaze with determination and a smile. Ventor could not help but smile back courteously, Korsh had caused him no ill yet and he proved valuable in that short time they talked, Ventor had no reason to be impolite towards him.

Before Ventor could reply another figure spoke, its voice harsh and rigid like the backside of a rock. He turned around slowly to face the other side of the room and to the one who spoke. It was Kalin. A Khornoete imbecile. Great. That’s exactly what he needed, a lecture from an ignorant idiot whose only concern was blood. He hoped so much that this idiot would find his death quickly… Khoronetes always jeopardized missions…

As the berserker spoke Ventor’s left eyebrow flickered with irritation. He said that he agreed with Korsh about the plan being terrible although Ventor could not recall Korsh saying anything about a terrible plan. His patience was already running thin; he never expected any of the Khorne worshippers to even raise their voice.

The straw that broke him was when Kalin said that the real plan should’ve been landing somewhere and than slaughtering their way inside. Although he did not use those exacts words it was obvious that this was his meaning. The Tzeentchian seemed to agree with Ventor’s thoughts as he remarked about Kalin’s “plan”.

He did not care for Asaenath’s words; they were a mix of trying to get on the good side of Ventor and recalling things already said. Typical plotter. It was possible that Ventor would’ve listened to the plotters suggestion but he was too angry to listen at the moment.

Before he replied to anyone else he walked towards Kalin and stood with crossed hands in front of him. His forken tongue flickered out of his mouth as he spoke slowly and silently something which gave his tone a menacing sound. “What is a terrible plan, Kalin? No plan was yet… discussed.” He stopped for a moment letting his words sink.

His eyes seemed to burn with internal flame and madness as he slowly began raising his voice. “The fact that you are even part of the Venom Guard is a mockery.” He spat his voice easily heard by everyone yet he did not stop there. “You say that you don’t need plans and infiltrations…” He stopped for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair as if considering something. 

He clenched the first of his right hand and saw how the veins on his arms were showing; his anger was now barely contained. If there was something he could not tolerate it was idiocy. “If you have no use for plans and infiltrations…” He said his voice normal again. “Than… YOU ARE OF NO USE TO ME!!” He howled in rage and brought his first down on the table in front of Kalin.

The wooden table moaned in agony and than split in two, splinters flying across the room like a tornado. The fire in Ventor’s eyes burned even brighter and a crooked fang revealing smile spread across his anger twisted face. A splinter flew and cut Ventor across his cheek, his unremarkable face stained by a small wound. His hands traced the wound and smeared the blood in a small line across his cheek. He tasted it, marvelous.

He turned away, the fire still burning in his eyes yet now it was a fire of determination. “Plague,” He said referring to Korsh. “Ignore the useless details, we can’t rely on the map that I was given. The planet could easily have any of the things you noted. We could learn near a sewer, our drop pod can be shot down and we would fly into a city instead. It doesn’t matter! I am ready to listen to every plan you might suggest regarding any situation we will find ourselves in. Its better to be full of ideas about every possible situation than to have to quickly come up with a plan in a tight situation. Again, I am willing to hear anyone out, as long as his words are not completely useless and dumb.” His final words were filled with venom and he nearly hissed them out of his mouth.

“Your earlier plan. It’s not as ludicrous as you think. With correct planning and skill it could be done.” Ventor added, a nasty smile spreading on his face. “It could be done.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

His fit of rage passed quickly as the splinters all finally fell to the ground, he than recalled some of the others speaking, something that he did not notice while consumed by anger. 

He recalled Krateros mocking his ability to hold the berserkers at bay though after that he did suggested a plan of note. It was true, they could use the ship as diversion as they did not have anything else to do with it after the drop anyway.. 

Apart from that no real suggestion was made yet, only an idiotic debate over should they split the squad or not though Ventor already said that he did not decide about it anyway. 

Although most of what said was useless Mallik's comment about Ventor not being trusted with further details did raise his interest. "Perhaps, there are no further details and they sent us to make them out ourselves." He replied saying the first thing that came into his mind. "You can look at it as a bad thing though there is advantages in that. For example, we wont have to execute idiotic plans that were planned by an incompetent strategist. No more drop pod insertions."


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Korsh was pleased to see that at least a few members of the squad chuckled at his jokes. At least they were not totally wasted on the group. Ventor even smiled at him. See, all children could be reasoned with, you just had to know how to reach them. Before Ventor had time to respond, one of the Khornates burst into the conversation. *Oh, and it was all going so well* Korsh thought to himself. He didn't despise the Khorne worshipers as others did, but they could be troublesome at times. Once again he was reminded why they called him "Grandfather Nurgle". Ventor burst into a rage at the Khornates and splintered the table on which they were sitting. Meanwhile, Krateros directed barbs at him and many others. It seemed no one was safe from Krateros' vicious remarks. Clearly this one would require a firmer hand. 

Korsh walked slowly over to Krateros and paused in front of him, steadily meeting his hateful glare. "My dear Krateros, I never said the plague lord cared for me. But as you can see..." Korsh spread his arms wide to demonstrate the whole of himself "...he has clearly taken an interest in me and my doings. Besides..." Another drink, to keep his voice level. If Krateros felt that Korsh was challenging him he would be far less receptive to the words he had to say. Even if Korsh wasn't the plotting kind, a brother with a vendetta was not what he wanted. "...how is your mention of Omegon, or the Wrathful so different from our mention of the Gods. You speak their name when they aren't there to command presence. You do as they ask out of respect. They bless you with your armour, your weapons, this ship, all but the skin on you back. And, if you fail them, they will kill you and send you soul into the warp. Tell me then, Krateros, how is our following the Gods so dis-similar from our following of our commanders?" Korsh smiled, knowing that his point had merit, even if Krateros didn't acknowledge it. "Think about it" Korsh said with a smile.

_“Plague,” _Ventor was speaking to him. Korsh spun round to watch Ventor, slowly moving back to his original position. He knew that leaving his back turned to Krateros, especially after a challenge like that, would be very foolish indeed. _“Ignore the useless details, we can’t rely on the map that I was given. The planet could easily have any of the things you noted. We could learn near a sewer, our drop pod can be shot down and we would fly into a city instead. It doesn’t matter! I am ready to listen to every plan you might suggest regarding any situation we will find ourselves in. Its better to be full of ideas about every possible situation than to have to quickly come up with a plan in a tight situation. Again, I am willing to hear anyone out, as long as his words are not completely useless and dumb. Your earlier plan. It’s not as ludicrous as you think. With correct planning and skill it could be done.”_ Ventor added, a nasty smile spreading on his face. Korsh simple stood there bemused. Ventor had taken his joke and turned it into a real plan. It was either brilliant, or incredibly stupid.

"If Krateros is so determined for me to dispense with jokes and suggest a real plan then I will. However, I do believe that drawing the Mechanicus' is the wrong course of action. If we know that this world is important, then the Imperium sure as hell does. Drawing their fire will only make the suspect that they are under attack, and so will increase security, making any potential blips of faults in their lines to disappear like that." Korsh snapped his fingers, but instead of making a snapping sound, it made more of a wet popping sound, still the others got the idea. "I propose that we release debris into the atmosphere, make it look like a trash dump in orbit. Then fire the drop pod. The mechanicus won't care about garbage burning up in the atmosphere, so won't target it. On the surface, it will look like a meteor shower. A falling drop pod will also look like a meteor. That means that even those who we are working for won't know until we want them to. At least we are then planet-side without the Imperials knowing, and our loop of information is smaller, so the risk of someone blabbing about out presence is much smaller. It's not a total plan, but it's a start." Korsh finished and waited for feed-back from his leader, but also anticipated an explosive reaction from Krateros...


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

*Prologue Part II*

A vox-emitter crackles from above the doorway, interrupting the assembled Astartes.

