# The Wretched Host (Action)



## BlackGuard (Sep 10, 2010)

*Immaterium,*
*The Maelstrom,*
*Orbiting the Planet Corax ...*

The world was crimson from space, its atmosphere clear as any could except. The only discontent found upon its surface was the vast city-sized factories which spanned across stretches of the world. The fleet above it was massive in scale and size, nearly a thousand ships, nearly all combat-classified to some extent as the hussle and chanting within them as nearing breaking point. Legions of mortals marched within the virtually nation-sized vessels of the ships, such as the Emperor-Class _Daemonicus Ascendicus_, which stood immobile oribiting the world like some massive laviathian of ancient Terran legend. Across its blood and spike covered hulls were a thousand thousand guns bristling with the power to destroy nations in a single salvo and crippled worlds with another -- it was the flagship of one of the greatest beings known to Maelstrom. The Supreme Warlord of the Wretched Host -- Kreskin. Whom was the man one would ask? The answer was short, he was nothing. He was blessed that could not be doubted, he was a strategic and spiritual leader and he was virtually ancient beyond compare but he was just the most recent face within the Host. He had guided it for nearly a hundred years now but in the sheer scale of the Host's lifespan he was but a moment, quickly coming and going and even more quickly forgotten. His name would probably not even resound within the Host after his death. Then again a man did not need to be especially acute and especially blessed to lead such a massive war machine for long ago the Host took its maintainence upon itself, it only needed a leader to point it in the path that the Dark Gods desired and it would take care of the rest on its own. Kreskin was not be the underestimed by any stretch of the imagination, for within Imperium records he was approximately four hundred years old and had burned a string of worlds that surronded the Maelstrom. He had battled against and defeated even the legendary Ultramarines, and his victory over the Adeptus Astartes of the blind Harbingers of Fury Chapter could not be overlooked so readily -- for an entire chapter lay dead upon the rocky outcrops of the Froldin III. Although none of those victories mattered much to Host, for the Imperium was a known enemy and one that it expected to wage war against for all time -- besides, should it fall it may find itself without good pillaging grounds. No ... the victories the Host cared about was those against the bastard step-children of the Corpse-God upon Terra -- the so-called Traitor Legions. Every victory against them was lauded as perfect in ever way, for it was firmly believed by the Host's followers that the Traitor Legions were the original cause of Chaos' aborted rise to power within the Materium, had their blindness and the weakness of the fool Horus not caused the will of the Gods to be snubbed at the last moment -- then Chaos may have already taken its place and the Brothers in the Darkness would be cavorting about the Materium as their playground. 

Perhaps it was because for all of his achievements, the Supreme Warlord Kreskin had never bested the Traitor Legions, that brought him the world of Corax. History will never truly know why he committed such much to such a small world -- yet who can understand the madness of a follower of Chaos? 

The world of Corax has long been shrouded in mystery, if only because of its name. These supicisions are even most complex when one is told the truth behind the world. It was named by the Eldar, millenia ago and no current Craftworld has the historical archives to explain why. Why would the Eldar name one of their worlds after the future Primarch of the Raven Guard, aeons before he was given a thought? Some say it was their psykers who forsaw the fall of their own empire and the rise of the mon-keigh's. Although should would ask a few more questions to the right individuals within the Maelstrom, no easy task on its own, you would find even more disturbing revelations about their already unsettling world. The world has several city-sized factories, its population is treated as slaves and forced to work eternally within the planet's various mines, were it not for the corrupting influence of the Warp the world would have long been mined clean but for the blessings of the Gods the planet's natural resources literally regrow. A mine is empty one second and a few moments later it is filled yet again, brimming with more resources. Communication with the surface has always been troubling for travelling warbands who had often sought to exploit the rich mineral resources of the planet -- yet all raiding parties have never been heard from again. The only reliable information came from a warband of the Emperor's Children which spoke of a world utterly in waste. For the factories of this blighted world produce massive and complex war machines, ammunitions as far as the eye can seen, and all the resources for waging an eternal war. Instead of using them they are actually thrown away by the overlords of this world into the wasteland and as the minerals regrow the cycle continues. Why this is done no one can contemplate.

Or perhaps the most chilling of all the rumors of this insane world ... is that the Primarch Corax had reportedly been sighted. Long thought dead, the rumors speak of a monster roaring in the sky with claws the size of Astartes who treads across worlds upon wings of fire and damnation killing all before him in a blind state of rage. Of coarse, such accounts are unreliable at best.

Though none of this had actually drawn the Wretched Host, and consequently you, to this world. For all its insanity and potentially strategic importance the world of Corax would have been overlooked by the Host as it rolled through this part of the Maelstrom -- were it not for the Traitor Legion that sat above it. The readings came in loud and clear and all signs, even those given by the sorcerors and rogue psykers all professed that the Alpha Legion was above the planet Corax, laying siege to the world for their own uncomprehensible plans. Kreskin ordered the Host to make and immediate change in coarse, the Alpha Legion had barley five ships in the atmosphere and most of a dramatically smaller size. When the Host's massive formation began to appoarch the Alpha Legion broke their siege, but in the frenzy of communications between the ships the Host learned that a sizable force of Astartes had been landed on-world and had already sparked a massive revolution against the planet's rulers. Their intent was clear -- Alpha Legion intended to bring this world into submission to fuel their machinations across this particular sector. 

The Host would not allow it. The planet was placed into siege by Kreskin who ordered a massive force of nearly three hundred thousand to descend to the planet below to seize the world for the Dark Gods, and most importantly to kill any of the Corpse-God's false superhumans during the process. This was to be achieved by sending in three seperate waves. The first was would descend upon the world and take the brute's share of the losses, but would establish a beachhead, the second wave would descend to reinforce the lines and the third wave would finally land and begin offensives to grind the Traitor Astartes back. 

The War for Corax had begun ...

_You are all apart of the First Wave, and surprise to you -- its often called the Grinder Wave. Even those among you who have been with the Host for a few years are still considered apart of the first wave, for you have yet to prove yourselves worthy of anything but the utterly contempt of those above you. You all destined to die, or so say those whom you stand next to as you begin the boarding process. The fleet has entered low orbit and your Stormbirds are already descending towards the surface below. _
_May the Brothers in the Darkness be kind to you ..._

_Perficio Hurlan_ - _As your ship decends in the atmosphere you feel the jerking and the creeking as the vehicle, nearly ten thousand years old, begins a dramatic drop through the planet's very thin atmosphere. Almost as soon as you break the atmosphere you are hit with a pain like you have never known exists. You see data-readouts scroll across your eyes, projects and experiments you conducts centuries ago come rolling into your vision without you willing it. And yet at the same time you see the details, the trails and results of experiments you have never thought plausible to conduct or had planned to perform in the near future. Needless to say you are visibly shaken, but do not fear loosing face for you smell bile and feces as the minds of those around you have shared in your traumatic experiance -- some are dead, blood stringing from their mouths ... their minds shattered. The invasion must continue. The Stormbird drops to the ground with a audiable thump and the back end opens up. You were assigned to the 777th Tank Company, apart of Hektor's Barons, an ancient Imperial Army regiment, all of its former members long dead and only the name kept as a reminder. _

_Your only goal now is to contemplate what it going on and look at your surrondings -- for they a not was you expected. _

_(*Reference:* See bottom of post for ALL details)_

_Everto Maniple - Your Stormbird comes at the same pace as all the others. Your heart is thumping, this will be a moment of relish and you can virtually hear Decessus growling in your mind, urging you to kill and kill again. The turbulence is abhorent and you feel your very bones shaking within your frail frame. As the rocking begins to calm you are hit with an overwhelming pain, a blinding scream into the Warp that peirces your souls instantly and begins to flay your mind. Your heart races and then begins to shut down, it pattering become erratic and without rythmn. You hear a million millions voices screaming at you are one time and your sanity is stripped away. You can hear the ancient battles of some lost civilization one instant, only to hear the screams of the death in the next. Visions of worlds burning, of angels on fire, of demons cavorting with mortal women, of children skinning their parents alive. You see a women commiting the most foul of acts with a beast of burden as she slits the throat of her cruificed husband on the ground, his hands and feet nailed to the rocky ground below. You see teenagers smearing themselves in feces and cheering the Dark Gods on as they pick apart their minds and devour their souls. _

_All of this you see and more -- you are nearing death, your minds ability to sustain itself has long been lost. You are going to die. Although at the moment of death you hear the daemon within you baying out with hatred and defiance -- it offers you a chance ... a choice. You can let it consume you, to control you, to shield your mind with its own essence and blind you to the horrors you are witnesses. Of coarse with all choices there are consquences:_

_Accept - Should you accept Decessus' aid, he will immediately take control and kill everyone within sight -- all aboard your Stormbird will be killed, bar the pilot who had long since been subsumed within the vessel. This will cause only a minor rucus on the ground upon landing for you are First Wave -- those with you were already doomed to die. The backdraw is that this will make any further controls of you by the daemon bring you that much closer to the day when he will have widdled away enough of you to simply devour you in one fluid motion. You will, however, survive this trauma. (*Notice:* Rime Utaleth is onboard this ship with you, and he will survive the encounter. You are permitted to kill everyone around him, but ultimately how the brief encounter with your two go is up to him, so long as its respectful to both characters.)_

_Decline - Should you send the daemon back into your mind, and shout for it for be silent. You will endure all the trauma yourself, your mind will be flayed and your sanity lost. You may never find yourself again, but then the daemon will pushed one step further back from consuming you, giving you more oppurtunities to summon him in your time of need in the future. You may not die, but you will be even more phsycially weak than you are now and your psyker abilities will be dramatic reduced for a time. Of coarse ... your fellow traitors onboard will be much pleased at this decision, even if they are not aware you made a choice at all._

_(*Reference:* See bottom of post for ALL details)_

_Rime Utaleth - Your cold heart is slowly warming with the realisation that you will soon do battle against the bastard step-sons of the False Emperor. You can feel your heart racing, your mind becoming numb to everything in preperation for what is to come. You supiciously eye the men around you -- you have been given command of them by the Host, if only because they are useless ni the long run. They are, afterall, only beastmen, essientally feral humans found upon worlds almost like the world you will soon be burning to ash. They snort and yelp at every burst of turbulence, but you merely coldly stare at them trying to appreciate their skills. They are strong, there is not doubt about that, but their intellect is lacking dramatically. The best you can hope for is that they can at least make it out of the damn ship alive ... or at least not stain your uniform with their filthly blood. Even as you begin to get into a staring match with one of the feral creatures the turbulence begins to sputter out. _

_Then it hit you -- like a lightening bolt sent by Tzeentch himself. Your mind feels like it is boiling inside of your skull and you can hear maddening whispers. They all call out to you that you will die and you will die horribly, being chewed alive by beastmen -- like the ones you are currently leading. At the height of your paiin you grit your teeth, expecting at any moment for your head to explode in a wash of gore and brain-matter -- you hear one phrase shouted above all the noises " ... Anointed ... they are fucking Anointed ...". You black out for but the slither of a second and look around -- the beastmen are fine, and if anything they eye you will concern and disgust. _

_Of coarse not nearly as much as they are currently eyeing the Rogue Psyker, for whom warp energy is simply erupting out of ..._

_(*Note: *You will need to wait until Everto completes his post and makes his decision please ...)_

_(*Reference:* See bottom of post for ALL details)_

_Vladimir Corvinus - The descent is boring for you, all you want it killing and blood -- to feel the enemy fear you as you round upon them in some confined space with no one around ... to give you enough time to perfect your art once again. You are surronded by a squad of Traitor Guardsmen and have been given tempoary command of them, primarily because they murdered their last officer just moments before the order for planet-drop came. You've yet to learn why, but the glazed look in their eyes and the drool that occasionally lathers their mouths when they look at you tends to give you an awkward impression. They will be an unruly bunch at best you think silently. Even as the Stormbird's inner-lights begin to flicker you feel the breakthrough of the atmosphere complete and begin to feel tension grow in you -- something is not right ... _

_The way these men are positioned isn't practical, for you have unwittingly been placed in a corner with all of them on the otherside. How this happened you have no idea. Perhaps its because you believed the Host had better morals than to let the common soldiery kill each other. Then again you've don't quite seem to get what being apart of the First Wave means ... simply mind grinder units. Sent into the fray of the most violence part of the invasion, their sheer numbers is what ensures something is obtained and gives the Second Wave time to reinforce and consolidate a position. One of the men release themselves from their harness as the turbulence ends and smiles at you with a grin, revealing nothing but sharpened teeth. He pulls out a knife, if you want to kill it that, although it most resembles a sword. He promises a slow death before leaping towards you. You are vulnerable and without a chance to reach for your weapons, as your harness blocks most of your movement. _

_Lucky you for the blinding pain hits both of you first and he drops to the ground roaring and clawing out his eyes. Of coarse you never see this as your mind begins to boil within your skull and all you can think of is a psyker attack by the Alpha Legion. He know you will survive even before the climax of the pain hits. You've endured so much more on so many different worlds, and psyker attacks are just another part of your previous job. Still even as you try to open your eyes you see sights of hororr unbound -- your squadmates ... they are on the ship with you! Their souls glare you with baleful yellow eyes and their lulling mouths proclaim your death by the hand of one you will come to trust, just as they trusted you. In the background you hear the sounds of weeping children and wailing widows -- a chorus of damned souls crying into the Sea for all time begging their False Emperor to find and protect them. _

