# The Claw



## darkreever

Fenris, harsh and unforgiving world of fire and ice; a world of constantly shiftings lands and nomadic barbarian tribes. For many, this planet is no more than a deadly ball of snow floating in space close to the eye of terror; however for some this world is home. High upon the greatest mountains of Asaheim, largest continent of Fenris, lies the Fang; one of the mightiest bastion of any imperial world and home to one of the original space marine chapter, the Space Wolves.

Alrik, Vermundr, Von, Gromar, and Keris, you are all at the grand hall deep within the Fang; many of you boasting about your hunts of the Fenrisian fiends or elks that roam the world. Alrik and Keris, you two were on patrol together not long ago and Vermundr, Von, and Gromar were together on their patrol. As you gulp down ale, some of you notice other claws of different companies as well as some of the grey hunters, them choosing to keep some distance from the untested recruits; allowing you to make your boasts and have your fun. For now, feel free to to simply interact with each other, Alrik, you can boast about your mission on the hulk should you choose to.

Njoror, Iorek, Odin, Gareth, Tempest, and Jorgun, you are all at the training hall in the Fang; Njoror and Iorek squaring off against Heimdal Blazewind, an older grey hunter of the company. The rest of you are whooping and watching on the side, lopping insults at the grey hunters laughing as Heimdal takes on the pups. Despite it being two to one, Heimdal has experience in fighting; and despite several clotted wounds he shows no signs of fatigue unlike his opponents who each sport more healed cuts. Heimdal is armed with a blunt double edged axe and like you he is bared chested and clad in no armour. The fight is over when one side can clearly not go on; though make no mistake Heimdal is no easy foe and so will not go down in a single strike, not for long anyway. The rest of you interact with yourselves and the other blood claws that have gathered around to watch the newer pups of the company take on one of the older brothers.


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## dark angel

Alrik Firehawk, tall and sturdy sat on a wooden bench, his Mohawk and tattoo's almost shinning in the light as he quickly downed another Ale. Alrik slammed the empty drinking vassel into the wooden table and laughed aloud, looking at his fellow Blood Claws with a large grin. Alrik turned towards his suad and said "I remember the day we boarded the Despair and Damnation the entire Hulk was swarming with the foul Genestealers, i myself killed atleast a hundred maybe more!" he sniggered slightly and said "I deserve a bloody promotion in my opinion but thats not going too happen now is it?" as he awaited a response from his fellow Wolf Brothers.


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## deathbringer

Iorek's chest heaved as the older grey hunter attacked and he desperately blocked the axe haft. The older warrior used the force of Iorek's parry to pivot the axe head in a scything arc to clout him upon the shoulder with its blunted blade and he jumped away as the fresh blood mingled with the salty sweat upon his broad back. 

He felt drained and forced away the exhaustion that seeped into his muscles as he felt shame scorch his face at the very thought of loosing 2 on 1. Desperately he tried to think, see the strategy to defeat the grizzled veteran. They had to use their numbers.

He looked at Njoror and he felt hope flare in his heart. His brother and best friend was a precision warrior able to find gaps in his opponent that Iorek had not even seen. He saw the orca tooth upon his brothers chest rise and fall with his breathing as revelations dawned upon him. They had been acting independently each trying to out do the other to impress the older warrior, they had let ambition overcome them. Iorek met his brothers gaze and desperately signalled to Njoror to circle the older warrior as they prepared for the simultaneous attack.

They had been in the same squad from the start and had become comrades on their first mission standing side by side through out. They had sparred together so often that though Njoror was the superior swordsman even the slightest shifting of his feet was a broadcast of his intentions to Iorek. Whilst others were easily cut down by Njoror's blade Iorek would block and counter his brothers stroke as he read his footwork with ease. He intended to use that knowledge now and he shifted his feet so his weight rested upon his back foot in preparation for a low cut. 

He hoped his brother would read the signs and attack accordingly. Iorek would attack first. Though both brothers were similar in height and strength Njoror's superior skill meant Iorek would have to be the meat shield taking the pain to give the opening to his brother. He stopped abruptly and he thought the grey hunter tensed in anticipation. Slowly he took a step to the left hoping this nonchalant move would cause the grey hunter to relax slightly whilst drawing the focus. He took a second step and jumped forward his stroke scything towards the grey hunters hamstring.


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## Agrippa

Von, sitting across from Alrik, Stared at his empty cup, twisting it around on the table, looking up with a slight grin at Alrik, "If you fight as good as you boast, you will be a Gray Hunter in no time." Nodding his head in the direction of the nearest grey hunters as he spoke."I'm just ready to get into some action, these patrols are weak."


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## AceSage

Tempest stood at the back of the group of Blood Claws cheering on 2 on 1 sparring match, Heimdal Blazewind facing off against two younger Wolves, even though they were still older than Tempest, Iorek and Njoror.

The sparring match was hardly interesting for Tempest, seeing as how the most probably outcome was the loss of the two Blood Claws. He took a look around the crowd near him and noticed one taller than most, though thinner, and as the Wolf turned he noticed a crescent-shaped tattoo on his eye. Tattoos were something Tempest had always been interested in, and so he decided to start up a conversation with the marine. He walked to the marine's side, still looking at the fight in front of them. "So, how'd you get that tattoo?"


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## Euphrati

Keris sat astride the bench across from his packmate Alrik, listening as the slightly older wolf spun tales of the recent cleansing of the Hulk he had the honour of assisting. Keris worked the leg bone of an elk, all that was left from the haunch he had claimed for himself, savoring the feel of the bone beneath his new fangs as his eyes drifted about the vast room. He had heard his brother's tale the night before while patrolling the hostile slopes of the Fang and noted minor changes in the telling. 

He sensed the other packs giving his brothers a wide berth and scented the room warily, tasting the air but finding nothing other than faint apprehension of the untested claw. _Soon_, he thought to himself, _it will not be with hesitation that they look upon us, but with awe._

Turning back to the table and favouring his brother with a lupine grin, Keris gestures with the leg bone, 'A fine tale indeed, brother! But tell me... I have heard that these xenos creatures multiply at astounding rates, yet I did not know that they could do so _After _you have slain them.'


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror had a mixture of feelings running through his body at this point in the fight. There was exhaustion and pain from the long bout against their older oppenent but also pleasure and pride that he and his brother Iorek had stood for so long and had the chance to learn some new moves. He admitted to himself that he had not been holding back at all and that little by little he could tell they were wearing down their oppenent, but his old wolf was tenacious and still seemed as though he was ready for a fight with a full grown squig. 

Njoror saw the change in his brother's stance out of the corner of his eye and took a deep breath, everything around him seemed to slow as his thoughts moved quickly through his head, he went over the past two hours of the sparring match and carefully picked out the weaknesses that were beginning to show in the old wolf. First he hoped Iorek would attack low, at the legs, then he would feint an attack at the old wolf's gut and as the axe swung up to block he would spin and aim right for the back of the head. Of course it wouldnt decapitate their oppenent, that was why their weapons were dulled, but that would be the wanted effect in battle. The purpose for this attack was to knock out the old wolf, Njoror had thought that he had seen a scar across the Grey Hunter's skull and so had picked that spot, it was the perfect weak point.

He took in two more deep breaths and could smell the salty ocean of Fenris itself and hear the crys of the great orcas. Iorek took a step back and put his weight on his back foot, a low blow would be coming Njoror guessed at the hamstring, so he would have to make the chest attack a little high. His brother suddenly attacked and he hoped that Iorek could take a few more beatings if this feint didn't work, either way Njoror would be conviently behind the older wolf if it didn't. His plan was to, if the strike hit but didn't knock Heimdal out, it would surely be a heavey blow and stagger him and so he would set off with a flurry of blows to his back and the back of his legs causing the Grey Hunter to turn his attention to him and there fore give Iorek a few shots to the wolf's back. 

As Iorek flew at the old wolf, his sword swinging for the hamstring, Njoror attacked right at Heindal's heart knowing that both attacks would be blocked. As he heard the clash of Iorek's attack being blocked he heard their oppenent's axe moving through the air to block his strike but at the last moment he spun on his heels and swung his sword two-handed with all his might at the back of his oppenent's head, a howl on his lips.


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## dark angel

Alrik grinned at his brother and bared his small fangs saying "Ha brother you make such witty comments on your betters!" he smiled and poured another drink from a nearby barrel, letting out a bestial howl he shouted "For Russ!" and began too quickly down his drink, his eyes never leaving the other squads within the large Hall as he slammed the emppty cup once again into the table with a Thud! he grinned and said "Lighten up brothers your like a bunch of dead Elk!".


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## Agrippa

Von gave a wide grin, "I'll drink to that." quickly filling his cup at the nearest keg, " For The Wolftime!" he howled, then chugged the ale, letting some seep past his lips and onto his chin, wiped his chin clean then slammed the cup down. " I think your correct Alrik, our brothers look tired." Von then slapped Vermundr on his back "Wake Up! We have not done anything for you to look so tired."


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## Euphrati

Keris chuckles deep in his chest, shaking his head at his brother's loud, if rather boastful, nature. 'My better eh?' He grins at his wolfbrother, 'You will just have to prove those words on the sands later.' He pauses to cock a dark eyebrow at his brother, 'Providing you can even stand by that point.'

Setting the gnawed bone aside he reaches for his own mug of ale, watching over the rim as Alrik and Von attempt to drain the entire keg between the two of them. Raising his mug he toasts, voice low and husky, 'To Russ and the Allfather,' before knocking back the golden brew. He closes his eyes momentarily, letting the sounds and smells wash over him before letting out a long sigh.

Rising, he gives himself a good shake as if trying to throw off the solemn cast that has settled on his features and carefully smoothes down his grey tunic of a Blood Claw. Dodging droplets of ale from Alrik's mug, he trades some good natured growls with the taller wolf before stalking over to the keg. After refilling the empty vessel, draining it, and refilling it again he seems a bit less cagey and pads back to settle down on the table. He cocks his head to the side and peers over the table at his packmates as they respond to Von’s prodding.


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## darkreever

Njoror and Iorek, as Iorek swings for Heimdal's hamstring, the older warrior closes in on the attack. The blow causes a light cut on the side of his leg, as the grey hunter slams his forehead into the younger wolf's face and putting him on the ground as blood and tears mix. Even as Iorek falls, the hunter turns on his heel to block the other claw's attack, barely bringing his weapon up in time and is forced to jump back over the fallen wolf. A wide swing of the axe the only thing keeping Njoror from pressing his advantage.

_"Quit playing around with him Heimdal."_ One of the grey hunters calls out from the side. _"If your not careful the other pups are likely to join in to take you down."_ The wolf adds, eliciting laughter from the other veteran warriors.

_"And what makes you think they will need the help Sigis?"_ Someone calls out from the group of blood claws. Unlike the others, this wolf is no cub; standing amidst the blood claws wearing nothing more than a cloak made of wolf fur stood the lord of the company himself.



Alrik, Vermundr, Von, Gromar, and Keris, as you all continue to drink a trio of older wolves from your company make their way over. One of them lays a large arm around Alrik in a firm grip before yelling. _"As if a pup like you was able to take out so many of the enemy on his own. Probably decided to count the kills of your brothers as your own as well eh?"_ He said with a smile before raising his stein. _"Not everyone is able to boast such tales though; may the fallen live on in all their glory!"_ He yells before draining the stein and laughing mostly to himself.


[Obviously I have not posted anything new for some people, thats because I want to give others a chance to post and because you can still interact.]


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## dark angel

Alrik grinned at the old wolves comment and laughed aloud raising his cup he said "To the fallen!" as he downed it, the arm still around him he said "now who dares challenge this mighty wolf in a arm wrestle?" the wolf behind let go and walked around the other side of the table, taking a seat he flexed his fingers and said "lets see if you are as strong as you think wee one" both clenched hands and began too pull, the old wolf letting Alrik almost get him too the table before pushing back up and slamming the pups hand into the wood with a large grin.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror silently praised himself and Iorek for their combined effort in that last attack, it had most certainly been a weak point and now the older wolf was on the back of his heels, but just as Njoror was about to press his advantage a wide swing of his opponent's axe made him duck and loose his momentum. Njoror dove and rolled toward Heimdal, the knowledge that he had almost gotten the veteran on the floor fuelling his tired limbs. He lept up and set off a flurry of blows as he danced from left to right, knowing they would be blocked but hoping to find an oppening at some point, but just as he found one he tripped over Iorek who was lying on the floor and rolled backwords.

He quickly lept up and as he and Heimdal circled each other he went over the last series of blows and his attack on the veteran's head. He had heard one of the older wolves make a comment and then another powerful voice sticking up for him and Iorek, after thinking on it he realized it was their leader, pride filled his chest as he realized their lord was sticking up for them. As he got closer to Iorek he sidekicked his brother's sword at him hoping he would pick it up at some point in the match. 

He knew for him to be able to get a decent hit in he would have to take a risk, but then again why was he a space marine if he wasn't used to taking risks. He had to do a few quick chops and then when he made for an uppercut swing the block from the axe would lock the weapons together and he would swivel and punch the wolf square in the face. If that didn't work then they would be stuck with their weapons locked and he was definately sure Heimdal was much stronger than him. 

He lept for his attack and let off a few quick chops aimed to distract his oppenent's blade and then made for the massive uppercut. As he swung his blade up he saw his oppenent's axe moving to block it and he let his right hand off of the sword hilt and used his momentum to carry his fist forward toward Heimdal's snarling face.


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## deathbringer

Iorek dove low aiming for the hamstring and he felt his blade bite just as a huge force impacted upon his nose. Tears flooded his face and he bit back a scream yet he saw Njoror driving forwards and stumble over his prone figure inadvertantly smashing his feet against his ribs.

Winded he staggered to his feet as he heard some of the older wolves comment upon the duel. He tasted blood in his mouth yet he saw the lord of the company standing their in all his glory. He filled with pride at the lords appraisal and his pain left him as he tried to coordinate his actions with Njoror. He saw his brother winding up for a punch and he tried to think quickly.

What would he do in this situation? He would try and throw his head back to avoid the blow and reduce the damage thus he moved in carefully to swing his sword at the back of the wolf's head hoping that the uppercut would prevent the wolf from moving downwards.


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## Mordeth

Watching the little fight with amusement, Gareth almost didn't notice as another Blood Claw asked him a question about his tatoo.
"This," he said, pointing at his eye, "I got after surviving a very bloody encounter with a rival tribe that vastly outnumbered me and my fellows. My tribe used to say the moon was watching over me, and thought this fitting."
"Names Gareth by the way." he sais before turning back to the fight.


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## Sammaven

Jorgun cheered on his fellow Claws as they sparred off against the Wolf. He noticed the Chapter Master making his way through the crowd, and his heart beamed with pride when the Master praised his brothers. He had only been a Marine for a little time, but his bonds with his brothers were unbreakable.

Jorgun hoped he wouldn't lose many brothers in the fights to come, but he knew he would see comrades fall in battle and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He was trying not to be too close with them lest one dies and leaves him depressed.

The huge marine had almost no memories from his mortal life besides him lying in a pool of his own blood surrounded by huge white monsters. It saddened him that he had forgotten his past, mystery shrouding who he really was. It was as if he had been reincarnated to a completely new person.


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## unxpekted22

Vermundr snapped back to life with the smack on his back. he hadn't been drinking as much as the others, merely looking into his large cup not really paying attention to Alrik's crazy stories. He had noticed Gromar, silent like himself taking things in carefully with his bionic eye.

as the more experienced space wolves came over and mocked Alrik, Vermundr yawned loudly first to get the first one's attention and said to the older wolf, looking at him directly, "I don't know about a pup like him....but personally, i cant wait to be assigned to a pack and be sent out to this mission the wolves got on a world near our own that I've heard about recently. No better way for a "pup" to grow up. then we can be a big strong wolf like you eh?" he asked sarcastically. despite his confusions with his past, he was dead set on his role as a member of the space wolves. he was less concerned about proving himself to this older wolf than defending those in need of the wolves' help in the name of Russ and the all-father but he figured he'd take some weight off of Alrik's shoulders; even if Alrik didn't realize the older wolves were about to put a lot of stress on him.

he had heard Alrik had actually been on a space hulk mission before. he knew he should probably look up to him for experience but Vermundr looked to few for this sort of thing, feeling he either already had what it took for a duty to be accomplished or didn't. As for his patrols on fenris, he certainly seemed to have what it took and needed his skills tested somewhere else.


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## Mitchy

(OOC, sorry i got home later then i thought today)

Gromar sat up straight and looked over to his right, two of his Battle Brothers were arm wrestiling, he almost stood up to cheer for Alrik, but then he was beaten in almost a second. He laughed to himself, he thought a new Pup like himself could have beaten an older Space Wolf, he really doughted that would ever happen. He drank the rest of his ale and went to get a refill.


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## Euphrati

Keris sat up with interest as the trio of Grey Hunters descended on him and his wolf brothers, noting the causal ease at which they moved through the room. He nodded with respect to each of the older wolves in turn; the Greys normally held themselves apart from the young Blood Claws and he wondered just what had enticed the older wolves to join them. _Most likely Alrik’s bellowing,_ he thought to himself, _he hasn’t even finished half a keg yet and already he is louder than a bull elk in rut._

One of the Hunters wrapped his thick arm around Alrik in a brotherly grip before mildly goading him, a broad smile playing on the Hunter's lips. Keris found himself grinning into his ale as his brother challenged the older wolf to a test of strength.

Keris slid to the side to allow the Grey a seat, even though the outcome of a wrestling match between the massive Hunter and his wolfbrother was not a question in his mind. The Grey gave just enough ground to Alrik for his brother's scent to betray his excitement before rocking the table with his might. Keris laughed aloud as he hoisted his mug to prevent its contents from sloshing.

Vermundr finally spoke up and Keris smiled softly at his brother's intensity.

'Have faith brother,' he replied, gingerly setting his mug back on the tabletop, 'I am sure that our Lord shall see fit to call on us in due time. These patrols may be as frigid as the inside of an ice bear's maw, but they are not without purpose.'

Keris then turns back to the Greys, addressing the trio as one, ‘Brothers, to what do we owe the honour of your company?’


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## Azwraith

Odin, sat as he watched the fight unfold in front of him, he remembered when he had a similar initation fight a few years back when he was recruited into the marine acadamy, 'That Day." he thought to him self in reference to the day he was recruited it was a glorious yet ominous day for Odin, he has looked forward everyday since that moment but in reality he has had no choice as he doesnt have many memories from before that time, just the nightmares that torment him, all he can hear is the crackling fire and what felt like giants looking over him.

It was for that very reason he took up the flamer as his chosen weapon, to bring the torment he felt to his foes, that is also probably why he didnt fare so well in his initation combat.. he is decently skilled at close combat but not to the level of Iorek or Njorer he had gotten to know them well since he was recruited and it seemed he had the most in common with them they had been training him since he joined and he looked up to them like a mentor he was confident in their abilities to win so he sat playing with his lighter and watching the fight.

(OOC edit: fixed up ages)


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## unxpekted22

Vermundr adjusted himself after Gromar got up from the table leaving extra space. 
"Aye" said Vermundr to Keris's statement, but also looked over at Von remembering his statement earlier about the patrols being weak. He then looked back to the older wolves, "I mean no dis-respect to my superiors as i await the chance when I will hold the same rank as yourselves. I feel i am more realistic about war than some of my...fellow bloodclaws" eyeing Alrik and some of the other loud Blood claws at other tables.


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## Agrippa

Von smirked as Alrik's Hand was smashed into the table, then Von heard Vermundr' s comment and listened intently. Von spoke up before Vermundr could finish "What makes you think that you are better than the rest of your squad? Only Alrik has done anything to note and only one to truly see war."


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## unxpekted22

Vermundr replies, "And what makes you think that i think i am better than everyone else? i at first thought the patrols were weak as well until Keris reminded me otherwise. i looked at you thinking we had had something in common. apparently, aside for us both being blood claws, i was wrong."


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## Mitchy

Gromar came back from getting his refill of ale, he looked at Vermundr, and said: Vermundr, i beleive you have taken my space, i shall have it back now." He had a speck of annoyance inside him from having to tell his brother to move from his spot in the first place. Vermundr is one of the people Gromar considers a friend, and Gromar has few friends.


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## unxpekted22

"Ha! i was merely saving your seat brother." cleverly thinking this up to say not realizing gromar would be returning so quickly.


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## darkreever

[Sammaven, keep in mind I said wolf lord, not the great wolf. The captain of your company is here, not the chapter master of the Space Wolves.]

Njoror and Iorek, As Njoror thrusts his sword forward, Heimdal sways to the side and moves inward; taking the uppercut in the chest and the sword between his side and arm. Before you have a chance to react, the grey hunter has an arm around your neck and the two of you swing around in time to see Iorek making his attack.

Heimdal wastes no time to bring Njoror forward, like a shield, stalling Iorek's attack and then kicking Njoror into Iorek, sending both claws to the ground. 

All of you in the training hall_, "This fight is over, the victor is Heimdal."_ The wolf lord declares as the grey hunter plants the head of his axe into the ground before helping to haul both marines up. With the fight over, all attention turns to the wolf lord before he speaks. _"We are summoned to the great hall by the old wolf himself, our time in the Fang is drawing to a close; looks like we are about to be let loose."_ He says with a smile before looking over at Iorek and Njoror and giving a nod to the pair. _"Find the rest of your packs and lets see what the old wolf is throwing us into."_


All of you in the feasting hall, as the air between Vermundr and Von starts to become agitated, one of the three grey hunters places himself between the claws before speaking. _"Silence you two, your a pack of Russ's sons, there is no greater bond than you share regardless of your outlook."_ Even as the second grey hunter speaks, the third one slaps Alrik on the back for his effort to beat the more veteran wolf, though all three know such recklessness was not a good thing.

Finally Keris's words cut through everything and the three wolves turn to look at him; the first one smiling. _"Cut right to the chase this one, brain not as empty as some of his pack, or as filled with boastful tall tales like Alrik."_ Grey hunter Kjarl said with a stern look. Kjarl had been the one to teach all of you during the years it had taken for you to become space marines. His moods changed faster than the direction of the winds. _"We are here to put pups like yourself in your place, and to make sure you gather in the great hall. We are about to be given a mission from the great wolf himself and the wolf lord wants all his warriors present, even you pups. Now get going, the rest of your pack should be on their way!"_ He finished with a yell.


[Start making your way to the great hall, you'll all get there by the next update. As you travel, speak to each other, what the great wolf could be sending you to do, boasts about what you might do, stuff like that. As you all should have noticed, theres very little fighting going on; in many of the RP's we seem to focus on the fighting and action part, and ignore the character building and speaking portion. Here your going to have to focus on that largely ignored part for now.]


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## Mitchy

Gromar looked at Vermundr and said: "waht do you think brother, what is it you think the Wolf Lord wants us to do?"


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## unxpekted22

As they all get up form the table Gromar asked Vermundr about what the wolf lord will have to say. 

he responds with, "_I suppose it could be about the issue i've been hearing some of the older wolves discussing today, but i really don't know any details about it. We'll have to find out when we get there._

As they walk further towards the great hall, Vermundr walks next to Von

_"I merely meant to agree with you, not start a fight. based on what i have learned about the universe we a part of, we can not afford to do anything but work with each other. It is inevitable that some of us will die, but if we are not a team we will all die. We must remember to act as our older brethren because that is what we are now, brothers." _


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## Mitchy

Gromar had no idea about what issue, he leaned closer to Vermundr and said "what issue?" Gromar didnt ussualy listen to rumors he felt they were pointless.


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## Agrippa

"It is my fault brother, i did not think before i spoke, you made an excellent point." smacking Vermundr on the back as they walked. "Now, lets hope we get to see some action, any ideas on what?"


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror spat on the floor as Heimdal helped him and Iorek up and thanked the Grey Hunter for a good bout before setting of to the armorey to put his belongings on. Once all of his armor was on he sat on a bench and looked into the eyes of his helmet,* "Friend, why do you suppose they make us bring these fragging helmets if they bloody well know we aren't going to wear them?" *he asked Iorek who was still getting his things on. More often than not Space Wolves, let alone Blood Claws, didn't wear their helmets into battle, it puzzled Njoror why they should bring them in the first place.


He smiled as he saw his reflection in the eye pieces and studied the length of his canines, getting bigger but still no where near what the older wolves had. He brought the orca tooth from around his neck up to his mouth and compared the sizes, it was long and very sharp still. His teeth would be big like that in his lifetime, they would grow long and sharp and he would be a Long Fang one day then maybe the Captain of one the chapter's ships.

As he let the tooth dangle around his neck he thought about the sea again, every morning since his transformation he had gone for a swim in the waters outside of the Fang. He loved the sea, and was attuned to its currents and used to being on a ship, that was probably why when they went of their first mission he had been excited to be on a ship while the other Blood Claws loathed it. Of course space and the sea are different in many ways, but they are very alike in others, he felt that the great void was like any other body of water, cold and unforgiving.

This brought him to think on what the Great Wolf would have them do, what sort of mission he was sending the company on. Hopefully it wasn't another space hulk again, he had enjoyed fighting the genestealers but the stench on that hulk was absolutely disgusting, all of the dead bodies and who knows what else contributed to it, he swore that Nurgle had infested the place but was warned against saying such things. 

Iorek was taking long as usual, he always was so meticulous when checking his weapons and armor, Njoror picked up his bolt pistol and was about to put it back on the rack when a Wolf Priest walked by and stared at him until he holstered it in his belt. He snorted a little, the priests wanted him to use his pistol more and get better at shooting, he thought he was good enough and couldn't believe they weren't happy about how good he was with a sword. He hated having to shoot his enemies, he'd rather tear them apart up close, it was more fun that way. 