‘My Lords,’ a voice calls. It is the shipmaster, a mortal serf tasked with the flight patterns of the _Twisted Lie._ ‘We have received a transmission from the surface,’ he continued. ‘Priority Code confirms it comes with the full authority of the Serpentis Coven.’

The Coven could only mean a single thing: the Wrathful had personally granted access codes to whomever it was sending the message. At such a critical juncture in the operation, where any vox traffic received or emitted could unveil the strike team’s presence, any communication sent would have to be incredibly vital in nature.

All; heeding to what would seem to be the wisest course of action, you make your way to the bridge of the _Lie._ In the opulent chair reserved for the vessel’s captain, the serf fidgets nervously. Understandably so, as well, as an experienced individual in space travel, he knows full well the danger that vox traffic could pose to the continued covert travel of the vessel. In such close proximity to a planet of the Imperium, much less one controlled by the Mechanicus, detection would seem almost definite.

‘My Lords,’ he says, and points a trembling arm towards the pict-viewer.

The massive screen, over two metres high and three across, has not been used for the entirety of the voyage and has, until now, been rather unnoticed by all but the vessels crew. Now, all eyes are drawn to the picture that it showed.

Typical to any Venom Guard visual transmission, the picture is dominated with shadows. In the centre, a massive power armoured silhouette stands menacingly. Intricately carved horns are barely visible extending from the war helm of the Marine. Beyond the outline of the helm, little is visible. Behind the Marine is a pure, impenetrable blackness, making it impossible to determine even from what sort of structure the transmission originated. Apart from tracing the source of the call itself, which would require active scanning and immediately bring the unwanted attention of the entire system’s defences, there is no way to even acknowledge who the message was coming from. Except for the code...

‘Brothers,’ the voice stated, in an emotionless monotone, ‘I see your journey has finally neared an end.’ The volume on the emitter, though turned low, causes the voice to bellow at the assembled squad.

The silhouette shifted almost imperceptibly, picking Ventor out of the crowd of assembled Venom Guard. I am transmitting the tactical overlay of the target area now.’ On a smaller screen adjacent to the shadowy messenger, an image flickered to life.

View attachment 15188

[Click the map to enlarge]

He spoke again, ‘You can see your target area lies just outside of the boundaries of the city itself. I will know when you make landfall, and I will re-establish contact and provide you with the layout of Hannith Primus. You have two hours to be in position for the planned detonation of Orbital Relay Station S-93X-8. The Wrathful has decreed that you shall jettison your drop pod to coincide with the re-entry of the debris from the relay station.’ The speaker pauses for a moment, dropping his monotone voice menacingly, ‘it would be wise not to deviate.’ Abruptly, the transmission terminated.

All; what are your reactions to the shadowy speaker? You now have a shortened timeline, only two hours to make final preparations if you are to meet with the wishes of the Wrathful. You now have access to a map of the surface, in addition to a better idea as to what sorts of forces you are likely to engage. Titan Legions and their attending skitarii hordes, tech guard garrisons, and Imperial Guard garrisons litter the landmass.

Ventor, Krateros, and Korsh; each of you has plans of your own, ideas that would be tossed aside if you pay heed to the unknown speaker’s instructions. Yes, he speaks with the authority of the Wrathful, but you know it is not the Lord of the Venom Guard. How will you deal with this unforeseen intervention? How will it affect your machinations?

Mallik; still wary of being grouped with the Khorne worshippers and tossed aside as cannon fodder, how will you attempt to manipulate, either by force or by guile, the decisions of Ventor? Who will you try to turn to your side, to gain their support?

Crotalus; as a former rank-and-file member of the Venom Guard, you are used to receiving your orders and following them. How do you react to this issuance of a directive from the authority of the Wrathful? Will you depart to prepare or await for a decision to be made? What will you do should your leader and peers disobey?

Veygor Agannon; thusfar you have remained silent during the back-and-forth bickering that much of the rest of the squad has partaken in. Verbal sparring and posturing for dominance have been ignored in your disdain for the other members, do you join in it now? You know of the weaknesses in subservience to the Gods, will you try to dissuade their participation, or try to operate apart from them?

Carroth and Karlin; did this message affect you at all? The time for blood-letting is nearly at hand, do you struggle to contain your bloodlust and try to gain an understanding of the overall tactical situation? Do you even _want_ to contain it, or are you completely submissive to the will of the Blood God? Do you view yourselves as liabilities, and if not, how do you convince your squad that you are not?

Alsarius; thusfar you have managed to refrain from trying to push your advice onto Ventor. He has casually dismissed your words, refusing to see the sense in them. Will you continue to simply heed his word, or be more forceful in putting forth what you, in your experience, believe to be the most sound course of action?

Asaenath; the threads of fate are diverging on this moment, Tzeentch whispers to you. Follow one path, and certain destruction and failure of the Venom Guard lie ahead; on another, the death of many members, yet accomplishment of the mission; scores of tendrils stretch into time, and for an alarming moment of clarity unknown to you until now, you can see fate. How will you try to influence your brothers, and how will you try to bend them to your wishes?

All; the planet drawers ever nearer, and with it your chances for success. You must make final preparations, as your departure of the _Twisted Lie_ must commence before the flight path of the vessel begins pulling it away from the planet.


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## Bane_of_Kings (Oct 28, 2009)

VEYGOR AGANNON HAD so far remained silent, preferring to keep himself to himself throughout the course of the voyage, letting his brothers bicker amongst themselves. Two hours to be in front of the Orbital Relay station?

Agannon snorted. It was just like the Wrathful to shorten their time. Still, the Venom Guard wanted to meet the goals set to him by their leader, and made a silent pledge to operate apart from his brothers in the upcoming mission ahead, because he had a gut feeling that Carroth and Karlin, those weak enough to be touched by Khorne, found themselves at a disadvantage in the mission. They didn't know the meaning of the word stealth, and the majority of the followers of the Blood God looked on it with disdain, as much as Agannon looked on them with disdain.

This would prove to be a challenge, Agannon thought, and began to make his final preparation. It would not be long before his Drop Pod would be launched, and the beginning of their mission.


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Mallik*

The briefing brought with it a feeling of unease. Whoever this shadowy figure was, Mallik didn`t trust him. Not quite the same mistrust he reserved for daily interaction, but a full blown desire to disobey. The authority of the Wrathful? Perhaps, but what if it were some lieutenant deviating the squad for his own purposes? Ventor had his orders but it was plain to see that these orders were folly. 

And yet, Ventor was also entertaining the idea of splitting the squad. That was not a favourable scenario for Mallik. He glanced sideways at Crotalus and Alsarius. Crotaluis whom he had still not made a real judgement on, and Alsarius who had been in favour of splitting the squad. For the immediate future, it was these two that Mallik needed to watch most closely. 

As soon as the screen flickered off, Mallik thought it prudent to ensure the most favourable outcome. To do so directly would be suspicious, so it seemed a slightly more subversive method was called for. 

'I don`t like this.' He said putting a tinge of mistrust in his voice, an easy feat in and of itself. 'Ventor, first you are given no information about the drop, now it seems as though we are puppets on someone else`s strings.'

He paused momentarily and shook his head in mock concern. 

'To blatantly disobey would be dangerous. Perhaps we should play along for the time being, but I would advise caution. If it becomes apparent that we are being played, then you will have my support in seeking... alternative means.' 

He noted Alsarius on his peripheral vision as he looked back at Ventor, but it was not easy to discen the other astartes` expression. 

'After all,' He added turning casually to glance past Crotalus. 'What good is a soldier who in unable to obey from at least time to time eh?' He feigned a small chuckle, hoping to at least glean some measure of the older Venom Guard`s personality.


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## Karak The Unfaithful (Feb 13, 2011)

(I have to make this quick)

As Kalin took in the new 'plan' (he was getting sick of them by now) the words "your journey is finally nearing an end" did not sound good, something bad was going to happen at some point in the mission. But the shadowy figure obviously had more authority than Ventor.