_The pain is swept away suddenly and you open your eyes. The man who'd tried to lunge at you is dead on the floor, his eyes clawed out and bite marks all over his arms -- death came when he began to slam his skull into the floor. He succeeded apparently. Still as the Stormbird begins to set down you look at the others, their looks are of clearly discomfortable men -- their arrogant and lust for blood seems gone._
_Still ... action must be taken. So seargant, whats your first call?_

_(*Reference:* See bottom of post for ALL details)_

_Haplo - You sit well within your harness and hold onto your slightly customized lasrifle, sniper varient, as your Stormbird plummets through the atmosphere towards the planet below. You look around the red-lit interior of the craft at your supposed squadmates. The Wretched Host has never been one for organizing the meat-fodder and thus your squad was hastily assembled. Your eye them each in turn -- a totle of five including yourself. There is the big man, Laud, with his ritually scarred face and his skin which smells of gunpowder. His black eyes, now fully black since his fall to Chaos, are constantly flickering and his finger seems too tightly held over the trigger for his flamer -- you can't help but feel nervous about him. The other big man is called Womack and he isn't a far cry from Laud, except he seems to perfer a standard guard-carryout, with a lasgun and pistol as his companions. Were you not for the string of shrivelled children's skull around his neck he would almost appear sane. Then of coarse, next to him, you have TDD-334, a former Tech-Guard who absolutely insane and will not fucking stop his damn chanting to the Gods. Laud has eyed him more than once and you can helped but smile ever time you see the big man slightly aim his flamer at TDD-334 before using what is left of his sanity to bring it back over. TDD-335 seems completely oblivious to anything going on around him except his chanting, he wields nothing but an autogun in both hands and only a single sickly green light radiates from his hood-covered skull. Your final companion is your so-called squad leader, Willyam, a brute of a man with eyes of a murderer. To your dismay he seems to have picked you out in particular for insults._

_He has called you virtually every name under the Warp Gods and promises you will die upon this blighted world. You cannot help but smile at the idea -- how easy it would be to kill him during this war. The whispers in your mind soothe the notion with promises of more knowledge and more power should you do it. Of coarse, there's the matter of actually killing Willyam since, if rumor is right, he has eyes, literally eyes, in the back of his head. _

_(*Note:* I leave the apperances of your squadmates, barring those already listed -- to you. You get the general idea of their personalities.)_

_(*Reference:* See bottom of post for ALL details)_

_ALL - After all your decisions are made -- you have all landed upon this world of Corax and a full scale invasion has begun. Leman Russ tanks, Hellhounds, Chimera APCs, and legions upon legions of Host warriors descend upon the world. You all scattered to your roughtly designated places, preparing and expecting gunfire to be whipping around you head. Your invasion point was just south of the man factory. All around you, you hear explosions and screams -- terror and agony. Yet for all of it you cannot help but notice that there is no actual gunfire to be seen. You witness tanks exploding for no reason and soldiers simply slumping over dead. Your minds race as you wonder what the hell is going on until you look down and notice ... the ground is not the same._

_In orbit you were all at least given a glance of the world you were meant to conquor -- even from space you could see the soils of the world were red ... red clay. The ground before you now is so much different you shudder as you realise what it is -- metal. You look across the vast expanse and realize that in all directions, the soil is gone and is replaced by metal and ash and shavings. You can see the husks of all tanks, APCs, and even gunships. Dunes of lasguns, mountains of ammunitions, and great, almost river-like formations of slugs and tank rounds. You stand upon a world deadly by its very nature. To the north you see the vast factory-city of Corax and in the middle you see a vast and tall dark tower, which houses the planet's rulers. Yet there is no smoke from here, no activity. That is, of coarse when you look to skies and realize the next issue -- there isn't a sky ..._

_From orbit you could actually see the spraw of the factory-city, and yet above you are thick and impenetrable clouds which rain a slow drizzle of ash and soot from them. You see that it covers the sky in all directions and your minds whirl as to what could have caused this. No matter that, however, for to the south you see a massive obsidian obilisk raised in the sky with the ruinous symbols of Chaos upon it. Your commanders and slightly more experianced troops seem a little unnerved by it since it didn't show up on orbital scans. _

_No matter that -- you have an invasion to commence. Prepare yourselves and make your choices followers of the Dark Gods!_


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

The ship creaked, it’s ancient bulkheads and armour groaning and rattling as the aged drop ship commenced it’s descent through the atmosphere. “Landing in ten”

The pilot’s voice, tinny and raspy through the speakers, filled the small infantry deck. Below, through the grill floor, Perficio could see the assembled Leman Russ and Chimeras of Hektor’s Barons. The metal beasts growled with suppressed rage, shifting on the deck as the ship rocked in the turbulence. The regiments prized executioner plasma tank, the Omnia Daemonium, rocked and strained against it’s chains. The daemon entrapped within it whining at this imprisonment.

There was a sudden jolt, energy ran through the ship and the astropath behind the pilot’s throne began to scream, it went on and on. Others among the tank crews began to convulse, blood frothing from noses and mouths. The tech-priest opposite her, a small craven man, suddenly stiffened, his head snapping back against the head of his acceleration chair so hard the plastic cracked. Then it hit her, a pain beyond anything she had experienced before. Data-readouts scrolled across her vision, old files, with them, memories. Her revelation, the xenos armature upon the work bench, the skitarii, gasping their last breaths as she fled out into the wasteland. Then, new data, she didn’t recognise this, experiments she had dreamed of but never had the resources or the insanity to conduct, memories from the future. How was this possible? Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, around her some men had survived, but some hadn’t, the astropaths head had exploded, gore splattering the interior of the ship, while others lolled senselessly or giggled inanely to themselves. There were still enough to crew the vehicles though. She glared at the tech-priest opposite her, but not that he could tell, the smooth metal mask was completely faceless. She was sure he looked familiar, perhaps from the retinue of the warlords. Well in the first wave casualties were expected, they would soon learn that she was not defenceless if the tech-priest met with an ‘unfortunate accident’.

The drop ship shuddered as it came in to land, the landing gear shrieking in pain as the tortured metal extended into the landing position. There was a loud clang as the metal behemoth settled onto the surface of the planet. She unclipped the harness and unfolded her long frame from the acceleration chair. Standing, she powered up her servo-harness, the whine as the servo-motors self-tested was a familiar sound, one that promised death in it’s every note. She descended the ladder to the lower deck as the great hull doors were opened. Crewmen, still shaken from the events of earlier were stumbling from the acceleration couches. But they recovered quickly nonetheless, climbing into the hatches open on the sides and in the turrets of the vehicles they checked their charges for damage. The first of the metal behemoths ground into movement, rolling down the ramp into the battleground outside as the sound of gunfire rent the air. Perficio strode over to the chained Omnia Daemonium, caressing it’s scarred hull before swinging herself atop the hungry war-machine. Taking a runic symbol from a pouch at her belt, she pressed it into the lock mounted on the chains constraining it. With a clank the chains fell away, cascading to the ground as the Omnia Daemonium shrieked in triumph and lurched forwards. Taken aback by the sudden movement, Perficio nearly fell off, but managed to save her dignity by grabbing hold of the edge of the welded top hatch.

Emerging into the open air she stood tall astride the beast and gazed around, the regiment was forming up around her and as she looked further she saw other units disembarking. Not just armoured companies but thousands of infantry men pouring out of the drop-ships. These were accompanied by beastmen, mutants and even the wretched forms of rogue psykers. The gunfire still continued, but there was no sign of any weapons fire. Soldiers were looking about confusedly. There was an explosion of sound, a chimera over to the side had flipped over onto it’s sign and lay there, flames licking around it’s hull. She leapt from the hull of the Omnia Daemonium, landing with a clang, puzzled, she looked down, where she had expected a dusty red earth, she was greeted with a rusting metal surface, something that seemed to continue foras far as she could see. She stood among the scattered shells from an Earth-Shaker cannon, a cannon that was standing twisted and blackened a dozen feet away. It looked like it must have stood there for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Weaponry was piled a foot deep a little way off, surely this could not be possible, a dreadnought from the Black Legion stood frozen, it’s armour blackened and a gaping hole in it’s chest. It too was rusted solid, and stood among the hundreds of shells that must have been churned out by the heavy-bolters mounted in place of it’s right arm.

There was a cry to her right and a soldier slumped face down, his body lay there, unblemished, while his squad mates cowered away from him. There was a further burst of gunfire, and more of them fell. This was happening all along the line, soldiers panicking as the unseen enemy reaped a deathly toll for their trespass.

Perficio looked in the direction of Corax, the manufactory city they had been ordered to attack, but there was no sign of activity. Either on the ramparts or in the factory, there was no smoke or gasses issuing from it’s mighty chimneys and the guns rearing from the parapet of it’s curtain wall stood silent. Perficio followed the central spire upwards till it pierced the clouds. Clouds? The planet had no clouds, she had seen it from orbit. But here she witnessed an unbroken sheet of angry black clouds, roiling and twisting with an unseen life.

But all this was nothing next to the massive construct barely 3 klicks away. A huge, carven obelisk jutted from the tortured landscape. It’s obsidian surface gleamed and shimmered with thousands of runes, that seemed to move across the surface of the structure. Drawing the eye in but repelling the viewer at the same time. Before, clustered in group were the commanders of this section of the first wave. They were deep in anxious discussion. Eventually they came to a decision, the group splitting up. The call to war had come…


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

The ship shook and shrieked and most of the traitors, fearing something terrible would happen gripped their runic charms. Everto was uncaring, he had experienced worse things when Decessus possessed him. One of them asked why he was so calm. "Tell me boy," said Everto scornfully, "have you ever had to fight a losing battle with a demon to preserve your soul and only won through sheer force of will? Do you have nightmares of that demon taking over and destroying you utterly?" He snarled. "No," the lad whispered. "Then get out of my face." The kid whimpered and backed away.

As the ship began it's final descent Everto suddenly screamed aloud.Everyone around him fell to their knees in horror at the sound of abject fear in that shriek. Everto was blind to this, seeing only fields of blood and Decessus destroying him and his final pitiful death at the hands of the demon, he saw legions of the dead attacking and killing all they fought, he saw worlds die at the hands of madmen, he saw the host crushed like an insect beneath the boot of the black legion, he saw death and destruction on a massive scale. He could hear millions of voices screaming at him as his sanity was stripped away, he heard the ancient battles of some lost civilization one instant, only to hear the screams of the death in the next. Visions of worlds burning, of angels on fire, of demons cavorting with mortal women, of children skinning their parents alive. He saw a women commiting the most foul of acts with a beast of burden as she slits the throat of her cruificed husband on the ground, his hands and feet nailed to the rocky ground below. He saw teenagers smeared in blood and cheering the Dark Gods on as they pick apart their minds and devour their souls. 

He fell to his knees, still shrieking and clutched at his head. In blind panic he lashed aroud with his powers and pulped the bodies of 2 of his comrades.

"Give in to me and I will protect you," said a whispery voice at the back of his mind, "release me and let me stop the visions," it whispered silkily. "No," Everto roared, "I will do this myself or not at all." He shouted. "Very well," it sounded dissapointed and then withdrew. Everto went insane. The sights destroyed his mind and he whimpered with terror. "Protect me," he pleaded with Decessus but the demon would not relent, "you chose to face them alone," it hissed. He roared with rage and lashed out again pulping the bodies of 3 more warriors of the host in his anger. By now he was surrounded by warp energy that pulsed and flickered with power. Everto suddenly found himself assailed by a demon. The others could see Everto fighting with something, a creature from nightmares and it appeared to be winning the fight but none of them even attempted to help. Everto fell to his knees and the creature raised it's arm for the killing blow.

Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the visions stopped and the glowing warp energy disapeared as did the demo within. Everto sagged with relief, "touchdown in 5...4...3...2...1... down," said the pilot recorded voice. The ship shook with the impact and the doors lowered, Everto shambled out moaning in pain and dispair, crying with pain and terror and screaming his torment to the Gods of Chaos, shouting at the skies in his panic, praying for them to spare him the torment and was followed by the rest of the warband. He saw a massive obsidian obilisk raised in the sky with the ruinous symbols of Chaos upon it. Another strange thing he realised was that the ground was rusting metal, not red clay as it had seemed from orbit and that it was covered with the hulls of destroyed vehicles. He looked up at the sky and then realised all he could see were thick and impenetrable clouds from which rain a slow drizzle of ash and soot. He saw that it covered the sky in all directions and his mind whirled as to what could have caused this for he remembered that he had been able to see the factory city from orbit and then he looked in the direction of Corax, the manufactorum and noticed that there was no smoke or gasses issuing from it’s huge, industrial chimneys, but none of this mattered to him for he was absolutely insane. Then he noticed the youth who had been curious about why he was unafraid was dead though his skin was unmarked by cut or bullet hole. He stared in confusion at the corpse until it finally hit him. "Someone's attacking us," he yelled. Suddenly all the traitors were moving, seeking cover and, once they found it, shooting sporadic birsts of fire into the surrounding wreckage though they could not see who or what was attacking. But Everto could see it all, he could see legions of men firing at the traitors with antique guns, he fell to his knees once more and tried to focus his power to destroy them but found that his experiences had weakened his psychic powers considerably and they would not work. He cried in terrror and threw himself into cover. Then he remembered who he was and took a lasgun from one of the dead and began to fire back. Only time would tell if they would survive...