He thought about the look on the priest's face and whispered, *"Emperor damn this pistol..." *Little did he know the priest was still outside and had waited for him to put it back on the rack when he was out of eyesight. The old wolf stormed in and smacked him in the back of the head, _"Pup! What have we told you about your language, hhmm? If you didn't have to be in the Great Hall right now I would punish you myself! I better not hear something like that again." _and with that he walked out of the room. Njoror felt the back of his head before saying,* "Old man hit me hard." *The priest popped his head in the door, _"What?!"_ Njoror shook his hands, *"Nothing sir, I was making fun of Iorek!" *The priest snorted and walked away. Njoror looked at Iorek as if to hurry up before he got into any more trouble.


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## unxpekted22

Now Gromar was asking about what he knew, and Von with his hand on Vermundr's back was wondering as well, He shoudnt have opened his mouth as he knew nothing of the situation.

"_All i have heard is that there has been some trouble on a world near Fenris and the space wolves are responsible for its protection. I figure, maybe the great wolf will think its a good first off-planet mission for us."_


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## Euphrati

Keris feels the weight of the Grey Hunter’s gazes as they turn their view upon him and bows his head slightly as Kjarl speaks; his ice blue eyes never leaving the Hunter’s stern face. Inwardly, he feels his pulse quicken at the older wolf’s acknowledgement and as his brothers rise and begin to trek in the direction of the great hall, he speaks softly to himself; knowing Kjarl will hear the words despite their quietness.

‘Years ago, I was told that one of the greatest ways to honour a man is to learn from him,’ Keris pauses to stand, ‘For knowledge is a gift, one that can only be repaid through actions. I pray that my actions shall be found worthy, for I am in debt.’

He then turns and pads quickly after his wolfbrothers; lengthening his strides to catch up to them within the space of a few heartbeats. As he falls into step beside Von, he hears them discussing what task they possibly could be set upon.

‘I have heard similarly, brother,’ he says with a nod, ‘and I am sure we shall find out the details soon enough! To walk on the soil of another world shall be strange indeed, I wonder if the journey shall be long…’ he muses as if to himself; then flashes a feral grin at his brothers. ‘No matter what the task, we shall meet it without hesitation! Let the enemies of the Allfather tremble when they hear our howls; for they know where one Wolf treads… his brothers are never far!’ He wraps his arm around Von’s shoulders as his eyes seem to glow with intensity.


----------



## Azwraith

Odin followed the to challangers into the armoury to get some of his gear, Njoror was complaining about bolt pistols as he always did when the wolf priest came in and gave him a right lecture. "ha-ha-ha" Odin let out a boisterous laugh "you get in more trouble than i do, hahaha" he continued before clipping his zippo onto the chain of his neck. 

"i do agree with you about the helmets tho... i couldnt even fit all my hair into it if i tried!" he let out with a laugh as he lifted up his beard, Iorek had been quite for awhile since the fight so he tried to cheer Iorek up "Iorek brother, do not worry so much about the fight, he is a grey hunter for a reason in time us 3 will be playing with blood claws to teach them" Odin always had a positive outlook on life even with his upbringing he had faith in the 3 of them they would go all the way he though.

"well... aslong as i dont blow up in battle!!!" he let out with a chuckle.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik yawned loudly and then burped with a chuckle, he grinned and said with a smile "I wonder what the Great Wolf wants now? probaly too make me a Wolf Lord hahaha" he walked behind the rest of the group, glancing at each one and knowing that on the battle field they would forge legends and become nightmares.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek quickly checked his pistol as his mind buzzed with their defeat at the hands of the veteran wolf. He knew if he had been a second quicker he could have avoided Njorar and kept the duel alive. Yet he was comforted by another friend that moved to his side. He felt Odin clap him upon the back and his kind words and positive outlook lifted his spirits

'Aye brother we will and it will take many blood claws to beat us three"

He felt the pistol in his hand and smiled as he heard his brothers curses. His brother was an elite swordsman yet he abhorred pistol shooting unlike Iorek whose steady hand made him a natural. Iorek had a subtle grace with the pistol that he could never match with the sword and he admonished Njoror as he saw his brother trying to put the pistol back on the rack

'One day you are going to meet a swordsman much more skilled than yourself and you better pray I'm their with my pistol to shoot him through the head."

His mouth broke from its thin line and he let out a bark of laughter as he finished his final check of his armour. 

"I reckon this mission is going to be orks. They have been unchecked far too long."
He weighed his pistol in his hand and looked at Odin with mock concern before turning to Njoror
"If you let an ork get you in a headlock I might have to shoot you first to save you from getting in my way. I suggest you wear the helmet"

He laughed again and moved away between Odin and Njoror towards the great hall. He felt at ease between his two friends yet the duel had taught him one thing. Brute strength could not be underestimated. Mentally Iorek added more time for strength training into his training routine.

Subconciously he fingered his pistol hilt as his mind flitted to the mission ahead. Orks he thought, definitely Orks.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror laughed out loud as they walked to the Great Hall, *"Orks! We will be blessed, no I will be blessed, if the enemy we face are orks! That's a battle right there, how I long to go toe to toe with the greenskin and take from him one of his teeth...."* He paused suddenly as if thinking on something and remembered the two genestealer teeth he had ripped out of one of their heads in their last mission to clean the hulk, *"Which reminds me, I have to put these two buggers on my chain for good luck."* He took his necklace off and put the two teeth on either side of the gigantic orca tooth that dwarfed both greatly. 

He smiled to himself and put his chain back on, *"Brothers, by the time I am Captain of my own ship this chain will be full of the teeth of my enemies that I have slain, the greatest being the mighty Orca! Do you know it is custom for Orca and Kraken hunters to take the teeth of their enemies as good luck? How else did you think I was able to kill so many genestealers on that Emperor forsaken hulk? From each enemy I kill I am taught a little more swordsmanship and learn a little more about myself, how best I can combat that certain enemy. Such as the Genestealer, while quick they do not have proper training and thus attack violently but without the reckless abandon of the Ork. They can attack with many parts of their body but the quickest way to dispatch them is a quick sidestep and with one flick of your wrist off go their heads."*

He laughed to himself, *"Yes the ork will easily be added to this chain but what I cannot wait for is the traitors to the Allfather themselves! Those bastards and daemons wont know what hit them once us three get at their throats!"* He slapped both Iorek and Odin on the shoulders and let out a loud howl, *"As for what you said earlier about a swordsman more skilled than me Iorek, I relish that day for I will truly be tested and I will rise triumphant for you two will be there as always." *He smiled at both of them before his stomach let out a loud rumble. 

*"Damn...."* he mumbled to himself before he saw another passing Blood Claw that was much younger then them with a drumstick in hand, *"Give me that drumstick will you." *It wasn't really a question but the Blood Claw nodded with wide eyes and handed him the drumstick before running off. Njoror shrugged his shoulders before biting into the meat, *"Must have heard about my exploits on the space hulk."* He laughed as Odin pushed him.


----------



## Azwraith

As the three brothers grunted down the corridor pushing each other into any thing or one in the way playing the games they always did like children after getting into a fight.
*"Iorek you are lucky today, if i had not spent your whole spar picking food out of my beard i would have already taken that off you!!"* Odin let out with a laugh trying to grab the meat out of Njoror's hands but as usual he was not quick enough and was pushed to the side by Njoror *"Odin you really need to work on your Swordsmanship"* Njoror said as he pushed odin aside

Odin new full well his swordsmanship did not match Ioreks let alone Njoror he still had such away to go, and he loves his flamer so dearly if he was ever in close combat training he felt like he was betraying his weapon. *"Ahh... i know Njor but i like to burn things, Ha-Ha.."* he was cut off by Njoror as he interupted *"What? like your cooking!"* Njoror said to Odin as he always cooked for the three since he loved fire so much.... Odin Replied *"Its Called CRISPY Boar for a reason you lughead"* as he gave a shove into Njoror pushing him into Iorek like a Domino.

*"Oh how i pray we are fighting heretics.. nothing says purging like searing flames! But i guess purging the greenskins will have to do.. but i might have to get into close combat! and i know that is good for you to but then i cant make things BUURRN!"* Odin said in one longwinded breath. *"and because i dont get a Chainsword like you two!"*.

Odin slapped Njoror on the back who had taken entirely to long to eat one drumstick, he thought.


----------



## deathbringer

"Exploits in the space hulk... Exploits you killed that ork by stabbing him after I shot him"
He allowed his face to break into a smile but both of the brothers knew that the combat with the enemy had been minimal yet their 'exploits' gave them some notoriety. He wasn't sure which brother had scored the most kills Iorek held a figure in his head yet he refused to share it with anyone. Iorek was honest and though he was certain he had placed precision bolts through at least 3 tyranid skulls he could not confirm the kill

Iorek had to laugh at his brothers friendly banter yet he was not prepared for Odin's shove which threw him into a fellow brother. He made his apologies yet the wolf didnt seem to hear him as he was deep in thought.
He returned to the conversation in time to hear Odin's self deprecating remark and he smiled. He loved Odin's humility and his cooking wasn't bad either. His brother was a reliable marine and he had a feeling that Odin's flamer would save them all in the future. 

He put his arm round Odin's shoulders and exclaimed
"Orks will give you the chance to improve this sword skills. I have heard they have very little finesse and it depends on our brute strength. That will improve your sword play. Try cooking the orks... I'm not sure if anyone would notice the difference in your cooking"
He braced himself fir Odin's friendly punch as the great hall came closer and closer.
He felt a tingle of excitement running up and down his spine.


----------



## Euphrati

Despite his composed words to his brothers, Keris felt his heartbeat quicken with increasing excitement that came with every step he took closer to the Great Hall. Deep within his breast he sensed the beast stir, its anticipation echoing his own. It ached for the fires of battle, and its mere presence both energized him further and calmed his nerves at the same time. 

Keris let his eyes wander over his brothers even as he tasted their scents on the air currents, finding himself amazed at just how far they had come from the youths training in the snow under the harsh glare of the Chosen of Russ. He had thought the mighty warriors to be gods back then, and had learned that he had been only partially wrong. They bore the geneseed of Russ in their breasts, even as he did now, a direct connection to the mighty primarch and son of the God-Emperor himself! The sheer thought made his head swim, but such a connection to the gods did not come without a price; a price that stirred even now within him.

He had heard the Wolf Priests say that other chapters claimed the gift of Russ to be a curse; he had found his lips curling back in a snarl of fury at such a statement. Perhaps in the minds of a weaker chapter the changes brought on by drinking from the cup of the wulfen were a curse, but not to a Space Wolf. He had struggled with the transformations wrought to his frame and fought for his very soul with the beast that had awakened inside of him by the canis helix, just as his brothers had done with their own beasts. In the end he had prevailed, winning the respect of the wolf he now shared his body with, but was forever changed. With the aid of the newly awakened beast, he had survived the last test of being dropped far from the Fang with the deceptively simple task of finding his way back on his own.

That had been months ago, months of more tests and hours of training to transform the surviving aspirants into full members of the chapter. Some of his brothers had become irritated at the seemingly endless tests that were put before them, but Keris had come to realize long ago that service in the name of the Allfather was a test that never ended. Kneeling in the sand as a youth, with the flames of the bonfire he had build for the bodies of his clan throwing his shadow out on the dark waters of the sea, he had sworn to the waning light of the Eye of Russ that no matter what test was placed before him; he would rise to meet it. _How ironic that tearful oath had been_, he thought with a faint smile, and how he meant those words no less now than when he uttered them years ago.

Booming laughter brought his mind back to the present with a snap and a deep breath told him that the other members of the claw were making their way to the Hall as well. He grinned at Von and spoke,

‘It seems our brothers have a head start on us!’ Keris released Von’s shoulders and gave his brother a sharp elbow in his side, ‘we can’t let them take the prime seats now can we?’


----------



## darkreever

As you all enter the great hall, you are greeted to the sight of dozens of other fellow space wolves gathered within. Making your way to those of your company, you pass by the wolves of Egil IronWolf; the wolf lord himself standing at before the great table of the twelve wolf lords. As you find places with your own company, Kjarl slaps a fist into the back of Njoror's head and takes the drumstick from him. "Your hear to listen, unless your skull is as thick as Alriks and nothing will ever get into it." He says, no humour can be found on his face.

As you all finally find a place looking at the great round table of the wolf lords, the great wolf finally enters, flanked on one side by a navigator and wolf priest Ranek the other. He makes his way to the great table where you see three waiting him, Krom Dragongaze already sitting, his face a history of battles and age only beaten by the great wolf himself, Egil IronWolf, whose youthful face and bright orange hair made him out to be young, his cold grey eyes the only betrayal, gripped a pair of axe's as he stood. The last of the three waiting wolf lords was your own, the youngest of the twelve, and some might say, in hushed words, the most hot headed, Ragnar Blackmane, also sitting but with his blade cradles across his lap. 

With the aproach of the great wolf, a single motion quites all of the other wolves before he speaks. _"Brothers, it is good to see you gathered so quickly after the call."_ Great wolf Logan Grimnar began as he took his place at the table, Egil doing the same once the great wolf took his place, giving Ragnar and Krom looks of hatred even as he did. _"The people of mining world Hecutor have risen up against the planetary governer. It would seem that he has been taxing the people to make his own profit alongside the tithes owed to the All-Father. A call has been sent to us for aid, and we are going to respond."_ The great wolf said with a smile. _"And so you have summoned three companies to do the job of guardsmen?"_ Ragnar cut in, putting his sword on the table as he looked at lord Grimnar. _"Surely there is a better use of our forces?"_

_"Know your history Blackmane, Hecutor is a world under our protection, we do not leave it to be defended by lesser men. It is no different than Garm or Fenris herself."_ Krom Dragongaze countered. _"But as Blackmane said lord, three companies to one world, even a world under our protection, feels like to much."_ He added. _"If it were just one world, then you would both be correct; but Hecutor is not alone in this act of rebellion. Every world within the Auelk system has risen up against its head, and if the reports are to be believed then they all did so within minutes of each other. This may be the work of something dark, and I am sending you all to put a stop to it in the name of Russ."_ Logan Grimnar repsonded, letting the information sink in for all present until Egil IronWolf cut the silence. _"Which of us shall lead this spear against the dark forces acting on Auelk?"_

Grimnar did not speak for long moments, closing his eyes in that time before opening them, a wide grin on his face. _"This matter is a grave one, but it should not be for just us to decide. Let the wolves under your command be your voice and from there we shall see which of you leads."_ He says with a roar of aproval from the space wolves of his company present.

Krom shakes his head at this, while Ragnar grins before turning, staring at all of you, the blood claws of his great company. _"Well what are you waiting for? The Old Wolf is waiting to hear you howl better than the other companies."_ He says before howling himself, to the disaproving looks of the other wolf lords.

[Likely not something they would do, but gives you all something to do. That and I don't have to write volumes in just one update. Get a chance to space it out a little. Egil's company is to your left and Krom's is to your right; yell, howl, boast, start rivalries or problems with your fellow wolves and lets see if it won't be beaten.]


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar lifted his head up, and howled along with the Company Lord, he wasnt about to let another company beat his with the laudest howl.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik grinned and let a long howl out into the air his face red, not stopping until he had no air left in his lungs he turned towards Egil IronWolf's Grand Company and grinned shouting loudly "Looks like we have won this once again Brothers!" he let out a long laugh and turned back too the table. Alrik slammed his fist into it saying "Looks like you younger ones are going to see some action then!" he burped and looked each marine in the eye, trying too figure out their strengths and weaknesses as he said "Well who is going too help me put these Wolves too shame?" and let out another long howl.


----------



## Agrippa

Von spoke up, "I shall Alrik." Letting out a deep howl that strained his voice to its breaking point. Stopping only to laugh at the other companies feeble attempt to best Alrik and himself.


----------



## Azwraith

Odin, sucked in all the oxygen around him filling his lungs before letting out a menacing howl.. unfortunatly alot of it was muffled by his massive beard so he lifted his flamer to blast it into the air. before Iorek punched him in the ribs "sorry brother i got a bit into it! haha" and he continued to roar. 

Odin thought to himself... sometimes i think i am more a bear than a wolf.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror stepped forward in front of Alrik, placing his hand on his brother's breast, _*"Be ready."*_ he whispered and then winked before turning to the other two companies and raising his arms to ceiling let out a howl. He pulled out his chainsword, *"Come!" *He yelled at the other Blood Claws from the other companies, *"See if you have the teeth to take me and my brothers on! You whelps are not wolf enough to even clean Odin's thick beard!"* He heard Iorek and Odin laugh and many other Blood Claws that weren't from Lord Blackmane's company howl. He turned to look at his fellow Blood Claws and nodded knowing they would back him up if need be, *"No one?"* he raised an eyebrow and turned to his brothers, *"I don't know brothers, I think all the other Bloodclaws in here must be cowards, what do you think?!"* He turned back to face the other two companies, *"Come! I'll make sure that I give you enough time to swing your swords at least once!"*


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermunder looks around him. Many new blood claws in the group now...one with red hair...a large beard halting his howls....Alrik and Von yelling louder than anyone else. a cloud of flame burst into the air above him, "*Good Russ!*" he says aloud, the orange light casting over his face for a moment. One of the new blood claws was egging on brothers from other companies to a dual with his chainsword out. this seemed rather chaotic. He spotted Egil and Krom in front of their own companies, shouting and raising their weapons.

Vermunder puts his armored thumb and index finger to his rugged face in thought.

_Every world within the Auelk system has risen up against its head, and within only a few minutes of each other?_ _Perhaps the other companies currently not present in the Hall are being sent to the other worlds to investigate. This could mean either all of the leaders were corrupt and the people of the Aeulk system actually managed to organize themselves very well or....something was very wrong with the people of the Aeulk worlds._

he looks down at his power armor. His fingers going from his cheeks to the skull between the wings of his aquila, and then down to the wolf tail ornament hanging over his thigh. he lifts it up in his palm so it is by his waist so that he can see its full length. 

he looks up, and lets out a roar among the others.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek saw Odin lift his flamer aloft and release a burst of flame almost scorching his face. He smashed him in the ribs and whispered in his ear
"You were right about the cultists brother. You will need that flamer before long. The average cultist isn't armoured so they will light up like petrol."

He howled once again yet he saw his brother goad the other wolves and stepped up alongside and turned to face him and his face bore a look of mock sympathy yet his eyes bore a malicious intent.

"Brother, Brother. What are you thinking. Those puppies would not spoil their pretty faces with the spoils of war. They would turn tail and flee before they even caught a sniff of trouble. However If one member of that company can outshoot me and my pistol or outfight my brother I will retract my remarks."
He let out a loud howl sucking air through his nose and expelling it in the long shrieking howl of excitement as he waited for someone to step up to his challenge.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror let out a bellowing laughter as Iorek spoke to the other Bloodclaws in the room, *"They will not take the challenge brother, they are scared! Come on you wet bellied fraggers!"* he let out another loud howl before beginning to dance on his tiptoes and slowly swinging his chainsword, it obviously wouldnt be on but it would be more than enough to draw blood from the other Bloodclaws and give Lord Blackmane's company this most high honor. 

He knew none of the other Bloodclaws could outshoot Iorek, it was impossible, and none could beat him in a duel especially after his bout with Heimdal. The moves he learned from the older wolf he would most definately put to good use in his later battles and he planned on using on some of these new pups. He walked over to Egil Ironwolf's company because he knew that the vaunted wolf lord did not like Lord Blackmane and got face to face with the Bloodclaws there. He strode up and down their line and when none of them jumped out at him he spat on the floor in front of one and walked over to Krom's company and did the same before coming back to Iorek.

He could tell that the claw he had spit in front of from Egil's company was trying hard to contain his rage and knew that he needed only goad him a little more so he walked over to him and got in his face, *"Come on then. You're trying so hard not to fight me, why is this? You are a Son of Russ! You live to fight! Are you afraid I will humiliate you? You are smart in that sense because I will, but why be a coward when you can learn a new way to get your arse handed to you?"* he danced backwords a little and stood there bouncing on his toes and motioned for the claw to come forward.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik howled and began too clap his hands at his brother Njoror a grin stretched upon his face as he laughed. Alrik stood and walked towards his brother, tapping him on the shoulder guard as he stepped next too him, throwing his arms into the air and stepping forwards, his face pulled into a snarl, his tounge poked out.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt his breath catch in his chest as the Great Wolf swept into the hall, the wolf pelt pulled around his massive shoulders rippling with each stride. The great warrior wore his authority like a comfortable cloak, his aura palatable to all present. Yet, even as the Great Wolf took his place at the head of the hall, Keris found his eyes wandering to the face of the Wolf Priest Ranek standing silently to the side. The Wolf Priest’s face was an unreadable mask, yet Keris knew Ranek’s dark eyes would not miss a single gesture in the vast hall.

Keris listened intently as the Great Wolf spoke and the wolf lords answered, feeling a swell of pride when his own wolf lord Ragnar spoke up. Yet, something about the situation that the Great Wolf spoke of sat ill with the young blood claw and Keris frowned in thought; 

_An entire system of planets going rogue within minutes of each other? Such a thing spoke of more than a simple rebellion. It spoke of coordination and timing. Yes, the corruption of the planetary governor might be the superficial cause of such a movement, but if the Great Wolf spoke correctly (Keris scoffed at the idea that the Great Wolf would speak false to his warriors) then indeed there was true cause for the Wolves to make haste to the system before the darkness could seep out to others._

As he turned the words of the Great Wolf over in his mind even as he heard the challenge placed before the companies present, and when Lord Ragnar turned to them and lifted his voice in a great howl; Keris found an answering howl erupt from his own throat. He closed his eyes and pitched his voice to echo the length of the great hall, letting his excitement wash the strange doubts from the forefront of his mind. 
Many of his brothers leapt to their feet, taunting the young warriors of the other companies with displays and jeers. The smell of promethium from Odin’s flamer hung in the air and Keris signed and thought; _such a use of the blessed weapon was more in line with an ork than an Emperor’s warrior_, but he held his tongue for the moment and stood silently. 

He cleared his mind and let an impassive mask slip down over his features before walking calmly down the length of the young Claws seated at Lord Krom’s table. He doesn’t call taunts to the warriors seated there, for he knows he doesn’t need to; his scent and the air of challenge in his stance speaks louder than any words he could give voice to. After meeting the eyes of every blood claw at the table, and none able to hold his icy gaze; he turns and walks calmly to where Egil’s company is seated. He feels the beast inside him peering out his eyes as well, daring the warriors seated there to prove their worth. The air nearly hums with tension as he meets the eyes of Egil’s warriors, their scents acridic with barely contained hate. 

Keris then half turns to his brothers and speaks, pitching his voice firm yet low,

‘Sheath your weapons brothers, this is not the training sands and these cowards don’t deserve the honour of our blades,’ he glares at Njoror, ‘Yet, perhaps there is still one amongst them that still carries a shred of courage in his breast to stand and face us as a warrior,’ Keris pauses to let his eyes slide down the length of Egil’s young wolves again, challenge written plain across his young features, ‘or perhaps I give our brethren too much credit...’ 

He then turns, deliberately placing his back to the blood claws of Egil’s table; knowing full well the affront such an act signifies and expecting it to be too much for the other claws to handle. He bares a wicked grin to his brothers and throws his head back to loosen a long howl, body keyed for anything the others might throw at him and his brothers.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik suddenly stopped in his tracks and straightened up declaring "Brothers! Come sit! They are still Wolves after all why taunt those that could bloody well be saving our lives?" he turned and walked back too his seat, sitting neatly he looked at the wood for a few moments that to him seemed like a eternity too Alrik who remembered the battle on the space hulk, seeing brothers fall beneath the tide of Genestealers only too resurface a moment later, their armour bloody and broken but still fighting. Alrik suddenly snapped upwards and said "So who wants too have a little wager" as he began too tell them about a game he had once heard about that whoever has the most kills would win.


----------



## darkreever

Odin, as you prepare to fire another gout of flames, Kjarl smacks you in the back of the head before speaking into your ear. _"Put that down you fool, we are in the great hall not some battlefield. Only the leaders of the great companies are permitted to unsheath their weapons. Did all the knowledge of the learning machines leave your skull."_ He finished, with what was not much of a question.


As this is going on, Ranek holds up his arms and everyone quites down, some requiring the aid of their brothers. When all was silent again, Logan Grimnar spoke once again. _"Very spirited recruits you have under your watch pup."_ He says to lord Blackmane before turning to Egil. _"The same can be said of yours, though they have more discipline beaten into them. Not like Krom; above howling with your brothers old friend?"_ He asks stairing at the oldest of the three. _"The enemy plots and fights, and we stand here howling like children. If this is the way you wish to determine who will lead than I will make it that much easier."_ Krom answered, not looking away from Grimnar's gaze.

_"You are correct; that is why you will lead. You were level headed enough to see beyond my challange and cared only for the problem at hand. The three of you are to take your wolves and head to the Auelk system under the overall command of lord Krom Dragongaze."_ The great wolf finished before looking at around at the assembled wolves. _"Well? Are you waiting for the wolftime!"_ He yells with a smile, eliciting roars of aproval from the older wolves before the members of every company start to file out and head to the embarkation ships.


*****
That was five weeks ago, since then you had boarded the cruiser, _the Fist of Russ_, and had spent the better part of a month traveling through the warp. Seven days ago, three ships had exited the warp at the edge of Auelk and the wolf lords had confirred on targets. Ultimately, lord Dragongaze had allowed lord Blackmane and his company to end the fighting on Hecutor.

Now you stood strapped into a crash harness, in the confines of a drop pod. Njoror, Iorek, Vermundr, Jorgun, and Gromar; you all are together in one drop pod, lord Blackmane with you. Alrik,  Von, Keris, Odin, Gareth, and Tempest; you are all together with Grey Hunter Kjarl. Within moments you are rocketed out of the _Fist of Russ_, your destination is a riot breaking out in the square of the governers palace in the capitol of Hecutor. Soldiers of the planets planetary defence force fight to keep them rioters at bay, but they are outnumbered and the rioters have taken weapons stockpiles. Though they are not trained soldiers, even the best trained men can be defeated by endless mobs. That is where superhumans prevail.