He looked at Ventor, his rage could make him strong but he seemed unlikely to give into it. "Ventor" he said, loud and stern "You me Carroth and Korsh as useless worms. but let me tell you something, eventually the time will come when the inflitration stops and the battle begins, the enemy will discover us and then we will find out how useful hiding in the shadow like rats will be" he paused for a moment, then continued "but when the enemy has us cornered you will find out how useful a bezerker of Khorne can be!"

He grinned, Kalin felt slightly giddy. He subconciously knew the battle was coming and that blood would be spilt soon, he made him feel happy in his own way. "we, do not fear for our lives as you do. In battle all we care about is blood..blood for the blood god and this makes us brilliant warriors"

feeling quite satisfied with himself Kalin decided to let the others squabble with each other for a bit and watch Ventor's reaction. Kalin was also keen to see Korsh's reaction, he had stuck up for the plague marine because he considered them to be the only useful allies out of all those who did not worship the blood god.


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Korsh walked into the bridge with the rest of the squad. So far, no further words had been exchanged since the mortal on the bridge interrupted them. At this point, any vox transmission could risk the success of the mission, and the lives of those aboard the "Twisted Lie". Korsh knew this, and surely so did The Wrathful. Yet this figure they were watching had the authority of the Serpent Coven, so this must be important. As the plan flowered into being before their eyes, Korsh sat back and listened. All is plan had been was a suggestion for Ventor to consider. Since this shadowed figure suggested a plan that was similar to the one he had suggested, Korsh felt a smile creep across his face. Clearly the higher levels had a similar idea, so Korsh felt his pride swell a little. 

Still, the space station exploding would draw attention to their presence and security would almost defiantly increase. But then again, if the mechanicum sent out teams to investigate what happened at the space station, they might have a larger window of opportunity. Korsh dismissed the thought. Something he had learnt a while back, never count on the moves your enemy will make. The only person you can trust is yourself. Malik brought up the lack of information, and how it disturbed him. Korsh remained impassive. Something he had observed about this squad. Several power-plays were going on here. Krateros and Malik seemed, uncomfortable at the least with Ventor. Some members of the squad almost bordered on paranoid. In a moment of humorous tangential thought, Korsh wondered how many were scared that his jolly nature as a facade to confuse them. Oh that would be funny, them stressing about him being two faced and trying to work his agenda out when in fact he had none.

Kalin burst out. Korsh almost physically cringed. The tone of voice he had taken was sure to rial Ventor. _"You view me, Carroth and Korsh as useless worms. But let me tell you something, eventually the time will come when the inflitration stops and the battle begins, the enemy will discover us and then we will find out how useful hiding in the shadow like rats will be"_ Kalin paused for a moment. Korsh wished he would be quiet. He was making this much bigger than it needed to be. _"But when the enemy has us cornered you will find out how useful a bezerker of Khorne can be!"_ Korsh noticed Kalin sway slightly, and his hand crept instinctively to his concealed combat blade. He had seen Khorne devotes lose their mind before to fits of blood rage, and did not want to waste time reaching for a weapon if he needed it. _"We, do not fear for our lives as you do. In battle all we care about is blood..blood for the blood god and this makes us brilliant warriors"_

Korsh waited for more hate filled words to be unchained from the back of Kalin's throat and charge out of his mouth, but not more did. On his part, Korsh was relieved. Still, he was sure that Kalin's speech would have rialed their champion and as foolish as his words were, Kalin had a point. When they needed lots of enemies butchered, not killed but butchered, then they would be counting their blessings for the Khorne worshipers currently frustrating them all right now. Korsh took a small step between Ventor and Kalin. Any damage either would try to inflict on one another was unlikely to effect him much, if at all. He placed a hand on Kalin's shoulder and forced him to lean in and listened to his hushed words "Brother calm yourself. We all know we have purpose, and no one is denying you that. But openly challenging Ventor will make him blind to it, as well as convincing those who already hate us that they have good reason to. Ventor will think you are unpredictable and unstable and therefore useless to him. Fight the rage, blood will come soon but until then I need, you need, we need to show them that we deserve our place here. After that, we can show them our worth in battle. Soon brother, soon" Korsh hoped his words had penetrated his brother's red mist of rage and calmed the warrior to the point where he was reasonable...


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Asaenath followed the rest of the squad to the bridge to see why they were called there. When the person the screen started to talk Asaenath tried to see if he could see anything special about him, but it was to dark. "No one that wants us to know who he is, easier for him to get away from trouble if something goes wrong." Asaeanth thought. He was rather glad to hear that the journey was about to end, he hated to be on such small ships. He quickly studied the map. Trying to get a idea of the enemy forces, and the terrain, at least a little. Asaenath did not even bother to listen to the rest of the squad.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Tzeentch guide me, so that I can help guide the foolish followers of the other gods, and the ones who do not follow any god." He said to himself, hoping that Tzeentch would listen to him. And he did, Asaenath had never earlier seen so well into the different paths of the future, he saw the different fates of every from the squad, depending on how the mission would go, or it could be in the other way too. Of that he was not totally sure, but there and then Asaenath decided to try his best to keep the squad in one group hoping he was correct in reading the fates of them.

He opened his eyes and looked at the rest of the squad again, and having no idea for how long he had been studying the paths shown to him, it could have been for a few seconds, or for many minutes. Hoping no one had said anything to him. No one was looking at him, so he guessed no one had. "If you all do not mind I am going to don my amour and get ready for the drop." He said while backing of slowly. He then turned away walking of.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

He fidgeted incessantly at the uncomfortable seat, fingering the hilt of his dirk; blood glittering on the razor-edged tip. Others spoke, their words scattered on the wind to him, as he stared on, deep in thought. 

‘This is wrong,’ He whispered, eying the Khornites, and then drifting towards the bloated Nurglite. ‘A troublesome trio, if our ennobled champion,’ Krateros’ eyes locked on Ventor, a snarl of distaste curdling upon his lips. ‘Does not watch his back, he may find a dagger lodged between his shoulder blades.’

Once again, Krateros’ dirk pressed against his callused finger, and once again, a blossom of blood - Bright and wonderful and sparkling, rose up around the point. Only when each finger ran red, when each tip was punctured and numbing, did he halt the process; slipping the dirk beneath the folds of his pristine robes, and standing. 

The internal vox-system chirped, a loud, mechanical sound - The ancient and ragged voice of the shipmaster slipping through. He relayed the message; that the Serpentis Coven, the ruling elite of the Venom Guard, had personally betrothed their seal upon the message. Krateros nodded to himself, lost in the deep, endless bounds of thought. He followed the others towards the bridge, through the labyrinthine hallways, watching them with malicious intent. 

He could cut them down, without breaking stride, if he wanted thus. But no, these were useful tools, even down to the mindless barbarians and the walking cesspit. The bridge came closer than expected, a large, illuminated dome of steel, with rows of trans-induced serfs working endlessly. The captain sat, proud, diminutive when in comparison to the gene-enhanced Astartes. 

Krateros gave a compulsory nod, shallow and respectful, a smile flickering his bared lips. Before them, a huge screen sputtered into life - And the baritone voice of an Astartes thundered onto the bridge. Contentiously outfitted, in ancient and baroque armour; the figure dominated the centre, a pair of monstrous horns twisting up from his temples. The darkness ebbed and flowed around him, alive, invigorated; and with each word, the bridge shook. 

But alas, it was not the Wrathful. Too small, too unceremonious. Krateros doubted that it was a member of the Serpentis Coven - Certainly, it was not Ravven, whom Krateros had struck up a friendship with; perhaps one of the others, though the armour was without sigil 

The orbital map flashed into life, and Krateros found his attentions drawn away from the mysterious Astartes. Fortifications ran across the map, and here and there, Titan outposts were located. That was troubling - What could a mere group of Space Marines, hope to do against the might of a Titan? Aye, they could board and overpower the crew, but little else..