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## komanko (May 16, 2010)

“*Vladimir Corvinus?! Is there anyone here named Vladimir Corvinus?!*” someone roared through the crowd of soldiers standing beside their Thunder Hawks. They all were on the ship, The Warlord’s Pride, was its name. Everyone stood there talking, whispering, chanting and praising. There were too many people to count them… They were headed to the planet Corax, to conquer, to subjugate, yet this plant was a mystery by itself, many rumors and superstitions surrounded that planet and none of them was ever disproven. Vladimir ignored the roar which was carrying his name, he found out that ignoring people which were roaring your name is the best way to avoid trouble yet this one sounded important and after them person shouted again his name Vladimir made his way out of the crowed towards the voice. When he finally quit the ring of guards, a large and brutish man stood before him, his voice was suiting him impressively well. The man was huge; he resembled some kind of an ogryn hybrid but seemed a little more intelligent. His muscles looked like they are about to pop out of the man’s body and just walk away on their own but not surprisingly they stayed there. “*Are you Vladimir Corvinus!?*” The man bellowed at him. “*Oh yes my good sir, most certainly, Vladimir Corvinus at your service sir. What would you wish of me?*” Always charming and nice to talk with, although worshipping chaos he broke every prejudice about the followers, he was nice and also deviously intelligent and always kept his manners while in company, that of course if they are not in the middle of a battle yet even there he tried to stay like this, mocking death in its face with this nice mask of his. The brute’s small mind was softened by Vladimir’s “surrender” to his will, thus the huge man calmed down and said with his booming voice, “Y*ou are promoted, you shall lead your own squad, and go to the second hangar to Thunder Hawk fifteen. Meet them there. Now go!*” Vladimir smiled as he heard of his own promotion; he gave another bow to the brutish man and said “*You are most certainly welcome for these news. Good luck to you in the battle and praises for the gods.*” Saying that Corvinus turned around and marched out of the fifth hangar, heading towards the second one and to his new squad, finally someone saw Vladimir’s potential at the host, he would survive the first wave’s test and will make his way to the top of the host! 

“*Three, two, one, launch.*” The Thunder Hawk left the hangar with a blast of its engines, the sound was terribly loud as this was not the only Thunder Hawk leaving, about 500 more left with it, and those were the only one that Vladimir saw… He did not have time to see his squad as he barely made it in time to the second hangar. He now scoured his man, they were the regular chaos thugs, each of them completely insane, alone weak together united by madness powerful. Yet they looked at Corvinus with determined crystal clear eyes like they were planning something. Foolishly Vladimir ignored this terribly obvious sign and continued to stare into the wall in front of him hoping that something interesting would find its way into the ship. He did not want to talk with his squad nor did they with him and thus it was. Out of sheer boredom he started imagining new ways for “gathering” information from people. While he was lost in thoughts he did not notice the nods that the squad members passed to one another, one of them looked to the side where the cockpit should have been and then nodded back to the guard in the middle. Vladimir was made aware of the guard when he heard the harness sliding back to its place and the steps that were approaching him. Only then he noticed that he was isolated, all the other guards moved to the other side of the Thunder Hawk, he should have expected so, from the start his instincts told him that something was wrong and it was foolish of him not to listen to them, moreover not asking why he had to replace the previous Sergeant…

Again turning his attention to the squad members he saw the one who unstrapped himself from the harness, he stabilized himself and balanced himself so he would adapt to the regular bumps and slides of the Thunder Hawk, when finally managing to stand up with no interference the guard drew out a long evil looking knife which resembled more a sword then a regular knife, his purpose was clear… For a moment Vladimir panicked, the last thing he wanted was to end his life so quickly after managing to escape his previous ones. He tried to reach to the harness’s unstrapping button but he had no time for it as the man already walked towards him with his long knife pointed at Vladimir’s face. This was extremely bad for Vladimir and only a miracle from the gods could save him now. The man whispered to Vladimir’s ear, “*Your time has come, I promise you that your death will be slow and that I will enjoy every blood drop of yours…*” He then moved a bit back and was preparing to strike already when the gods decided that it was the times to answer. To answer with pain!

He was aflame, his mind and body burning with pain, his eyes nearly popping out of their skull and this was only the beginning… Everything went white; every sound was blocked as Vladimir struggled to keep his sanity against the immense and unbearable pain. It felt like his heart was torn from his chest, and his guts disemboweled, it felt like dying but even worse… Eternal pain, never ending and never ceasing. .. Like thousands of worlds crushing into one another every sense in him was shattered, he felt nothing; he knew nothing, not his name nor his masks. Nothing was real and yet everything was real! Finally the first wave of pain passed, as Vladimir finished his screams of agony and pain, he slowly opened his eyes and everything was blurry around him. Then the second wave hit, impossibly even more powerful than before, struggling to stay alive and sane Vladimir left his eyes open, hopefully to deny him the option of falling to unconsciousness. His ears rang as sight and hearing came back to them slowly, the screams of thousands were upon him, the crying, the dying, those who sought mercy, every man, women, and child he killed returned to him with a smash to his brain. Pleads, and cries filled his ears threatening to explode his mind with their voices. Slowly his sight returned to him, and the voices calmed down leaving only his howls of pain and roars of anger to be heard above everything else. Vladimir felt like he was drawn to another place, he had no real control over his body and he moved slowly, everything around him blurry and painted in weird colors… He moved his body a bit struggling to balance it and then raising his head up. Another wave hit him sending jolts of pain through his skull, bringing memories of past to reality. Yet the pain did not feel as strong as before, Corvinus’s body was already numb from pain and it blocked the most of it. Yet the mental terror he had to experience now was one of the most horrible things he ever experienced. The faces of the dead, those killed by him over thousands of worlds hovered near his face, whispering, threatening, cursing and yelling, not giving him any rest. He felt himself screaming as another wave of psychic energy hit his mind yet this time the faces disappeared, only to be replaced by something far more terrible. Moving his head from side to side aimlessly Vladimir slowly saw how his squad mates became different people, people known to him. His allies, his previous friends. The face of every death squad member replaced the face of each guardsman, the all whispered to him his fate, they told him of his fall, they told him that as he betrayed them so he shall be betrayed. Above them all stood the always proud and terrible Commissar, Stephan Antirus, was his name, again he bellowed at Vladimir, spitting on him and his name, smacking him, smashing him, cursing him while humiliating him and all of this suddenly disappeared along with the pain… The only memory left was the words which hovered in front of him. Betrayel!	

Finally regaining clarity and opening his eyes wide Vladimir looked at himself, he saw that he was completely physically fine. Yet the attacked was not, his corpse lying on the floor, his arms chewed and his eyes torn out and in his hands, the man blinded himself before killing himself by smacking his head at the floor, it was easily seen by the large dent in the man’s skull… Vladimir miraculously recovered from the psychic assault. Yet something did not leave him, the face of the commissar which still hovered over the third guard from the left. His anger was gathering inside of him, fury which was rarely seen be bloodletters of Khorne… So much anger and rage such a thing could barely be contained in one man. Starting to wave his hands around Vladimir tried to get out of the harness; he smashed his hands at the wall until they were bleeding his rage inside still growing. Soon he started laughing madly as he neared the ecstasy of fury which was gathering inside him. His senses sharpened and he could hear laughs and cackles all around him mocking him with the voice of the commissar, he turned his head around trying to find the voice’s origin and they all traced to the commissar’s face which still stood there instead of the guardsman’s face. The Thunder Hawk began landing and when he heard this Vladimir began laughing even more terribly, it was clear that if the rage won’t be released soon he will go mad. As the sounds of the engine started to weaken Vladimir started smashing his body and thrusting it trying to cut through the harness which already left nasty markings and wounds on his body, he roared in fury and anger and then finally the Harnesses were removed automatically. “*You! You!! YOU!!!*” Vladimir roared furiously before leaping on the commissar’s image, unsheathing his knife and beginning to stab it madly, “*YOU!!! YOU!!! YOU WERE DEAD!!!!*” He continued shouting inspiring fear in his squad mates, madness was clearly seen in eyes as he continued to relentlessly stabbing the guard disemboweling him and taking out his heart. He threw the heart away and it squished on the wall. With inhuman strength Vladimir ripped off the man’s skull along with its spinal cord, he held it high and locked into the skull’s eyes, he laughed again even more madly then before. The blood from the body and the skull dripped on the ground of the Hawk it stained Vladimir and his belongings. Slowly regaining his senses, Vladimir slowly breathed in and out as he let the skull fall on the ground. Finally getting back to his senses Vladimir smashed the skull with his foot and then finally the laughs and voices stopped…

He stood there, his body soaked in blood and brain, he then finally spoke “*You!*” he said, pointing at the rest of the guard squad “*You want blood and death then you follow me if you wish to betray and leave do it now or suffer the consequences. There is no room for betrayal under my rule!*” He raised his voice emphasizing his last words. To prove his point Vladimir pulled out his carefully rolled electro-flail and let it open, the spikes in the end of it touched the ground letting small scratching sounds. Suddenly he waved his flail and slammed it into one of the guards sending him tumbling back and crying in pain. “*Now! Get moving out of the hawk!! Duty calls!*” He bellowed at them and whipped his flail again, this time against the ground. Some of the troops were terrified while others were inspired by the spectacle in front of them yet it did not matter as all of them started moving out of the Hawk. 

When all his troops were out of the Hawk Vladimir slowly rolled his electro-flail back and tied it to its place again. He then swiped his hands on the dead guard’s shirt cleaning them from blood and moved away from the body and out of the Hawk. As Corvinus moved out of the Hawk he heard screams and explosions yet none of them could be seen, one of his soldiers suddenly fell to the ground dead from an invisible foe and weapon. This made their squad even smaller, now seven from the original ten. Vladimir looked at the dead man which laid on the ground trying to figure out what killed him and only then he noticed that the ground which seemed red clay from the atmosphere was actually made out of metal, the original soil was actually replaced by the metal like surface which spanned across the host’s landing point with no end to be seen. “*What are you waiting for gents?! Get your weapons and equipment ready, we are getting into the thick of it!*” he said terrifyingly calmly while looking at his men. Raising his head from the corpse Vladimir finally scoured his surroundings noticing the huge amounts of ammunition just lying around them, husks of vehicles everywhere, at least that meant that they will rarely run out of ammo. Yet something caught his eye, a shadowy figure of a city… Raising his head up high he saw the towers of the factory-city of planet Corax. Those towers housed the planet’s rulers and that’s where Vladimir’s task was. He had to somehow get there and lay his hands on the rulers. Disengaging his sight from the massive towers Corvinus continued scouring his surroundings until he saw the large obelisk structure that most soldiers were looking at. The structure was completely black as it was made out of obsidian, it could clearly be seen that marks of chaos decorated it and were carved into it, it surely wasn’t something that the Host did as they just arrived here and Vladimir guessed that it was the first task. Unleashing his electro flail he yelled out to anyone who wanted to listen, “*GET YOUR ASSES MOVING WE HAVE A JOB TO DO! GLORY TO CHAOS!!*” and then whipped his flail at the metallic ground as strong as possible creating a nice and loud sound. Vladimir smiled; it will be a glorious day!


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## Nightlord92 (Jul 7, 2010)

"Cursed half-men wretches!" Rime swore inside his broken mind. If it wasnt the shitty rusted out hunk of metal sounding like it was ready to break apart as they hit the atmosphere, then it was the bleating roars and whimpers from these worthless slaves that threatened to drive what little sanity was left in Rime's mind out. Since boarding with these men so "graciously" gifted to him to command, Rime had cursed and swore to all the Powers that he would shoot these idiots himself once they landed if they didnt shut up.

Still, these beastmen held something Rime appreciated: brute strength and the minds of simpering fools. Keeping his gaze cold and emotionless, Rime held the gaze of every beastswine that thought to even think of challanging him until the lowered their eyes to the ground. 

Rime was crazy, but not a fool. He knew that the First Wave had one purpose; soak up enough of the enemies fire that the second and third waves might make some true progress and Rime swore that he would still be alive by the time they landed, no matter how many of these dumb hairy brutes he had to put in front of him. Still, things weren't all bad though. He might even get a chance and killing one of the basterd step-kin of the Corpse Emperor; a glorious prize if he ever saw one

As the ship shuddered once more and was echoed by more roars of fright and smells of piss and shit Rime met the gaze of one of the biggest beasts in the ship. Even from take off Rime had saw the feral hatred beating in his eyes. He knew the second he so much as even displayed a hint of weakness, this one would pounce on him and tear him to shreds. Cold as ice, Rimes ever changing eyes promised nothing but agony for the dumb animal if he tried anything. After what felt like a either a moment or an eternity, the best lowered its eyes and went off to beat and shove any beatsmen near him. 
As if in response to proving his dominance, the ships rocking seemed to cease; a blessing to Rimes already frayed nerves. 