Your mission, upon planetfall, is to push back the rioters at the governers palace so that lord Blackmane can contact the officers of the pdf and wipe out the head of this riot. Along with the twelve of you, three long fangs under the command of Hrolf, one of lord Blackmane's wolf guard.


[For now however, you must endure the confines of your respective drop pods. Planetfall and action to commence next update.:good:]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik roared in both fear and anticipation as the drop pod tore into the atmosphere, flames began too whip around. He had heard stories from some of the Grey Hunters on the _Fist Of Russ_ how entire squads had been lost when the old drop pods were pulled apart by shear winds and storms that left the marines inside flailing as they flew too the ground far beow. Alrik thought to himself that it was almost like beind in a bigger version of Power Armour, his mohawk was sticking up as always as he howled and bellowed "For Russ and The Allfather lets show these damned traitors how true Sons Of Fenris fight!".


----------



## Azwraith

Odin strapped into the Drop pod thought to himself about the events that had past, he thought about his actions in the great hall letting himself punch his leg in frustration "What a fool!" he thought to himself about his actions in the hall. he always let his emotions get the best of him and did things that where not becoming of a Brother of the Wolf. he also thought about the fact that he was not in the same squad as his brothers Njoror and Iorek, it was sad to him that his first mission he would not be with his friends, however he knew this would probably happen from the beginning. he would survive and burn the heretics too the ground. he would fight for the emporer and for his brothers.

he looked around at the others in the squad some deep in thought some grinning some clenching their restraints with anticipation, a large grin creeped its way onto his face as he placed his family's tomahawk back onto his waist. he let out a large howl as the anticipation grew in his chest.


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar looked at Vermundr who was sitting across from him, Gramar was almost scared of the Drop Pod, he had acually listened to the rumars about the old Drop Pods being ripped to shreads when they entered the atmosphere, he felt like the dumbest Pup in the Hall, when he asked one of the older wolfs about it. Gromar grinned as he heard the battle chant of the Space Wolfs, he joined in, then he took his helmet that he was holding onto, and put on, he wasnt about to enter a fire fight with his head unproteceted like some of his brothers did.


----------



## Agrippa

As Von felt the shake of the Drop pod in his teeth, he couldn't help but glance over at the Grey Wolf, he looked calm, no telling how many battles the old wolf had seen, Von thought to himself, "That will be me one day.". Von looked down at his helmet, pondering whether or not to dawn it, he then heard Alrik howl with his mohawk shaking around like a flame and could not help but crack a smile, which he then withdrew, realizing they were finally about to see combat, he had to stay focused, so he closed his eyes and waited.


----------



## unxpekted22

(five weeks prior in the great hall)

As soon as the decision had been made by Grimnar, and the explanation following it, his heart sank. He had been right. He thought to himself about the situation and even said to himself how chaotic and foolish the howling contest was but he pushed those thoughts aside and gave into what all of the other new marines were doing....a new marine mistake. He should have looked around at everyone before giving in, maybe then he would have noticed the strength in the heart of Krom.

(present)

He thought about this foolishness again now that he was strapped into the drop pod. "_Will i make such an inexperinced mistake in battle as well?_ he thought for a moment more, and realized how many fo the more experienced wolves had failed the test as well, even blackman had. "_Even they failed...I have so much more to learn than i could have imagined."_

He looked around the circular inside of the drop pod, brother marines one after another as he turned his head from left to right. he would die for these marines, Blackmane included, and they would die for him, and they would all die for their home world and leaders. he noticed Gromar putting his helmet on as he looked at each marine in the dim red light. His helmet had been on before even stepping into the drop pod. His longest braid was pulled through the top and hanging on the right side of his helmet; he could barely feel it tap the side of his head as the atmospheric resistance began to kick in and shake everything.

After weeks on the ship, he now knew the name of the blood claw directly to his left to be Iorek. One of the squad mates he appreciated the company of most throughout their travels on the Fist of Russ. He pulled his right hand away from its respective strap and reached across his chest, gesturing for Iorek to shake, saying to him, *"Lets not get shot on our first step out of the drop pod brother. But in all seriousness, I pray you do well in our first battle away from home and I assure you, I will have your back at all times."*


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

The excitement in Njoror's chest was almost too much to bear, heretics! He was getting to fight the worst enemies of the Imperium! His helmet stayed strapped to his belt and he kept fingering the grip of his chainsword as if he was going to rip his way out of the drop pod. There were a few first timers in the pod but they seemed ready for the coming battle, they were all Sons of Russ and would do their father proud. He sat on Lord Blackmane's right and couldn't help but feel a little honored that he was in the same drop pod, maybe it was becuase of his and Iorek's performance against Heimdal. Iorek was on his right and took his brother's left hand in his right and smiled menacingly at him, *"One with the lowest score at the end of this can't drink mead for a week."* 

He laughed out loud before letting go of his brother's hand and taking hold of the giant Orca tooth and whispering a prayer, *"Oh mighty lords of the sea, when tempests rage and whirlwinds blow, lend me the strength to overcome that which would see me dead."* When he finished he made the sign of the aquila and said,* "For the Emperor."* He glanced at Lord Blackmane and realized his lord had been watching him and his face turned red, *"It's an old prayer that my tribesmen used to say before we went hunting for the mighty Orca. Helps calm me down...."* He trailed off a little and stared at the teeth around his necklace, he would add something from the traitors below, but first he would have to find a worthy opponent.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek felt Njoror squeeze his hand as he sat tense in his seat. He hated the descent whether it be from a plane or pod, it brought memories flooding back. He fell backwards for a time that seemed like a life time and agony exploded in his brain as his back hit the water. 

The memory echoed in his ears and he desperately tried to stop his quivering limbs as Njoror squeezed his hand. He smiled at his brothers challenge. 
"No mead for a week. You could never hold your mead brother. So the wager is insignificant." he joked before an idea sprung to mind and a wolfish grin spread across his face.

"If I outscore you, I expect to see you practising with your pistol every day for at least 2 hours. My punishment is yours to choose."

He gave a chuckle at the sight of Njoror's face yet it turned to a grimace as the drop pod lurched sickeningly and he closed his eyes for a moment as he heard Njoror whisper his battle oath.

He focused upon himself and he felt his breathing steady. He had incorportated an extra hour of weights training into his regime in the 5 weeks since in the duel. He was stronger than ever and his sword strokes had become heavier knocking the blades of his opponents wider opening their guard further. He was almost certain nobody had noticed the change yet as he dwelled upon it his confidence rose.

Quickly he slipped his pistol from its holster and checked it, before slipping his helmet on to his head and listening to the hiss as it sealed. He muttered to himself
"Cultists are not usually armed so head shots are not needed. A bolt to the chest should be enough."
His mutter was private yet he had forgotten that the vox was open and his voice carried around the pod as did the expletives that came as he realised his mistake


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror laughed at Iorek's bet, *"It is a deal then brother if I loose I will practice for two hours every day in the firing range, BUT if you loose then when you practice your swordsmanship you have to come with me. We may bout every now and then but you do not spend enough time in the cages, five hours every day with me. It will make you better brother, because while a gun can run out of ammo a sword or axe cannot."* He smiled devilishly at Iorek as the drop pod lurched again and his brother tensed up. 

He looked at the newer Blood Claws in the pod, the ones he did not know and smiled at them, at the moment he was the only claw not wearing his helmet, *"I hope you pups are ready to see some fragging action! You are about to see Iorek pop some skulls without even looking and me, well, I will be gutting our foes left and right before they even know what happens to their little arses!"* He let out a howl as his excitement got bigger and bigger as the drop pod got closer to landing.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris kept his gauntleted hands clasp before him in an effort to keep from tugging at his restraints and mouthed a silent prayer to the drop pod’s machine spirit imploring it to deliver them safely to the planet below. The pod shook as if in response to his words and he felt a low growl slip from between his clenched teeth. He had hated the drop-sims they had done in training, they made him feel helpless and the real thing was even worst. He felt the wolf inside him respond to his discomfort with a growl of its own, it hated the feeling of vulnerability as much as he did. Its stirring made him think back on the long voyage through the warp.

--
Keris had spent much of the first three weeks of the flight in a somber mood, replaying his actions and words from the gathering in the Great Hall over and over again in his mind. He knew that the excitement, coupled with his youth and inexperience, had let the emotions of the beast influence him; yet he couldn’t help but feel shame for allowing it to happen. He found his temper fraying and had even snapped viciously at Alrik for a minor misstep in a training exercise. He had apologized to his wolfbrother, but could tell that Alrik didn’t quite grasp his frustrations and that only served to darken his mood further. He loved his claw brothers dearly, yet had never felt quite so alone even in their company.

He had tried meditation in his private cell, but peace had eluded him and he had only received stiff, numb knees for his troubles. Finally, out of desperation, he had set out to prowl the long corridors of the ship; taking turns at random and just letting his feet lead him where they willed. He had been so lost in thought that he almost didn’t realize that he had stopped in front of one of the many minor chapels in the deep belly of the ship. This one was dedicated to the Allfather in his twin roll of protector of humanity and keeper of knowledge; Keris had stood for a long moment before the carved archway before finally stepping inside the softly lit chamber. The back-lit glasswork of the alter was an incredible work of artistry and Keris found himself so enraptured in the play of color that he didn’t notice the footfalls entering the chapel until the old Wolf Priest had eased down beside him. They had sat in a long silence before Keris found himself speaking aloud about his unrest.

The older wolf had simply listened quietly until Keris’s tumble of words finally ran out; then had given him a thoughtful look before asking various questions of his own. Keris answered them as honestly as he could, though he was a bit puzzled at how random some of the old wolf’s inquiries seemed. At length the Wolf Priest fell into reflective silence and Keris realized that the ache that had plagued his soul ever since the Great Wolf’s words had finally begun to ease. The Wolf Priest gave him a sly smile as Keris thanked the older warrior for his time and retraced his steps back to the area of cells allotted to him and his brothers, his steps lighter than they had been in weeks. He altered his schedule to return to the small chapel regularly from that point on.

--
Keris felt a sense of calm creep over him and looked over his clasped hands to where Alrik was literal howling in his seat across from him. Keris flashed a feral grin at his wolfbrother and reached a hand out across the gap, shouting over the roar of the entry,

‘Save your breath, brother! You will need it to keep up!’


----------



## dark angel

Alrik laughed at the other Wolf and smiled. Their friendship had both grown closer and weaker over the time of transport, the younger Wolf had even snapped at Alrik but he had not intended harm guessed the former Firehawk. He reached his hand out and grabbed his brothers wrist and shouted "Brother! Looks like i am going too win our bet with the kills this day! For if there is one thing i am good at it is making dogs stay down!" he burst out into laughter and stared into his brothers face, Alriks helm bouncing against his thigh as its straps struggled to hold the round helm too its owner.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt his heart clench as Alrik paused to stare at him a moment before reaching out to grasp his outstretched arm. He had been worried that Alrik was still bitter over the biting words he had thrown in his pack brother's face during the time the strange mood was upon him.

'Actions speak louder than words, brother!' he shouted back, 'Russ and the Allfather are watching... let's show them that these pups have teeth, aye?' He then smiled, giving Alrik's arm a finally shake before releasing his grip. 

The pod shook again and he absently ran his fingers through his dark hair, causing it to stand up like a crest and his face suddenly becoming serious. Keris dropped his voice to barely above the roaring flames that licked the pod, 'What I said before, in the training hall... I... I was not myself brother. I pray that you can understand that,' then the ghost of a smile is returns and he raises his voice again, 'Just promise me that you will keep your bloody hide in one bloody piece! Not that your face doesn't look like the backside of an ice daemon already... the traitors are sure to fall dead when they get a good look at your bloody mug!'


----------



## dark angel

Alrik closed his eyes for two seconds before snapping them open quickly and turning towards Keris who was now staring at him with a grin and howled slightly before bursting out into laughter. He shouted "If i look like that it is best i do not say about you then Brother!" over the hiss and screech of the Drop Pod and turned too Odin with a smile and scanned his flamer inquisitivly as he wondered how it would react if a round hit the weapon and said "Just make sure you dont burn me Brother! I do not want to be looking like a Boar now do I?" he grinned before resting his head backwards and closing his eyes.


----------



## Azwraith

Odin sat watching the banter going back and forth between the wolves in his pack. it was very interesting to him as he had seen them all around, he had slight dealing with Keris and Alrik while on the Fist of Russ and he had even sparred with Alrik although Odin was beaten it was a decisive battle for Odin which gave him more confidence in his close combat fightning ability and the two of them seemed to get along well. they both had strong opinions and were very boisterous it had seemed that while on the Fist they could be heard throughout the vessel laughning and jesting

Odin always did his best to see the bright side, the silver lining and in this case although he was not with his good friends and brothers perhaps he could make some more. his finger itched along the trigger of his flamer as the Pod shook almost causing his finger to press down on the trigger, so he released his grip and started to beat out a rythem on his thigh... Odin always tending to tap when he was anxious.

Odin replied to Alrik *"Atleast you might look better!!!"* he howled over the noise from the droppod and let out a booming laugh.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt the sharp tips of his canines as he bit down on his lip to keep from laughing aloud at Alrik's exasperated expression as Odin joined in the taunting. He felt a slight pang of regret that he did not know the flame-haired clawbrother well beyond bouts on the training sands. Keris watched as the young marine drummed his fingertips into the ceramite encasing his thigh and tested the air for his packmate's scent. It was sharp with anxiety, reminding Keris of smoke from a fire of green wood.

Keris shook his head at Alrik before turning to Odin and giving him a wolfish grin, 'I have faith that our brother knows which end to point at the enemy! He can't be blamed if you have the lack of brains to be in the way...' Keris met the other wolf's eyes, 'I, for one, am glad to have him by our side!'


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek laughed and forgot his fears
"The deal is done"
He laughed and turned to the marine on his right who he knew vaguely as Vemundr
He had assured him he would have his back at all times and he felt grateful
"I am glad for your support brother however I think we should be ok. Cultists are rarely well armoured and my power armour will deflect most of their bullets. However brother this is not my first battle I fought the genestealers yet I do not discuss it as much as my brother. However it is our first battle as brothers and our success is guaranteed especially if you and Njoror have my back"
He smiled yet it turned quicky to a grimace as the pod swerved violently
"Be prepared" he muttered checking his pistol once more.


----------



## darkreever

Njoror, Iorek, Vermundr, Jorgun, and Gromar, As you all go back and forth, the voice of lord Blackmane cuts you all off so that only he can be heard over the howling of the winds against the pod. _"Most kills 'eh? I'll have in on that; and if I win, then you both will be squaring off against someone of my choosing."_ He said with a wolfish smile before a reading took his attention. "Land in thirty second!" He barked as the second counted down to zero.

Alrik,  Von, Keris, Odin, Gareth, and Tempest, Kjarl looked over to the staring Von, seemingly reading his mind. _"You might just look like this one day pup; not Alrik though."_ He said while slapping the other claw over the head for one reason or another. _"With a skull as thick as his and little brain within, he might just find himself biting off more than he can chew unless he wizens up."_ Kjarl finished with a half grin. _"Now cut the chatter, we hit any second now."_


The three pods plummeted to the ground, coming within hundreds of feet before powerful reverse thrusters arrested their descent and slowed the vehicles enough to not kill their occupants. The two pods containing the eleven blood claws, the grey hunter Kjarl, and lord Blackmane slammed into the cracked rockcrete ground amidst dozens of men and women armed with a motley assortment of mining equipment, engineering devices, and even some guns, or makeshift ones. 

The assault ramps of both pods blasted open like flower petals, allowing their deadly cargo to exit and bring death to the enemies of man. You all charge out of the drop pods, light tracer fire coming from the rioters but they are not trained soldiers. Training or not though, if enough shots or bodies occupy a space then they will hit. Such is the case for Tempest, Jorgun, and Gareth; one taking a las-bolt to the face, another catching heavy autofire to the chest, blowing away ragged holes in his armour, while some unknown source puts the third sprawling to the ground and forcing the rest of you to act fast.

All around you are men and women, some stopped completely by your presence, some weeping at the sight of the Emperor's warriors, and some fight on as if possessed. Further back from your entry point lies a platoon of pdf forces who had been struggling to keep the attackers back from the governers palace. That these people had made it here, and where actually putting up a significant fight, was quite a feat. With them was the drop pod of the long fangs and Hrolf, setting up their heavy weapons to help break the rioters and lend you support, but they need time.

Further into the city you can see a man shouting out to the rioters, goading them and spurring them onward. He wears a mining uniform, but on top of that are the vestments of a priest of some kind. _"We need to break these people, get them to run so that we can take down the rouser. If he goes down than most will flee!"_ Lord Blackmane shouts before firing with his bolt pistol, explosive rounds punching through the legs of rioters and putting them out of the fight, but not killing them if he did not have to.

_"You heard him, make your way to the leader; kill only those you have to and the rest will run"_ Kjarl snarls, beheading a rioter wielding an axe that shattered against his armour.

[You heard the wolf lord and grey hunter, get to the leader; just keep in mind that though they are rioting, these are Emperor loyal people. They are not cultists or traitors, though they are rising up against the leaders of this world, albiet corrupt leaders.]


----------



## Agrippa

Tempest was in front of Von as he was hit in the head with a las bolt. Von acted pulling Tempest by his backpack under Von's right arm, as Von's arm cleared Tempest's head, he let loose a barrage of bolter fire to get the Rioters to hit the deck, making sure to not kill any. Von screamed " Odin help me lay cover fire so everyone can disembark, and dont hit anyone. These people are scared more of us then they are of thier leaders!"Von slide into the kneeling next to the down assault platform and let out another barrage into the air.


----------



## Azwraith

At Von's suggestion Odin Let out a large spray of searingly hot fire accross a large birth scaring the rioters to flee away from the posing marins as tempest and the other could move forward, he turned to Alrik and cupped his hand into a basket shape while dropping his flamer to the floor *"Oh Yes Brother!"* Odin replyed to Alrik excited expression they used to do something similar when they played on the Fist of Russ, Odin and Alrik were very similar people both men were like children when they were not sparring or in battle. Alrik placed his foot into Odins hands and held onto his shoulders.

Odin started charging forward as he wrenched his arms upwards catapulting Alrik close to the Leader he did not break his stride he quickly turned around retrieved his flamer and chased after Alrik to give him some needed Fire support.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik howled as Odin threw him over his shoulders. In the two seconds it took him too land he had already drew his Chainsword and pressed down hard on the ignition rune, his face stretched into one of rage. He howled and watched as those around him parted, many dropping their weapons at the sight of the Space Wolves that had landed moments before but most regaining their stamina and charging into the fray. Alrik stumbled forwards as a rebel jumped onto his back and wrapped his small skinny arms around the Space Wolf, much to his dissaray.

The man screamed in agony as Alrik bit down on his arms, pulling them both apart at the wrists the man fell backwards his blood jetting over Alrik's legs. Another man charged forwards and swung a pickaxe around with a smile, it cut across Alrik's cheek and the Space Marine smiled slightly as he stepped forwards and took hold of it with one great hand and yanked it away. The pickaxe was tiny in the hands of the Angel Of Death as he spun it and crushed the chest of its former owner, both fell Alrik simply stepping over the body and taking another step towards the leader as Odin approached behind him, igniting those stupid enough too aproach.


----------



## Azwraith

As Odin approached Alrik he saw the devastation his brother had already created he was using the butt of his flamer to knock down anyone who approached the few that attacked with weapons were set alight in a burning haze of the emporers holy wraith as Odin let out large howls at the stench of burning flesh. it was something he had grown accustomed to as he had burned himself many times in training.. and in his former life.

the two punched closer and closer to the leader trying to hog the glory for themselves if you had seen them from above they would look like a rocket with Alrik forming the Peak and Odin as the Jet.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror let out a bellowing howl as he raced down the assault ramp, Lord Blackmane had set him a challenge and he would be damned if he didn't reach it. He looked up and saw a man shouting and heard his lord's orders, he began to force his way through the crowd as best he could, he didn't want to use his chainsword yet. As the press of bodies got to be almost too much a wild las shot clipped his shoulderpad and he spun almost hitting the ground but caught himself before that happened. A picture flashed through his mind of his and Iorek's old packmate Vrol who had fallen on the hulk from a similar situation and been swarmed by genestealers.

He would not die, he had too much he wanted to do, too much he wanted to kill for the emperor. He found the man who had shot him and picked him up, his huge hand around the man's throat, and squeezed breaking his neck and then tossed him into the crowd. A few people screamed and ran but many were still fighting to get at him, he howled again as he pulled out his chainsword and activated it before hacking a man's arms off who was attacking him with a pickaxe. This had his wanted effect, more people shrieked and ran but it seemed as though the damn leader was still far away, *"Iorek! Come with me brother! We shall take that arse faced traitor down from his mount!"* He howled again before turning and pushing his way further forward, every now and then swinging his chainsword at those stupid enough to attack him. 

He saw Alrik and Odin out of the corner of his eye straining to reach the leader before him and laughed loudly before turning back to Iorek, *"Brother are you going to let Alrik Firehawk beat us to the goal?!"* He howled again before swinging his chainsword again on some dumb dupe. Now the people were fighting back and he had no choice but to use the skills he had, from afar he could be seen dancing to and from people, each place he jumped from had a spray of blood jetting into the air as he swung and chopped his sword.


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar drew his power sword, a few of the rioters jumped back at the sheer size of it. Gromar cut an arm off of a rioter, he had tryed to swing a pipe at him, what a stupid move, thought Gromar, these people are not nearly as bright as anyone he knew, if they were smart, then they would run, how could they expect to defend themselfs from a Space Marine, this was not going to be a battle, it was going to be a slughter, that was if the Pups could get to the leader and kill him. These people were not traitors, but some of them would have to die, if one has to die for the many, then let it be so, thought Gromar, he watched as Odin shot his flamer, and how the rioters ran from it non of them wanting to catch fire. Gromar frowned inside his helmet, thinking "the first battle i will fight is going to be against Imperial cavilians"


----------



## Euphrati

Keris slammed his palm into the quick release of his harness and practically leapt out of its embrace, hitting the falling ramp in front of him barely a moment after the metal kissed the broken ground; the boots of his battle brothers ringing off the stone around him. Sounds and smells rolled over him like a storm wave breaking on a shoreline; the smell of charred stone, the shouting of voices, the crack and ozone reek of las bolts, and over everything the biting stench of fear and anger. 

Almost instantly three of his clawbrothers were dropped to the pitted stone; Keris felt the hair at the nape of his neck rise in anger and fought down the urge to lay into the crowds around him with an iron will. He heard Lord Blackmane's words and took in the scene around where they had landed with a quick eye. The workers were chaotic; some crying, some fighting, some just standing in the grip of fear. Odin shouted at Alrik before boosting the wolf into the crowd and roaring in his wake and Keris shook off the feeling that his brothers had forgotten him in their rush for glory.

Turning to the crowd and unsheathing his chainsword and pistol before bellowing, 'Citizens of the Divine Emperor, *MAKE WAY*!' 

The crowd fell back before his roars; those that were not quick enough were sent sprawling by a slap of the flat of his blade. A section of pipe crashed against his thigh, scratching the paint, and he sent its wielder to the ground with a snarling whip of his pistol to the assailant’s head. The crowds were pressing in from the sides all round the Wolves, slowing them down from their goal and Keris howled in frustration before something caught his eye. 

With a quick shove he pushed his way to the wreckage of a burnt out ground car and vaulted up on the smoldering remains. Las bolts and small arms fire zipped through the air, but they were sporadic and ill aimed. He knew he was presenting the shooters with a target but pushed that thought from his mind as he raised his pistol and took aim at the bobbing man in the garments of some sort of priest that was shouting to the crowds. He felt a calm fall over him as his vision narrowed to that robed figure,

'Allfather, I am an instrument of Your wrath... guide my aim so that I might smite such filth from Your world.' He felt the words resonate inside him as he squeezed the trigger.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr's neck shot down at the severity of the drop pod's sudden impact with concrete ground. He saw Blackmane begin to lift his sword as the light began to come through the opening sides. The harnesses released and the pod opened. Before the sides were completely touching the ground the yells of the angry mob could be heard, along with sporadic fire from various types of weaponry. The first wolf out was Jorgun. He had been silent the whole time. Vermundr followed suit jogging out behind him. Upon Vermundr's first steps out of the Pod, Jorgun was lit up in front of him with auto canon fire. Holes appeared in the Blood claw's back. the shells that went through his brother's body missing him slightly, some clanging against the metal drop pod as they ricocheted off of it behind him. Mere seconds after daylight hit his eyes, it was all changed to red in an instant.

*"Holy shit!!**"* he turns off to the side, taking his armored fingers to his helmets eyes, helping clear off the blood. _"Wait my fingers are available"_ He hadn't even remembered to take hold of his axe, all he held was his pistol. He takes hold of his axe, and yanks it from his side.

The other drop pod slams into the ground to his right, crushing rioters and propping up slabs of concrete all around it. he sees the rest of his pack run out of it as he had done from his moments before, one of them taking a las round to the helmet, another falling on the opposite side. Vermundr then bends down by a turned up slab of rock.

_"Lets not get shot on our first step out of the drop pod brother. But in all seriousness..."_ he remembered saying to Iorek in the drop pod before they landed.
*
"I cant believe that actually just happened!*"

The brothers running out of the second drop pod charge full heartedly into the rioters, one shooting off flames, another taking the one who took the shot to the head under his arm, as if there was maybe a chance to save him still. he turns to see what the wolves from his pod we were doing....also making headway through the crowd but slower. He spots Blackmane and hears him yell out the order to only kill if necessary.