‘I will take my leave,’ Krateros said, politely; wheeling, his emerald cloaks fluttering. ‘I would sooner die within my armour, than without.’


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Alsarius followed the others to the bridge, his face emotionless, yet inside he was annoyed as how Horus must have felt assaulting the Emperor’s Palace. How dare the cur Ventor ignore his opinion? The damned Khornite followers would be their downfall, they weren’t stable enough for an infiltration, they would go crazy and damn the entire operation, something that Alsarius couldn’t allow. He was one of the few Astartes here who was a true Venom Guard, still loyal to the Company and Legion, and not one of those disgusting followers of the Chaos Gods. 

Alsarius kept his face blank as they entered the bridge, though he looked over his “brothers”, the ones who had whored themselves out to the Chaos Gods were not brothers in his eyes anymore. Alsarius watched impassively as a horned figure, obviously not the Wrathful, but someone who he had not seen before. Alsarius curiosity was peaked at this masked individual, he was one of the original members and knew most of the Venom Guard personally, though not all.

As a tactical map came up Alsarius admired the detail of the plan, all the Imperial positions were detailed, including the mighty Titan area, and the Titan works. That could complicate the plan, they could not be seen or else all would be lost. Alsarius wondered if they had any operatives down on planet, something that Ventor should now, but Alsarius doubted that he did. He listened as some of the others voiced their opinion, some comments Alsarius agreed with, especially the comments from Mallik though he wasn’t going to admit it of course.

He looked over at Ventor before speaking, “Ventor, champion whatever you damn well wished to be called, I presume we no nothing of what elements we have already got on planet? Human operatives and the likes?” He asked, waiting for some fool to try and reprimand him. Most elements had their uses, and he was sure that any marine who thought otherwise would soon perish.

He looked over at Mallik, moving a tad closer before speaking in a hushed tone so that only he could hear. “It seems that your one of the ones here with actual sense brother.” He would keep an eye on Mallik, he could be useful, or he may have to be eliminated. He looked over as one of the Khornite’s spoke. “Its not a question on hiding you fool, you really think that you can take the Imperial forces on planet, including titans? Your praise to the god of Skulls has made you more foolish and stupid than an astartes has the right to.” He sneered before turning to his “champion”. 

“By your leave Ventor, I grow tired of these fools, and I would rather be in my armour and need to prepare my weapon.”


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## Boc (Mar 19, 2010)

Prologue Part III

A thunderous boom echoes across the bridge, and the Chosen all feel a wash of warp energy crackle over them. Suddenly, a glorious and terrible figure stands in the midst of those still debating the course of action.

Massive golden horns extend from an emerald helm with swimming iconography. Serpents dance upon its surface, the eyes of his armour emerging from the gaping mouths of pythons, glowing with an otherworldly light. A deep jade robe flutters in an unfelt breeze as the figure casts its unforgiving gaze upon Ventor.

An unwavering arm hoisted a massive obsidian and gold staff, pointing it directly at the Champion’s chest.

_‘Ventor!’_ The Seer snarls, ‘Your indecisiveness and inability to lead has lasted long enough.’ Violet arcs of lightning begin to dance down his extended arm as the temperature on the bridge drops. Azure steam permeates from the war helm and the electric tang of sorcery filled the air.

The arrogance that had once filled Ventor’s eyes vanishes in an instant as the lightning reaches from the staff and licks the air closer and closer to him.

‘In the name of the Wrathful,’ Ezekial bellows, ‘You are hereby relieved of command.’

A release of pure energy erupts from the head of the Seer’s staff, hurtling into Ventor’s chest. The marine is thrown backwards, shattering an ancient bank of cogitators with the violence of his passing. His body remains, limp and unmoving, as the Seer turns to regard the squad members remaining on the bridge.

‘The Wrathful, against my advice,’ he says, his voice dangerously low, ‘allowed you fools to autonomously lead this attack.’ The helm snaps to Mallik as the cerulean mists dissipates from his eyes. ‘Clearly, this has failed. I will now be leading your assault on the planet. Don your wargear immediately. We launch in fifteen minutes.’

All; you have fifteen minutes to make it to the drop pod. Ezekial has removed Ventor and assumed command of the group, as is his right as one of the three leaders of the Venom Guard. His very presence though... where had he staged from in order to teleport to the _Twisted Lie_? Are there more assets nearby than previously thought?

Asaenath, Krateros, and Alsarius; none of you were present to witness the dramatic and rather unforgiving judgment rendered upon Ventor. As you each prepare in your personal chambers, donning your armour and checking your weapons, you receive a vox transmission from the mortal crew upon the bridge, _“Report to the drop pod immediately, as ordered by the Serpentis. The Seer will not wait.” Make your final preparations and hurry to the drop pod unless you choose to disobey the Seer.

Mallik, Karlin, Veygor, Carroth, Korsh, and Crotalus; you all just witnessed the violent demise of your leader. Despite your individual feelings (or utter disregard) towards Ventor, it is incredibly rare for a member of the Venom Guard to be dispatched by one of their own. How does Ezekial’s rage and actions affect you? What are your thoughts of his sudden usurpation of authority on the mission? You have heard his orders, do you comply?

Squad Ventor; this update will likely require two posts from you all. As Ezekial, I will dictate when the drop pod launches, but if you don’t post or make it there by midnight US EST 13 SEP 11, you’ll miss the launch and have to figure out how to get to the planet on your own (not saying this is impossible, but will require some ingenuity on your part). At that point, Ezekial will be launching the drop pod to the surface.

This update will be completed upon arrival from the surface. I’ll be posting as Ezekial throughout if your characters desire to interact with him or receive guidance, though I will not be abiding by the 10-sentence minimum simply to try and stay clear of the actual story itself. His primary role is command and control of the squad.

On the surface of Hannith...

You have been waiting here for years. Sometimes it has felt longer, seeding the roots of conspiracy and laying the web of deceit necessary for the planet to fall. It has not been easy, far from it, but you have finally reached a culmination of your efforts.

Devius, Apollo, Bréag Cainteoir, and Kyal the Unholy; you are currently hidden within the processing facilities of the Septus Secundus Salvage Base Camp, on the east side of the Karilean Sludge River. Over the past years, you have spent your time converting key Imperial and Mechanicus loyalists to your cause.

In a darkened room in a forgotten corner of a the facility, the four of you, along with a statis casket, stand at attention before your master. Inside the casket is Damien Hurnst, a loyal if not-all-there member of your party. His inclusion in the infiltration party baffles you all, but the decision had been made at levels that none of you could disobey.

A tech priest approaches Devius, handing him a badly battered and painted helmet. The horns stretching from it were unpolished and showed signs of decay. The helmet is Damien’s, but his statis has allowed it for other uses.

‘Your will is done, my lord,’ the tech priest says, but not to any of the assembled party.

‘Very well,’ Ezekial responds. The Seer is hidden in the shadows, his presence nearly masked by them if not for the incredible aura of power he exudes. ‘Devius, you have your orders. Prevent Mechanicus assets east of the river to respond to the insertion team’s arrival on the surface, should they become aware of it. Awake Damien and commence your movement. There are other matters I must attend to.’ The Seer nods at a group of tech priests and adepts, assembled around a small, humming cogitator. With an explosion of displaced air, he disappears.

Devius, Apollo, Bréag Cainteoir, and Kyal; awake your comrade and begin the preparations of your armour. You need to move north to the Karilean Bridge and begin counter-mobility operations against the Tech Guard, Legio, and Imperial Guard forces scattered throughout the region. A cargo hauling automated train departs the Base Camps every four hours travelling both southward and northward along the cargo rails, and the industrial haul-ferries scattered along the banks of the river depart every six hours. Which mode of transportation will you choose to move?