However, before Rime could even begin to relax, a debilitating and agonizing pain shot through his skull. Voices sang and whispered maliciously in his skull. "You will never live beyond this ship". "These hideous beasts will gnaw on your bones and feast on your flesh". "That Gods will laugh as you scream yourself hoarse begging for mercy".

Rime could taste metal in his mouth. Spitting out blood, Rime could feel where he had bit deep into his tongue and cheeks. Screwing his eyes shut tight, Rime would have considered it a blessing if that huge brute beastman had decided to try and kill him after all. Feeling the veins in his head pulse in tune with his heart, Rime would have given anything to rid himself of the fire pulsing through his skull. Still the voices would not relent. Gritting his teeth, Rime could feel blackness threatening to engulf him. As he felt himself pass out, one final voice whispered into his ear with all the venom of a serpent, "Anointed....they are fucking Anointed", and with that Rime felt blessed unconsciousness claim him for however brief of a respite it provided.

Waking up Rime did not know how long he was out but judging that they were still descending, it couldnt have been too long. Wiping a sliver of blood from his lips on his uniform, Rime stood groggily and looked around. Groups of bestmen watched Rime with mixtures of loathing, confusion, and something appraoching awe. However, Rime noticed a great many more of the beasts were watching a scrawny lone figure at the other end of the ship. The psyker. Rime spat on the ground as he looked upon the frail and pathetic figure looking as if he had just fought his own hellish war.

"Touchdown in 5...4...3...2...1... down," a metal voice echoed in his ear. Rime had no clue what the hell had just happened, but it wasn't going to stop him from getting into the thick of things. As the ship shuddered one more time lowering the ramps, Rime flicked the safety off his lasgun. "Alright you dogs!" Rime roared at the beastmen "Get off this damn ship before I kill you myself!". For emphasis, Rime raised his lasgun and shot one of the lesser beastmen square in the head. 

Something wasn't right. That much was certain the second Rime stepped off the ramps. He wasn't on this dirtball planet for more than 30 seconds and he saw 5 of his beastmen down on the ground dead. The ground! Looking all around him, Rime saw that instead of the reddish hue the soil had from orbit, the ground was covered in an arm's dealers wet dream. Guns, Ammo, Tanks, APCs, even fething Gunships were everywhere. Whipping his head to the right, Rime saw one of the Host's tanks explode and fly into the air before slamming back down. Confusion rained and Rime was at a lost. For all the pandemonium around there wasn't even the slightest hint of incoming fire.

Looking north, Rime saw the doomed manufactory-city. It was even more massive than it looked in orbit. And yet, there was nothing giving away signs of life from there either; no smoke, no lights, nothing. It was then that Rime felt something warm touch his scarred face. Raising his hand to his face, Rime knew instantly what it was: ash and soot. Looking up, Rime saw that instead of a clear overcast sky, there was nothing but black menacing clouds that spat ash at the Host. _"What in all the Hells of the Warp is going on!"_ Rime roared inside his skull while he kept his face as calm as possible.

As his beastmen huddled near the dropship, Rime saw what they were all now staring at. To the south, there was a huge black obsidion obelisk. Rime hadn't seen anything like that when they were in orbit. One thing was for sure though; the blessed smell and feel of Chaos emanated from it. _"So, enemies to the North, and enemies to the South. A fitting fight if i've ever seen one."_

Laughing, Rime grabbed the nearest beastmen and shoved them onward. "Forward you animals! Die for the Gods! Die for the Supreme Warlord! Die!" Rime shouted as he pushed more and more of them in front of him, beating any of them who hesitated with his las. By all the Gods of the Warp, he would see the enemy face to bloody fething face!


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## BlackGuard (Sep 10, 2010)

The skies roll with evil intent as the Wretched Host begins its slow, agonizing organisation into its various 'hordes'. All around the surface men continue to die, horrifically maimed in unseen explosions and some men simply slumping to the ground without a word -- las-wounds apparently covering them. This quickly begins to break morale until the real sinister villian is found -- the very ground you walk upon. The tread of a thousand thousand boots upon the surface, of Leman-Russ', of Chimera's, of Basilisks -- their tons of weight pressing down upon the strata of unused military hardware. Mines that had been casually tossed and carefully conpressed by the natural, and yet artificial, currents of the world, would suddenly be triggered by the movment of tanks above. The knowledge of this first becomes apparent to all of you, and prehaps some of the most intelligent beastmen, and there is little that you can do but move on. Perhaps the apparently dead Factorium-City ahead will provide shelter from the unstable, unpredictable ground. 

Your commanders, however, have kept a keen eye on the Black Obilisk to your rear and have been seen consulting with Xanxer the Darkbringer -- a man who should rightly be apart of the Third Wave, for his reputation of cruelty far out-reaches anything that your lot is capable of. Even he looks at the Obilisk with eyes of concern and worry. Why is it there? What could it mean? More importantly ... who controls it? Therefore a small contingent is left behind in the murderous war-fields of Corax as the rest of the Host took the brunt of the damage and unescapable random deaths as they plowed across the strata at full speed hoping to reach the safety of the Factorium.

What will await your in the city that should never be sleeping ... yet is? Your death is most likely.

_Perficio Hurlan- The 777th Tank Company plows across the open fields at full speed -- caution has been thrown to the wind as armored vehicles all around you randomly explode as the planets extremely dangerous terrain claims more lives. A sense of forboding has come upon you in this rush of adrenaline. Your senses are heightened, and yet dulled in the same instant. The Factorium looms ahead of you, a silent, looming beast that even your overly-anaylistical mind cannot completely ignore as the weakness of flesh, known as 'emotions'. Still as the tank company finally breaks into the city you will see horrors beyond horrors -- corpses, long since dried, are everywhere. Some are upon spikes, some seem to melted into the very metallic walls of the city. As a former member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and as a novice of the Dark Mechanicum, you find the sights intrigueing -- do you not? There is much to learn, if only those eyes you swear you see in the darkness of the buildings would tell you._

_Everto Maniple- You are drained from your experiance in the Stormbird and your mind is not even remotely healed. The demon has been held in check, for now, but the voices in your mind constantly remind you that he will return when you least expect it. They even promise that he may turn his back upon you in the future for refusing him then. These things are, however, the least of the your concerns at the moment. Even now you ride upon the back of a Chimera troop-transport, the cold eyes of Rime Utaleth constantly flicker towards you. He seems to know something about what happened in the Stormbird. Your mission, at least you call it that, if being shouted at by Xanxer from a distant and having his mind blast inside of your skull to give you his orders, can be called a mission. You are to act as a psyker-radar, your low-level abilities will permit this for now, you are merely sensing with your mind, looking for the enemy -- attempting to see if anyone awaits you. The Alpha Legion is known to carry many psykers for their own blasphemous purposes, it is your job to detect them._

_You will encounter a slight presence within the Factorium, it is stiffled, hidden from you. It reeks of death and forbidden knowledge. Your interest is heightened, and the demon growls within you. _

_Rime Utaleth- Your find yourself yet again in the presence of the fowl psyker whom who've heard is called Everto. You continue to eye him with suspicion but can handle his presence at the moment. Your beastmen horde, now numbering a grand total of twenty of the wretched things, are trudging along in a group of two chimeras. The one you are in, and another one who is nominally lead by the biggest of the beastmen within. You cannot help but feel a little unease at the situtation your commanders have buried you into, going into an enemy Factorium with little scouting and simply full-scale assault. It could spell the death of you all, and probably will._

_As your Chimeras rumble within the boundries of the city, the shriek of metal upon metal grows dull -- your Chimera's tracks are upon more stable, level ground and you know you are safe from the deathly terrain of this world. Now the only threat you face is that of potential ambush or worse -- Chaos Marines. Still your mind is hardened to what must be done. _

_Your time should be spent preparing yourselves for what may come. In fact -- what is coming will find you first. The other chimera in your command is suddenly hit by an unknown enemy from an unknown location just at the end of your post. Make your choices during this time *very carefully*, they will determine life or death._

_Vladimir Corvinus- You, my friend, were the unfortunate one. As the Wretched Host begins to trudge away you find yourself surronded by the most malicious of characters. For you have been thrown, almost randomly, into a contignent of Nurgle and Khorne worshippers known simply as "The Bloated", they are a rather new warband to join the Host and are very ready and eager to prove themselves. Your immediate superiors have blessed you truly this day, for you have been chosen to be apart of the most vaunted of operations -- rearguard. Your duty is strict and unwavering -- stand there and stop anything from hitting the rear of the Host's First Wave. You are also to help faciliate the arrival of the Second Wave, for which there is currently no sign. 

In the distance you see the Obsidian Obilisk standing as a malignate force of pure, barley contained, malice. As the sounds of the Host moves away, the grumble of tanks, the low growl of massed boots, and the explosions and screams of those randomly dying -- you hear something in the wind. At first you dismiss it as merely the wind -- until you realize there is no wind on Corax. Which further confuses you. Yet it continues to say something, just barley beyond your understanding, until at last it becomes clear to you ...

'They ... are ... here ...'

Shadow- The heads are chattering again, they drive you to the brink of your sanity. The flashbacks have only worsened since your dreadful descent upon this cursed world. You see Smersh again, for seconds at a time, but each chill you to the bone. You see his maimed, skinned face leering at you from the shadows of the buildings you peer into. You see his grin upon the walls, his eyes within the busted glow-globes that hang above the main access routes into the city. You hear his words "You fool" haunting you in the inner recesses of your mind. Whom Smersh is, is still relatievly unknown to you since your being 'split' apart and the subsequent memory loss -- but you still know you should be afarid. Afarid of what is could mean for you, what it will mean.

It means you will die. You have been attached to a random squad of Traitor Guardsmen, so random in fact that they have neither name nor commanding officer. The First Wave is notorious for simply placing the more vetern units in the rear and using them to generally 'guide' the mass ranks in front of them in the general direction of their objective. All around you, you see the corrupted, malicious faces of your fellow traitors and heretics. You see former Commissars, driven mad by power, you see medics covered in blood that you are sure is not their own, you see Bezerker Ogryns mindlessly looking around, the Red Haze slowly consuming their soul. 

You think of killing some of them for the sheer hell of it -- where it not for the fact that the world suddenly errupted around you in a colonnade of flame. The two tanks to your left suddenly explode randomly. At first no one seems to care, the terrain must have done it. Until, of coarse, the madness of the Host is slowly replaced by the sinking realisation that you are no longer on the death terrain of Corax -- you're in the Factorium.

The enemy is no where, and yet everywhere. From every window they appear, then disappear, men and women are dying around you.

Prove yourself to the Brothers in the Darkness, you wretched fool! Stay alive long enough for the Dark Gods to actually notice you worthless existance and take a brief moment of joy as you are slain horribly. Fight for the Gods!

*(Note: Your post should more or less focus around actually being attacked, and maybe killing one or two people -- mind you you're under HEAVY fire, so leaping around, or charging is a bad idea ... you have the right to do it, but death is probably going to find you.)*

Lucien VonHarris- You're really pissed off. First you are informed by some big brute in medieval armor that you're to be included in the First Wave -- which the knowledge you gained prior to your Fall clearly gives you the feeling of what a 'First Wave' is ... and its typically not the last wave either. Death is almost a guarantee, or so you feel. A feeling so strong not even your daemon friend could comfort the thought.

Then they simply shove you into a hell-hole of a rust-bucket they presume to actually considered space worthy, this is to say nothing of the Khornates they just randomly stuck you with. None of them were pleased to have a psyker, no matter how minor, onboard but they are so far into the Red Haze that they caused you no problems. Then of coarse you land and everyone of the damn Khornates died -- they all ran screaming onto the battlefield expecting foes to be rushing at them from all sides. They got a little too close to a tank from the 777th Tank Company, and died when a mine detonated. You could help but laugh, hell even the daemon laughed a bit. 

Of coarse you're not so lucky as to merely be told to stay an guard the ship and you eye the men being left behind with no little hatred. Again you are simply thrown into a random grouping of soliders. This time their sexual tattoos and they perverse language informs you that they are Slannesh worshippers, and the worst kind ... the newly converted. Sex is all the speak about: sex with women, sex with men, sex with horses, sex, sex, sex. Your mind is thumping with pain from the explosions and the cries of the dying, and the constantly rambling about their orgies. 

You enter the city, being given nothing but a lasgun taken from one of the dead Khornates. Your body is jittering as a bad feeling slowly passes over you -- something is wrong. Right about that time, the heretic's head next to you simply turns to red mist. A second later another one goes down. Then the world lights up as a thousand thousand lasguns open fire across streets and buildings. 

Death may claim you if you aren't quick on your feet._


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

Fernq Skall, the Baron's commander, bellowed orders as he climbed back into his ancient Leman Russ Vanquisher. "We're moving out, everyone mount up, head for the city."