"What the hell is going on here? If this guy is corrupt why in the name of Russ are we attacking this mob whose against him!? Damn riot control...." he looks down at his bloodied chest armor, "Damnit..."

he takes a deep breath, looks back over the slab and spots Keris first, making some good headway into the crowd. He peels around the concrete slab and catches up to Keris, following hid lead. While thinking about the three brothers he did not even get to fight alongside with in battle for one minute as he did so. As Keris climbed to the roof of a destroyed vehicle, four rioters that he had made his way through see Vermundr coming next and decide to jump him all at once hoping to be successful where they failed at Stopping his brother. 
*
"Citizens of the empire!?...disrespectful, ungrateful bastards!"* still a few spots of Jorgun's blood on his helmet's eyes, he looked down toward a rioter beating at his leg with a blunt opbject as he yelled this through his vox. He smacks the man away with the back of his pistol, held by his left hand. While the other three continue beating on his power armor with rocks and poles, he sees several rioters about to get on the car to pull Keris down.

*NO!* He charges through the other three on him towards the group, his axe ready, no longer thinking of Blackmane's orders. Vermundr swings his axe in a full 180 degrees in front of him. Hitting five of the rioters. A wide gash splitting their backs. Their bodies fell slumped against the vehicle as a shot rang out from Keris's pistol.


----------



## Mordeth

Feeling his teeth's rattling after the pod's violent impact, Gareth released himself from the harness and jumped out. Taking a moment to take in the situation, he felt at a bit of a loss... This was their enemies? Harmless people?
Barely avoiding getting gutted by a surprisingly fast man, he felt a correction needed to be made... 'Mostly harmless people'.

Drawing his power blade and cutting off the mans swordarm in one fluid motion, he quickly decided that standing lost in thought wouldn't do... So he started humming a light tune while running after Alrik and Odin. They made it easy enough, making a pathway of fire wide enough to get a tank through.
"They shouldn't get all the glory, after all..." he muttered to himself as he smashed down rioter after rioter with his fists, avoiding using his blade wherever possible.

OOC: sry for the delay...


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek barked a laugh at Blackmane's repost as the drop pod slammed
"We have a challenge now brothers."
The impact jarred his senses and he was late in hitting the release button. He watched his brothers jump into the melee and he saw that several of the civilians wavered on the edge. He stood and surveyed the carnage and saw the leader standing above the crowd. He vowed that he would see his body dead as he watched the enraged civilians. 

He jumped down the ramp as the crowd swelled around the astartes and hollored

"Get down or I put a bolt in your chest. Get down."

Several fell near to him yet one lingered turning auto pistol in hand. Ioreks pistol bucked and the mans chest cavity exploded and he dropped to the floor. Several standing near him prostrated himself yet he skipped through the prostrate forms and saw one try to rise a grenade in his hand. His chainsword arced and the figure slumped as blood gushed from the arteriol wound.

As the crowd became more dense he heard Njoror about 10 paces away hacking and slashing at the enraged citizens and his cry hurried his steps. Get down he hollored and placed 3 bolts exploding 3 helmetless heads in sprays of blood. Several more cultists prostrated themselves and he slithered lithely through the crowd chuckling slightly as he picked his way silently between prostrated forms to Njoror's side.

He could see his brother working furiously to cut his way through the crowd and he hollored once more

"Get down treacherous dogs in the name of the emperor"
followed by 2 accurate bolt rounds that took his tally to 7 and though only a few of the cultists fell to the floor at his shouts Njoror sword sliced through those that remained. 

His scratchy laughter resounded upon the vox
"See thats how you do it brother. We will reach the bastard though i fear he is an accursed psyker to have such manipulative powers. The firehawk well never best our brotherhood." 

He howled loudly and another pistol shot brought another casualty as they pressed on and the fervour of the rioters increased with every step forcing Iorek to use his pistol as a club to blow his enemies blows whilst delivering the killing blow with his sword which was soon slick with blood


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror was grateful that Iorek was now finally with him, the press of bodies had been beginning to hinder his movement. He had lost count of how many traitors he had had to kill but was sure it was definately over twenty for every time his sword fell so did a traitor. He realized he was thinking of these people as traitors but that's what they were until proven innocent, they had rioted against the Imperial rule and now they would pay the price for trying to kill him and his brothers.

He was completely lost now in his battle thought, that's what his old tribe used to call it when they had raided villages every now and then. His mind was completely given over to the battle around him and each minute move he and his opponents made, storing it away in his brain for further use later. As Iorek's shots stopped flying by him he realized his brother was being forced to fight hand to hand and smiled to himself as he hacked a head off its shoulders. Suddenly a gap formed and he had a clear shot to the leader but as he made a run for it a huge mob jumped him and the sheer press of their bodies took him to the ground.

For a few terrifying seconds he saw his life coming to an end but the wolf inside him howled and he along with it and he started beating all of the bodies around him with his fist and chainsword. He let out a roar of triumph as he finally jumped up, huge amounts of blood spraying from the bodies around him and coating his armor, a few cracks could be seen in his chestplate where the citizens had managed to get a few good shots off or where their axes had been able to pry open and some of his blood clotted one of them. Before he had fought to keep himself from killing those that need not be killed but now he did not care, they had tried to kill him and none of the 'innocents' had bothered to try and stop their friends or loved ones so he began killing anyone in front of him making his and Iorek's way toward the leader much quicker.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik roared as he gripped a squeeling man around the throat and lifted him into the air hissing "Imperial? More like Dog!" and pushed the tip of his chainsword through the mans gut and send chunks of flesh twirling through the air and into the crowd. Alrik stared into the eyes of the Priest and spat in anger as he charged forwards, as he did a nearby man parted his trench coat and pulled out a old snub pistol and opened fire. The first round bounced harmeslly off his armour as did the second and third but for the fourth Alrik was not so lucky. The round slid along his cheek, turning and twisting it tore the skin away and sent Alrik onto his backside, his chainsword slidding away as he drew his bolt pistol and fired on the attacker sending his body flying away. Alrik pulled himself too his feet and quickly regained his fallen weapon and howled saying "Let me pass fools!".


----------



## Agrippa

Von jumped up and charged foward, using his bolter as a bludgeon, he knockedout any rioter that dare approach him. Von saw Njoror decapitate a rioter and the head rolled towards Von, as Von ran by his boot smashed the rolling head into a pulp. Von drew his chain sword and revved it up, A rioter came charging at him with a pickaxe, Von swung the chainsword horizontally cutting the pickaxe head off, the rioter ran. Von was now 10 steps behind Njoror and Iorek, Von screamed at them " *DONT LET ME CATCH UP WITH YALL, YOU BOTH HAD A HEAD START!!"*


----------



## Azwraith

Odin eyes widened as he saw the true horror of the scene he was a participant of, he felt sorry for these poor men and women they did not deserve this fate, they saw him and his brothers as no more than dogs of the government but he still had to uphold his duty as a marine of the emporer. 

he had the best weapon for this task yet he had let his hot blood get the best of him. he stopped in his position and had a quick glance at his position, he wanted to continue with Alrik but he was not suited for that task. he buckled down in his position and let flames sprue forth into the ground he did not want to burn the people he just wanted to scare them so he purposefully let the flames roll out of his Dragons Tooth his flamer as he had just decided to call it. towards the ground so that they would bounce slowly towards the enemy giving them time to run.

He let flames in all directions scareing off men and women alike, then he noticed his brothers being swarmed by the very people he forced to run he charged in Njoror's position letting out flames as he ran like tsunami of angry fire he approached their position and the villagers around iorek and njorer he pivoted on his position as he saw alrik stumble backwards in the corner of his eye. the tide had change and the tsunami moved in another direction.


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## darkreever

[No post in nearly a month Mordeth, thought you had decided to walk out without a word.]

Gromar, Kjarl smashes you in the head with his bolt pistol, his voice coming in over your helmets vox unit. _"Don't freeze up now pup, we have work to do."_ He says before charging into the nearest group of rioters, shattering bone with his initial impact and crushing those who fell beneath him. Lord Blackmane's voice cuts into both yours and the grey hunters ears. _"We will take their leader, help the long fangs flush out the heavy weapons and get the others out of the open!"_

Keris, you fire your pistol at the leader, but one of the rioters nearest him, a wide eyes man holding up a crude banner of some guild or another, jumped in the way and his chest exploded. This only proves to enrage the nearest rioters, who become lost to the fact that you are space marine and charge into both you, and Vermundr who is supporting you. Beating at you with crude weapons and their fists, Keris falls to the ground where he is swarmed. None of this lot are armed with any form of gun, but as Vermundr moves to help Keris up he quickly notice someone running towards you with several metallic items in her hands.

Alrik, Odin, and Gareth, as the three of you make your way towards the leader, he shouts something you cannot make out over the yelling of the other rioters and the sound of your own bolter fire. Soon though, his unheard words become apparent as a pair of heavy quad guns, set up on the second floor of a manufactorium building where the leader is, begin to rain dozens of bullets onto your armoured forms and the rioters surrounding you. Most of the shots ping off your armour, but weight of fire is bound to find a weakspot and some of the shots do just that.

Alrik, one of the shots hits you in the neck, spinning you around and throwing you to the ground. Odin, rounds punch holes into your arm holding the flamer, blowing away three of your fingers and making you drop your weapon. Gareth, a shot bites into your leg, forcing you down to your knee.

Von, Njoror, and Iorek, despite his words, the press of bodies holds Njoror and Iorek up enough for Von to catch up with the two. No matter how many the trio put down, others block their path. Lord Blackmane soon joins the trio, a swipe from his glowing blade cutting half a dozen of the rioters in two and opening a gap between the space wolves and massed rioters. Heavy weapon fire tears into the rioters from behind you, the long fangs under wolf guard Hrolf's control having finally set up into position. Their guns cut a bloody path through the rioters, leaving the four of you a clear shot towards the leader and what looks like several armoured individuals, one clearly a pdf sergeant directing some of the less fanatical individuals. Lord Blackmane charges towards the leader and his guards.


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar ran forward into the thickest part of the crowd and yelled as loud as he could and said 'let me pass!' his anger raising as the crowd slowed him down, it was like walking through thick mud, but it wasnt mud, it was people. Gromar tried not to use his power sword to much, mostly bashing the civilians with the dull side, or puncing them with his bolt pistol, he was carful not to hit too hard though, he didnt want to break some ones neck. Gromar saw a man pulling out an auto pistol from beneath his coat and shot him in the chest with his bolt pistol, the bolt ripping through his skin and exploding inside him, it utterly ripped him apart. Gromar said prays to the Emperor well he charged. The crowd whent on for as far as Gromar could see from his postition, he thought of the stories about the end less swarm of the horde of tyranid the older wolfs talked about, this was as close as Gromar had gotten to an endless swarm, and what supprised him was that this many followers were following one mortal being, the Emperor is the one they should be faitfully following, not this single man


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## Agrippa

Von watched as Lord Blackmane rushed forward powersword in hand, Von followed suit rushing foward, jumped and slammed his chainsword thru the helmet of the closest armored guard, and put his bolter to the chest of the guard to his left and pulled the trigger, till his body went limp. Von then kicked the lifeless body off his chainsword and readied himself for another guard.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Just as Njoror thought they would be unable to move Lord Blackmane was by their side helping to fight their way to the traitor atop his mount. As the Long Fangs finally opened up behind them Njoror let out a bellowing howl and charged the PDF sergeant as fast as he could, as he ran he picked up a head of one of the citizens Lord Blackmane had killed and chucked it at the sergeant's head. He knew that even a sergeant of the PDF would be a little stunned at a bloody head hitting him in the mug, it would give Njoror the time he needed to cross the distance between the two of them. 

He knew Lord Blackmane was going after the leader and the pride that he got from fighting next to his lord filled his chest. He looked horrifying now, huge amounts of blood covering his armor and speckling his face, he howled one more time as he covered the last few yards between him and the PDF sergeant his chainsword ready to kill one more traitor.


----------



## darkreever

Gromar, Kjarl's speaks to you again as he cuts a pair of rioters in half. "Loyal serveants of the all-father they may be Gromar, they are our enemies here and now. They must be taught a lesson and we have to stop those heavy weapons." He says to you, firing a round at one of the heavy weapons up in the building, blowing out the chest of a person and getting the corpse to fall to the ground below; momentarily ceasing the fire of one of the guns.

[Your obviously not as good a shot as that, but you need to get the heavy weapons to either stop firing or flush out the shooters for the long fangs. Those of you who are being fired upon, one of the guns has stopped firing until the next big update.]

Njoror, despite the sight of a bodyless head hitting him, the sergeant backsteps only once before raising his pistol and putting a shot into your shoulderguard. Pain flares in your arm from the laspistol shot, a black burn marking where it hit you and peeling away a portion of your armour. You close the gap and swipe with your chainsword, but he blocks with one of his own. A sergeant he may be, but this man is just that, only a man; and he does not have the training of a soldier shipped off to fight all over the galaxy.

[He has some skill, but it will not last long against you, feel free to kill him after some effort.]

Von, You turn to find another foe and are forced to dive to the side, barely avoiding the downward swipe of a man wielding a large motorised sawblade designed to rip apart stone and metal. Though he wears no armour, the man is swinging the buzzing blade to much for you to get a good enough shot in without taking a hit yourself.

[Your call, a singleshot can take this guy out but you will likely be hit; or you can try to get in his guard and past the saw.]


----------



## unxpekted22

All of the windows on the car being broken, Vermundr, through them, sees the banner holding supporter get in the way of Keris's shot. he turns his back against the vehicle as the swarm becomes angrier and beings to remass around him.

Keris suddenly falls off the vehicle beside him with a huge thud, with a whole pile of rioters following suit after him. Several of them jumped on him as well, trying to pin him to the vehicle. Over the loud noises of the riot, Vermundr heard heavy gun fire, without having to look he could tell it was not allied. he flung off the men trying to hold his left arm to the car away, causing them to fly into several others making them stagger. he put his bolt pistol to his side and took hold of his axe with both hands. he lifted it up to the left and shoved the butt end of it into the man pressing on his right arm, and then swung the pole around into the head of another, and jousting one that took a step back into the stomach as well. he took a quick glance into the distance through the sea of heads. He could easily tell his brothers' gray-blue armor from the ragged clothes of the rioters. he could see rounds pinging off of their power armor from where he was, and all three began to lower to the ground under the gunfire. 

he returned his attention to Keris who still had not managed to get back up. he shouted to his brother, moving swiftly, bringing the pole of his axe down hard on the backs of the dog pile of rioters keeping Keris on the ground. they were trying to pull away his weapons. one by one they rolled off the others holding their backs in pain. some spines he heard snap, but his brother's life was more important to him than any of these rioters, without a doubt. 

Keris soon becomes free of the rioters. As Vermundr reaches down to help pull him up, he notices some metallic shines in the crowd, his head now being at leg level. Vermunder quickly pulls his hand away from Keris's grabbing his own pistol again and kneeling all in the same movement. He proceeds to fire at the legs running towards them, and picks up a strong scent he is familiar with...that of an enraged space wolf behind him....


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## BlackApostleVilhelm

As Njoror felt the two blades hit he spun on his heel and swiped at the sergeant's left leg at the knee. The soldier jumped back just in time and his chainsword hit nothing but air, but Njoror knew that he had the advantage in this fight, he was bigger, faster and stronger and was an expert swordsman. He saw that the man was a little off balance when he jumped back and Njoror knew that was the opening he needed to use to eliminate this fool. 

He swung his chainsword again and allowed his opponent to block it before swiping at his legs again but this time the sergeant blocked it with his own sword just in time but the two weapons locked together. As the sergeant looked up into Njoror's face he saw the snarling smile of a pissed off Space Wolf and brought his pistol up to shoot but Njoror let go of his chainsword and swatted the gun out of his hand before kicking him in the chest rocketing the sergeant and his sword back into a wall. 

He picked his own chainsword back up and lept toward his opponent who had picked himself up, the sergeant weakly swung his sword at Njoror who sidestepped the attack and hacked the man's arm off at the shoulder. As the man dropped to his knees screaming Njoror wrapped his hand around the man's dogtags and ripped them off, *"You do not deserve to be known by the Emperor or his sons you traitor."* With a quick swipe of his sword he decapitated the sergeant and the lifeless body fell to the floor. He took the dogtags and stored them in a pouch at his waist, they could prove useful later on, how he had no idea but he knew that Lord Blackmane would want to know why a PDF sergeant was helping a traitor. He turned and charged after one of the armored gaurds protecting the leader a howl on his lips.


----------



## Azwraith

As Odin had begun to reach alriks position again a sudden burst of white light and lines passed by his face bullets were bouncing of his armor he looked up and saw the heavy guns pouring round after round into their position he was being pinned down under the weight of the heavy fire.

Odin reached forward with his flamer about to let out a large burst of flame as a few bullets crashed into his fingers ripping the gun out of his hand a severing a few of his fingers.

He Paused for only a nano-second as the implants in his brain stopped the pain signals from taking effect he used the momentum to drop to the ground he spun on his foot and scooped up the fingers in his otherhands throwing them with all his might into the gunners positions. 

One had stopped firing by this time and he just silenced another as a metalic finger slammed into the head of one of the gunsmen knocking him straight to the ground, 

Although the guns resumed firing almost immediatly he had to make it to their position. Odin who landed on his hands and feet started sprinting towards the gunners position he reached down and pulled the tomahawk from his waist with his left hand and prepared to take the last one down.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek felt lethargy in his limbs as he slashed into a second traitor slashing open his ribcage yet as he tried to advance a second arrived but he was inexplicably cut down by a flashing sword stroke and Iorek felt his limbs come alive as he saw his Lord.

Blackmane was death personified, beautiful and terrible and he stepped forward knowing he would rather die than be separated from this God of war. Heavy weapon fire rained and suddenly the path was clear Blackmane was through the gap as the rioters faltered under the fire prostrating themselves

"Come brother he yelled to Njoror darting after his Lord the traitors head awaits."

Subconciously he reloaded his pistol as he sprinted and aimed at the traitor as Blackmane sprinted towards him. He fired two shots towards the head of his guards as his eyes took in their armourand sprinted after Blackmane feeling the tiniest portion of guilt as he saw his brother duelling the pdf sergeant but he banished it
That was his brothers kill and he needed no help.
He was at blackmanes ankle hoping his head shots had killed at least one and he released a quick burst of 3 at the two guards nearest blackmane hoping the impacts would kill one and maybe cause the other to stagger. 
5 left in the clip and he was level with Blackmane and he looked up for the first time to see the damage he had caused....


----------



## dark angel

Alrik yelped as the round smacked him in the neck and sent him twirling through the air before slamming into the ground with a crunch. Traitor bodies were now falling around him, not _whole_ bodies thought Alrik as a man with not legs fell only to have another round rip open his skull before he even hit the ground. Alrik looked around, he could not find his bolt pistol anywhere be had already regained his Chainsword and was pulling himself to his feet, struggling to breath he tried to let out a howl but found himself having to stop through the pain as he began to charge forwards, rounds smacking into his armour.


----------



## Agrippa

Von jumped to his feet and took a couple steps back, trying to avoid the wild swing of the motorized saw blade, Von lifted his bolter to take a shot, but the rioter's saw blade knocked his bolter out of his hand, forcing Von to step back further. Von waited for the next downward swing,as it came down, Von sidestepped to his right and brought his chainsword down onto the Rioter's hand, dismembering it and causing him to drop the saw, Von swung his chainsword a final time and decapitated the rioter, as the lifless body fell to the ground Von picked up his Bolter and charged the closest armored guard.


----------



## Euphrati

The pistol roared in his grip, sending the bolt screaming over the heads of the crowd. His aim was true and his sharp eyes followed the miniature rocket as it closed the gap to its target.

At the last possible instant; a man standing near the leader, wild eyed and gripping a makeshift banner pole, interposed himself in the path of the projectile. Keris roared in anger as the mass-reactive shell punched through the man's sternum and detonated within his chest. The worker's ribcage blossomed like a bloody rose, fragments of bone and blood erupting forth to rain down on the crowd like morbid confetti.

The effect on the crowd was immediate. Heads spun his direction and a human tide rushed up the crushed hood of the ground car, colliding with him like a sledgehammer. The destroyed vehicle gave way beneath his feet with the added weight of the rioters, sending him toppling backwards to the ground.

He impacted with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. The workers swarmed over him like ants, pounding on his form with their fists and makeshift weaponry. Fingers clawed at his exposed face, scratching lines down his cheeks. For a moment he was pinned, unable to throw off the crushing weight of the crowd. He was helpless under their assault. Something deep inside him surged in primeval anger as he felt the wolfspirit he shared his body with strain forth. 

Over their shrieks, he heard Vermundr's voice beside him and smelled his brother's scent over the stink of the crowd. He registered another scent along with that of his clawmate. _Blood_. The rich, coppery tang of Astartes blood filled his nostrils. The beast within him frothed in rage.

These people were not innocents. Ignorance could be forgiven, shown its fault and brought into the light of the Allfather. These people knew what he was, chosen of the Emperor. They were not ignorant. No, these filth were something worst, something unforgiveable. These people knew the light and had willingly turned their backs to it. By raising their hands to him and his brothers they had become Traitors.

The words he had studied in the peace of the chapel rang clear in his soul. The only answer to such a vile crime was Death.

Before, he had stayed his hand, pulled the killing blows. 

The blade of his chainsword screamed to life as his thumb found the ignition stud; he would hold back no more. With a primal howl that carried even over the din of battle, Keris let the beast within his breast have its head. 

The pressure on his limbs eased slightly, that was all that the beast needed. Anger raced through his veins, fueling his strength to new levels. Part of him noted the presence of Vermundr's gauntleted hand reaching for him. Keris surged upright through the crush of bodies with a roar that rivaled the mightiest sea dragon, throwing screaming traitors into the air as if they were fishing boats gripped by a raging squall.

Time seemed to slow as he brought the humming blade around in a vicious sweep. The beast howled and he howled with it; its emotions flooded through him, tinting his vision red. A man reared before him, seemingly in slow motion. Keris punched his pistol through the man's forehead between his eyes and pulled the trigger. The back of the traitor's head dissolved in a spray of blood and brain matter as the bolt blew through his skull, embedding itself in the chest of the man behind him before the mass-reactive shell detonated. A serene portion of his mind, like the calm center of a storm, registered his own voice coldly speaking in Fenrisian,

_'... for I am his Will and Might made manifest. By my blade the impure shall meet with their doom...'_

Vermundr's scent suddenly changed and Keris spun on his heel, blood-slick chainsword sending an arc of ruby droplets in its wake, to see what had alerted his brother. The sight of a female gripping the slim metallic objects to her chest causes his mind to clear for a moment. Bombs.

Keris raises his pistol, switching it from single shot to burst, and sends three shells screaming towards the canisters in the woman's hands before turning to knock Vermundr down by the side of the car, shielding his brother with his own body. 

*'Brother! Get down!'*


----------



## darkreever

Keris, your shots go wide as you sweep your bolt pistol to try and stop the woman. They impact with other rioters, blowing out the chest of one man and taking the arm of another. As you push Vermundr down, his shots go higher than intended, hitting the woman with the devices in the face and showering those around with brain and bone. All of the items in the corpse's possession go off, a mix of fragmentation and incindiary explosives ripping into those around her. Shrapnel strikes both of you; pieces embedding in your armour but causing no damage to either of you. The rioters around you are not so lucky, many were shredded or burned by the explosions and there is now a clear opening for you to help lord Blackmane and the rest of your pack with him.

[Help the wolf lord and you pack-mates clear up whats left of the leaders guards. There are only a handful of the guards left, the rest are mostly more fanatical rioters that I will expand upon afte your posts.]

Alrik and Odin, you both charge forward through the gunfire; the second gun hindered only for a moment as Odin thrusts his fingers the incredible distance. Rounds smack off your armour, one digging into Alriks shoulder and blossoming pain while another blows into Odin's leg. Both of you slam into the building below the guns, underneath their arc of fire. Gromar and Kjarl, dragging a prone Gareth, follow close behind. Gromar sports several minor wounds of his own while one of Kjarl's ears is completely missing from where a round nearly took his head. _"The long fangs can't get good enough shots on those guns, we need to get to them ourselves before they can cause to much damage to the defence forces."_ He yells to all of you, and even as he does an explosion marks the gun having destroyed one of the pdf light vehicles. Turning away from the sight, Kjarl kicks open the doors nearest you five and rushes in, snarling a curse as he does so.

[Follow in after your pack leader, this manufactorium building is fairly bare on the inside. Once you enter, there is a way up to your left and there are only a dozen lightly armed enemies on the floor above you. Obviously, don't hog all the fun.]

Iorek, your shots do just that, two of the impacts outright kill the first of the two guards while the third shot hits the second in the leg, a sheet of bent metal being the only thing that saved the limb from being outright blow off. He falls to the ground, but still manages to aim the autogun he has in his hands at you and fire.

[Finish him and then help lord Blackmane deal with what little is left.]

Njoror and Von, you both dispatch you enemies and turn to lord Blackmane's side. The sound of vehicle engines catches your attention, and just in time for you both to dive out of the way of a pair of ground cars. A hastily added heavy stubber unleashes a hail of fire from one of the vehicles in the direction of lord Blackmane giving the leader just enough time to turn tail and jump into the second ground car. A man tries to get into the vehicle with him, but the speaker pulls out a laspistol and puts a round through his eye. The long fangs try to take the car out, but the quad guns from the building above prevent their shots from doing major damage.

The second car tries to flee, but the driver takes his turn to wide and rockets into the wall of the manufactorium building, and with a sputter the vehicles engine dies. The man firing the gun goes wide eyed as he realizes there will likely be no way to escape, and so he swings the gun around and starts to pelt both of you with shots.