Squad Devius, welcome to Secrets and Lies! Minimal is needed in this introductory post, the primary goal for you is to awake Damien and prepare yourselves to begin hindering the activities of Loyalist forces in the vicinity of the bridge. As you post, any further clarification you need, feel free to PM me or ask in the OOC thread and I will either post there or micro-updates here to guide your movements. Again, welcome aboard!_


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## WarlordKaptainGrishnak (Dec 23, 2008)

Bréag looked on as Ezekial, or at least his voice from the shadows, ordered Devius to carry out the counter-mobility operations at the north bridge. With the tell-tale hiss of teleportation, the Seer was gone.

_"After all these years, he still hugs the shadows when with us. A strange way to gain the respect of your subordinates, though I suppose it's not that different to how we make the humans respect us," _Bréag mused. _"To what 'other matters' could he have being referring to...well now to wake the __scáinte one."_Bréag wouldn't say it to Damien’s face, _"scáint__e"_ in his homeworld tongue or "cracked" in High Gothic. How could a legionnaire become so unstable, in body and mind? The dabbling with the Chaos Gods surely played some part in it. Bréag could only guess at whatever madness called Damien’s head home.

Bréag looked at the his assembled comrades, always wary of the movements of Devius and Kyal the Unholy. To be disdain amongst followers of the Gods is dangerous, nontheless amongst followers of Tzeentch, whose scheming and plotting could be as easily about your victory or your demise. He has gauged them over the long years, trying to find who could be trusted. At least for Devius, respect was given for his skills of war, despite his allegiances. Kyal was a good warrior, but his preference to be a 'lone wolf' didn't sit well with Bréag. The unit needed to be able to count on each other, and a hopeful looking out for his future could potentially jeopardise that.

Bréag took a little resolve in having Apollo around. Another Brother with a disdain for Chaos was a useful ally, while amongst lap dogs of the Choas Gods. However he could not disregard the arrogance that Apollo carried himself about on. A skilled and useful warrior, it couldn't be doubted, but paired with arrogance...it could make a hard person to work alongside.

Bréag was the first to speak, a rarity even amongst this unit, despite having been alongside them for years._

"A notion, as I see it, is to destroy that bridge. If we look at the options afforded to us, we have the rail line, and the river. Whilst both cross the bridge the river is more frequent and less guarded. A well placed charge, below the bridge could bring it down, giving us more time, before they can muster reinforcements to the west bank." _Bréag walked towards his corner of the room. _"Also dependant on our 'resources' in the vicinity of the bridge, if something was to 'go array' at Octum Secundus, it could force the guard garrisons at the bridge to respond by moving north, or a schism amongst the garrisons there, to which we use to mask the blowing of the bridge__."

_Bréag reached his corner where his armour was kept, sat, and began to sharpen his combat blade on a whetstone, awaiting the response of his comrades on his idea.


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## Flerden (Aug 17, 2008)

Asaenath walked to his personal chamber and started to don his armour. He looked at his helm for a while. It felt like ages since he had last worn it, he had not worm it one since they got on the Twisted Lie. He had worn the rest of the armour at some points, but had always left the helm. He put it on and remembered all the things he did as a Night Lord. He sighed and checked if his bolter needed any administration.
"I wonder how we will get to the surface." He said to no one in particular. And as if some one had heard him the vox net crackled to life. “Report to the drop pod immediately, as ordered by the Serpentis. The Seer will not wait." He stood there a few seconds thinking, why the Seer was there, and why was he giving orders? And why not Ventor. "Ah well, I guess I'll find out everything by getting to the drop pod area." He muttered to himself. He donned the last of his armour and checked his war-gear and walked of.

He got to the drop pod area and looked around, noticing he was the first one there. He sighed and leaned on a wall.


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## Karak The Unfaithful (Feb 13, 2011)

Kalin looked over to the limb body of Ventor, unmoving but not dead. The mysterious marine, he had litrally just walked in and taken command. Kalin had never liked Ventor but this sort of thing in the Venom guard was almost unheard. Despite his Chaos worship he did respect some of the old ways, he was 'pure' Venom guard after all. Ezekial quickly struck him as an arrogant sod, and Kalin would be happy to see his head on a pole. With that happy thought he went to collect his armour and weapons.

His ancient armour, stanied with memories of so many years, he didn't know how long exactly. _Deathspitter_, Kalin's favoured tool of destruction and carnage leaned against the wall as if it was an obdient dog awaiting it's master. He could easily manage without it but it did make the job much quicker. It felt good to hold it in his hand again, as if shaking hands with on old friend, in a way it was.

He grinned, equppied his equipment and made his way to the drop pod.


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## WarpSpawned (Mar 9, 2010)

Was this truly a directive from the Wrathful, or merely one attempting to, as Malik had said, pull their strings? Although the only way to be able to contact the _Lie_ was to have the Wrathful’s express permission.
Unless, of course, they were of a higher circle and had the resources, means and will to use them in attempting to twist the squads purpose to his own, but to what ends?

Crotalus observed the others, reserving his judgements of the others until he became more familiar with his new squad mates. Malik made a small joke about soldiers and orders, eliciting a small smile from the scarred Venom Guard, a slight upturning twitch of his lips, showing that Crotalus had a sense of humor, though he soon returned to his own musings; deciding that to prepare for the coming battles was the best option.

The Chaos Marine had no chance to rise and leave the room before the thundering crackle of a localized teleport flared into being and the ominous figure of Ezekial, the Seer, materialized.
After a short series of accusations on the incompetence of Champion Ventor, the Seer took matters into his own hands and removed Ventor from the mortal coil.

Crotalus saw this as an unnecessary waste of valuable manpower, wouldn’t it have been much simpler to punish Ventor, relieve him of squad command?
Still, what was done was.

He stood, sparing a disappointed glance towards Ventor’s remains and left, immediately heading towards his arming chamber, his serfs would be awaiting him.
There would be just enough time to prepare for warmaking and get to the drop pod before the deadline.

It did not take him long to reach the chamber, he set to donning his wargear, his three serf’s working in unison with his own movements, armour ports and cables inking with his subdermal plating.
Crotalus raised his gauntleted hand to his eyes, making a fist.

“Good. The rest now”


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## Serpion5 (Mar 19, 2010)

*Mallik*

Mallik was a little edgy as Alsarius approached, but it was merely to point a jibe at the others. As grateful as Mallik was for the hint of respect given he was not in any way obliged to return it and simply remained silent as the venom guard proceeded past and left the room. Before much more could happen, there was a boom across the bridge, and in an instant they were accompanied by another astartes. In stark contrast to most of the room`s occupants this one had the feel of power and authority radiating freely from his form. 

Ventor was swiftly berated for his failure and eliminated. Clearly this figure, this Ezekial as Mallik now recognized, was unimpressed by the stalled progress the squad had made and decided to take actions himself. 

Ezekial`s helm snapped to Mallik as he continued his assertion of his own authority. Following the order to don wargear, Mallik left immediately for his own chamber. Damn, but that slave better have his armour ready. 

* * *​
As he entered the room merely two minutes after leaving the bridge, Mallik bellowed out to be prepared. 

'Is my armour ready?' He demanded. 'I will be launching in just over ten minutes. Be quick about this fool, I do not have time to waste.' 

'Y-yes Master!' The slave replied. Though he did his best to follow the proper armouring rituals and protocols, Mallik`s impatience and thinly veiled threats made the process far simpler. 

'Now begone.' He growled, mag locking his bolter to his hip, attaching several spare clips and grenades to his belt and strapping his hammer over his shoulder. With a last look of forced acknowledgement to his serf he left, passing another`s arming chambers as he set out towards the drop bay. 

His curiosity go the better of him as he passed the room and he could not resist a glance inside. He stopped short as he glimpsed Crotalus raise a fist and mutter something in a low voice. Smiling softly under his helmet, Mallik stood in the doorway and watched as the gauntlet to the marine`s other hand was attached by three servants. 

'Three serfs?' Mallik said. 'Crotalus, you do not fail to surprise me. to have need of three mortal whelps to aid you is rather unbecoming of one who was tutored by the cult of the Hydra.'