Perficio nodded to herself, glancing around she located the Omnia Daemonium. She ran to it, vaulting up onto the clanking armoured beast as the Barons began to move, turning towards the towering hive spire in the distance. The daemon-tank jolted as it's exhausts spat out thick columns of black smoke, then, as one, the armoured regiment lurched towards the city. THey had barely gone fifty feet before there was another casualty, a Leman Russ battle tank in the centre of the column flipped over, an explosion belching up from beneath it as the planet took it's toll. Perficio looked on emotionlessly as screaming crewmen treid to escape the wreckage, before the tanks munitions went up, the metal carcass vanishing in a flash of heavy munitions.

This was happening all along the line now, the entire planet was a minefield. There was an explosion, and a fountain of metal to her right, shrapnel clanging as it bounced off her armour, the heavy tred of a demolisher had set off another mine, but the tank tank rumbled on regardless. Ahead she saw a trojan swerving around burning wreckage, in the back she could make out the pale face of the other tech-priest assigned to the unit. She cursed, she'd been hoping he would have been among the earlier casualties. He was huddled in a corner of the tow vehicle. What was he doing? SHe looked away, then snapped her gaze back. Yes, he was watching her, "I knew it" she murmered to herself. She crouched down, crooning to the demon imprisoned within the clanking behemoth, "soon my pretty, soon, you will taste blood once more." She gave a meaningful glance in the direction of the magos, the beast whined, "yes, you understand don't you?"

A shadow fell across the tank. Perficio looked up and was greeted with the looming city walls, the shadows grew deeper as the tank column roared unheedingly through the great dark portal at the centre of the wall. There was a moment of almost pure darkness, shouts of panic from the vehicles around her, then the vehicles emerged into the city. Perficio gazed around as she balanced effortlessly astride the Omnia Daemonium. They were in some kind of square, there were destroyed vehicles and tumbled barricades, a great battle had been fought here. But it wasn't until she looked upon the edifices towering around the square that she realised what had become of the forces involved in the struggle. Bodies. Hundreds, thousands, each one emaciated and thin, displayed for all to see. Some were impaled on great spikes mounted on the building, others were melted into the metal of the buildings, the very flesh of the city. There was no noticeable join, the bodies simply merged smoothly from dry, crackling skin, to corroded, pitted metal. Fascinating.

But still, she shifted uneasily. She felt, distrubed, as though she were a specimen under observation, she glared wildly into the dark empty windows around the plaza. Each one filled with watchers, eyes filled with malicious intent glinting in the darkness. She switched her vision to low-light mode, the windows immediately cleared, every shadowy recess cast into sharp relief as the visor's invasive vision bared every secret, but left them all hidden...


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## SonOfStan (Feb 20, 2011)

Lucien spat out a curse as he threw himself into cover, managing to get behind a piece of tank wreckage jutting up from the ground. Blood and gristle covered him as the battle roared into life. The whine of a million lasguns overhead filled the air, a high-pitched cracking noise that couldn't quite drown out the estatic shrieking of the idiot Slaaneshi worshippers he'd been stuck with. They fought back ferociously, sighing in pain every time a las round struck home (which was very, very often)

Lucien's eyes darted around the battlefield. He felt safe at the moment; the cover he was behind wouldn't be penetrated by lasguns. However, it was only a matter of time before both sides began employing some kind of ungodly destructive firepower that would turn his wreckage into...smaller wreckage. And, of course, him along with it.


Exactly fifteen seconds after the ambush started, Lucien dove out from behind his cover towards what appeared to be a series of steps leading down into the earth, half-covered by the remains of a toppled wall. It reminded him of the underground trams he'd seen on the few worlds he'd actually visited; if that's what it was, then maybe the tramline could lead to safety.

_Or better. It could lead to a way around the ambush. Maybe it could get us all behind them, let us manuever to fight on our own terms._

Lucien brushed off the thought with a shrug of annoyance, hitting the ground again, narrowly avoiding death as the cultists around him continued to die horrifically. He stayed up for no more then two seconds each time, hurling himself to the ground or behind cover at the end of each rush. The battle was raging in earnest now as the Slaaneshi cultists found cover and returned fire. It was still paltry, compared to what was being thrown out them, but Lucien hoped it'd only be a matter of time before heavier reinforcements arrived. _I can't get killed in the first wave,_ he thought grimly. _I'll show these cultist bastards what a true VonHarris is made of. Waychanger, if you're even real, help me do this and I'll start worshipping you in earnest._

The daemon inside him stirred, for the first time really. It muttered something vague in the back of Lucien's mind; something about him surrendering his soul to it and recieving immeasureable rewards in return. Finally reaching the cover he'd been moving towards, Lucien almost laughed despite himself. _If I surrender my soul to anything like you, I'd hope it would be a bit higher up the food chain._ The daemon snarled a response, then receeded, still hovering in the back of his mind.

Feeling much safer, having overhead cover for the first time, Lucien dared to peek around the corner. He couldn't really see the enemy at all, just the brightness of their rifle flashes. He toyed with the idea of shooting back, but what would that really accomplish? The Wretched Host was already hurling a large amount of indiscriminate firepower towards the enemy. One more lasround wouldn't do much.

On the other hand, maybe the steps led down to something. He couldn't really tell, as they went down about twenty feet and then made a sharp left. For a moment he actually found himself walking down them to find out where they led; then he laughed and cursed himself for a fool.

"Hey!" He yelled to a group of nearby cultists, who were busy blasting away and screaming about their genitals. "Over here! There might be a way around!"


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## komanko (May 16, 2010)

The “encouraged” troops that he just yelled at ran forward, charging gloriously each in his own direction… Yet fate intervened and Vladimir was not to accompany them. Before having a chance to react to what is happening he was consumed by a wave of cultists, cultists of the blood god and cultists of the father, they were everywhere… Apparently he was now reassigned to this part of the host, “So many god damn changes… I need to try and stay with some kind of a group…” He thought to himself desperately as he was engulfed in the wave of cultists. As Vladimir stood there pondering one of the many peculiar characters approached him, it was clearly a Khorne cultist as he approached he asked “Why are you just standing there, let’s get moving… After all we are The Bloated and were here to kill for the blood god and for father Nurgle." “The Bloated” this name sounded familiar, as Vladimir started moving forward he continued pondering on why the name was so familiar to him until it finally hit him… The clues were all around him he just had to remember where he heard the name before… He remembered that one of his assignments at the Death Squad led him to a world with a strong chaos cult which was a contingent of the so called “Bloated”… He remembered that after he tortured one of the cultists he started telling him about “The Bloated” but he could barely remember anything… Only the simple facts, that they were a chaos warband which consisted only of Khorne and Nurgle worshippers.

Looking around him Vladimir quickly processed the new information and watched as the troops moved, they were all eager and confident of themselves… Obviously, they did not know death as close and as personal as Vladimir did. Vladimir had no other choice at this matter so he moved forward with the rest of “The Bloated” until the commanding officers raised his voice and shouted, “*Listen up you bunch of sniveling worms, we have been given the most “valuable” and best assignment… We are now officially the rearguard of this operation. What it means to you? Absolutely nothing, you will steel have to try not to die and follow my orders at the same time. As the name suggests it we will be guarding the rear, we can let nothing pass us and also when the second wave arrives we will greet it with open arms and guide it through. Is dead clear!?*” Some answered, while other stayed silent… It did not matter though as the point was taken and understood. This was highly annoying, first he was assigned to an damn stupid and half assed squad to lead, then they disappeared into one of the charging forces which are probably dead by now and then he got stuck with this bunch of weird and equally unintelligent cultists. Such a great start…

Looking up Vladimir could still see the obsidian obelisk standing tall; apparently no one blew it up yet. It was sort of an intimidating sight; it had an aura of fear around it that everyone decided to stay away from probably because no one knew exactly what this thing was. Soon the voices of the rest of the host decreased leaving the regiment of “The Bloated” here by itself, after a few more minutes even the sound of the dead and the dying stopped and then also the explosions and screams… They all stopped as the Host was already far away from them. Vladimir wanted to test blood and hone his skills; he felt like he was not ready and this wait did not do him any good, especially not after the little incident with the commissar’s ghastly image. He had to do something to keep his mind of that thing which still haunts him yet he had nothing to do except walking and looking around to see the “beautiful and lush” environment. 

Still it felt strange, although the voices from the Host stopped and clearly no one could hear them Vladimir still heard voices, they were low but persistent, they were building inside his head like a maelstrom, whispering, talking, screaming… It was easy to ignore it at first as the voices did not sound any stronger then the wind but then Vladimir realized that there was no wind on Corax and the voices were real. He looked around and saw that he is the only one that is troubled by those voices. The things inside his mind continued speaking, they whispered things that he could not understand, in millions of different languages… It felt like the things tried to attune to his mind by using random languages that he might react to but Vladimir will never know for sure if this was the reason for the unknown language. Yet it did not matter what Vladimir thought was the reason behind it, the facts were that it continued… The voices grew stronger and clearer, slowly Vladimir started understanding portions of what they said. It made Vladimir fill paranoid only contributing to his sense of caution around this planet. “*They... **They... **They... *” Those were the first words which Vladimir could understand perfectly, but those words made him tremble in fear like they were said by an ancient spirit or ghastly creature. Soon more words could be heard “*They… They are… They are here!*” It certainly did not make any sense but the words continue to pound against his brain, smashing through any psychic barrier that he tried to build, destroying any mental blocks that he built. Those voices were forcing a single statement into his head, “They were here!” but who was here was unknown, yet the feeling of dread did not leave him and Vladimir quickly ran to cover, trying to find the best piece of cover be it a carcass of a tank or just some sort of a barricade, what Vladimir really hoped for was to find some sort of an underground passage where he could continue on by his own. But only the gods knew if he will manage to find a thing such as this, some of the cultists looked at him and laughed while others mocked him for such a behavior, but Vladimir blocked what they said calming himself with the thought that if someone will be dead meat its them who will die first…


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

Everto did not move, he was too busy staring into space. He could hear voices in the back of his mind whispering "the demon will desert you," "you will be crushed in an instant," "he will return to destroy you." Suddenly, he was snapped back to reality by a feeling of pain, he shrank back in terror and then realised all that had happened had been that the chimera had gone over a pothole. He relaxed, or tried for the voices would not relent. 

He gazed around the interior of the transport, he saw the beastmen sitting there eying him warily. He did not worry about them however, the person he worried about was the hard faced killer sitting opposite, ex-guard probably. The guardsmen, who's name that he had just been told was Rime Utaleth, who sat there constantly glancing at him with a sort of malicous intensity that Everto felt slightly afraid of. What was even worse was the fact that Rime was in command which meant he could sacrifice Everto on a whim. He shivered. "He knows," said the voices "he knows and he will kill you to make sure you don't lose control."

Everto was to act as a psyker radar, sensing for any of the sorcerers the Alpha Legion might have brought with them. Had he still been capable of logical thought he would have been offended but as it was he merely sat and waited like a dog for any sign of a hostile presence. His former self had been utterly crushed by the visions he had witnessed and twice already he had gone mad, thrashing around at everything in range.

As they approached the Manufactorum he felt, something. But rather than warning anyone he focused on the presence, there was something about that he did not understand, a sort of shiftiness, as if it was just an echo of something that had happened before. He frowned and concentrated but he could not pin down what or where it was. His interest was heightened and he threw himself into his task, forcing his weak abilities to the limit in an effort to discern the nature of the being that created such a strange presence. Then, suddenly he felt it, a psychic pulse of immense power that smelt of death and spelled almost certain doom for everyone, he felt even Decessus shrink in fear. Everto felt suddenly afraid that there was something powerful there, a psyker, a demon, a god. "There is" said the voices "and it will crush you..."


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## Nightlord92 (Jul 7, 2010)

Rime discharged his las's magazine, checked it over for the 40th time, and slammed it back in the las. Through the foggy windows separating him and his beasts from the hellish ground outside, Rime could hear the muffled explosions and screams as more and more of the First Wave were cute down. Looking forward, Rime could see the enemy factorum coming closer and closer in view. Though eager to spill the blood of the enemies, Rime felt a cold chill run up his spine at the situation he was in: of his original beastmen, only 20 of them still lived and even with those numbers Rime didnt like his odds being thrown at the factorum without so much as any idea at what was waiting for him. 

Bracing himself in his seat as the chimera lurched over the ground, Rime again saw the form of the cursed psyker Everto bounce in his seat. _"This weakling looks about ready to keel over"_ Rime thought happily in his mind. Rime had thought about trying to order him to the other chimera but knew the mangy animals in there would undoubtedly kill him in the state he was in. For better or worse, and more than likely it was going to be worse, Rime was going to make sure witch fulfilled his purpose. Either that, or Rime would slay the pathetic slave-psyker where he stood.

With a final grinding squeak, the chimera's tracks left the metal deathfield behind and entered the safer grounds of the factorum; much to Rime's relief. They were getting closer. Soon he would have his revenge against the scum who thought they could kill a warrior of the Host. Cowardly weaklings. Now all he had to worry about was the chance of ambush. Unbuckling himself from his seat, Rime walked to the front of the chimera and looked out the driver's window. Driving next to him, the other chimera kept a steady pace with Rime's chimera, presenting a tempting target to whoever might be watching. 