[The speaker has fled, but the second ground car remains along with the heavy weapon on top of the building and the few guards and fanatics that had flocked to the speaker. Take out the gunner in the vehicle and then go help Iorek and lord Blackmane deal with the few remaining guards and fanatics, if there are any left by the time you go to help them.]


With the leader gone and many of the rioters dead or unconscious in the street, those that remain begin to flee. Some picled off by the defense force weapons and the long fangs guns.


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar ran into the building following his pack leader, inside he could see a dozen foes, he charged into them with his sword held in both his hands, he laughed as they tried to shoot at his head, but all but one of the shots went wide. The one that hit, hit hard, it blew a hole in Gromars armour and made him bleed at his knee, Gromar yelled in anger as pain shot up his leg, he fell to the ground. His Power Sword dropped and he pulled out his pistol, firing in short bursts he put a bolt into one the heads of the people, the others looked terrified at the sight of there friend falling to the ground, his head was bleeding massivly, he was not going to live through it, Gromar tried to stand, but he couldnt, almost like his leg just wouldnt respond to his commands.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As the gunner on top of the vehicle realized his peril Njoror smiled in delight, but that smile was soon wiped from his face as the gunner went mad and started firing the gun at them. He saw a wrecked truck a few paces between him and Von and the gunner and lept behind it, he motioned for Von to follow him,* "The fool will run out of ammo in seconds if he keeps firing wild like that, we won't give him enough time to reload." *he said to Von as his wolf brother slammed beside him. Sure enough the click of the empty gun came after a few heart pounding seconds of hoping the truck wouldn't disintegrate under the fire and Njoror turned to Von and smiled, *"The honor is yours brother, when I run at him he will most likely stand and try to shoot me with a side arm if he has one or just run away, that is your chance to shoot him."* Njoror slapped the young wolf on the shoulder before rolling out of cover and charging the truck a howl on his lips. After a few paces the man stood up and Njoror jumped and rolled to give his brother a clear line of sight.


----------



## Agrippa

Von dove behind the qrecked truck with Njoror,then looked at him with a toothy smile*," I like your thinking.*". Von switched his bolter to single shot as Njoror charged the downed truck, as soon as Njoror dove away, Von stood up and fired , it was like slow-motion, as the gunner's head exploded from the round hitting him between his eyes. Von looked over at Njoror and gave a loud howl*,"how was that shot brother? Now come we must hurry to Iorek and Lord Blackmane."*


----------



## unxpekted22

whisps of smoke flew past him as bits of gravel and metal flew into him seconds after hitting the ground, his side slamming into the car.

"_and THAT, is why i always wear my helmet."_ he said aloud as he brushed some of the metal shrapnel bits off that had stuck into the arm he used to cover himself as much as he could. he stood back up and looked at Keris to make sure he was okay as well. He was. Excellent. And now they had room to join the others.

a woman who was bleeding all over, lightly walked up to him and bumped into his side, not clear headed at all most likely having lost too much blood. Vermundr sticks his hand out to lightly push her in another direction and watches as she turns with his hand and goes staggering the way he motioned her instead. 

he lets out a sigh to keris, "_We have killed too many of these people Keris. Perhaps if we were more experienced this would have been handled better. Though....I suppose we had to start somewhere, and better here than thrown into a green tide of orks."_

He looks over the car again, and continues to speak to Keris, "_Some of those guns are still being operated, and those with Lord Blackmane are being stalled by the enemy leader's guards. We were easy enough to spot amongst the crowd while there WAS a crowd. As it is has thinned out much, we will have to make haste toward our brethren, run as fast as we can... or those guns will surely point at us next. Out in the open like that we will suffer the same injures i saw Alrik, Odin, and Gareth taking, or worse. I for one dont doubt the power of our enemy's weapons. they have already killed some of us, and i wont for a second think that they wont kill me as just as quickly. On three we run.....1.......2......3!!! _


----------



## Azwraith

Odin had been running for what seemed like eternity with the endless barrage of bolter fire smashing into his armor and around him.

he took a tiny scan of the area in front of him and caught a glimpse of Alrik by his side, he was glad for a brief moment to know his brother had not fallen. they were getting close now to the gunners nest as he saw rounds smack into Alrik.

Odin turned in disbelief only at that very moment to have a round splinter pain through his knee he fell to his side and tumbled like a bowling ball into the walls below the gunners position he was safe for the moment.. .or at least still alive.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik roared as he burst into the door saying "For The Allfather i shall deliver you!" and found himself shouting to no one, the bare building seemingly empty. He laughed slightly to himself in a attempt to mask the burning pain in his shoulder that seemed to be spreading though he knew that was not true. Kjarl was leading the way, the Grey Hunter was a formidable form to find charging at you. Alrik charged up the steps and came into anothe room similar to that below but this time with a few occupents. Alrik walked calmly towards the nearest Rebel and reached forwards with one giant hand taking hold of the mans throat he pushed the tip of his Chainsword through the mans chest until it burst out the other side and threw him into the enemy as a round grazed his forehead and sent him stumbling backwards.


----------



## Euphrati

For a brief moment the world became a rolling wash of flame and noise. His secondary eyelids snapped in place to protect him from the flying debris and pupils pinned to guard from the sudden change in light. Shrapnel pattered off his armour and shredded the unguarded flesh of the traitors.

It was over in the blink of an eye. The air became heavy with the smell of roasted flesh and the chemical stink of the explosives. His war gear had been proof against the razor shards of metal and bone. From his brother's scent Keris could tell Vermundr was likewise unharmed.

He straightened and drew in his surrounds with a quick eye. The whole area was shrouded in smoke and dust, yet he managed to catch a brief glimpse of an escaping groundcar; tracer fire from the Long Fangs' guns nipping at its heels. The mood of the remaining traitors abruptly turned; many of them dropping their weapons and fleeing.

_Chase them!_

The urge flooded through his veins in a wash of raw emotion, bringing a low growl from between his lips. The desire to give pursuit was so strong that he found himself taking a slow step forward after the disappearing forms before regaining control. The beast jabbered in his breast, enraged at being denied its instincts and wrestled against his will with feral strength, promising the joy of the hunt and the kill. His breath came in short, sharp pants as he fought the inner struggle. Finally the wolf inside him submitted, retreating to the back of his mind with a low growl. 

Vermundr had regained his feet and was speaking to him. He focused on his clawbrother's voice to calm himself, yet finds the words only served to bring his anger back to the fore,

'You wear the lifeblood of one of our Brothers on your armour, Vermundr,' his voice is cold and low, holding none of the wiry mirth that the young wolf normally shows, his ice blue eyes staring levelly into the lenses of his brother's helm. 

'These people are _not_ ignorant of their actions. They have attacked us, and by doing so their lives have been marked forfeit. They have branded themselves traitors by their own hands. No, perhaps these people were innocents once,' he turns to peer through the smoke and sporadic fire towards Lord Blackmane, holstering his pistol and readying himself for the dash, 'but not anymore.'

On Vermundr's mark he sprang forwards, keeping his head low and slipping through the remaining rioters like a wolf through a panicked flock of sheep. The wolf inside whispered at him to strike out at the milling people. He ignored it for the time being. He closed the gap in a heartbeat, bounding along the broken ground. A few shots rang off his armour, but none found true purchase on the curved surfaces. 

One of the remaining guards turned towards him, hate and anger writ clearly in the features of his face. The man tried to bring a battered autogun to bear. He only managed to raise it halfway before Keris's chainsword buried itself in his collar, exiting lower in the opposite side of his chest. He pushed passed the twitching corpse to his Lord and brothers' side. 

Being in Blackmane's presence quieted the beast inside him. Keris felt humbled by that simple fact.

'My Lord,' he said nodding his head respectfully.


----------



## deathbringer

Three autogun rounds impacted upon Iorek's chest and he roared in rage as one passed through his armour stinging the flesh beneath. He saved his bolt plunging his chainsword into the guards neck before wheeling to face the remnants of the guard. He saw blackmane bearing down upon a trembling form and he placed a bolt into his head an instant before Blackmanes sword arced. Quickly opening a vox channel he whispered to his Lord

"That one counts as mine"

He thought he heard some cursing or possibly a bark of laughter yet Iorek turned to one of the final guards who had decided to fight and knowing he was under his Lords scrutiny he drove forward with a brutal ferocity parrying a swipe with the knife and using his new found strength to shatter his opponents sword arm with the riposte. The mercy stroke that followed was quick and clean and Iorek was proud to see the reward of his labours in the gym.

He heard the squeel of breaks as aground car rocketed away and he turned to his Lord

"Shall we pursue the traitor?"


----------



## unxpekted22

While sprinting towards Blackmane and the others, His thoughts were now more burdened by Keris's words than the thought of being hit. he wondered how he could have said somethign so foolish. as his first mission he had merely been trying his best to follow orders, but he ahd failed to see that those orders were now null and void. possibly the real test of this mission. as he sprinted low across the ground he kept glancing at the blood of his dead brother, killed on his first steps out fo the drop pod.

these guards were being killed by all of his allies, there was no hesitation here. He and Keris made it through the gap quickly and without harm. Vermundr came out of the run extending to his full heigth with his battle axe raised above his head, sending it straight down into a giard's skull who had been paying attnetion to Lord Blackmane, splitting his skull in two.

he yells to keris "You are right Brother! let us send these traitors to hell!!"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As Njoror made his way back to Lord Blackmane he wrapped his huge arm around Von's shoulders,* "It was a great shot brother, I believe you may give Iorek a run for his mead very soon if you keep practicing your arse off."* As they reached Lord Blackmane the gaurds were all dead and Iorek was watching the leader's car drive off, Njoror leaned toward him,* "Yellow bellied fugger, I hate traitors."* He suddenly remembered the dog tags of the sergeant he had killed and pulled them out and handed them to Lord Blackmane, *"Lord Blackmane I have the dog tags of the sergeant who was commanding these gaurds, maybe it could help us figure some of this mess out."*


----------



## darkreever

Alrik, you follow Kjarl into the gunners; both of you making short work of these people as you silence both quad guns. Gromar and Odin soon catch up, but are to late to take in any more kills. Gareth is not with you, it seems he had slipped into the red dream, his injuries proving to be worse than any would have guessed. The four of you make your way out of the building to see that the rioters had fled and that the fighitng was over.

[Gareth has entered the red dream, whether or not he will wake is anyones guess. Gather him and make your way to the long fangs, a wolf priest and servitors have landed. Link up with the rest of your pack, speak amongst yourselves, boast, show off, you get the idea.]

Njoror, lord Blackmane takes the tags from you with a nod before turning away from the carnage your pack had been forced to cause. Before he walks away towards the governers palace, he claps you on the shoulder before saying. "Gather the rest of your brothers, your pack lost members this day, they need to be honoured." Without another word, lord Blackmane makes his way over to the defence line of defence force soldiers and the long fangs.

Iorek, Von, Vermundr, and Keris, you make your way to lord Blackmane and Njoror only to see that the last of the rioters and fanatics are dead. Follow Njoror back to your drop pod to retrive your fallen brothers and make your way to the long fangs. Another drop pod has landed carrying a wolf priest and several servitors.

[Obviously, the above is a pretty good idea of what to do. Link up with the rest of our pack; speak amongst yourselves, boast, showoff.]

[For those of you with injuries, go to the wolf priest and wait for him to take a look at you. I will post that bit when it comes.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror nodded silently at Lord Blackmane and for the first time today took in the sight of the riot. Not too big of an area he had to admit but the carnage that happened here was ten times as big, imperial citizens had revolted and he had killed too many to count, the only one he felt satisified in killing was the sergeant. He turned as the others got there, *"Let's gather our fallen and then get our next orders."* He clapped Iorek and Von on the shoulders before making his way to the closest dead Blood Claw and hefted him over his shoulders with a grunt.

He did not feel sorrow for these people, they knew what they were doing, he felt sorry that his fellow Blood Claws who, for many of them, this was their first and last battle. He shook his head and thought, _all because of that bastard_, the image of the leader would not go away in his mind, the fact that someone would openly betray friends, family and the emperor was beyond him. He made his way to the Wolf Priest and nodded at Odin who apparently had lost a few fingers, despite everything that happened Njoror smiled at his friend. 

He put the dead wolf down before the Wolf Priest whispered a small prayer and then went back to where Iorek was gathering a dead brother.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek was suprised at Lord Blackmane's terse response yet he obeyed the command without comment. Picking through the dead he recognized one of the fallen as a blood claw he had sparred with in the distant past. His helmet had been torn apart and his eyes were glazed, fixed upon the oblivion that none of them could see.

He felt remorse fill his heart and he gently removed his brothers ammo clips for his brothers pistol and reloading his own. Gently he prised the congealed blood from the chainsword and cleansed it using the clothes of one of the mangled corpses before sheathing it and placing it upon his chest

"May your killer have taken a bullet and may the leader of this riot fall so your death was not futile"

A single tear ran down his cheek entering the fatal wound that had killed his comrade and he lifted him turning to find his brother Njoror standing behind him. Gently he lowered the marine to the ground and embraced his brother as relief surged through him.

For a single second he saw Njoror's face upon the corpse below and the image haunted him contorting his relief into fear for the future. As they separated he forced a smile upon his lips though he knew Njoror was not fooled by his forced calm.

"I'm glad to see you brother. Now which of us will be spending more hours on the training ground or will we be sending our Lord to scrub dishes? Unfortunately I lost count after 36 and must pay the penance for such a low score."

A genuine smile flickered across his face
"Though i believe Odin's flamer may even have put my real score to shame"

He winced as he hefted the astartes into his arms and moved him towards the wolf priest stopping only to grip Odin's shoulder as he passed.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris swallowed convulsively, his throat suddenly dry, as Lord Blackmane turned away without even acknowledging his nod.

Uncertainty washed through him like melt water from the heart of a glacier. The wolf within his breast was deathly still, its confusion echoing his own. He stooped down and gently wiped his chainsword on the tattered remains at his feet before returning it to its sheath at his hip, using the action to hide the abrupt feeling of rejection.

The color seemed to drain from the sky above him as he made his way back to the drop pods, shadows appeared deeper and more forlorn as he lifted the body of Jorgun to his shoulders. The weight of his brother was nothing compared to the dark weight he felt settle upon him like the dust that hung in the very air.

His thoughts spiraled together, tumbling through his mind. Glimpses of the battle replayed themselves back in stark contrast as he picked his way across the square to where the Long Fangs had made their defense line. He had been close to losing himself to the beast at one point; the shame tightened his chest and made his breath sharp. Lord Blackmane knew this, how could he not? The metallic odor of blood that clung to everything made his head swim.

He stepped over the broken ground around the guns and made his way to where the Wolf Priest knelt. Keris slowly lowered the body of his clawmate to the ground, placing a hand on his brother's chest in sorrow. Iorek and Njoror were standing nearby, clasping each other on the back. Their scents betrayed companionship.

He watched the Wolf Priest work with calm hands and noted the older wolf's words carefully; committing them to memory with an almost fierce need.

'Can I aid you?' he asked quietly, knowing full well that the pain showed in his eyes.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror smiled heartily at Iorek,* "I do believe I did better then thirty six....hhhhmmmm how many was it now? I would say somewhere around fifty if my memory serves me right but I say we wait before confronting Lord Blackmane on his, Odin what was your count?"* he bent down and picked up an armored finger, examining it before handing it to Odin, *"Better yet how is your hand?"*


----------



## Mitchy

Gromar held onto Gareth, pulling him to where someone better at medical care could take him. He put Gareth down near the long fang and walked towards the rest of his brothers, he yelled as he walked towards them, "i must have routed three hundred of those cowards, has anyone betten that? i didnt think so, hahaha, that was a good beggining fight, now wheres the real one?" Gromars leg was hurt but that wouldnt stop him from boasting.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr followed behind all of his other brothers. They all seemed terribly saddened at their fallen pack mates, as he watched them sling the bodies over their shoulders, Jorgun and Tempest, leaving none left for him to carry...just as he had hoped.

he says to himself, "_Thank the Emperor.....None of them saw it as i had, none of them actually have the blood of our fallen brothers drying on their armor."_ He looked down at the red splatters across his chest armor as he walked, re-seeing the holes appear in Jorgun's back......the first thing he had seen after stepping out of a drop pod for the first time.

he follows the rest of the pack to the Long fangs and wolf priest, finding a spot to stand behind Keris, as he (Keris) knelt over Jorgun's body and spoke with the wolf priest. 

Vermundr says nothing to anyone. He keeps his helmet on, and does not sheath his weapons.


----------



## Euphrati

The Wolf Priest looked up at his words; his dark eyes set in a time-worn face and framed by deep crow's feet. There was wisdom there, swimming beneath the surface like a school of fish under the calm waters of an inlet.

Those dark eyes studied his face carefully, then flickered to his brothers nearby, before gesturing for Keris to help him remove some of the armour from the corpses so that he could access the precious geneseed.

'Shouldn't you be boasting with your Brothers on how many you have put to the blade today, young one?' The old wolf didn't look up from working with the ritual knife in his hands.

Keris bit his lip, chasing the fleeting memories of the fight around his mind like will-o-wisps. They ran together, tinted by emotions so strong that they left a faint taste on the back of his tongue. He sighed,

'I don't recall how many...' his voice trailed off.

'This was your first mission.' The Wolf Priest gently set the blade aside and carefully cleaned his hands with a cloth he pulled from a pouch at his waist. It wasn't a question. Keris said nothing; his scent said it for him. The old wolf simply nodded and sat back on his haunches, giving him a piercing look.

'Spend time with your Brothers, young one. It will do you well.' He gestured towards the blood claws, 'You may find yourself surprised at how much they understand.'

Keris nodded and followed the elder's advice. Stepping passed the bodies of the slain and approaching his clawmates with caution. 

'Well fought today, Brothers,' he nodded to Njoror and Iorek as he slipped into place beside them. He caught the scent of Vermundr and casted a wan smile at the blood claw, 'I owe you for watching my back, Vermundr. I hope you will forgive me if I failed to give voice to that at the time, I was a bit distracted,' he reached out and placed a hand on Vermundr's shoulder with care. He didn't have to see the young wolf's face to know the pain he would find if he could. The same pain was written like a saga across his own soul.

_I understand._ He mouthed the words softly to the silent wolf.


----------



## Agrippa

Von walked up to a fallen Marine, kneeled down with his hand over the Marines eye's and said a silent prayer, then picked up the body and carried it to the Wolf Priests. Listening to his brother's boast as they gathered bodies, Von thought "I have no idea how many i killed, how they can actually keep up with the kills is beyond me."


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek saw the pain in Vermundr's eyes and realised the effect Jorgun's death had had upon the young marine. Iorek was momentarily speechless for the young marine was normally calm, unflinching in his efforts. Carefully Iorek moved to his side putting an arm round his shoulder, opening a private vox channel

"We avenged him brother. We made sure he didn't die in vain and I swear this, if our Lord permits we will find the traitor who started this riot and we will tear him apart, together."

He clasped his brothers shoulder hoping too have comforted the young marine with his words yet unsure of his brothers reaction. He didn't want to offend Vermundr in his time of grief


----------



## Azwraith

Odin had thought his leg was broken from the impact of the round that smashed into his knee however he has been lucky and as he stood felt little pain and continued on into the building.

Rushing forward he could hear the screams of dying men as he broke into the area where Kjarl and Alrik stood he realized he was too late to claim any kills for himself.

As the two turned and exited the building Odin followed closely behind only to break away for a moment to reclaim his Flamer. it seemed the fighting was over... for now.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik gritted his teeth in pain and wondered why his advanced senses had not yet kicked in to stop it. He and Kjarl had slaughtered the Rebels with ease and he had almost enjoyed their faces and screams as he had cut tthem down. Alrik turned around to Odin and said "Nevermind Brother perhaps you shall beat me to them next time!" and laughed slightly before turning away and walking towards the Wolf Priest where several of his Brothers were standing he looked at them and clapped his hands saying "Looks like some of us will be Grey Hunters in no time" as he looked at the Priest and awaited him to tend too his injuries.


----------



## unxpekted22

placing his pistol and battle axe back on his belt, Vermundr says, _"If it was that easy to kill these blood claws"_ gesturing to the bodies on the floor, _"then it is just as easy for more of us to die. they spent so long training, completing rituals, becoming a space marine, an angel of death for the All-father....and they died in a split second by human rioters. This is not to say i thank you both for your companionship, as it will help us stay alive i am sure. I just cant imagine how one stays alive long enough to become like him"_ motioning toward Kjarl with a nod. _"Obviously it is possible, since he and many other space wolves have in fact done so. I must simply find something to clear my head of this doubt, or i will surely die next."_


----------



## Euphrati

Keris knew the crystal blue eyes that stared back at him reflected in the lenses of Vermundr's helm were his own; yet there was something different about them, something within them that had not been there before.

_This has changed us all._

There was an archaic saying; War, war never changes. Where it had come from was lost in the dust of the forgotten past, but looking into his own eyes reflected back at him in his brother's helmet brought the words whispering from the depths of his mind. The saying was true, in part. War itself never changed, but it undoubtedly changed those touched by it. He would never be the same from this moment on. None of them would.

'Faith, my Brother,' Keris looked hard into those mirrored eyes, 'Faith, trust, courage, honour... these are our cornerstones. Faith in the AllFather and Russ, Trust in the brother at you side, Courage in the face of the great Enemy, Honour for the sacrifice of the Fallen.'

He moved his hand from Vermundr's shoulder to the center of the wolf's chest, 'Every one of us will join the Great Feast someday; it is what we do *now* that counts, Vermundr. The heroes that have come before have waited this long for your presence, Brother. There is ale enough for them to wait a bit longer.' He favoured Vermundr with a soft smile for a moment before arching an eyebrow in amusement as his nose caught a scent,

'Or... you could be like Alrik over there and be so ugly that they bar the doors in an attempt to keep you out!' Keris flashed a wolfish grin at the bloodied Marine as he waited for the Wolf Priest to see to him.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik spun around quickly and stared at Keris before limping towards him and raising a hand he brought it down on his brothers shoulder and winced as skin tore in his upper arm. He laughed and declared "I might not be the best looking Wolf and I bloody well dont intend to be anytime soon but one things for sure I could bloody outshoot and beat you in a fight anyday!" he nodded before turning back towards the Wolfpriest and closed his eyes imagining the ammount of Campaigns and Wars the Healer must have endured, how many of his Brothers he had saved and lost.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek heard the word Alrik and the word firehawk just floated into his head. He felt bile rising in his stomach and his hatred rose as he heard Alrik's hollow boast. It was instinctive unexplainable yet such a boiling hatred was within him and his face darkened as confusion rained within his mind. Instinct battled with reason and was brutally slammed into the burning ashes of common sense as he felt himself becoming infused with his abhorrent detestation.

Eventually his mouth formed the words and they were laced with spite
"The firehawk may have burnt his feathers lets hope his claws are not blunt or Keris may give him a run for his money"


----------



## darkreever

As you all gather your fallen brothers, lord Blackmane followed by the wolf guard Hrolf make their way over to Kjarl and begin to speak; but whatever they are saying you cannot hear.

As the wolf priest looks over you all, he smacks Vermundr in the back of the head before turning to Odin and addressing you all. _"You are Space Wolves, astartes of the All-Father. We fight the enemies of mankind, and they fight back like the misguided fools that they are. Some of our pack dies, some live; it is the way of our lives, or would you rather you never died in battle, and are forced to retire yourself like other brother chapters do?"_ Even as he said this, the wolf priest looked at Odin's hand and shook his head. _"There is nothing that can be done for it here, once we are done the fingers will be replaced aboard the fist of russ. You will have to use your other hand for the time being."_ Thre priest finished, putting a strange solution on the gauntlet that instantly took away any lingering pain before sealing off the openings.

Turning his attention to Alrik, the priest grabbed him by the head, shoved him forward, and stabbed something into the back of his neck. Like Odin, whatever lingering pain there might have been, it was gone now. _"First taste of battle is always the hardest" he began, addressing the pack again, "but it is better to fight alongside your brothers than without them."_


Before most of you have time to think on those words, lord Blackmane and Kjarl walk to the pack. _"Keris, Iorek, Alrik, you three are with me in the governers palace."_ Lord Blackmane announces. _"The rest of you are with Kjarl, sweep past the manufactorium building the heavy weapons were deployed in and make your way to the temple, the Shrine of the Ardent."_ Once lord Blackmane finishes, he turns away and starts towards the governers palace. He is forced to stop though, as he and the rest of you watch one of your fallen comrades sit up and shake his head. To the shock of the wolf priest, Gareth woke up from the red dream.

Smiling at the sight, lord Blackmane begins again, calling for the three he had selected to move.

[Keris, Iorek, and Alrik; you've all been selected by the wolf lord to accompany him to the presence of the planetary governer. Better hurry up or he'll leave you. You won't make it to the governer right away, as his palace is of decent size; but do feel free to comment amongst yourselves about what has happened, or take notice of the people around you once in the palace. (More defence force soldiers, house guard, and whatnot.)]


Kjarl orders the rest of you to move out, including Gareth, acting as if nothing had happened to the blood claw.

[Gromar, Vermundr, Njoror, Von, Odin, Gareth; your all making your way over to the building where you had ended the fighting and then through it to the next building and then finally the next street. You likely will not find any enemies here, and possibly not any people. Your all suprised by Gareth's recovery from near death, touch upon it in some way if you'd like or even try to find out from Kjarl what it is you are all going to be doing. 

Gareth, nearly being killed has had an effect on your personality and overall character. I will leave most of the effects for you to choose, but there will be some difference.]


----------



## Mordeth

With an aching pain in his body, Gareth slowly opened his eyes and sat up.
"Ugh... what the hell did I drink last night?"