'Halt!' One of the serfs called, no doubt emboldened by the belief that his master would be able to protect him. 'You will not speak such disrespect to our master, for he is one of the true Venom Guard and his experience outmatches yours!' 

In one fluid movement, Mallik reached up to his shoulder and brought his hammer down hard. The heavy instrument of death impacted the human`s skull and kept going, leaving nought but a bloody mess on the floor littered with bone fragments and blood stained rags that had once been clothing. 

'Whatever.' Mallik glared at the other two, daring them to speak up as well. Needless to say, they remained silent. 'So Crotalus, all seems to be in order here, shall we depart?'

A low chuckle came from Crotalus, amusing, yes, but certainly a waste of a still useful body.

*'Heh, true. Should I thank you for lessening their number, brother?'* His scars twisted into a sneering grin. *'They have their uses.'*

Had that slave believed he would protect him, maybe, but this was not the old days, here, serfs best hold their tongue or have it torn out.

*'Of course, just finishing up.'* Crotalus finished.

He donned his warhelm and growled out an order to the remaining slaves, nodding to the mess.

'My sincerest apologies brother.' Mallik said, re-slinging his hammer and offeringa small bow of appeasement. The tow of them walked side by side as they approached to drop bay, speaking no further on the matter. 

When at last they reached the drop pod and the growing group of astartes awaiting orders, Mallik spoke again. 

'Perhaps we will be able to procure some more assistance on the surface?' He laughed. 'The one I have now is competent enough, but I`m always in the market for an upgrade...'


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## IronWarrior123 (Mar 30, 2011)

Deep in the bowels of the refinery Kyal examined his squad-leader. A glance at Devius in the corner, brandishing a blade of perfect mag-steel. Kyal did not trust him. He was in league with the Architect of Fate,a dangerous trade... Kyal's true loyalties lay to the Emperor of Mankind, but that was his secret. His loyalties to Tzeentch are lies. In fact, he trusted no-one in squad Devius, aside from Bréag, for he was of the Imperial Cause also... The others seem to have fallen to the dark pantheon. The pathetic fools, giving their lives for the chance to be an immortal freak, never truly dying, just watching your squad-mates and family die around you. He took a blade from a serf and traded it for his chain-sword. Kyal sighed and started to polish MJONILR, his ancient, silenced bolter. Mere days before his first action in ten years being stuck on this refinery, with rusted pipes oozing putrid oil like a boil of Nurgle.Kyal sighed and waited...


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Too long, too many tawdry years had been wasted on this forsaken rock, lungs choking upon the putrid ash of its sordid forges. 

Possibilities, the changers tangling maze of futures, baffling to behold, his mind closing to them as he skimmed the point of madness. Chances laced the path before him, misty wires shackling his comrades to him, corporeal strings as they danced the lord of changes tune.

Not just within this room, from the deepest rock to the highest billowing spiral of filth, change crackled like electricity, the Tzeentch's eye seering down upon the world, a single hand, straining, reaching to take it by the throat. He could see it curling, a hand of souls and mind, him its finger, a pronging attack that would seep into its flesh, spilling blood as it pierced its skin, prompting the surrender.

Yet the palm and purpose lingered out of sight, concealed within the fringes of the room, the seer's aura, a form of pure power that lit his soul alight. The changers bond to him filled with benevolent adoration, met by his own bitter loathing.

He longed for the seers command, for the ability to direct and lead, it was why he often chose to work alone, devoid of command, yet this task had over ridden all others.

The wrathful's personal insistence, the changers claws buried within his heart, a seering urge of his own to win glory in the name of the lord of change.

Would this change him, would his fortunes rise, would he finally be given the authority to be the palm and not just a finger? Yet what a finger he was, nail fined and honed to a deadly point. He had changed worlds, killed numbers his mind could not begin to comprehend, even taken backhanded swipes at Ultramar itself, yet still he was but a tool.

Millenia, had not changed that, loyalty had not changed that, what next... treachery?

He almost laughed, but bitterness coiled his soul, as he thought of these years, years in which he could have enacted his own plans, the mustering of his agents upon Ultramar still beginning. 

An idea he had so long ago, the inspiration for a plan he had never had the power to enact. Now... still he teetered upon the edge, the sheer magnitude of his idea, beyond the realms of probablity, perhaps even possibilty.

One day... one day.

He had not truly wasted his years, his network upon the planet, the product of three years of dedicated effort, the presence of two of his most loyal subjects, their own efforts adding to his own in the form of a growing network, a group which lay stored behid his bionic, files and folders appearing before him at will as he worked upon step one.

A helmet was placed in his hands, battered and rusting, the horns grimy he placed it quickly upon the ground, the delapidated state a stain upon his gauntlets. The hands that laid revenge in the name of his father, in the name of the raven, in the name of the betrayed.

The tech priests words were addressed to the shadows, the monotone voice, lifeless, the blank eyes skimming over him as the amalgamation of man and machine strode away.

"Devius, you have your orders. Prevent Mechanicus assets east of the river to respond to the insertion team’s arrival on the surface, should they become aware of it. Awake Damien and commence your movement. There are other matters I must attend to.’

Then the presence was gone and immediately one of the other marines spoke up, the normally silent marine's voice a surprise, his taciturn state of mind usually rendering him to contemplative silence

"A notion, as I see it, is to destroy that bridge. If we look at the options afforded to us, we have the rail line, and the river. Whilst both cross the bridge the river is more frequent and less guarded. A well placed charge, below the bridge could bring it down, giving us more time, before they can muster reinforcements to the west bank." 

"Also dependant on our 'resources' in the vicinity of the bridge, if something was to 'go array' at Octum Secundus, it could force the guard garrisons at the bridge to respond by moving north, or a schism amongst the garrisons there, to which we use to mask the blowing of the bridge."

Devius gave a little snort, half derision, their resources, he had enough resources, if he didn't he could find more, Tzeentch would provide.

Half agreement, he agreed with the diversion, he had an idea for that himself yet he would add levels onto it, he already had begun

"Let us wake our sleeping psychotic before we begin our discussion, if he awakens sane, he may be of some use." he growled, distaste twinging his features as he looked at the prone peaceful figure.

Why, why bring this madness to a mission of subtlety and subterfuge.

He must have a purpose, he could feel the changers will so strong around him, as strong as around him, but why?

What purpose could a madman have?

Tempted. he resisted the urge to draw his bolt pistol, picking up the slumbering warrios helm in his left hand, he flicked open the casket with his foot, watching as the eyes, eyes so clean yet so clearly beyond sanity flicekered open. 

Standing above, him, as a god above the dead he snarled

"Awaken to the realms of the living Damien. Let your body flow back to you. Head my words and move slowly, statis is an unforgiving state. Take your helm and return to the ranks of the astartes. There is murder to be done. Do you remember me?" 

His right hand balled into a fist, mind on edge, senses tingling, waiting, how would he arise, would madness possess him?


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## Deus Mortis (Jun 20, 2009)

Korsh spun round as the Seer materialised in their midst. The wrath exuded from him. He levelled accusations of incompetence and poor leadership, which Korsh felt were some what justified. What happened next was a total shock to him. Ventor was struck down in the middle of the ship by the corrosive power of the warp which the Seer wielded. It was almost unheard of for a Venom Guard to strike another down. Even one as senior as the Seer. But yet, the Seer seemed to carry the authority of the Serpent Coven at the moment and Korsh did not want to end up like Ventor, so said nothing. Sometimes it was best to keep ones silence.