"Slow down." Rime ordered the driver. "Let them offer up the choisest target". Smiling, Rime felt the chimera slow down just enough that he watched the other chimera steadily pull ahead of them. Turning around, Rime leant out the cockpit door and shouted to gather his warrior's attention. "Alright you disgusting excuses for warriors! We'll be meeting the enemy soon! Check your weapons and make ready for bloodshed!" Rime shouted over the rumble of the engine.

Mewling and roaring their bloodlust, Rime watched the beastmen pull out their crude weapons: axes, clubs, beat up las-pistols or rusty old stub guns. Worthless. 

As Rime contemplated how he was going to get through this shitstorm alive, an explosion too close for comfort shook through the chimera. Immediately Rime was in the front of the chimera. Sure enough, thick black smoke billowed from the other chimera in front of them. "What in the all the hells of the warp happened!" Rime snarled at the driver. "I dont know. One second they were driving ahead of us then the next thing I know all hell hit it!" the driver sputtered. 

_"Shit!"_ Rime cursed in his head. Even if he knew who or what destroyed the chimera, at this range he would have no time to get at them before they destroyed him. "Dead stop. We're getting off. Continue pressing forwards and give us protection." Rime commanded. Not waiting to see the driver respond, Rime was already in the back of the Chimera cursing and berating his half-men to get the hell out of the waiting target. "You too witch" Rime snarled at Everto as he jumped out of the back of the chimera. 

Slamming his fist against the hull as the last of the men hopped out of the chimera, Rime watched the ramp lift up and it slowly take off forwards. 

"Now then, lets get the hell away from that deathtrap." Rime barked before chuckling at the thought of the driver's demise. "Stay near the debris and out of the open. But most importantly, stay the hell in front of me!" Rime yelled before setting off forwards into the factorum, his lasgun ready to do some killin


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## Tarvitz210300 (Jan 27, 2011)

Shadow heard it again the chattering, the screaming. "Shadow, Shadow why why why you you shall die like all fire death burning doom doom." Then they came back the visions the fire the blood rivers of blood streaming down. Then the face came boiling blood oozing from his face screaming at him. " Shadow what are you doing you... nooo" the scream enveloped him destroying him. Then more of them came this time with bodies blood dripping from their mutilated bodies. Coming towards him, he slashed at them and managed to kill one. It did nothing the blood flowed with renewed vigour surrounding him, a river of blood Khorne. "Damn you" he shouted as soon as he said this a daemon appeared, "You fool you curse Khorne if you were not so pathetic, so weak, then I would destroy you." A searing pain engulfed him and he fell, then the daemon was Smersh again laughing at him " I will watch you burn."

Then he was back he looked under him to see the hacked up body of a beastman. He laughed maniacally stabbing the body repeatedly watching as the blood flowed. Then the chattering started again not as bad this time just the head taunting him mocking his every movement as he trudged slowly forward on the cursed world. Corax was what he thought it was called which reminded him of something, he could not put his foot on what those. 

The ground then exploded and Shadow fell to the floor. He then watched as explosions scattered the brigade the alluring fire burning men to a char. He stayed on the floor as the herd of beasts were mowed down the beasts. The animals panicked and started to flee, Shadow observed with huge fascination as the beasts fell, like a puppet thats strings had been cut. He saw their lifeless eyes staring at him. Then the hats started again "Your fate your fate your fate your fate." Shadow wondered why nobody could hear him they were screaming. Then silence as tank was destroyed a mushroom cloud rising above it then falling to the ground. 

It got worse in the streets of the city they came firing upon all more men fell as the invisible enemy struck. Shadow stayed down in total fear as almost everyone fell; bullets piercing their soft flesh. Blood layered the slaughter ground as the Alpha legion seemed to disappear no longer seeing the convoy as a threat. Shadow started to crawl slowly barely moving and reached his destination, the captain of the company. Now he was at the captain he unshaved his sword, the captain was alive the bullet had only wounded him. Thats much better thought Shadow and began to slice him apart. He heard the screams of the captain begging for death as the rusty sword chopped him up, it was blissful. The captain was soon dead but Shadow cut him up any way. 

Shadow suddenly thought he could having given himself away, so he used the captains blood, smearing it on himself. He looked very like a corpse in the pile of dead bodies, then the voices came screaming at him, this world seemed to make them hate him even more. They chanted a dark chant and soon Shadow was back. The blood the ruined city the pile of dead and wounded and Smersh standing over them laughing as the bodies worshiped him. Something was standing at his side The Captain now mocking him too. Fire then spread through the city, incinerating both, Shadow hid in the dead bodies and watched as the flames passed nothing in its path lived.


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## BlackGuard (Sep 10, 2010)

The City-Factorium of Corax has come alive around you all. From every window, from every alleyway, from every sewer inlet, and even from places where mortals could not possibly tread you see the gunfire of the enemy. At first it is merely the fizzle and sharp-crack of lasweapons, hitting all around you charring rockcrete, burning metals, and vaporizing dust particles. Then the heavy fire begins, you here ahead of you the low thump, thump, thump of incoming mortar and artillery strikes. Soon your positions become very active as explosions take chunks of your formations out, tanks are set ablaze, and the world is boiling away in salvo after salvo from the big guns at the enemy's rear. 

The lights within the Factorium of Corax suddenly spring to life and you all are temporary blinded -- as spotlights which moments ago lay silent, are now manned and beaming lights pinpoint your tanks for kill-squads of the enemy. All around you, you see formations of your First Wave being boxed in by the enemy, an enemy who appears from the sewer manholes, from behind your lines, boxing in chunks of units and cutting them down mercilessly before simply disappearing. One thing above all is clear though -- they are not Astartes. They are mortals, clad in a wide range of tattered clothing but acting as though they are crack shock troops. Still the scent of death grows stronger and the spicy tang of the Warp, while always strong within the Maelstrom, as rose to a sickly level -- all of your senses are dulled by its overwhelming presence. The fabric of reality, which is already gone, is still shifting and "wabbling" around you all. As though the world itself is confused to see this war.

The time to serve your dark masters as come, brothers and sisters of the Host. Prove yourselves to them, and perhaps you will be granted a quick death?

_Perficio Hurlan- The eyes are no longer eyes, my dear. They are leaping heretics who bound from every window, every door, and every alley to attack you. Within seconds you are surronded by three of them who leap upon the tank. They can be easily killed if you know how to deal with them. Once this paltry task is finished you will see death itself. The tank in front of yours goes up a fireball of molten adamantium and flesh. You are knocked off your tank and nearly twenty yards away. A blessing perhaps for it too goes up in flames, you see enemy tank-killer squads roaming within the buildings. A choice is laid before you:_

_*Engage Tank-Killers*- You are a warrior nontheless. You will draft a nearby squad of mutants, mangy creatures who produce all kinds of somewhat useful mutations (I'll leave this part to your imagination, be reasonable as ever), and charge into the nearby building complex. The complex you will enter is the one of your right, a vary sub-factorium which, thanks to your Mechanicus learning, you realize is a sub-department of a larger factory which it has been slaved too by skywalks which convey materials from the primary factory here to be speed up production. The enemy has taken positions along the catwalks high upon the side facing the road. They have, however, anticipated your arrival. There are chockpoints upon the railing where a few enemy troops stand guard watching the various doorways. This means you have come under immediate attack. Your goal here is to eliminate this threat to your armored column while you still have an amoured column to save. _

_Take note this must be roleplayed very and effectively. Your subsequent wounds, or death, will be impacted by how realistic this post is, and how you command you meagre squad of EIGHT MUTANTS._

*Fall Back and Regroup*- Obviously this is by far the more sensible choice. Your tank column is slowly being destroyed, this much you are sure of. The killer-squads of the enemy are blasting it away rapidly. Even as this choice is pondered upon by your advanced mind you see another two tanks go up in balls of fire. Although now the tanks themselves are responding randomly, firing at anything that isn't them. You can hear the daemons within their armored hides roaring for revenge.

Yet the tactical side of your mind realizes their hoplessness. Retreat is the only option. You will convince a handful of tanks to fall back with you (although, if you roleplay this well enough you may convince the entire company, be a little vague with how many and I may reward you with more). Though you should note that the Tech-Adept whom you wish to kill, will choose the other option and make an attempt to save the column. This only heightens your paranoia and leaves you with another choice, within this choice. If you fall back as this choice indicates you will not be able to kill him and he may very well succeed -- a glory that will not soon be forgotten by the 777th. Should you attempt to challenge him, then you will be forced to choose to Engage Tank-Killers.

The glory of martyrdom or heroism awaits your Dark Adept. Choose now.

_Everto Maniple- You are required to follow Rime Utaleth's initial order to fallback out of the Chimera. Even if you did not have to comply, the sheer logic of it would have been too overwhelming even for your bruised soul to consider acting against. As you come out of the shielded Chimera your senses are alive as the battle suddenly erupts around you. Almost immediately lasrounds are ripping by your head as enemies come pouring out of the buildings around you. Before you can react you are struck by a lasround and fall to the ground screaming in agony._

_This has saved your life, and mortally wounded it too. For moments later the a mortar shell lands but a scarce thirty yards from your position, killing some of the enemy and some of Rime Utaleth's men in the process -- though only those who rushed forward to meet the enemy head on. Had you followed them, you too would have died. Although the lasround did strike you in the chest, almost dead center. Only thanks to the daemon within you have you survived. _

_The Dark Gods will not claim you, instead they find your screams of agony to be far more enjoyable and you hear their voices within your mind. Slaanesh coes instead of your skull, he asks you how the pain feels, for he is writhing in ecstacy at the feeling of it. He asks you why you too do not wriggle in joy at the searing burn of your fused nerves and the trauma upon your lungs and tissue. He tells you to let go of it all ... let go and he will save your mortal life this one time._

_In the same instant, you feel a presence far beyond anything you have felt before. A loom giant seems to ponder over you soul in the warp -- it is the Blood God Khorne. The Bane of Psykers he is called by mortals and deities alike. He offers a chance to prove to his dilute brother, Tzeentch, that psykers are not entirely his domain. He too offers you a chance to live, but in return you will loose a portion of your powers. Yet you will live._

_Take note, mortal, chuckles a daemon within your skull -- both choices are right and both are wrong. Rarely do the gods concern themselves with mortals of your meagre caliber, so to be looked upon by two of them is outright insanity. Should you choose Slannesh, things will happen to you, should you choose Khorne -- other, equally disturbing things will happen to you._

_You feel cheated, do you not? First the daemon tries to pry open your soul and devour your life-essence by offering itself up to be your defense during the trauma in the atmosphere. Now you lie mortally wounded upon the battlefield, your comrades care not weather you live or die -- you've served your purpose. This is, however, the life of a psyker within the warp -- to be a play thing of the daemons and deities of its Great Ocean._

_Weep, my son, for the Brothers in the Darkness look upon you. Make your choice: The Dark Prince or the Lord of Skulls. Yes, its not fair but when have the gods ever been fair?_

_Rime Utaleth- As you disembark your chimera you are instantly attacked by numerous enemies, they come at your in all directions. An initial attack by a handful of your beastmen, five total, is utterly killed by both the enemy and the subsequent mortar shelling being conducted by them as well. You will attempt tactics using your time spent in the Corpse-Emperor's Guard to held saw the faits back into your favor. These will have limited success I'm afarid, the enemy is far better armed and trained that your paltry beastmen. They will be slowly widdled away. As you shout your commands and kill and kill again, the Warp laughs at your attempts._

_The Chimera you've been trying to distance yourself from suddenly explodes, the only fortunate part of this is that it did so some forty yards away. Still the explosion was the result of a direct compact on top of its armor, near the left end of it -- sending the Chimera exploding into the air and raining the area with shrapnel. A peice lodges itself in your back and you feel your skin on fire from the molten peice. You writh and yell in pain and agony until finally your life-blood is able to drown the heat out. You feel weak, your head is throbbing and you can hear death all around you._

_Fear not, you will rise again. As you do so you realize you have but eight beastmen left now, all others have been slain. They are scattered and looking terrified, this is far beyond the meagre ambushes and small skirmishes they are used too upon their homeworlds. Now is the time to make an example soldier:_

_*Cut out the throat*- As you survey the battlefield you realize the enemy is being commanded by a figure who has remained in the darkness of the building. All you see is a single baleful eye staring back at you. Obviously this monster is leading his men, as you see his eyes move to the left or right and not surprisingly the enemy reacts to this. They probably have a short-range telepathic connection you think, but it may well just be squad-level communications. You have the choice to charge, alone, at this enemy commander._

_You will suffer horrifically for this choice, and you will probably die. You charge this figure and surprisingly break through their front line, which is also in a loose formation due to the constant random strikes by the enemy mortar teams. How this fight plays out and what this figure in the dark is ... is entirely up to you. Make this fight well mortal, it very well might be your last._

_*Organize and Retreat*- The foe is too numerous, and far too organized to even hope to defend against. Your psyker-radar has fallen and from the looks of it, hes going to die. There is really no chance of survival here. Therefore your command instincts have taken over and you begin to rally your beastmen with shouts of profanity and threats of violence should they not comply. Luckily they are far too scared and terrified to disobey this time and your orders will be followed with little protest. _