Then he looked around him, and realised he was lying in his power armour in what seemed like the middle of a warzone. And all his comrades was looking at him... no, it seemed there was missing someone, but he was too dizzy to think.
"Oh, shit..." he murmured, and then got up with stiff limbs after the wolf priest had evidently given him and the rest of the blood claws orders to move out.

"Soooo..." he said slowly as he joined his group, "what...(yawn)... did I miss?"


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek forced his hatred to die, mentally supressing the rage that burned through his stomach like a corrosive acid attacking his insides. He closed his eyes and inhaled, regulating his breathing till his pulse began to fall, yet the anger remained gnawing away at him.

He ignored it pushing it to the back of his mind yet he still started as he heard his name bellowed out in Lord Blackmane's gruff tones

"Keris, Iorek, Alrik, you three are with me in the governers palace." 

The honour of being selected was dimmed by the surprise at his brothers exclusion. Njoror was an exemplary warrior and his exclusion from Blackmane's escort was not only a shock but a dissapointment. Iorek loved to fight alongside his brother and the flash of Njoror's blade combined seemlessly with the crack of Iorek's pistol to ensure death upon enemies of the imperium.

He looked at Keris and Alrik and felt a flash of fear. He trusted his brothers yet he did not know them as well as Njoror or even Odin. He studied Alrik and admitted ,grudgingly, that he was a fine warrior and possibly a better swordsman than Iorek though definitely an inferior shot.

Keris on the other hand was a mystery and though he seemed to be a solid warrior and a nice guy he did not know much about him whilst the animosity between him and Alrik would keep him from trusting Keris. Alrik and Keris appeared to be friends and a friend of a firehawk was no friend of his.

Spinning round he saw Blackmane already 10 metres away and he clapped Njoror upon the shoulder guard before rushing after him and taking place upon his lords left yet their was a moan and Blackmane stopped dead as a fallen comrade stirred and sat up awoken from the eternal slumbers. 

Instinctively Iorek reached for his pistol preparing to place a bolt into the marines head as his head flashed with thoughts of warp spawned corpses yet he relaxed at Lord Blackmanes smile and he laughed in exhilerated relief.

He heard Blackmane bark his name and rushed after him standing slightly behind him trying to keep stride with the gigantic behemoth that was his lord. The group cut a path through the swirling mixture of house guards in their stained and grimy uniforms. The gigantic palace loomed in his vision as they moved towards it and Iorek whistled at its ornate nature and sheer magnificance.

He opened a vox network to Alrik and Keris and directed a comment at Keris though he was not averse to Alrik hearing

"Do you recognize anyone from the riot here? Their leader must be somewhere and I have a bolt with his name on"


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr shook his head to get over being smacked. He takes a deep breath and realizes the priest's words. he would indeed rather die fighting than live so long as to become useless to the All-father and his fellow space wolves. 

_"It's time to stop being a novice, and get my head togeather. those marines had their chance, and served their purpose here. if Jorgun hadn't been in front of me i would be the one who was killed. Besides, now they fight for righteousness in another realm, alongside the All-Father."_

he was still angry at his mistakes but he would no longer take this out on himself..._"that is what the enemies of man are for"_ he again says to himself.

it is disappointing to him, and he could tell some of the others with him were dissapointed as well, at their pack being separated. he moved along with Kjarl's commands nonetheless of course. 

It was as surprising to him as everyone else when Gareth sprung up from his previous state of being. the way Gareth was speaking did not make Vermundr very comfortable. He narrowed his eyes behind his helmet when Gareth spoke, and took step behind him once the group began moving out.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris chuckled and shook his head at Alrik's reply. His wolfbrother must be in quite a bit of pain and yet still managed to keep his humour about him. He had been relieved to see his brother had made it through the riot in relatively one piece.

The Wolf Priest began to speak in gruff tones and Keris nodded at his words. He couldn't help but grin wolfishly when the Healer had manhandled a surprised Alrik to administer the injection in his neck. 

The familiar scent of Kjarl washed over him, accompanied by the powerful scent of Lord Blackmane, and Keris turned to see his Lord and the Grey Hunter striding up to the gathering. The Lord's presence caused a hush to fall over the gathered Claw.

It took Keris nearly two heartbeats to realize that Blackmane had spoken his name. For a moment he stood frozen in place, the wolf inside him silent and watching. A groan from nearby caused him to start and reach for his weapons, Keris blinked at the clawmate that had been lost in the Red Dream not a moment before.

He turned back and drew a sharp breath as he saw Blackmane had paused a fair distance off, but not for long. Barking out for the three he had chosen to follow, the Wolf Lord turned and continued towards the governor’s palace at a ground devouring pace. Iorek had already set out ahead of him and Keris lengthened his step to a lope to make up lost ground.

It only took a heartbeat to catch up to Lord Blackmane and his clawmate, but the moment he fell into step beside his Lord he felt the hair on the nape of his neck prickle. There was a sourness to the air that caused him to eye Iorek warily. Something faint, but discernibly off about his brother's scent. Keris kept his features carefully neutral and scanned the surrounding walls.

Soldiers and men in a strange livery that must be the governor's house guards were scattered throughout the area. They eyed the Space Wolves with a mixture of awe and fear, but there was a note of resentment that hung in the air like cobwebs. It made the back of his throat itch and he resisted the urge to sneeze.

The vox-bead in his ear hummed to life and he listened to Iorek's inquiry, pausing to scan the faces they passed and scent the air before answering back on the same frequency,

'Not that I can sense, Brother.' 

Keris paused to weight his words carefully, there was something in his gut that said there was more to this than meets the eye,

'I believe that the man that we saw today was an instigator, his strength lying in the ability to cajole and set alight the minds of those who are easily manipulated. Did you not notice how quickly he fled once the momentum of the crowd was broken? Something inside me says that he may not be the true leader of this uprising, merely a high ranking player.' 

Keris shook his head, feeling the scratches on his cheeks itch as the skin knitted itself back together and suppressing the yearning to rub at them. He let his eyes wander over the vast expanse of the palace, carefully noting where guns had been placed and the weaknesses in the defense structure.

'No, I have a sick feeling that this goes much deeper than we expected...'


----------



## Azwraith

Odin marched forward with his newly appointed crew, he felt like a ball in a power armor being bounced back and forth between people at the very least he was still under Kjarls command which from the last battle he had granted a lot of respect towards.

*"I never would have thought id get a cybernetic implant so soon!"* he said while letting out a boisterous laugh. *"lucky i dont need to be accurate with a flamer so my left hand should do the trick!" again having a chuckle.. trying lighten the mood as much as he could. they had lost brothers and his life was almost taken from him. but it was not in Odin's nature to dwell on what 'Could' have been.. he had to just push forward.*


----------



## Agrippa

Von walked in front of his new group, still keeping a sharp eye on the corners and dark places of the building as they walked thru. Laughing at Odin' comment he stated " Odin, my brother, you sound like you just got your flamer for the first time."


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror's heart sank when Lord Blackmane chose his escort to the governor's palace and he was not in it, but he swallowed his pride and accepted his duties nonetheless. Just as they were leaving he opened a private vox channel to Iorek, *"Keep a cool head brother, I don't want you getting in a fight with Alrik without me."* he chuckled a bit before he saw Gareth rise from what they all had thought was certain death. As Gareth gained his wits Njoror was over at his side immediately and crushed him in a huge bear hug, *"By Russ's fragging beard!"* he started laughing simply because he was so happy to see one of his brothers get up today after the fight.

After he let Gareth down and slapped him on the shoulderpad he made his way to Odin and took his deformed hand in his, *"What good are cybernetic fingers going to do for you? Help you to pick your nose?" *He laughed with his friend before falling in step next to him as they followed Kjarl.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik didn't know what to feel when Blackmane had chosen him. Honour was one but another was fear. He didn't think that the Wolf Lord liked him much due to his loud and boistrous nature that often got the Firehawk into trouble. One thing he did not like was that Iorek was with them, why not Odin? He pondered on even as the four Astartes entered the Governors Palace, people fled all around the four imposing figures as they confidently strode through long hallways, Iorek and Keris talking about the Riot Leader saying that Iorek had a bolt for him he chuckled slightly and turned towards them saying "Well then if you want him you shall have to stop my blade from cutting through him".


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek laughed at Njoror's parting words and shot back

"I have no intention of engaging in petty squabbles in front of our lord. I would not disgrace myself in such a way. I wish you were here brother but someone has to lead the troops now Lord Blackmane has gone."

He listened to Keris's words and nodded at his brothers sage words

"I agree brother, your words make sense. I meant leader as in the man that lead the civilians to riot. I hope our Lord can tell us more for I wish for him to pay for the death of our brothers, by my bolt or your blade Firehawk"

He felt bile rising and he held a single thought in his mind. He was standing their Lascannon in hand bearing the marks of the long fang upon his armour. It was his dream, he cared not for the position of wolf guard. To be a long fang was his desire and goal in life. The ideal caused the bile to fall and the spiteful remark died in his throat.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt the hair on his neck slowly lay back down as Iorek's scent returned to normal. His brother was most likely upset at being parted from his clawbrother Njoror. The two Wolves seemed to have formed a tight bond in their training and were never seen far apart.

He nodded at Iorek's words and flashed his brother what he hoped to be a friendly smile before turning his eyes back to scanning their surroundings. 

Keris sighed and touched the helm hung at his hip, briefly he thought about putting it on but shied away from the feeling of enclosure that the piece of wargear always gave him. It cut off his senses and made the wolf inside him pace nervously. He left it hanging on its clip and turned his thoughts to the recent events.

His thoughts were a confused tumble. He had not known what to think when Lord Blackmane seemed to ignore him on the field of battle, but now the Wolf Lord had chosen him to accompany him before the Governor. Keris was not blind to the fact that he was the only one chosen that had not been bloodied before today, however his senses seemed to be acutely sharp compared to those of his brothers; perhaps that was why the Lord had picked him?

_Perhaps it is because he wishes to keep a closer eye on me after what happened in the riot._ Keris felt himself flush slightly in shame.

He studied Lord Blackmane's form from the corner of his eye as they walked deeper into the structure. The Lord exuded an aura of confidence and power that was like the touch of warm sunlight against Keris's skin. 

Like any wolf, Keris felt the driving urge to please his pack leader. He felt the beast inside him relaxing in the presence of the Lord and echoing his desires of acknowledgement from Blackmane. _He would not fail his Lord in this task._

Keris nodded to himself and focused on taking in every detail he could from the palace grounds and the guards. Relying on his instincts to tell him if anything was amiss.


----------



## Mordeth

Gareth gasped in pain as his brother claw hugged him. He suddenly felt just how badly injured he was, and was as always amazed at his own healing capability. Before being genetically modified he would have been long dead judging from the holes in his chest and joints.

"Careful, brother! Will you finish the job for our enemy?" he exclaimed as he was released, though he did it with a smile on his lips.
"So..." he said while at the same time looking for his chainsword that seemed to have been left behind, "lead on, my friends. I'm feeling somewhat dizzy, as I'm sure you understand."
Then with a happy "HA!" he ran quickly out to the street, plucked his chainsword that lay dusting under a bloodied rioter. He stood and took in the scene of destruction for a moment, before he with a shrug ran back after his comrades.


----------



## darkreever

Alrik, Iorek, and Keris; as if sensing the thoughts of Iorek and Alrik, lord Blackmane turned back and spoke to all three of you. _"We have our hatreds and our rivalries, but you are all packmates. You must all be able to put aside your separate hatreds,"_ he said before stopping for a moment, a memory of his own past coming forward, _"and work with all your brothers, even those you would prefer to see gone."_ With that, lord Blackmane stopped walking before a large set of ornate blast doors guarded by a pair of house guards. Higher up, nestled within the walls of the door frame, were a pair of servitor operated guns that trained back and forth between the four of you. One of the guards stepped forward, shaking slightly despite his attempts to suppress fear at the sight of the four armoured giants. _"My lord, governor Nolan is grateful for your aid and would like to speak with you alone."_ He finished and lord Blackmane simply shook his head.

_"If that is what the governor wishes, then he can tell me himself in front of my men. Open the doors before we do this job for you."_ Lord Blackmane answered curtly, his frank words impacting fully that he and you three marines would do exactly as he said. Whispering something into a vox unit in his collar, the blast doors slowly slid open, the guns ceasing their tracking. The four of you enter the large chamber and are greeted by a myriad of smells and scents of all kinds, in the middle of the room is a hololithic table displaying portions of the city where the riots had been at the strongest. Arrayed around the table discussing are a motley assortment of men and women, one a defense force captain, another an eccesiarchy priest, but in the middle of them all is the most important figure, governor Nolan himself. At the sight of the entering Space Wolves, the governor waves the others away, a brief look of displeasure over Blackmanes choice to not respect his wishes flashed across the man's face. Lord Blackmane nods in the governor's direction before turning back to you three, taking the pair of tags Njoror had given him earlier and handing them to Keris. _"Keris, I want you to find out why you and your brothers found members of the planetary defense force working alongside rioters. Alrik and Iorek, you are to go with him; make sure the captain there gives you answers."_ He finished, clapping both of you on your shoulder before turning to the approaching governor.

[Of the notable figures in the room, there is the captain of the PDF currently with a squad of his men, a pair of ecclesiarchy priests, a trio of figures who could only be the owners of the three other mining guilds after the governer, an adeptus mechanicus magos, and finally a hooded figure who, along with the magos, has made his way to the governer and lord Blackmane and gone to a separate antechamber. The PDF captain is obviously the best person to speak with first, but the others might be able to give you answers as well, or you might end up scaring them.]


Njoror, Vermundr, Odin, Gareth, Von, and Gromar; the seven of you make your way through the manufactorium, you begin to form a loose column, Kjarl, Njoror, and Odin at the head, Gareth and Von close behind, and Gareth and Vermundr forming up the rear, Vermundr constantly keeping an eye on Gareth. You seven make your way through the empty building, bypassing large machines and fallen servitors, some just inactive while others are destroyed, leaking a mixture of oil and blood. Exiting the back end of the building, you find yourself in a back alley before another building. Kjarl holds up an arm for the rest of you to stop, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up; something is not right here. _"Split into groups, three and three. Make your way through the building; should you find anyone do not engage."_ He said before making his way into the building ahead of the rest of you. It is similar to the last one you were in, but looks to have seen much more fighting and damage. 

You make your way in after Kjarl, but he is already out of sight. One group makes their way up to the second level, having to avoid caved in floors, you enter a long hallway you see a child at the opposite end, he is shaking as if scared. The second group remains on the ground level, entering a garage section with dozens of ground cars lined up. Several are crushed by fallen rockcrete from the levels above; you spot what looks like the forms of three soldiers, their uniforms similar to the soldiers you had encountered with the rioters.

[Groups are Gareth, Vermundr, and Von on the ground level and Njoror, Iorek, and Gromar on the floor above. Do you engage the soldiers or approach the child?]


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek followed his captain and allowed his words to fill him with reassurance. This was a test to see if Iorek and Alrik could work together in harmony, well he would not fail and if Alrik failed...

He allowed a smile to light up his face under his helmet as he quickly scanned the servitor manned sentry guns and the ornate inlay of the blast doors. He noticed the pattern and smiled as an image of a book with the pattern scrawled across its pages appeared from his locked subconcious. They parted like a golden wave and he eased his way through allowing his hand to slip away from his pistol. Through the dreams of his past he had tracked the guns and rehearsed the shot without even thinking.

He was prepared for any possibility

Prepared.... the thought triggered a sudden blinding crescendo of memory and he staggered just a little as the vision of a face... so like his own... almost a mirror.. yet the mans eyes were a deeper penetrating red and a scar ran down his face and flecks of silver glistened in his white blond hair. The mouths lips curved and Iorek felt himself falling away.. no ground beneath his feet and a hateful rush of wind and flowing water pounding and echoing in his ears

The lips moved and upon the very fingers of the wind the words "Be prepared"
shouted as the burgandy eyes flooded with pain and a sword erupted from the mans chest. Iorek felt himself clawing at the air trying to reach the man but he was falling away and the relentless sea cried out for his blood as it reached to entomb it in its damp depths.

He returned to the present with shaking limbs and he merely nodded his head in respect to Blackmane's orders and proceeded behind Keris towards the pdf captain and he slowly removed his helmet allowing himself to breath the unprocessed air. His pale albino face was white as snow and his legs trembled as he stepped in time with his brothers. He smelt the scents of several men around the room and he breathed them in trying to taste their moods. He felt slight unease around the room yet he was not particularly adept at sensing emotions and so studied with his eyes.

He noticed a hooded man who followed the governor and the magos into the antechamber his Lord standing like a magnificent mountain amongst them bending to talk to the governor. He felt his strength return and he turned to see Keris preparing to confront the pdf captain and he saw a trio of figures standing aside from the rest talking together.

He nudged his brothers shoulder and whispered urgently. 

"Two things brothers. One I have heard that your sense of smell is adept. What did you think of the hooded man? Two, I believe Alrik and the tags should be all the threatening presence you need. I will try and quiz those men over there see if I can use my own brand of diplomacy to gain a little more information on the riots. If you need me.... shout.. but im sure Alrik can intimidate for me as well" 

He moved quickly and saw the miners eyes widen as they noticed him making a beeline towards him and he allowed his face to relax from its frown into a neutral expression. It lingered between stern and calculating and trusting and appraising and he saw the men swallow as they looked up at him.

"Gentleman. I hope the riots did not injure you physically. Do you have any idea how they started?
Labour costs?"
He smiled as eyes moved to the chainsword and the blood stained blade
"Do not fear. I only use it upon those that oppose the emperors peace. You are a friend of the governor and have my trust."

It was a lie. He trusted nobody but his Lord his brothers and even the Firehawk. He glanced at two priests and his friendly smile wavered into a calculating frown. He hitched it back and wondered if anyone had the answers


----------



## Euphrati

Keris pulled up short as Lord Blackmane suddenly turned and spoke to him and his brothers. He nodded slowly and realized that the scent that had set him so on edge before from Iorek had been animosity towards Alrik.

Like any pack of wolves, there were internal struggles between members with differing personalities and Keris thought back on the conflicts he had witnessed between his two brothers. There had always been tension between the two Blood claws, their bouts in training were always vicious and tended to require one of the older wolves to step in at times. Something in both wolves past seemed to haunt them and Keris made a mental note to watch the two more carefully.

As Blackmane turned back to the doorway, Keris fought down the urge to curl his lip back and bare his teeth at the sentry guns that were tracking down on them. It said much about the governor that he felt the need for such things in the presence of the Space Wolves; however Keris forced himself not to jump to conclusions about the man just yet.

The young guard that stepped forward stank of barely contained fear and Keris studied him carefully with hooded eyes. The guardsman showed signs of severe stress and lack of proper sleep, though his uniform had been carefully pressed and kept as clean as possible under the circumstances.

At Blackmane's words the guardsman whispered frantically into his voxbead and scrambled away as the doors ground open with a low rumble. Keris swept the room with his eyes in less than a heartbeat, taking in the scents that washed over him and turning them over in his mind. There was anxiety and a twinge of fear at their entrance. The room was lavishly appointed, wood surfaces glowing under the brass fixtures that hung from the walls. Lush carpets padded the floors, imported from off-world and not suited for the traffic that they were forced to currently accept. Keris snorted slightly.

A vast hololitic table projected the city in the darkened center of the room. Keris quickly noted the locations of the swaths of angry vermilion that denoted the worst of the rioting around the city proper. He compared their placement to the map of the city that they had all been given in the briefing before deployment, trying to find any pattern to the locations. Something about them nagged at the back of his mind.

The Governor was unable to hide a brief flash of displeasure that Blackmane had ignored his request to come alone and Keris kept his expression carefully neutral._ Who did the Governor think he was to be imposing orders on his Lord?_

When Blackmane turned to Keris and pressed the tags of the slain guardsman into his palm, Keris understood why he had been chosen to attend this meeting. He looked at the tags quickly, noting the guardsman's name before closing his gauntlet around them,

'I shall, my Lord.' He said with a nod as Blackmane turned back to the Governor and allowed himself to be ushered into a side room. Keris's eyes lingered over the figure swathed in a hooded robe that followed them. Something about the movement of the unidentified person set him on edge and he sniffed the air carefully, trying to discern the figure's scent from the currents that swirled through the room.

Iorek tapped his shoulder lightly and Keris turned his ice-blue eyes on his brother's face. As Iorek spoke to him in hushed tones, Keris nodded. His brother must have noted him watching the hooded figure,

'You are correct, all of my senses are especially keen,' he flashed Iorek a brief smile before giving a slight nod in the direction of the hooded figure disappearing after their Lord, 'You are right to be wary, something about him sets my hackles on edge as well. However, keep a cool head for now and take care to trust in your instincts.' Keris nodded as Iorek stepped away to speak with the members of the mining guilds and spoke softly in Fenrisian, 'Remember, my brother; these people are not used to the likes of us and threats do not always bring the bird to your hand, Iorek. I have faith that you will speak with a careful tongue.'

Keris watched the room cautiously as he spoke; as he had suspected, none of the members present seemed to understand the tribal tongue of Fenris beyond his Brothers and Lord. _Good, that will serve us well in this._

Keris turned back to Alrik, placing a hand on his wolfbrother's arm and spoke softly in Fenrisian,

'I require your aid in this, brother. Keep to our native tongue for your comments and,' Keris paused to give his brother a feral grin, 'just be yourself. However, do not physically touch any of them.'

Keris then turned and made his way carefully across the chamber to where the Captain stood; surrounded by her men. As he moved closer, Keris fixed a calm and neutral expression on his features; using the time inbetween to study the woman at length, running through his memories for any information about the PDF Captain that might have been in the briefing before their drop. He was a bit shocked at seeing a female in such a role, though he knew from the information that had been implanted in his brain that such things were not uncommon in the Imperium.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Njoror follwoed his brothers and Kjarl into the building and up the steps and into a hallway. He stopped short as he saw a little boy crying at the end of the long hallway, a trap? He put his hand out to stop his brothers and spoke quitely in Fenrisian to them, *"Brothers be wary of this, although it could be nothing it might be a trap. The great orca would do this with its own children to lure us into the water, the calf would be left alone and crying while its parents lurked underneath. I will attempt to help the child, be ready for anything to come from anywhere."* He looked at his brother Odin,* "Brother come with me but stay behind a little ways so that you can aide me if need be."*

He slowly and quitely made his way to the child, the whole time his senses open to any disturbance that would alert him to any kind of trap. As he came within arm's reach of the child he crouched down and stared at him for a moment to see if he was real. The child was sobbing a lot and Njoror reached out his hand and lifted the child's head gently, *"Sshh it's ok child, we are here to help."* he motioned to Odin standing behind him before picking the child up who eagerly wrapped his arms around what he could of Njoror, the safety of the space wolf comforting him. He turned to Odin as the child nestled his head to Njoror's chest and said in Fenrisian, *"I have a very bad feeling about this brother, this child is simply frightened but I believe others might be using him. Keep an eye, ear and nose out for anything....we must get this child to safety."* He began to make his way slowly back down the hall, the sobbing child in his arms.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris sighed softly as he was unable to call up the Captain's name from his memories, he would have liked to address her properly upon first meeting; however he would make do with what his senses told him.

She stood amongst her men easily, her body wiry and lean under the PDT uniform. Her skin was a deep ebony, something Keris found oddly fascinating, and her hair had been pulled back in a utilitarian tail at the nape of her neck. He placed her physical age to be about forty terran standard; but age was something that Keris had learned could belie an individual's true worth. The twisting track of a scar told a tale on the woman's jawline, she was no stranger to battle and Keris felt himself begin to look forward to speaking with her.

The uniform itself was devoid of ornamentation besides her rank and a faded, but well-mended, patch from an imperial guard regiment. Keris did a quick mental recall and identified the insignia as belonging to the unit that had aided in liberating this planet so many years ago.

In the handful of strides that it took him to cross the expanse of carpet, Keris had pulled her scent from the air and rolled it over his tongue. Her scent was musky and slightly exotic; yet there was a sharpness to it, the scent of frustration mixed with a faint displeasure and unease that caused Keris to smile inwardly. He knew a warrior's heart when he saw one; _she would rather be out fixing this situation than waiting in the wings_. 

Yet, there was also a sense of resignation that hung about her like a shroud and that caused his nose to itch. It seemed that she was used to being pushed aside and had come to anticipate such a situation. This worried him as he finally stepped to within easy conversing distance, trying his best not to tower over the guardsmen. 

He paused, inclining his head slightly and tapping his closed fist to his chestplate in a warrior's salute to the Captain and her men before speaking. Keris pitched his voice soft, speaking gently and clearly as he could in Gothic. His deep voice still retained the accent of his childhood before the Choosing,

'Captain, I am Brother Keris and this is my packmate, Brother Alrik,' Keris indicated his brother with a slight nod, 'My Lord Blackmane has asked me to speak with you on a somewhat delicate matter; however before I do so I would admire your men's dedication under these circumstances. I can only imagine how difficult this must be on them to have those that they counted as friends, perhaps even family, betray the word of the Allfather and the Imperium. It is my sincere faith that, working together, we shall quickly right this dreadful wrong in His name,'

Keris hesitated there, letting the woman's response guide his next words and keeping his senses open to the faintest change in her and her men.


----------



## unxpekted22

As the group formed a linear structure, Vermundr felt uneasy about trying to keep an eye on both Gareth and what, if anything, was behind them. 

Kjarl gave quick orders, sending the three claws in front up the nearest flight of stairs before charging into the structure in front of them. Vermundr sprints after him in order to keep up as the corners of his eyes catch the gray blue armor of his brothers' legs clanking up the stairway. despite his efforts to keep up, Kjarl is no where to be found once inside the building as Von and Gareth come in behind him. while looking over what appeared to be a ruined parking garage, he spots three figures in uniform through the dim distance lit only by a few dieing fires. what were they doing here?