As the Seer gave the command to be ready for battle drop in fifteen minutes, Korsh made a curt nod at the Seer, said nothing of what had happened and burying any feelings of disgust of anguish he felt. Clearly today was not a day to test the Seer's patience. Korsh practically sprinted down the halls to his chamber where his armour an weapons were. He flew through the door and careered into on of the serfs who was knocked to the floor, but Korsh, for once, paid him no heed. Instead he went swiftly to where his armour was, and donned it as quickly as possible. Ports slid into corroding flesh and joints began to weep poisons once again in preparation of the fight to come. Korsh grabbed his bolter and other weapons, mag-locked them to his thighs and left without saying a word to any of the human crew. The Seer was pissed and had said they were leaving immediately, and Korsh would certainly not be the one to keep him waiting...

(OCC This is by no means my finest post, it's just a quick thing so I don't get left on the ship, as that's all I've had time for since the update  I may well come back and edit it so it's a bit better, but for now, that's it as I'd like to sleep.)


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## Black Steel Feathers (Aug 17, 2011)

Damien's eyes flickered open as his broken mind shuffled itself back into som semblance of order; it was like doing a jigsaw puzzle made out of shards of broken glass, except half the pieces don't fit and there was no picture on the top of the box to help him. For a second he wasn't sure who he was, where he was or even if he was male or female. Slowly Damien let his mind flow back into his body, flexing his fingers to make sure they were still there.

There was a voice above him and Damien used it as a sort of rope to pull himself back into reality; only a few of the words actually reached his brain, but Damien was used to that. It happened all the time. As it stopped, the mad Marine found that, yes, he could remember the speaker. "Deeevius? Deeeevius!" he said, his voice nothing more than a happy whisper. More memories came back as he picked up his old, familiar helm and gazed around with midmatched eyes as his battle-brothers. Levering himself up slowly, Damien suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Mission! Haven't missed? Didn't let me oversleep?" he asked Devius, a pleading note in his voice. Both of Damien's eyes were wide and boring into the other Astartes', holding that mad stare for a handful of seconds until the madman suddenly seemed to loose interest. "No, no... No possible. They need Damien, creepy sneakers all. Like snakes... Fangs. Not tigers. I saw this in the hole. Didn't know what it means. Still don't."

Damien was silent for a minute, concentrating his efforts on actually getting out of the pod; he seemed to spare one arm, which made it more difficult. Eventually he was standing, brushing his hands across his armour and filling the air nearby with rust particles. His eyes seemed to follow invisible things that flew through the air or crawled on the ground, his Chaos- touched mind registering colours human weren't meant to see. 
Damien nodded to himself, addressing nobody in particular. "Someone got murdered... All up in the sky. Kerblammy." he said, poking a strand of blue that ran at about waist height. "Pretty. Has anyone seen my FISH?"


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Alsarius wandered through the bowels of the ship as he headed back to his chambers, where upon he would arm and armour himself for the coming battle. He felt no rush at the prospect of going into battle, he would make no mistakes through eagerness. He was an astartes, an original member of the Eight company of the Alpha Legion, he was Venom Guard. 

He would follow the examples set by his primachs, infiltration and cunning used over brute force. Alsarius would be like a vengeful spirit, prosecuting the enemies of the Venom Guard. The servants of the Chaos Gods, his brothers that had let themselves fall into temptation and slaughter would be used by him, but he would never trust them fully. You couldn't trust a follower of Khorne, they were as likely to take your head as an enemy.

Alsarius moved until he heard a crackle as his vox sparked into life, the seer was on board? Alsarius broke into a run, knowing that the Seer would not wait for him to be ready before they dropped. The seer was also one of the original Venom Guard, and Alsarius knew of his power and respected him. However he felt uneasy with the seer here, how had he managed to get aboard the ship? Unless he had a teleport nearby which meant more forces that they were not aware of. 

Alsarius hated being used, but now was not the time to think about it. He burst through the doors to the chamber, his slave cringing as the metal hinges groaned. *"Arm me now, Protos. The Seer is on board and he won't reward lateness."*

The slave bowed, quickly helping him to don his wargear. As soon as his armour was placed on him, the leather straps went over his armour, helping him to be quieter on the battlefield, lessening the sounds of his armour. The slave moved quickly, he was a credit to the drills that Alsarius made him practice daily so that he could be armed quickly. Finally Alsarius placed his helm on his head before grabbing his meltagun, maglocking it to his leg. 

Alsarius thanked his slave with a nod before departing through the chamber, making for the drop pod bay. He arrived within minutes to notice more and more of the squad arriving.


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

Apollo sat cleaning his sword for what had to be the hundredth time that day. It was instinctual, he cleaned it when tense and he had been very tense as of late. Part of his tenseness was due to the presence of Ezekial the seer. Apollo had never liked psykers and having one as powerful as Ezekial close to him was almost overwhelming. The rest of his tense manner was because of one of the members of their team. Damien, he was called, apparently was missing a few brain cells. Apollo had no way of knowing since in all the time they had spent on the planet he had yet to be awakened from Stasis. The armour of the former Emperor’s shadow was still in his quarters and lovingly cared for by Apollo and his serf whereas Damien’s armour looked like it had been pulled out of a skip.

If it had been up to Apollo he would have driven his sword through the mad man’s stasis casket and ended his misery but the order that he join them had come from well beyond Apollo’s rank, maybe even been ordered by the Wrathful. As Devius was handed Damien’s helmet, a rusty thing with rotting horns protruding from it, Apollo tensed, hand creeping to the hilt of his sword as Damien’s stasis casket opened slowly to reveal the warrior’s battered form. As a jolt shook him Damien opened his eyes and clambered from the casket. As he took his pathetic excuse for a helmet from Devius he suddenly exclaimed "Mission! Haven't missed? Didn't let me oversleep?” After that exclamation he paused for a moment before continuing. "No, no... No possible. They need Damien, creepy sneakers all. Like snakes... Fangs. Not tigers. I saw this in the hole. Didn't know what it means. Still don't."

Apollo’s hand gripped his sword’s hilt and he stood, ready to behead the mad Chaos marine but stopped when Damien spoke again. "Someone got murdered... All up in the sky. Kerblammy." he said, poking a strand of blue that ran at about waist height. "Pretty. Has anyone seen my FISH?" With that Apollo relaxed before beginning to laugh. He rammed his sword into its scabbard and grinned, saying “we didn’t bring any.” Then Apollo turned his back on Damien and walked to the entrance of the chamber. He paused just before he left and examined the other members of his squad. There was Bréag, quiet, watchful and treacherous although still disdainful of the Gods. There was Kyal, a false Tzeentch worshipper. He seemed to have hidden it from the others but nothing escaped Apollo. He had been trained as a spy and assassin and those he still remained. Devius, the one who had given Damien his helmet was a true worshipper of Tzeentch although not as fanatical as many others.

Apollo said as a parting remark “I agree with Bréag about the bridge although I believe that if we do not have the right resources then I can make some ‘available’.” Everyone, besides perhaps Damien, knew exactly what he meant. This was a forge world, weapon stockpiling was a given. If they did not have enough they could always ‘borrow’ some from the nearest weapon store…


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## Black Steel Feathers (Aug 17, 2011)

"That's a shame." Damien had disappointedly when he was informed there were no fish. The madman sat on the edge of the stasis pod and poked his palm listlessly with the point of his dull knife; he held it in his mutated and gloved hand, his mismatched eyes following Apollo's every move. Some sixth- or possibly seventh- sense in Damien's mad brain made him not like the ex-Shadow. Apollo had laughed at him meanly, like a bully, and Damien didn't like bullies. He liked people who were nice to him, like the rotten man back on the ship. He like returning the favour, whether it was killing someone for him or anything else his friends asked. 

Another thought occured to Damien just a second after. The Knife-Polisher thought Damien was stupid but he knew better. It only remained to prove it. Frowning to himself, he twisted the knife so it drew blood from his skin and allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure at the feeling before concentrating on the task in hand.