_Organize your retreat and fall back approximately half a mile to the rubble in the roadway, a recent change in the battlefield, apparently the building this debris use to belong too took three direct hits from artillery peices and collapsed, as a result. It will serve as a relatively safe fall-back position. However, as you retreat you notice the psyker on the ground is glowing with a malign light you have never seen before._

_Glory will not be yours, mortal, but you will live ... for now._

_Vladimir Corvinus- The rearguard duty has become something of an issue for you. The voices are being whispered from the desert, only barley audiable to yourself. Why only to you, you cannot imagine. Perhaps The Bloated here the baying of the Blood God too much, or maybe Papa Nurgle's soothing words of pestilence have defeaned their ears. Though not entirely for long. Soon they too begin to hear these words ... low at first and growing louder by the minute. In the distance, towards the Factorium you see the smoke of burning vehicles, you hear the thump of the big guns. You know the enemy has been found._

_Though if thats the case ... who the fuck is whispering at you? You are not the first to spot it, a small group of figures in the distance. You are surprised you did not regonize them sooner, they've been there the whole damn time. Like statues they have sat there -- perhaps a mile or two across the twisted metal landscape. You have only noticed them because the Bloated's sniper regonized one of them moved. What they are you cannot see._

_Thanks to your unseemly behaviour earlier you have been chosen to go investigate them. Congradulations! Of coarse, a sqaud if ten is sent with you, with overall command being given to one of The Bloated's officers -- I'll let you design him yourself, but he might be sneaky and he must not be entirely on good terms with you, but not overly hostile. You will investigate this threat._

_*A Private Message detailing what you will find and what will happen to you will be sent. All information you receive must be withheld from all other Roleplayers. I am working on an Honor System here, Vladimir -- please comply.*_

_Shadow- Ingenius decision brother! Your actions of randomly killing your semi-commanding officer and then simply coating yourself in blood has proved your worthiness to the Host -- if only in a small measure. Your unit is decimated as a result, most of them are killed and the enemy swarms over you, some of them trampling you in the process. Your nose is broken, and one of your eyes is gouged out by some officer who wears his rusted sword a little too far down. You did not make a sound, your mind was too busy trying to fry itself with the horrific images you see. You were simply disregarded by the enemy who trampled over you to further drive your unit back. _

_You suddenly snap back into reality and your on-fire in agony, you bellow and scream. Lucky for you the enemy is far enough away not to hear you ... well almost. You are immediately attacked by three of the stragglers of the enemy. They will kill you, if you do not kill them first. Make this an enjoyable kill streak._

_Though your time here is not entirely for pleasure. As you finish dispatching the enemy troops you notice one of their commanding officers is still alive, of coarse not one of the ones you fought -- rather a lucky shot from some random heretic in your unit had managed to hit him. He is bleedy and will die shortly, there is perish little time._

_*Feed your desire*- This is entirely like you. You come across an enemy officer who is rapidly dying. There is little time to feed your compulsive desire to kill men of rank. You will not listen to his dying words, you will only kill and kill again! Chopping him up or slicing him up -- the choice is yours._

_There is no grand scheme or ultimate fait here ... feed yourself brother. Make it blissful._

_*Listen to the Dying*- This fait is unknown to you. Should you choose it -- PM me immediately and let me know. I will respond with his words, and all nessecary information for you to make your next post. This too will work off an of an Honor System -- please comply._

_Lucien VonHarris- The Slanneshi cultists around you have heard your words. Some simply ignore you and continue the fight, yet others have heard your message and their insane thoughts were overridden by their desire for death and glory. A small detachment of seven have followed you down into the darkness of the undertunnels. They are generally following your commands, since this was your idea and the fact that their command cadre have already been slain. You follow the tunnels for nearly a hundred yards before you realize your mistake._

_The enemy has defended this area too, and you find yourself actually stummbling right into one of those advanced parties -- their intention was just the same as yours, come up behind the enemy lines and decimate them. They begin to unleash volleys of lasfire and kill two of your squad members before you can even react._

_Be quick VonHarris, these foes will only grow in number the longer you wait. Your surrondings are clear, there a several side tunnels and access ways. Choose any of them if you want. Or if you feel the need for a great, and glorious, last stand remain behind. You may yet hold the enemy tide and save your fellow heretics from being smashed in the rear by the enemy -- or you may just die needlessly._

_Isn't the Changers of Ways great?_


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## SonOfStan (Feb 20, 2011)

VonHarris cursed, hurling himself down into cover as lasrounds whicked by overhead. Two of his ragtag squad were cut down immediately, falling apart in moaning heaps of cauterized and burning flesh. He heard the distinct sound of a heavy stubber, chattering noisily and sending burning tracer rounds overhead.

Leaning out slightly from behind cover, minimizing his silhouette as he had been taught, VonHarris saw that the enemy had emerged from an access tunnel two hundred meters to his front. There were already at least six of them, a mere sixty metres away, and more would be arriving any minute he was sure. _This is not what I was after,_ he thought grimly. _But I'm not finished yet. Not nearly._ A plan was already forming in his mind.

"We must advance!" He yelled to his fellow cultists as they yelped and yammered praise to Slaanesh. What was it they were always shrieking on about? "All glory and the promise of pain awaits us! We must move on, for the Dark Prince!"

They all responded well to that, whimpering praises; all except a tall, slender female who was completely nude except for her bandolier. "We do not serve the Prince with a needless death," she snarled, firing a burst from her .30 caliber light machine gun. "We serve Him with the pain of our enemies."

VonHarris wanted to demand why a woman who went into battle naked, devoid of armor or even shoes, thought that she could begin to lecture him on tactics. Instead, he nodded, sagely covering his emotion. "You're right! I will kill the gunner, while you provide covering fire with your weapon. Once the stubber stops, then we advance!" The witch nodded, seemingly satisfied with that.

He quickly sighted down his 4x scope, aiming at the gunner of the heavy stubber. As he squeezed the trigger, he was surprised to find that the man he was about to kill looked just as ragged as a member of the host. That thought brought him small comfort as the refraction mirrors in his weapon catapulted a red laser bolt through the gunner's head. The weapon ceased firing as he slumped over it, the upper part of his skull missing.

"Go!" He shouted, and the cultists were on their feet, hurling themselves forwards, weapons firing and bayonets fixed. The witch with the .30 cal stayed online, spraying indiscriminate fire over the enemy, shouting and snarling and encouraging her fellows forward. Grenades cracked and boomed as they advanced, taking advantage in the sudden lull of firing.

VonHarris stayed where he was just long enough to see several more enemy cultists emerge from the access tunnel. They all dove into cover, supressed by the sudden violence of the assault and the firepower of the witch's gun. To his great surprise, he saw the cultists manage to swarm the enemy's first position and catch hold of the heavy stubber. They turned it quickly, and added its steady bass to the _pop pop pop_ of the .30.

Then he was up and moving, hurling himself into one of the side access corridors. He moved quietly into the dim light, rifle up and ready to fire, feverishly checking each corner before he rounded it. _I can't believe I'm doing this. Killing that piss ant certainly put me in a suicidal mood,_ he thought, the daemon in his head stirring at the sudden influx of powerful emotion. _That's right, you bastard. Wake up. Wake up and let me know if I'm about to get shot._ The monster replied with something of a curse, and something of assent.

The sound of enemy guns grew louder. VonHarris stopped, dropped to the ground, and peered around the corner. There was a narrow service corridor that extended for fifty meters before it intersected with another access tunnel. From where he was, he saw that he had actually manuevered around to behind the enemy. He counted fifteen enemy fighters total now, trying their best to regain fire superiority against the Slaanesh devotees. He also saw the tunnel where they had come from originally, and that it appeared to be clear of any more of them.

VonHarris cursed. The last thing he wanted to do was run back the way he'd came...but skulking around in the darkness with nothing but a daemon for company was an even less inviting idea. _You wanted power,_ he thought. _Here's your chance. Give me some kind of a head's up, daemon, and I'll try to find some way of feeding you. That's my vow._ 

The daemon spoke at this, excited but indistinct. VonHarris didn't care. He was already running back the way he'd came. He passed by the old position, rushing from one cover to the next until he came to the flight of stairs. The battle was still raging overhead; as he emerged back above ground, he saw that the line had barely moved at all.

"Children of Slaanesh!" He roared at a platoon section of cultists who were not far off. "Servants of the Dark Prince! The enemy is beneath us! They will fall upon us if we do not crush them now! Come quickly, and we can cross their lines and fall upon their rearguard!"

A bunch of bullshit, really; but the safest place at the time was below ground, in the tunnels. And even safer then that, was having an entire platoon section running through the tunnels with you. _Hope they realize how important this is,_ VonHarris thought. _Hope my damn luck holds out._


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## Tarvitz210300 (Jan 27, 2011)

The bodies clawed at him, they scratched at him blood oozed out of him. Shadow sliced randomly, trying to stop the blood but it kept coming, he was panicking. He was trapped between the arms or the fire so he franticly cut trying to stop the arms clawing but they would not and he could not stop them. The head was seen after a few minutes it was the leader he was sure of it he slashed trying to kill it. He stabbed it and the hands frenzy increased. He managed to stab the head and the hands went insane. They clawed at his eye and they managed to pull it out.

The black goo slowly smothered him he could not breathe the goo was in his throat he spit it back out the Phlegm was awful. Shadow could not take it any more he crawled out of the pile of mutilated bodies fists. The light blinded him and he screamed, the scream echoed but instead of the sound dissipating it increased until he could take it no more. He screamed to make it disappear but it did not, it heighten the sound until he was laughing maniacally the pain enjoyable. 

The sound stopped and three men appeared they brandished weapons menacingly they seemed to want to kill him. Shadow was puzzled these were not Chaos space marines but simply men armed with swords, were they the local populace. Shadow did not have anymore time to think about this, the mad part of him the battle rage overcame him. He howled and came forward unsheathing his sword, “ You You You You You You You You You You You You You YOU” Shadow screamed and the men stared at him in shock. 

The Heads on either side of him told them their views, they were only on there side when Smersh was not there when he unsheathed his sword. “ run,” “ hit the arm” “ doge” “parry” they all screamed what should be done each drowning each other out in a sea of noise, Shadow loved it. The men looked unnerved by there opponent and they slowly walked forward. Shadow screamed and one man flinched, for once all the heads agreed “on him!” and Shadow followed. His power weapon shined as he cut down damaging his opponents sword. He continued with his offensive slashing wildly at the man. He could do nothing but watch as his hand flew off his sword with it. Shadow was Hysterical as he grabbed the man holding him by the throat. He cut it.

He span around his meat shield ready to see both men coming at him. He walked forward slowly and as the men drew nearer threw the body with all his might at one of the men. He fell to the floor with a dead body on top of him. Shadow ran towards the pinned man but was stopped by the remaining man. “You will not kill my friend” he said and jumped at him, Shadow pushed him away and ran to his friend. He severed the head from the body and showed it to the only remaining man “I think I have” Shadow said in a fit of laughter. “ you Zombie has killed my friends but not me” the man said and ran. Shadow pulled out his weapon and fired, he hit the man in the leg but he kept running. 

“Help me.” Shadow span around trying to find were the sound originated from. He found it the wounded body of a captain, this would be pleasant he thought and pulled out his sword. He walked up to him but the man just looked at him, with no fear, he needed fear that was what fed him his heads were full and so was he. So he dropped his sword and watched the man he eyed him with curiosity until he found the Fanged Demon Skull logo on Shadows tattered uniform. He pointed to it with dread and managed to mutter a few words “ you were all dead. I saw it myself” he then stopped and laid very still. Shadow was about to leave when he noticed an Icon carved on his skull. Shadow quickly cut the captains head off and hid in a house he looked very like a corpse. He waited for a force to pass


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## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

Then the eyes came alive, fading out of the shadows came scores, no, hundreds of ragged men, leaping through windows and firing as they came. There was a dull whoosh of super-heated air and the tank in front went up in a ball of fire, the percussive force of the explosion rocking the Omnia Daemonium and sending Perficio flying backwards. The beast howled with delight at the unfolding carnage, it’s main gun swinging round and bringing down the front of a nearby building with a single blinding plasma blast. It’s victory was short lived though as two missiles streaked in from ahead, hitting the join between the turret and chassis, the tank’s plasma cells went up and for a moment the street was lit up as the tank became a small sun.

Small-arms fire kicked up dust around her feet, autogun rounds hammering into her armour and causing her to stumble as she fled from the road, diving into cover amidst the rubble. She slumped down next to a group of mutants. She scanned through them, one a huge brute carried a heavy bolter in arms that looked like simple slabs of muscle. One was craven and cowardly, ratlike features gazing around in terror and tail twitching, it inadvertently flicked at a crab clawed mutant, eyes hanging out on stalks. Another was less deformed, simply covered in a strange, sable-like fur, while next to him was a woman with a deformed twin growing out of her chest, it’s arms clutched around her and it’s body slung with grenades and ammunition. Two more joined the group, one tentacled and clutching an axe and the other with a birds head, lasrifle clutched in it’s talons. Perficio sensed movement above her and whirled about, there crouched a strange, almost lizard like creature, vertically on the wall. It’s forelegs had human hands and a human face grinned evilly at her, a corroded auto-rifle slung over it’s back.