Upon seeing the three figures, Vermundr slid behind the nearest ground car, motioning Von and Gareth to do the same.

"_Do not let them see us. We are not to engage, so i believe we must try contacting Kjarl before acting."_ he presses his fingers to his helmet, "_Kjarl, this is Vermundr, we have located three soldiers. We do not know their allegiance but they do not yet know of our presence, do you copy?"_


----------



## Agrippa

Von went up the stairs last, as to keep an eye on Gareth, as they reached the top of the stairs he noticed Kjarl had disappread. Von saw Vermundr's gesture, and put his back against the closest debris, peeking around the corner and watching the three uniformed figures as Vermundr contacted Kjarl.


----------



## darkreever

Keris; “Captain Ktalen, currently in charge of the pdf of our world since the assassination of Major Strom; pardon my bluntness lord Keris but lets dispense with the kindnesses. We should be able to put down these riots without problem, the fact that some have decided to help them has impeded us more that it ever should.” The captain returned without looking up from the hololithic table she and her squad had been crowded around. It showed the building surrounding the outskirts of the governers palace, possibly where you and your brothers had come from. One building looked as though a portion of it had been blown away, with several grey markers moving within the building, heading in the general direction of a chapel where you notice three blue markers wink out of existence. “We’re assuming the grey’s are more of you, but cannot confirm. Any that we can confirm are re-designated to blue, but your forces dropped in scattered so we are having trouble finding all the other space marines in the city.” She said, brushing a hand through her pulled back hair. Finally looking up, you notice an unhappiness in this woman’s eyes, as if she already knows the question your going to ask. “Lord Keris, Lord Alrik, your captain wanted you to seek information from me, what did he want?”

Iorek; One of the trio, a heavy set man who’s layers of fat from years of luxury were starting to take their toll on his clothing, looked up to you, his head barely reaching your chest. “Who knows why they do this; the low borne are where they belong and get what is theirs. They probably just want what is not their s to have.” He said in a nasaly voice that grated on your senses; the comment illiciting a snicker from the other two men, one who was covered in oversized robes and another who was of average build and who’s clothing was the greatest of the three. It was the third man who spoke next. “Do not take Ske’s ignorance as our general feelings on the matter my lord. The way he parades his lavish style, his workers might very well be going after him to take it all away.” The third man finished before a sly smile creased his features.

Before the third man could go on, the second man interrupted with a gruff tone that revealed damage to his voice from either an attempt on his life or working of some kind, which could indicate this man working with the now rioters and possibly knowing more than the rest. “Why does our world require the aid of astartes to stop simple rioting? Surely the planet arbites and soldiers can handle their lot. Or is your presence on our world an indication of their failing?”

Vermundr, Von, Gareth; the vox built into your ear crackles to life. “Do not engage them its likely a trap. Dammit you fo..” The rest is cut off as an explosion rocks the building and a portion of the ceiling collapses. A slab of rockrete slams onto a groundcar, and you can hear screams as several hidden somethings are crushed. One of the three you had spied before falls over, nothing more than a dummy meant to lure the uncautious. Amidst the dust kicked up by the rubble you spot movement, three figures roughly astartes size and two that are likely normal people, moving about as if in a daze. Before you can react, one of the three probably marine’s starts to move away from the others and then looks in the direction of you. Without hesitation the figure begins to fire, sending bolter rounds hurtling in your direction while the figure continues to move away.
[The sudden events have caught you off guard; you can now go to the aid of the others in the dust or try to go after the fleeing figure; you cannot do both.]

Njoror, Gromar, Odin; it is only now, with the child so close to you, that you feel something amiss. Moving him about within your arms, you notice tubular devices hidden beneath his clothes; charges. Just as you realize this, a pair crash through the rockcrete wall and slam into the one after it. One figure is Kjarl, who’s bloodied features clearly inidicate he had been fighting hand to hand; the other none of you recognize, his armour is far older than any you wear, from first glance, you might mistaken this marine for a grey hunter, his armour the colour and bearing the markings. But you are all closer and can see the paint chipped away in area’s, revealing green and purple underneath. “Do not engage them its likely a trap. Dammit you fo..” Kjarl’s words echo in all your vox units as he speaks to one of the other team and then notices the child in your arms; ripping it out and tossing the kid away before the charges go off.

The resulting explosion throws all four of you off your feet, the ground from beneath Njoror, Kjarl, and the unknown marine give way and send them crashing to the ground beneath. Odin and Gromar are thrown back, but do not fall with the others.
[Njoror, Gromar, Odin, none of you have taken any damage beyond Njoror’s helmet being damaged. When you recover, the mystery marine will be falling back already. Either aid Kjarl or go after him, you will not be able to do both.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

OOC: Im hoping this bastard is running toward the other group

As Njoror cradled the wimpering child in his arms he suddenly realized that it had tubes covering its body, a trap. Just as he was about to throw the child away Kjarl ripped through the wall next to him and tore the child from his arms, the bombs exploding. The explosion damaged Njoror's helmet and soon he was in a world of darkness and was falling to the floor beneath them his amrs flailing.

As he hit the floor his movements turned fluid as his battle sense kicked into action, with one hand he tore his worthless helmet off and activated his chainsword with the other. His vision was returned and in a quick second he had taken in all of the information around him, the explosion had weakened the floor beneath him, Kjarl and the mystery marine causing it to collapse under their weight.

Kjarl was half burried under some rubble and the marine was already falling back. Njoror didn't think twice about what to do, he let out a howl and chased after the marine, his bolt pistol firing at the warrior. Most of his shots went wide but one happened to clip the marine's leg and he fell, Njoror lept at him snarling but the marine rolled to the side and Njoror landed on nothing, he swept wide with his chainsword and it was parried but he spun and aimed at the warrior's shoulderjoint to hack off his arm. 

The warrior sidestepped the blow but his shouldergaurd was grazed revealing purple and green paint underneath. The warrior looked like a Space Wolf but Njoror had his doubts and said,* "Speak brother let us fight no more."* in Fenrisian. When the marine didn't answer Njoror roared,* "TRAITOR!" * Before resuming his attack again. The warrior was very good and for every move Njoror let loose he had a counter, it was a good learning experience but Njoror knew that there must be more of these traitors hiding somewhere especially after that trap with the child.

Suddenly he gained the upper hand and had the traitor on his back foot, he quickly attacked low and then high and did it one more time before attacking high when he should have attacked low. The warrior bit on the fake but was quick enough that Njoror only cut off his hand, Njoror stood there amazed at this warrior's speed but suddenly another explosion overloaded his senses and he fell to the floor knocked off his feet. 

When he got up the marine was gone but his hand was still on the floor, Njoror picked it up and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He could track the marine now if need be, but knew without support his life would be wasted, he quickly voxed his brothers,* "Brothers, I have the scent of the warrior Kjarl was fighting. Follow me on your helmets' auspex and support me."* He crouched low to the floor and saw the tiny blood spots on the floor. He sniffed the air and surveyed the building and the room he was in. The door that the trail went through was obviously where the marine had gone but Njoror was not going to get caught in another trap, there was another door on that wall and he went through that. He could still smell the marine's blood and should be relatively safe on the other side of this wall, he would strike from where the marine would least expected he hoped. He could hear bolter fire in the distance and realized his other brothers had been engaged, the smell of the marine's blood was getting weaker which meant the blood had clotted but so long as it was open to the air he could smell it. He crouched and hid in the darkness as he came to another door and sniffed the air and kept his ears peeled for anything that would be in the room, the warrior would have to have passed through here unless he went through another wall. A good place for a trap, he thought, and began looking for a good way into the room and a good route to the warrior.

He saw a vent up above him that went into the room beyond, an idea sprung in his head. The floors were obviously weakened and he knew that this warrior was not in a good state to fight a pissed off Blood Claw now and would run if he lost the upper hand and make his way toward his allies. He opened the vent quietly and chucked two grenades down it and into the other room, he ducked and waited for the explosion, two seconds later the vent exploded and part of the cieling caved in. He heard a curse and sprung up sprinting after the warrior as he fled through another hallway, he dove into a small room as bolter fire ripped down the corridor and he realized that he was pinned down.


----------



## darkreever

[I had hoped what I told you before would keep you from making more extremely reckless moves, but from the looks of things you are trying to push things forward a bit to fast for what I have planned. Sorry but you weren't so lucky this time.]

Njoror, you hit the ground and roll, bolter fire tailing you the entire time. You make it into the small room and get up, only to feel a presence behind you, turning you have just enough time to see the butt of a bolter heading for your face before everything turns to stars and pain. You hit the ground with a thud, only to have an armoured boot crack down on your gorget and chest. Through painful tears, you open your eyes in time to see a second of these marines, bolter barrel aimed at your head, just before he pulls the trigger. Veterans vs a mere pup on his second mission, to have been a match for one of them is a feat in and of itself.

[The rest of you hear the echoing sounds of bolter fire; ignore the part of Vilhelms post where he helps Kjarl as he chose to go after the mystery marine alone. Again, either choose to go after the marine or help Kjarl; each of you is allowed to choose only one of these. Vilhelm, you are welcome to re-join if you would like.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik clicked his neck and stared into the blank green visors of his helm, which sat neatly at his belt. Alrik ran one lithe finger along its face plate with a smile, he still felt the strain of battle but could not understand why Lord Blackmane had selected him to be a member of his Honour Guard for this mission to the sprawling Imperial Palace. He was not diplomatic and could not stand those who thought themselves better of others. Alrik let out a low, brutal growl and turned to Keris saying "Brother I am getting tired of listening to the Female continue on, if we do not leave soon I will start hurting someone" chuckling he heard the Female PDF Captain ask inquisitivly “Lord Keris, Lord Alrik, your captain wanted you to seek information from me, what did he want?” the Son Of Fenris turned and went down onto his haunches infront of the Lady saying in Low Gothic "I do not care for information you shall have to ask one of my more headstrong Brothers".


----------



## Euphrati

Keris fought to keep his expression calm at the Captain's tone; reminding himself that the Space Wolves very presence meant that the PDF had failed in its duties, it was only rational that the Captain would in some ways resent their intervening. This did nothing to stop his hackles from rising slightly at her brisk manner with him, the wolf inside him paced with a growl of challenge in its breast.

Her scent was one of mixed emotions; stress warring with unease. When the woman finally turned her eyes towards his face, Keris could see a pall of unhappiness staring back at him from their dark surfaces. He had a sinking feeling that the answers he sought would not be pleasant. Alrik fidgeted by his side, Keris could tell that he was uncomfortable in the role he found himself suddenly thrust into. 

Keris flinched slightly as his brother let out a low growl; speaking first to him then, before Keris could stop him, dropping down on his heels and addressing the Captain as well. Crouched down as he was, Alrik was nearly on eye level with the woman, his newly acquired battle wounds giving his visage a brutally feral cast.

He drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, feeling a sense of serenity fall over him as Keris recalled verses from his favorite Litanies. He reached out calmly with his empty hand and placed it firmly on Alrik's shoulder guard. His voice was commanding and low, speaking in fenrisian, yet he could not hide the almost imperceptible growl in the tones as he addressed Alrik,

'You must temper yourself, my brother. Lord Blackmane would not set us on this task if he thought it a white hart.'

Keris turned back to the table and studied the moving dots for a moment before continuing in gothic once again,

'My pardon, Captain Ktalen, we have lost brothers today and Alrik is keen to avenge their deaths. Nonetheless, if you wish me to be candid with you then I shall,' 

He pauses to hold out his hand, uncurling his ceramite sheathed fingers and allowing the tags to slip out and hang by their chain. The bits of metal clinked against one another softly and gleamed in the pale glow of the table's imagery. The stamped metal chits were still stained with the blood of the guardsman who bore them into his traitorous death. 

'These were taken off of one of the rioters who opposed us on our arrival, firing upon myself and my brothers.' Keris watched the reactions to the tags carefully, 'How many more of your men have broken their oaths and defected, Captain Ktalen, _and_ how long have you known about this.'


----------



## Agrippa

Von laid himself flat on the ground to escape the bolter fire, when it stopped he jumped up and aimed in the direction of the fire, but the soldiers had ran. As he got to his feet he noticed the civilians staggering around him from the explosion, he ran over and and asked "Is everyone alright?" no answer. So he went into a overwatch position facing the door from which the soldiers ran thru, waiting for his brothers to respond.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was still ducked behind the ground car when the explosion turned the garage into momentary chaos. A few bolter rounds whizzed over head, which he recognized upon their impacts on the wall in front of him. At this event he drew his bolt pistol and held it close to his chest, turning his head to see Von drop to the ground just barely avoiding a second volley. 

Von quickly sprang up and ran forward yelling out to someone, asking if they were okay, "No Von what are you doing?" thought Vermundr, but he did not hesitate to have his brother's back and got up despite the possibility of danger or death. He shot out from behind the ground car after Von, into a cloud of smoke.

fortunately pushing through the floating ashes was no problem for him. He then cathces up to Von and sees the injured, realizing that the ashes could indeed burn _them_ still...."_So fragile...I forget how much stronger i truly have become...even as a low ranking wolf."_ snapping back to his senses. He raises his bolt pistol, turning slowly searching across the area where the shooter had been, readying himself for their enemy's possible sudden return.

Gareth had yet to move forward with them. Vermundr did not take his sights off the walls for any more enemy soldiers to find out why though. He wonders,_"Has he been hit?"_.


----------



## Mordeth

OOC: sry <_<'... Honestly thought I'd posted days ago, seems it didn't go through before I logged out.

IC: What was he doing? Why where he just standing here? He could see Brother Von running out shouting, and Brother Vermund close after him. The blast had shook the ground, and ashes were flying all over. Shots had been fired. 
And yet he felt nothing. No surprise. No worry. No fear. No emotions.
What was he doing...?

Shaking his head to regain focus, Gareth tigthens his grip on the bolt pistol, and runs hunched towards Von and Vermund, trying to minimize his bulk in case the attacker or attackers decided to start firing again.
"Forgive me, Brothers," he said in the vox as he reached them, and took a defensive stance beside them, pistol at the ready. "I know not what came over me."

He shot a glance at the villagers who was still stumbling around them, and then at the doorway the hostiles evidently had run through. "Shall we move and engange? Some action to make up for what I missed before would be nice."
Even though he said it, he didn't really care whatsoever. Staying focused was taking alot, for some reaons, so much he had to shake himself from time to time.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek listened to the trio with interest frowning as he surveyed each of the men before him. The rotund figure of the luxuriously dressed manor flickered upon the wall as he shifted with ditaste and he spat out the words drawling his words in a warbling voice that caused bile to rise in his throat. The man was either an imbecile or an excellent actor. 

He looked into the mans eyes and found no trait of deceit whilst the snickers of the other men suggested that such statement were not uncommon. This man had no reason to cause a riot. A quick glance at his luxurious close and enormous girth solidified not only his distaste but his dismissal of the first man. 

The third man was snide and his mock bows and strained use of my lord set Ioreks hackles a little on edge yet the interruption of the second man captured Iorek's attention. His interruption was quick, almost forced and his voice was harsh and gravelly as if damaged in some way he could not tell. Iorek stared at the man and his gaze lingered as he wondered upon this mans position. The mans eyes were narrowed and Iorek felt he saw something deep within them, a nugget of information held their. His gaze lingered a little too long and the mans eyes narrowed into a questioning stare and Iorek brought himself quickly back to the present

"My apologies gentleman but your (he indicated the second man) question was an excellent one. The astartes are sent to hold the emperors peace. The arbites could have brought peace eventually... I am sure of it. Think of us as in independent executors. We will return peace to this world quickly with less loss of life for none stand before the hounds of fenris. We hunt out the trouble and dispose of it without mercy... we will return this world to peace. Which is surely what you all want?"

He whispered holding the second mans gaze searching desperately for a lie in those deep eyes


----------



## darkreever

Keris and Alrik; as you put the tags in view of the group, several of them visibly pale. Ktalen keeps her calm, but her scent changes to one of anger. Sighing, she looks up at you before speaking. _"Even in the pdf there are deserters, they find this life to boring and would rather work for low-life thugs instead. When the riots started up, just under one percent deserted within that week and another full percent in the following month. Some people allow their feelings to get the better of them I'm afraid."_ As Ktalen finished, she turned her attention to Alrik, stepping forward, the anger in her eyes the direct result of his words rather than the situation on the world. 

_"Lord Alrik, I know you and lord Keris are relatively young where space marines are concerned. We fought alongside the Space Wolves when this world was liberated, your armour marks you as raw recruits. Being headstrong and relying on your squad mates to bail you out is not a good trait even for one of you I'm sure. Your captain sent you here, I would not be so eager to disregard his orders; I don't fully understand how it works with you, but thats an execution offense where I am from."_ She finishes and then turns back to the hololith, telling the soldier operating the device to zoom in on the building with the grey runes.

_"We haven't been able to get confirmation on these figures, but they are likely more of you Space Wolves. They appeared soon after you and your captain repelled the rioters near the palace, but its here that has our attention."_ She said while the soldier changed the view to a squat building leading back into a taller one, a temple or chapel most likely. _"We keep finding deserters, and many of them have gone to this location at one point or another. A squad of Space Wolves dropped there and they have vanished since entering. I was about to send my people over to investigate since you dealt with the rioters. We would greatly appreciate your aid if at all possible?"_

[I leave it to you what you say, but as this happens you spot the three men with Iorek starting to break up and it appears that lord Blackmane and the governer are returning.]

Iorek, The large man snorts and the skinny man simply chuckles at your answer. _"My lord,"_ he starts _"you might want to curb your words I'm afraid. We represent three of the four head guilds on this world, the governer leading the fourth, if what you insinuate is true and the law has failed, then it means the governer is failing and should possibly be removed in place of someone stronger."_ As he finishes, you can all but taste the scheming in the air. _"If you will excuse me, I have business to see to with my own holdings._" The skinny man bows before curtly turning away and leaving.

_"My time here is at its end, the waste that it is."_ The gruff guilder growls out, simply walking away, shaking his head, likely to go back to his own mining guild as well. You are now left with only the fat guilder, who has begun to sweat under your gaze. _"Is there anything more you require of me my lord?"_ He asks in the irritating nasaly voice of his.

[Do you go back to Keris and Alrik? Pursue the gruff guilder? What about the fat one? Like Keris and Alrik you notice lord Blackmane and the governer returning.]

Von, Vermundr, Gareth, and Tyr; you all form up around the fallen Kjarl and help him back to his feet. Von and Vermundr putting themselves near the dazed people to keep them safe. Of course, trained soldier would like you to believe they are nothing but helpless citizens until it is to late. Both pull out pistols in an attempt to catch you both off guard. Before they can do anything, however, the roar of Kjarl's bolt pistol puts a round into each of them, blowing out their chests.
_
"We do not just fight upset workers here, keep an eye on everyone."_ He says while pushing forward ahead of the rest of you. _"Some of these people have had training and may be guided by some one worse than that man during the riot. Quickly, let us find Njoror. Can't let the fool get to ahead of himself and possibly ambushed. Gareth, Tyr! Stop standing there and move out!"_ He yells before bounding off towards where the bolter fire had been.

[All of you follow Kjarl, in your posts you will be able to find what remains of Njoror. His head has been destroyed and his chest crushed, making both his progenoid glands useless. You can see the obvious signs of the quick firefight, but for some reason Gareth knows exactly what happened as if he had been there; including an image of the mystery marine. Gareth, do you reveal this and possibly make the others wary of you or keep all the information to yourself? It could be nothing, and alianate you from your brothers, or it could be useful and give them valuable intel on an unknown enemy.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr snapped back into focus, his mind had been drifting to other places since planetfall, something he needed to get a grip on. He wasn't familiar with the other Blood Claws in this pack and so kept his silence when Kjarl barked at him to get moving and nodded his massive head before ducking through the door Kjarl went through and following him. His massive body dwarfed the other Blood Claws with him and he flet a little self conscious about being in front with Kjarl but figured it was for the best, his size meant he would have extreme difficulty moving to the sides if they were fired at but he could always break through a wall if he needed to.

But that would increase the chance of the whole building collapsing on them, he grunted and smiled to himself, he could break through one or two but no more then that. He activated his power fist and had his bolt pistol in his left hand, they had all heard the bolter rounds, so better to be safe then sorry. He had to admit Njoror's cavalier attitude was a little over the top, yes he was a superb swordsman but he was still a Blood Claw and an initiate and had much more to learn, like not following someone without support especially if they could have friends.

As he followed Kjarl they passed up an open room and he saw a necklace on the floor, an Orca tooth and two other ones he did not recognize on the string. He stopped and bent over to examine it, one of the other Blood Claws ran into his back and bumped off, he stood up with the necklace in his hand, *"My apologies brother, I forget my size sometimes."* He knew that the necklace had certainly been Njoror's because his scent was all over it, he would give it back to his brother when they caught up with him so he stuck the necklace in one of the pouches at his waist and followed at the back of the pack now. As they ran he cursed as he almost got closelined by a door frame but ducked in time.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt his jaw tighten and a frown pull itself across his features at the response of the Captain to the tags. _Two per cent of the PDF turned traitor?_ He cursed himself for not knowing how many men that number represented, though he was certain that it presented a fair threat to him and his brothers. Dealing with untrained civilians was one thing, dealing with armed and trained fighters who could possibly slip behind their lines posing as a loyal soldier was very alarming.

Keris could feel Alrik tense up at the Captain's biting words to him. Though the woman spoke the truth; and Keris himself had a few choice words to share with his impetuous brother later, Keris knew from his scent that Alrik was not pleased to be on the receiving end of the Captain's ire. He released his grip on his brother's shoulder to step between him and the Captain as she turned back to the table, leveling a piercing gaze at Alrik before turning back to the holo projection himself. Keris's body language and scent warned that it would be unwise for his brother to challenge him at this moment.

As he turned back to the table, Keris felt the wolf inside him twitching in agitation and wrestled with his emotions to keep the growl that echoed from the beast inside him from creeping out. The fact that the Captain knew about these deserters, and had presumably dealt with problems caused by them, yet had failed to alert the Space Wolves of their presence caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. That information could have possibly saved the lives of his brothers had they been aware of it. Keris fought to control his rising anger, his voice coming out in a low rumble,

'It does _not_ bode well that you knew of these deserters within the ranks of the rebels and failed to pass that information along to my Lord. I can understand your reluctance at our presence here, Captain Ktalen; yet we would not deny the call for aid to this system and her people, so here we are. It would be wise for such vital information to be made known to us if we are to work together to restore order in the name of the All-Father with the least loss of life and fewest misunderstandings between both of our forces.'

He took a deep breath to clear his head and stowed the tags he was still holding in a hip-pouch before he continued, peering down at the images projected before him with icy blue eyes,

'Where are you getting the information for these images, Captain?' Keris watched the dots move about in the flickering display, 'part of my squad was dispatched to that location after the rioters dispersed, but not before we had gathered our fallen and seen to the wounded, so there was some time in between. How soon after the riot did your men detect activity there?'

Keris watched as the view shifted to the new set of buildings, the nagging sensation was back as the Captain continued speaking.

'It is good that you delayed then, Captain,' Keris leaned down to get a better view of the hololith, 'forgive me for being blunt; but if what you say is true and an entire squad of my brother Wolves disappeared within this structure, what gain would it have been to send in your men, as competent as they are, as well? Especially in a location that you say seems to have some significance to the traitors?'

Keris raised his hand in a gesture of peace to stall the response he knew was coming,

'That does _not_ mean that I do not think we should investigate this building... a chapel is it? In fact, it will be my suggestion to my Lord that he send both my Brothers and your men together in this instance. Your men know these streets and structures as we do not, yet our senses are far keener and may pick up something that your men would miss. We are not here to usurp you, Captain, for we are all servants of the All-Father and fight in his name. It is with conviction that I agree it would be for the benefit of both of our forces that we work side by side in this.'

Keris tried to convey his belief and honesty in his words to the Captain, though as he did he caught the scent of his Lord and heard the telltale footsteps returning to the room.


----------



## Agrippa

Von looked up at Kjarl, "Thank's Brother." then jumped to his feet and followed Kjarl down the hall. As Von passed by the door he caught a glimpse of a destroyed Marine's body,Njoror's body, Von said a little prayer in his head for his fallen brother and kept moving ahead right on Kjarl's heels.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik could not believe the arrogance of the woman. How dare she talk to him in such a way! He was the Emperors Finest! And then Keris had dared challenge him!? Fool! Alrik let Keris leave go of him and step between him and the Captain. Did his Brother actually think Alrik would snap out? He shook his head in disbelief and stood to his full height, chin raised high. The Astartes had never felt anger like that which was now gnawing at him from within, he could barely restrain himself from snapping out at both his Brother and the PDF Officer. Alrik let his hand slip down to his Chainsword at his side and smiled saying "You will taste the blood of heretics before you realise" in Fenrisian as he took a place next to Keris and scanned the glowing table.


----------



## deathbringer

Ioreks teeth were on edge at the miner words and their dismissive phrases
"Someone stronger..."

Possibly.. oh possibly this was the scheme... riots in the city.. arbites out of control.. the governor deposed and a new man at the helm. The leap staggered him a little yet he caught himself and held himself impassive as he studied the two men in detail once more as they stalked away. He drew himself up to his full height till he towered above the fat man and he could see perspiration beading upon his forehead

"You laugh sir? I said that the arbites could have done the job yet our intevention will be a serious blow to the rioters." he let his words linger nonchalantly "...Whatever they may be. Let me just say that where there is corruption we will crush it"
He looked into the obese mans eyes and whispered 
"crush it as easily as you could crush a twig or i could crush your skull"

Iorek forced a laugh and the fat man wheezed a little in relief

"Tell me sir. If the governor was to be as your friend suggested deposed... who would take over?"
He listened to the fat mans words before spotting Lord Blackmane and the governor returning and he winced.