It took a while to get Mr Mouth and Mr Brain lined up, but he managed it eventually. The mad Astartes sat up a little straighter, his chipped combat knife held loosly across his lap. "Lord Guilliman didn't have any fool son." he said reproachfully, his eyes still on Apollo and his brain strained for any hint of an idea. "I know what you mean. Explosives! Whst if you didn't steal, what if you made them give? I can be blue again easy. Or... Or... Or those inquisitive men, who can get anything without saying please. Could be big, brave Emperor-loving Inquisitor D? Guilliman not like to lie, but he's not here now. Dead. Frozen like I was, except not alive."

He leant back with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow, obviously proud of himself. It was his first dabbling in the world of spycraft, and Damien thought he'd done quite well. Watching the colours writhe around everyone, he had an idea. "Or make magical boomy. I have done. Could work?"


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## WarlordKaptainGrishnak (Dec 23, 2008)

Bréag continued to sharpen his knife, until he was satisfied. Raising it to the dim lights of the room, he examained his handywork. Content he lowered it again, running it gently across his left palm. Blood welled in the fine wound, stinging on its contact with the air. Bréag flexed his hand a few times and marvelled at the speedy pace that the wound congealed. Wiping the blade once more on an oil rag, he slipped it back into its scabbard.

The knife Bréag carried was no run of the mill combat blade. He had acquired it during his service with the Scáth stealth squad, just after Istvaan V, while fighting the White Scars on Tallarn. The stealth squads had being tasked with the removal of one of the main White Scars leaders, Khan of the Seventh Brotherhood. Scáth had become in engaged with Khan's honour guard, with Bréag slaying the Scar Champion in a brutal duel_ '__chuig an __bháis_' or _'to the death'_. Bréag pilfered the Champion's combat blade as a trophy. The blade was made of a rare Tallarn metal alloy, that held its blade well, was durable and had prefect balance. Bréag took the time to scribe his mark in the blade, taking his style of war, and engraving it in the flat of the blade, near the hilt.Bréag appreciates the irony that one of the last things his enemy sees are the words _'__adh __báis' _or _'silent death'.

_Watching from his corner, Bréag watched as Damien was awoken from stasis, and the scáinte began his tirade of ramblings. To say he detested the mad marine wouldn't be justified, though he held him in caution, if Damien's actions proved to be as erratic as his mouth words, then the squad could quite possibly have a problem on their hands.

Bréag studied Damien carefully, his movements, his stance, his words. He found it intriguing the way Damien seemed to trace things in the air, almost as if he was able to see another plain of existance, alongside the one everyone else could see. The differentiation between the topics Damien would ramble about was something entirely...alien. He seemed to have knowledge in things, important things. How Bréag couldn't tell, but the yelling of _'FISH'_ did tweak the corner of his mouth, the closest to a smile he'd get.

Bréag was pulled from his thoughts by the cruel laugh from the lips of Apollo towards Damien. Aware that Apollo had his hand on the handle of his sword, Bréag frowned.
_
"Apollo, why amongst allies, would you so boldly clutch your sword? Does Damien frighten you in some way? Grip that sword any harder and we'll need a techpriest to get you a new one"_

Bréag looked to Damien. The scáinte was still vulnerable, physically and mentally, after coming out of stasis the last thing he needed was an intended threat, and an already unstable mind could fall to the abyss.

_"We still need a way to move north, we still need a plan of action,"_ Bréag thought. _"What good is it having resources and armour, when indecision and the like keeps us grounded. We need to move soon, and swiftly"_

Bréag took up his armour and began to clean it, preparing for the inevitable fight that was to come. No serf was allowed to clean the armour, Bréag found it soothing to retrace the kinks and notches in the armour himself.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

(approved by boc)

They were insects, insects before his intellect, before the pure purpose of his mind, the now awakened crackpot, giving little more to the conversation than gibbering murmurs and barbarous threats, that tore a snarl across Devius's thin lips.

With a flick of his eye he brought up the database, the internal vox system in his helm, reconfiguring, the slightest crackle in his ear as the connection fizzled and burned, the energy setting ash aflame

"hello... hello... who the fuck is this?"

"Who else calls you on this line?" snarled Devius, the idiot's impunity a barb to his frayed temper the sudden stunned silence spurring him on

"Is it done?"

"Yeah chief just came back, governor's shitting his breeches, apparently two government officials, an arbite and a brick that cracked against his transport told him the same thing"

The uncouth tone twisted into a knowing sneer
"Something to do with you boss?"

"No it was the fucking pixies"

An oafish guffaw trickled over the line, his words overriden by Devius

"Did you get the number?"

"Yeah, he's the best boss. You'll have to pay through the nose, its rumoured at 20,000 imperial credits and thats just small fry."

A small holo card slipped onto the memory screen before him and he stored it quickly

"You've done well, I'll call you before stage 2. If you've got holiday, take it, things are going to get messy."

He severed the connection and he pulled up a second profile, the connection instantaneous, a deferential splash of binary slipping into his brain

"Is it done?"

A second splash of binary, then the connection was severed, the cog boy never a big talker but so very useful, well worth the time he had spent cultivating him, bending his fragile mind to his purpose.

Now it was time to reveal his purpose as silence fell, he coughed turning eyes onto him
"Over the last 3 years i have been cultivating a web of operatives on the planet, their numbers many, yet each is beginning to have a part in the grand scheme."

He paused, looking at the faces before him, eyes calm, though one eye spasmed slightly as he pulled up file after file

" I would prefer to get our strike team to earth without even being spotted, thus though i concur blowing the bridge would slow imperial activity, i believe it would only draw attention to the possibility of outside attack. Something that would make the assault on the orbital defences ever more troublesome."

"Hence my plan. Over the last weeks I have been spreading rumours of assassination attempts upon the lives of the planetary governor and the head of the mechanicus. Both suspect the other of foul play, of an attempt to take sole control of the planet by ridding themselves of the other. This distrust has several long term benefits to us and thus is something I'm intent upon cultivating."

"I believe local forces will be less open to collaboration of data and supplies which helps our operation immensely, whilst continued culitivation could lead to fully military withdrawal and if i can help it, open warfare between the two factions"

"As for counter mobility i believe two strikes by two separate factions against encamped locations, one made primarily of mechanicus operatives and two astartes against the local pdf and vice versa should not only help throw gasoline onto the fire I'm trying to create but also if we make our strikes, big brash and noisy I'm sure we can force troops to move towards us their attention off the skies and on the flames we create."

"However to create the allusion it is vital that we leave no survivors amongst the operatives or the encamped troops, that they find massacred bodies and a camp set aflame, the operatives lying dead, the blood of their kindred upon their hands."

"Any thoughts, brothers, I agree with our esteemed brother, that swift decisive action is key at this critical stage, let us make our plans quickly and move out."


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## Black Steel Feathers (Aug 17, 2011)

Damien, seeming to recognise that nobody gave a tinker's toot what he said or thought, contrated on untangling the mess of words that Devius had just dumped onto his mind via two ringing ears. It was like trying to seperate clingy spaghetti, strands sticking together and snapping if he pulled them too hard. The mad Astartes managed to get the general drift- Devius hadn't got a voice in his head, he was just talking to someone else, and that someone had told him something about his plans. The words 'three years' slipped through his brain and left a chilly feeling in their wake. Had it really been that long? No wonder he felt so out of sorts!

"Concentrate, Damien." he muttered, giving himself a sharp nip on his unmutated hand; instantly his brain felt a little clearer, but the soft fog of madness was never far away. It never completely him, and it had been so long that Damien wouldn't know what to do if it did.

He shook his head sharply. Concentrate! He'd been drifting again; he could feel it. To make himself feel more with it and part of the group, he tried his best to make a relevent comment. "So we figjt alongside until we win, then turn on? I done that before, here and against old blue squad." He said in what he hoped was a wise and knowledgable tone, then scowled. "But nobody care, right? Nobody to kisten to bugbrain old Damien, the stupid wittery man. Not care that Twister showed me stuff, that man back at ship is dead? Fine! I will let others plot, sit here with mouth firm shut and go along like good Marine. Is that what want?"


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