An impact shook the building, the battle was still going on outside, tanks firing wildly into the buildings while entrenched heavy weapons teams took the armoured column apart. She tensed, blood was in the air, it’s rich metallic tang coiling around her, drifting into her olfactory receptors, their was death here. She felt her whole body tense, her left arm and the servo-harness flexing of their own accord, almost as if they too scented blood and echoed her desires. There was another impact, and an ominous groaning of straining metal, “it’s coming down” Perficio screamed, sprinting forward, the mutants behind her as the building collapsed in a shower of rubble behind them.

She turned to them, “the column is being taken apart by those weapon teams”, she pointed in the direction the weapons fire was coming from, “we have to stop them before it’s too late.” The mutants looked uneasy, looking back in the directions of the landing zone. “There is no going back, you think you’ll get out of this city alive if you go that way? At least if we do this we’ll still have some vehicles left.” She set off in the direction of the sub-manufactory, looking behind she saw the mutants following dumbly, more out of someone to follow than any misplaced bravery.

As they entered the shadow between the two buildings she heard a cry from above, looking up she saw more of the ragged but disciplined troops on the catwalks above her. Some already training their weapons downwards, she dived forwards, then there was a roar as the catwalk was obliterated, the muscled mutant opening up on it with the heavy stubber, the weapon looking like a toy in his arms, blood and viscera cascaded down from the abattoir the catwalk had become and Perficio laughed, bathing in the rain of blood.

But more enemies appeared, and the beast continued to spray indiscriminately, bullets sparking off the walls and causing more soldiers to fall before a plasma gun immolated him. The ragged soldiers began to fire back, lasguns and autorifles cracking off rounds that impacted around Perficio, two of the mutants fell the furred one and the man with crab claws falling, hole punched by dozens of rounds. She screamed in rage and pain as an auto gun round punched through her knee leg, the bullet finding the weak spot between armour plates. She fell to one knee and a wall of fire passed through the space she had just occupied, taking the woman with the twin off her feet and slamming into the wall.

She heard a cackling above, the lizard creature stood on a catwalk, a grenade in each hand, casting them down into the mass of soldiers that swarmed from the building. The was a dull crump, followed by screams and curses. She vaulted over the makeshift barricade to see a scene of carnage, men lay, bodies blasted apart by the explosions, still more had been slain by flying shrapnel and those still alive were dazed, but recovering quickly. But not quick enough as Perficio slashed into them like a dervish, an animal howl of binary erupting from her throat. Her first blow split a man from his sternum, she whirled around, punching her right fist into a mans face, her blow, augmented by the power armour’s servos crunching into his nose and crumpling his face. Her claw flicked out, the lethal talons slicing effortlessly through the throats of another two men. Her servo arm flailed wildly, crushing skulls and knocking men flying. A man opened up on her at point blank range, some of his shots penetrated her armour but the pain merely focused her senses, she hissed in rage, and the servo-arm darted forwards snatching at the mans shoulder and hurling him far behind her. The rest of the combat became a blur after that, her logic systems shunted aside in favour of pure animal bestiality as she howled in delight.

A sharp pain across her chest jolted her back to reality. A man stood before her, a hissing power sword held before him in a classic duellists stance. He sneered at her, “come beast, meet your doom.” She didn’t deign to reply, launching herself forward, his sword flickered around, deflecting every blow, the man was a consummate swordsman and she saw her doom in his eyes. A wild swing saw her exposed, but instead of taking the opportunity he kicked her in the chest, knocking her to the ground. He stood over her, one foot planted on her chest and raised his sword. Perficio whimpered, raising her left arm in a vain attempt at self defense. He sneered, “now, you die”…


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## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

Everto decided to follow Rime Utaleth's initial order to fallback out of the Chimera. Even if he did not have to comply, the sheer logic of it would have been too overwhelming for even his scarred and bruised soul to consider acting otherwise. As he left the the Chimera his senses were torn apart by the sound of gun fire as a firefight suddenly erupted around him. In an eyeblink lasrounds and bullets were flashing past his skalp as enemies came flooding out of the buildings around them. Before he could move to dodge the shots he was struck by a lasround and fell to the ground screaming in agony and torment.

Although it nearly killed him it also saved his life for a mortar shell struck the ground thirty metres away causing all the men who had rushed to attack the enemy to die. Instantly. The only thing keeping him alive was the demon inside him.

The Dark Gods did not let him die for they found his screams of agony to be far more enjoyable than painful and he could hear their whispering voices in his head, clawing at his already fragile mind. Slaanesh spoke to him inside his skull, he asked how he felt about the pain, whether he enjoyed it, for he was writhing in ecstacy at the feeling of it. He asked why Everto too do not wriggle in pleasure and ecstacy at the pain of his broken nerves and splintered veins and the damage inflicted upon his lungs and flesh. He asked him to let it all go, let go of himself and enjoy the pain ... do that one thing for him and he would save his life this once.

In the same instant, Everto felt a presence far beyond anything he had ever experienced before. A looming giant seemed to pass judgement over his insignificant soul within the warp -- it was Khorne, The Blood God, the Bane of Psykers he was called by men and demons alike. He offered a choice to prove to Tzeentch, his magical brother, that psykers were not entirely his area. He too offered a chance to live, but in return Everto would lose a portion of his psychic powers. Yet he would live to feel the sun's warmth on his face again.

"Take note," Decessus chuckled, "the choice is yours, there is no right, and there is no wrong answer." Everto gritted his teeth and thought. If he chose Slaanesh terrible things would happen to him and if he chose Khorne, other, equally unspeakable things would happen.

He almost cried at the unfairness of it all. "But," Decessus said relishingly "who ever said the Gods were fair to those who worshiped them for they thrive on mankind's emotions and the most enthralling of those is pain." Everto felt cheated for he had survived the trauma's in the atmosphere, he had fought a demon and barely survived and know he 

He cried "Slaanesh, lord of pleasure, spare my life this once." Instantly, all his pains were magnified a hundred fold and his body writhed with pleasure at the feeling while his mind screamed with agony.


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## komanko (May 16, 2010)

After seeing that no attack was coming Vladimir stopped moving from cover to cover, he was overly annoyed by the fact that his instincts betrayed him to some extent as he hoped that an attack will come to prove his actions correct. Thought the attack never came the voices continued, whispering, all in his head and his head alone. Looking around he still did not see any of “The Bloated” reacting to the voices that he heard… Maybe their minds were filled with prayers for Khorne and soothing words from Nurgle, Vladimir did not know but it was clear that they were deaf to the sounds and whispers that were right now filling Vladimir’s head. As they moved on Vladimir started noticing a change in “The Bloated” formation some began to struggle to keep up as they started to freak out, he smiled, he knew that they finally could hear the voices too. Whatever does voices were they were warning him and thus he decided to embrace them, use them against whatever is lurking in the darkness.

Suddenly bright flashes filled the sky; sounds of battle filled the air. Although faint the sounds soon became louder and reached the rearguard with ease. Finally the thick fog which covered this all assault was unfolded and the enemy has identified itself. The smoke from burning vehicles soon filled the air as it rose up, swirling, creating patterns which were in a deep grey colour. Along with that came the sounds of the artillery firing, Vladimir did not remember them having artillery so he guessed that it was the enemies weapons. With every hit of the artillery and tanks the impact could be heard even at the rearguard. As bad as the rearguard was to Vladimir it was surely much safer then the first line which he now luckily left, he had more chances to survive until the second wave arrived. There he could bland in and survive again maybe even up to the third wave.

Yet then a thought hit his mind, he knew that the enemy has finally revealed itself, and he knew that it was fighting the main wave. Then what the hell was this voices he was hearing, Vladimir began to be more aware of the surroundings, fear and caution guiding his steps. Suddenly something caught Vladimir’s eye, looking aside towards one of the metallic dunes, he easily spotted two looming figures, they were kneeling, watching, and they clearly were there for a long time. Being unable to spot them earlier struck Vladimir as weird, they were easily spotted right now by the sniper at Vladimir’s side. There was one thing which still remained a mystery, who were those watching statues, where did their allegiance lay?

As this thought passed by in his head he heard someone, this time it was not a voice in his head but a booming and brutish voice. Cutting out his pondering he looked forward, he saw what seemed to be a respected “Bloated”, likely an officer, he was rather tall standing a little higher than 2 meters, and he was clearly blessed by the gods as the stench which was coming out of him simply couldn’t be normal. He was dark skinned and well muscled, in his hand he held a bolt pistol, his other hand was a disgusting and horrible thing to see. It was twisted in unnatural shape, a rotten, swamp green, carapace covered it and instead of fingers slime covered claws were present, possible infested with many diseases. The man’s eyes were in some sort of a moss like colour and his face was deeply scarred in all shapes and sizes. His face was stuck in perpetual anger as he spoke to Vladimir and nine more troops by his side. Pointing at them he said, “*You nice bunch are coming with me! We are going to check out those fucking statues which were watching us for too long now.*” Vladimir nodded along with everyone else except for one of the man which was standing right next to Vladimir. With a swift grab the officer took hold of the man’s face and crushed in underneath the mighty claw arm of his. “*Anyone else care to disobey*?” No one answered… The officer then pointed at the sniper which brought the watchers into Vladimir’s attention, telling the man that he will replace the dead man which now lay on the ground with his head crushed in five points and blood spilling out of him.

The quickly drafted squad gathered around a pinpointed position which was set by the officer. They soon marched out into the metallic desert following the lead of the menacing officer, Vladimir staying as much from behind as possible, trying to avoid the always present gaze of the officer, there was one time where the officer caught him straggling from behind but he just looked angrily at him and Vladimir quickly got the hint. Yet not from fear from the officer but from the realization that there was something even more unnatural in that man, looking from behind on the officer’s bald skull he saw three more eyes looking from the back of the head, Vladimir did not know if they were really working and alive but he knew that it was a possibility and thus he hastened his pace. For some time they wondered aimlessly through the desert like place until the finally were able to outmaneuver the watchers. As the officer saw the back of those who were watching the bloated he signaled them silently to lower their tones and to move slowly and silently. This was easy for Vladimir as he was used to this type of action if not his favourite type. The squad silently moved on until they were close enough the scour the scouts. To his horror Vladimir quickly realized what he was looking at, two Astartes, their armour clearly aligns them with the infamous Alpha Legion. As the terrifying realization came to Vladimir he decided that right now they did not spot them yet and if none of the troops will decide to attack they will be able to remain safe in cover. As Vladimir and the rest of the drafted squad watched the Astartes they saw that they mumble things to each other from time to time or talk in hand gestures. Vladimir knew that it was best to run as it was said that each Astarte was worth one hundred men, and those were no regular Astartes but chaos space marines, most of them with more of a thousand years of experience.

Sadly the officer did not seem to agree with Vladimir’s thoughts; he was clearly insanely stupid by deciding to attack this Astartes with just a ten men squad. The situation has turned from bad to worse as the officer started formulating a plan of attack. This was bad as Vladimir could not risk running away right now as he would be shot at, or by his own squad or by the Astartes who would become aware of the ambush squad, yet the other option was no better if not even worse, fighting Astartes… It was a death wish and he could not escape it. Communicating with hand gestures the officer told Vladimir and three more of the squad to move to the other sides, so they would attack from two sides at ones maybe catching the marines at surprise. This was a bad idea and the officer was clearly not the best tactician. Whispering to one of his fellow squad members he found out that he had some demolition charges with him, this made Vladimir smile, the same squad member then turned and watched the marines waiting for the officer’s next orders as did everybody else, only Vladimir kept his mind and turned it on. He nastily smiled as he pick pocketed the guard, taking his remote detonator, “*That could come in handy.*” He said while hiding the remote and laughing silently.

Looking back Vladimir saw a piece of metal laying behind him, it was clearly within his power to pick it up so he did that, silently dragging it upfront and thus creating a piece of cover that might increase his chances of survival. Vladimir took out a knife and handed it to the marine with the demolition charges, and soon a piercing cry filled the air as the officer shouted praises to Khorne and charge in at the Astartes, catching them in surprise and succeeding in closing the gap to turn it to a melee fight. As the officer did that everyone began to fire except for Vladimir who took cover under his metal barricade, the sound of gunfire quickly filled the silent air as the battle raged near Vladimir. They were attacking from uphill, resulting in a slight change of terrain in where the Astartes laid. The squad had the high ground and that’s exactly when Vladimir pushed the man with the demolition charges, he pushed him forward, making him role on the metal ground towards the officer and the Astartes, The man quickly got up as he did the only thing he could, unsheathing the knife Vladimir gave him and charging towards the marines. That was when Vladimir took out the remote as he saw the explosives tangling from the locked in melee guardsman’s pocket. Just one click was all he needed, and that’s what he did…

P.S Sorry for the wait, if it’s too much of a godmodding (talking about the end) just tell me and I’ll change it.


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