He had been ordered to stay with Keris yet he had disobeyed that order... yet he had discovered information and Blackmane encouraged initiative. He grimaced as he realised that Blackmane also expected rigid discipline. Carefully swallowing he kept his face impassive and began to edge away. From a distance he thought he saw Blackmanes mouth tighten and he returned his gaze to the fat man.. his eyes burning with a new intensity.

He had no excuses... he would not run from his punishment... he would take it like his brother Njoror would. His brothers face lingered upon his vision yet there was a creeping blackness in his heart and he felt a twinge of anxiety. He supressed it and turned back to the fat man... good information may earn him some reprieve. Just a little bit


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As the group chased after Kjarl they stopped in a hall where there had obviously been a firefight. The smell of Astartes blood assaulted Tyr's nostrils and he felt his heart quicken as a thought passed through his mind. In a side room to the right was where the smell was coming from and Tyr went to go investigate even though he already knew the answer, he gasped and choaked up when he saw Njoror's body. His brother's head was practically gone and his chest was beaten to a pulp, he bowed his head and said a small prayer for his lost brother, he was at the Allfather's side now ready to return for the Wolf Time when all of the Sons of Russ would be called to fight once more.

As he bent his head he saw Njoror's right hand and what it was posed in and smiled to himself, even in death his brother had a cursing problem. He remembered he had Njoror's necklace in one of his pouches and that Njoror had said his people took the teeth of their enemies as trophies. His neck was most certainly too big for it to be practical to wear the necklace and he knew that a few of the other wolves knew Njoror better, especially Iorek. He resolved he would give the necklace to Iorek as a remembrance of his friend, as he looked back up again he said one more silent prayer and chuckled at Njoror's obscene gesture before ducking through the door and into the hallway telling himself that those who would do such a thing to one of the Emperor's sons would most assuredly die.


----------



## darkreever

Iorek, staring the fat guilder down, he swallows several times before finally answering in that woefully irritating voice of his. _"It would come down to a vote of the guilds, one of the other head guilds would appoint the governor; guilder Tein, Mentigl, or I would be made the governor. But talk like that is pushing treason my lord."_ Guilder Ske finishes with a whisper, his face paling at the thought. Before you can say anything in response, lord Blackmane's voice pierces the air.

[Do you continue your questioning or rejoin the others?]


Keris and Alrik; Ktalen nods at your words, happy to know that you and the others will be joining her people. "The images are obtained via system ships in high orbit, though with all the activity going on we haven't been able to exactly pin-point everything. The images are about fifteen minutes old, when you four entered the command center." She said as Alrik spoke in Fenrisian.

Before either of you have any chance to respond to the captain, or Keris to Alrik's words, a new voice cuts in from behind you. _"Wipe the smile off your face blood claw, lest you want it to be the last thing before I leave you on Fenris for the rune priests to examine for purity."_ Lord Blackmane snarls from behind the two of you in Fenrisian. As you both look to your lord, it is obvious he heard Alrik's comment though possibly nothing else. _"Captain"_ He says to Ktalen with a nod while examining the hololithic. _"This structure, I have wolves going to it and need to get those with me there as well."_ Lord Blackmane continues before turning to Keris. _"Kjarl and the rest of your pack, when you link back up with them tell him what you have found; and until then, you are the one who leads this trio."_ As he finishes, Lord Blackmane again turns his head, back to the captain, and awaits her answer.

[Keris, get Iorek, see if he found anything, and get back to the captain so you can start getting to the others. Alrik, lick your wounds and listen to Keris.]


----------



## Euphrati

Keris nodded at the Captain's words; ships in high orbit made sense and felt the tension bleed away from the muscles in his shoulders as the woman's scent and posture relaxed slightly under his assurances.

A presence loomed up behind him; the Wolf Lord's scent was sharp with displeasure and, though it was not directed at him, Keris felt his grip on the edge of the table tighten at the irritation of his pack leader. For a moment he felt sorry for his brother, but Alrik had his own actions to blame and would have to swallow the consequences of his folly.

Then Blackmane's attention turned to him and Keris felt a wash of honour at his Lord's acknowledgment, inclining his head slightly in respect before glancing over to where Iorek was towering over an expansively girthed man who squirmed beneath the hard gaze of his brother. Keris flinched slightly; dealing with Alrik's unruly behaviour had taken his attention away from keeping an eye on his brother's dealings with the guild members. He turned a sharp look on Alrik, indicating with a nod that his brother should follow him and turned away from the hololith to stride across the room to where his other brother stood before the sweating man.

Keris fought hard to keep his face calm and neutral as the scent of the man assaulted him. The man's odour was rift with barely contained anxiety and stress. Keris looked at his brother with a questioning gaze; _what had the Wolf said to this man to cause such a reaction?_

'Your pardon, my Lord,' Keris tried to adopt a soothing tone, being this close to the man set his senses on edge, 'I trust my brother has been cordial, however I must steal his attention from you at this moment for our Lord Blackmane. '

Keris turned back to Iorek, gesturing for his brother to follow him back to where Lord Blackmane stood with the Captain and continuing in Fenrisian, 

'What have you found, brother? This man trembles beneath your gaze like a mouse who has seen the shadow of a hawk, is there discontent in the upper ranks of the guilds as well?'


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was outraged. First Lord Blackmane had dared to bring the dishonour of telling him he would leave Alrik behind on Fenris so that the Rune Priests could examine him for a taint. Examine him! He had only reasurred his loyalty had he not? And yet he was being punished for it! Insult! Alrik now wished Lord Blackmane had said that to him in the Training Cages in the Fang so it would have been a fair chance for him to bite back, no he would not have hurt him badly or maybe not at all but atleast it would have given himself a chance to prove his worth to the Wolf Lord. And know Keris was leading him. Keris, a young inteligent Wolf who had proven himself during the battles earlier this day was a good friend to Alrik and his only true comrade but it was not right for him to be leading the Firehawk. Not at all. The Astartes looked stared down at his open hands before looking up and following Keris over to were Iorek and one of the Mining Guilders were standing.


----------



## deathbringer

Lord Blackmanes voice pierced the air as he snapped at Alrik and Iorek's albino face drained of the tiny spots of colour in his face. 

"Shit, he's pissed" he muttered in little more than a whisper before turning to find Keris at his side. Iorek inclined his head to the miner and allowed him to hurry away unsteadly upon his trembling limbs. He kept his face impassive yet his eyes sparkled as the corpulent form of the man receeded.

His attention was recovered by Keris who was staring earnestly into his strong red eyes

'What have you found, brother? This man trembles beneath your gaze like a mouse who has seen the shadow of a hawk, is there discontent in the upper ranks of the guilds as well?'

Iorek concentrated upon Keris for a single second before answering. The young pup had grown during their time here to a point where he questioned Iorek, who was more experienced than he and advised him like his superior. Keris's superiority left a slightly bitter taste in Iorek's mouth yet it receeded from jealousy into a tinge of self doubt.

Had he slipped up in his Lord's eyes. Was he no longer seen as a talented and promising blood claw. The worry turned into iron resolution to prove himself in his Lords eyes, to fight harder, train harder than ever before. He considered a bitter and haughty retort yet he felt no animosity in Keris's gaze, no pomposity or arrogance. His advice was merely advice from brother to brother, no more, no less.

He kept his voice low and whispered

"What I have found is little more than suspicion yet nothing concrete. What i can tell is that this world is in a constant state of political unrest with in fighting and competition between the mining guilds. The governor could be deposed if this trouble is not resolved, as the laws failings reflect upon the governor. So we have a motive brother, possibly one of these guild members is influencing or backing the trouble makers. Ske, the fat one, is comfortable in life and I see no desire for power yet the other two are different stories. Both make my feet itch yet my hackles rise when one talks. Both have more initiative than Ske, who blanches at the very thought of treason."

He saw Keris's unasked question burn in the tilt of his head and he smiled

"I asked a simple question about the governors deposition and who would become governor and he blanched and trembled. Brother do you think so low of me that I would be so tactless as to attack or insult one of them. A hint of menace yes but I'm hurt you feel I'm so tactless."

His red eyes swelled slightly as he glared at Keris. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Keris thought he was superior and that he had to look after Iorek. Iorek maybe a warrior at heart yet he was no savage, he could act with restraint and decorum, it was often his downfall. He thought things through for too long and lost the bonus's he had gained.

"One of the guilders in particular seems keen to see the astartes gone. Whether it is in relation to the riot or to some petty crime I know not but I taste scheming amongst those 2."


----------



## Euphrati

The wolf that shared his soul bared its fangs and growled threateningly as Keris struggled to keep his features calm in the face of his brother's gaze. His brother's reaction was a bit confusing and he sniffed the air cautiously.

Iorek's scent set him on edge and there was challenge in his brother's stance. Keris felt his back stiffen and his hackles rise, _did neither of his brothers respect him at all?_ He thought back and the first thing Iorek had done was to walk away from him after Blackmane had left the room. Their Claw was still young and without an established hierarchy so there was still jockeying for positions going on between the members. Alrik and Iorek were both older than Keris and seemed to resent his sudden rise within the ranks. Keris fought down the intense desire to bare his teeth at his packmate.

He let his breath out slowly, forcing his muscles to relax and his heartbeats to slow with a silent prayer. This was neither the time nor the place for an aggressive display; his duty took precedence over such things and he quelled the pacing wolf inside him with an iron will.

Keris tried to adopt a neutral posture as he listened to Iorek's words before nodding slowly while he mulled over what his brother had said, his brow furrowing slightly,

'Competition is one thing, but this seems to be a bit extreme,' Keris sighed and turned the facts over in his mind, 'how about before the riots? Were any of the guilds suffering from workforce problems before the main uprisings broke out? Has one guild been less affected than the others?'

Keris looked up at his brother sharply, suddenly recalling a detail in their briefing, 

'Do any of the guilds maintain off-world contacts or funding? Multiple worlds in this system have been affected by these riots, perhaps there is a common link there.'


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr knelt over the body of a fallen space wolf, the others behind, Kjarl standing directly above him looking down.

with axe in one hand, he used the other to pace his fingers along the bloody armor's decoration and iconography. Though Njoror was the only one of the squad to sepearte himself from the rest, they had to make sure the discovered body was truly his, especially the enemy had made no bounds in using disguise and traps.

_"Yes, this is in fact Njoror's armor sir. There is no doubt about it."_ he said to Kjarl as he lifted up a necklace out of the gore of what was previously Njoror's head and watched the large blood covered Orca tooth spin around on the string.

he sets it back down, _"perhaps not as lucky as you thought it was brother._" 

Vermundr then says again to Kjarl, _"Who ever killed him used the same weaponry as those who shot at us, bolter rounds. and whoever held the weapon knows an uncomfortable amount of information respecting space marine anatomy. both shots were placed in order to make recovering the gene seed from him impossible, as well as kill him instantly, of course."_ 

Vermundr stands back up to look at his pack mates, his eye underneath his helmet's lens catching a twitch in Gareth's movements. Von and Tyr had there heads down in prayer. 

Gripping his axe with both hands now hoping for a mission of vengeance, he addresses Kjarl once more, "What now Sir?"


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek almost snapped as the arrogant young pup refused to answer him, dismissing his comments with a simple nod, refusing to show any sign of respect or even equality between them. He respected all his brothers and thought Keris was a solid astartes yet Keris treated him like a cub let out on the hunt for the first time. Like he was naive and unreliable. He breathed deeply forming the image of the long fang within his mind, a heavy bolter bucked in his hands and he destroyed his thoughts and fears till his mind was bare and cold. Reason took over

"Now is not the time for petty squabbles. Your are a good astartes keris and worthy of Lord Blackmanes trust but I am not a babe in swaddling clothes that you need to take care of and look out for. I apologise for my anger and I hope you will forgive me."

"As for the guilds off world activities I did not ask and doubt they would have told me the truth if I had. I intended to consult the governor on the matters of the guilds finances and other aspects. i have to agree with you that the canker may run deeper then mere competition yet it may have started the rot."

Iorek stared and keris and realised one thing, he did respect his brothers opinion. He saw the tiniest inch of hurt and worry in his eyes. Sorrow flooded his heart and he murmered

" Your thoughts brother, I do respect your opinion"


----------



## dark angel

Alrik could not believe the arrogance that was Iorek. Blackmane had given command to Keris for a reason, even if Alrik did not like that he would not let a fellow Astartes talk to his younger, closer Brother in such a way. The white skinned bastard would pay for that Alrik assured himself and for the first time he actually thought about injuring a fellow Pack Mate. He shook his head, the fighting was beginning to get to him and he awaited the day he returned to it.

His muscles tensed as he walked forwards and took a position next to Keris, his eyes burning with anger. His open hands balled into fists, he pulled himself to full height and he snarled “Lord Blackmane has put our younger Brother in charge, IF you don’t like it I suggest you tell me and not him” he bared his teeth and wondered if his rival within the Blood Claws would stand up against him, realising what could go down within the next moments he prepared for the worst.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris couldn't keep the flash of shock and pain from his face; had he treated his brother thusly? He had controlled his anger and calmed his stance, yet Iorek seemed to think that he had dismissed his brother's opinion when that was not so. Keris examined his own actions and sighed.

It was true that Blackmane had placed his trust in Keris; he felt the weight of that responsibility like a winter storm bearing down on him. He had been so focused on that duty; _had he miss-stepped where his trust in his brothers was concerned?_

Keris had been alone for so long before being chosen, with only himself to rely upon, it was difficult for him not to try and do everything himself; to place his trust outside his own skills and instincts. Those had been lonely years; but he was part of something more now, he had brothers that he could rely on and in turn relied on him. He felt the pain as a sharp ache in his chest; he had to have faith in his brother's abilities or he would never become a true leader amongst them.

Alrik's growling voice brought him back to the present and Keris quickly placed himself between his two packmates. He placed a restraining hand on Alrik's chest; his brother's scent was tense and tinted with ire,

'Quell your temper, my brother,' Keris gave his headstrong brother a stern look, 'There is no need for that here.'

His packmate was still smarting from Blackmane's anger and was looking for an outlet to vent upon. Turning back to Iorek he sighed deeply,

'As I value and respect your opinions as well, my brother, forgive me if that appeared to be not thus. It is true that our Lord has placed his trust in me and I, in turn, must learn to place mine with you, my clawbrother, though we have not worked so closely before,' he favoured his brother with a faint smile,

'From what you have said there seems to be a possibility that one, if not more, of these guilds stands to gain much from the results of these riots. They are like scavenger crows eyeing one of their own in a moment of weakness. The heavy-set one seems suitably cowed by our presence, yet you say one of the others is less thrilled at our intervention? Do you think that he could cause us trouble?'


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek's blank state of mind wavered as confusion flooded him at Alrik's intervention and his sudden combative stance. He prepared to draw himself up as he felt bristling indignation at the rudeness of Iorek yet he remembered Blackmanes words

"We have our hatreds and our rivalries, but you are all packmates. You must all be able to put aside your separate hatreds,"

He smiled to himself, Alrik had proved he could not hold his emotion.
_ An old memory flittered through his mind... he was training.... angry furious slashing cuts at the practice cage, his chainsword was slashing through arms... then one arm ripped out from his peripheral vision to strike huge blow across his face..... Blackness... swirling darkness enveloping him in its dank murky depths.... two piercing eyes... a hard impact... sickening lurches... a face... a long grey beard.... lips form words... stretched 

"You silly bastard"
Iorek sat up and stared into the grey hunters piercing eyes

"When anger dictates you... you don't flow with the natural laws of battle... you become wild..irregular... your judgement is clouded... you are not prepared."_

Iorek had always thought things through fully and he considered his situation once more. Blackmane was already annoyed at Alrik and possibly could be annoyed at Iorek. If he could keep his gall down he could score points in Blackmane's eyes. He bit his tongue and swallowed the retorts he was dying to utter and rolled his eyes before deliberately ignoring the Firehawk, fixing his eyes upon Keris. 

He returned Keris's smile feeling genuine warmth towards the bloodclaw. he had apologised and he hoped he wouldn't be patronized in the future. He listened to his brothers question and licked his lips before responding.

" I look forward to working together more closely."

However he wondered. Did Blackmane trust keris alone or was his trust spread. Was Keris destined to be the leader of their group... for some reason the thought was both pleasant or unpleasant. Pleasant as keris seemed to be likeable and an excellent tactician yet it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Did he truly believe he was superior. No.. but surely his experience gave him some influence. Was he so pompous that he believed he should lead the group.... no... he was an excellent shot but not so solid in combat though his increased strength was increasing his abilities. He liked Keris genuinely but the idea of taking orders from him was a little wrong. Possibly he was used to age heirachy... he couldn't remember... was he? The memories fumbled in his minds tired grasp

"Directly no but indirectly it is very possible. I would have to see facts and figures to see if any trouble good be caused. House staff, armaments etc. i dont know where to go for that I would have to ask Lord Blackmane. Shall we go to him now?"


----------



## darkreever

Von, Vermundr, Tyr; Kjarl lets out a heavy sigh as he finally crouches down to the remains of what was Njoror. _"This is the other side of the coin we all face."_ He says to the rest of you. _"Glory and heroics are not without their own risk, you fight against the odds, against the impossible and come out on top; but you must put your life upon the alter, cast aside your comrades and stand alone. Not everyone can succeed."_ Standing up Kjarl fixes you all with a gaze mixed between anger and sadness, as if he knows this lesson far to well.

_"The one who did this is astartes, who exactly I do not know for he held the marks of our own but was not. We are traveling to the Chapel Marien under the orders of Lord Blackmane; a pack of grey hunters landed there and we have since lost contact with them."_ Kjarl said, finally informing you all of where you were headed. _"Enough talk and prayers you lot, we have work to do for the wolf lord; and by the All-Father I will not have us stand around like whipped pups."_ He growled after a second, turning away from Njoror's form and heading forward.


It took time, traveling through four damaged buildings while constantly having to be wary of traps set up by whoever was aiding the rioters. Eventually though you all exited the final building and Kjarl motioned for you all to get behind the cover of several burning arbites APC's. In front of your cover lay an open ground some seventy meters long before chest high walls marked the start of the chapel, a squat entrance that led back into a much larger building with high buttresses and battlements. This was not just a place of worship, but a small fortess if the need should arise. Before the rising stairs that led into the chapel, you can see the man from before, who had roused the rioter mob. It appeared he was doing just that again, with a small mob of three or four dozen gathered around. 

The man was flanked by two others, armoured and armed like the pdf but bearing different marks that you were not able to make out. One held a shotgun tightly against his chest, a large pistol holstered on his leg. The other loosely held what might be a modified lasgun, though if he carried any other weapon you could not tell outright. Once again the gathered people had a motley assortment of weapons, no projectiles, generally makeshift clubs and stabbing weapons.

But that is not what caught your attention, the leader of this group had one robed leg planted on the chest of a giant in grey-blue power armour. Kjarl could not keep the snarl from his lips at the sight of a fallen comrade, and seemingly without thinking he broke from cover, a howl of pure rage erupting from his throat.

[Follow your leader and get through to the chapel; there are close to four dozen people but they won't all fight you, some will flee and some will beg for their lives; your enraged Space Wolves after all and there are only so many people here. As Kjarl charges, the speaker enters the chapel before any of you can do anything, but the two others stay outside. You will not be able to deal with them as soon or as fast as the others.]

Alrik, Iorek, Keris; you all turn around to face Lord Blackmane only to discover he is gone. Captain Ktalen looks up from the hololith and makes her way over to you. _"Captain Blackmane wants you three to go with my squad to the chapel; he said he was needed and that you,"_ she inclined her head to Keris, _"already had your orders. I wish I could go with you, bring justice to these people, but I must deal with Guilder Tolien instead."_ She motioned back to the hololith where the skinniest of the three men Iorek had been speaking to now stood, a wry smile on his face.

_"My people are already on the move to get the 'thropter, Emperor watch over you all."_ She finished, making the sign of the aquila before turning back to guilder Tolien, the air about the captain clearly one of annoyance at having to deal with this man.

[Make your way back to where you all entered and get to the landing pad of the governor's palace. It is two levels above you, but it is up to you three how you get there. The squad that Ktalen is sending with you is a mix of men and women, one armed with a vox caster and another with a grenade launcher, the rest are armed with autoguns and the ornathropter that is to be your transport has no weapons itself. Getting to the pad should take you all at least one post, and then by all means take off, though like drop pods flying in a confined space is not an enjoyable feeling.]


----------



## Euphrati

Keris nodded and turned back to where he had left his Lord standing with the Captain and stopped dead in his tracks as the space Blackmane had just been standing was empty. Keris swallowed hard; _he hadn't even sensed the Wolf Lord leave the room._ A sense of humility swept through him as he was reminded, though his senses were exceptionally keen, he was still young and had much to learn.

The Captain made her way over to them and Keris listened while she spoke, casting his gaze over her head and narrowing his eyes at the guilder standing in Blackmane's place. He sniffed the air warily, noting with a sense of unease the absence of the hooded figure as well as his Lord, before nodding to the Captain,

'The All-Father's Wrath shall ride beside us in your stead, Captain,' Keris clenched his fist against his broad chest in salute, 'May His wisdom guide your steps until we meet again.'

Turning back to his brothers, Keris gave a wolfish grin and motioned to the door,

'Let us be rid of this place, my brothers,' he growled low in Fenrisian before making for the massive portal, 'it causes my nose to itch. I only hope that our clawmates have not had too much excitement in our absence.'

Keris felt as if eyes were on his back as the three made their way out of the lavish room and back down the corridors whence they had come. Though he had only traveled the halls once, Keris's advanced memory recalled the route with ease, the scent of their previous passing still lingered in the air to confirm his steps. 

As they passed by guardsmen manning watch points along the way, Keris couldn't help but wonder about the loyalties of the eyes that followed them. Captain Ktalen had told him that nearly two per cent of the PDF had failed in their duties under the eyes of the All-father, but that was only the men who had abandoned their posts or were unaccounted for. _How many more could be turncoats hiding unknown amongst the loyal flock, feeding information to their traitorous brethren?_ The wolf within his mind gave a low growl as it mirrored his discomfort.

As they turned down a long hallway that was devoid of guardsmen; Keris felt his brother's actions in the face of the Captain and their Lord resurface in his thoughts and could hold his tongue no longer. Without warning he turned, stepping in Alrik's path with his short fangs bared and hackles raised,

'Is your mouth directly connected to your backside, or do you just have that _little_ respect for both me and our Lord?' 

Keris snarled up at Alrik, his fists clenched at his sides and the wolf inside him echoing his anger, 

'This is not some training session within the Fang, Brother! Your actions and words reflect not just upon yourself, but directly upon your packmates and in turn our entire Chapter! That is something that you must never forget, my brother... we are not just blood-thirsty killers and sometimes we will find that we must work with guardsmen and other agents of the All-Father. Russ _himself_ led guardsmen in some of the Great Sagas! Do not be so quick to discount them as our lessers in our actions.'

With that said; Keris turned and stalked off, continuing down the passageway towards the waiting transport.


----------



## dark angel

Every single word bit into Alrik like a ice cold blade. Keris, his closest Brother and the only one he truly trusted within the entire Space Wolves was now verbally attacking him. Just because Blackmane had entrusted the command of Iorek and Alrik to him did not give the younger Wolf a right to insult him. And then he had dared to ask did he have little respect for both him and Blackmane, this he could not answer because the true nature of his respect eluded even him like a needle in a haystack he would probably not know until it was to late.

The past few days had changed Alrik. Now he grew more and more isolated from the rest of the Blood Claws and before long he would be cut off forever. Keris, he was among the more wiser of Alrik’ Brothers and in the words of the Firehawk “Will one day rise to power” amongst the Space Wolves and Alrik would follow him every step of the way. Yet he would not let his intelligent Brother halt his own ambitions, he would not _allow_ his Brother to he decided.


The Space Wolf watched his Brother turn after finishing his hard hitting speech and Alrik was thrown into a fit. His Brother had said all of that and yet dared to turn his back on him!? The arrogant little pup would pay he thought as he stepped forwards and gripped his Brother shoulder pads, he spun him around and pushed him gently into the wall snarling as he did so “Yes Brother, Russ did fight side by side with the Imperial Guardsmen but I am _not_ Russ now am _I_?” he pulled himself close to his face and let go, pushing him slightly he stepped back and awaited a response.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek turned to move over to his Lord and saw only empty air. Blackmane had left silently and without comment, probably disgusted by the young blood claws squabbles and Iorek felt the weight of his dissapointment by his absence.

He was distracted by the hologram of Guilder Tolien and his mind reared in anger. 

"I have spoken to that guilder and I felt something in his plans, I should have followed my instinct and killed him. Let me come with you. I will crush him as i promised him I would. He will pay for this..."

Raged seaped through him yet he controlled it and he looked deep into the female captains beautiful eyes. They met his own blood filled red as he whispered

"Forgive me. I have my own orders to carry out. Make him pay... for we all lost comrades today."

He clasped the captains shoulder gently before leaving the room,following Keris and Alrik, deep within his own thoughts. He could have followed Telion, it was hard for a marine to remain unnoticed and Iorek was not particularly stealthy, but he could have alerted Blackmane to his suspicions earlier and gained at least a little time.

Internally he cursed to the point where he had barely noticed that Alrik and Keris were at least 50 feet ahead of him. He began to speed up yet he saw Keris turn and round upon Alrik. Their angry words reached Iorek and he broke into a trot arriving as Alrik pushed Keris and the other marine staggered back a little and he placed himself between them, his hand upon the hilt of his pistol.

Quickly he rehearsed the movement the draw, the flourish aiming for the weak spot in Alrik's armour and his finger tightened on the trigger. He was a fast draw and new Alrik had no chance now he was ready, a small part of him thought Alrik knew that too, but that wouldn't stop him. Their was an almost rabid look in his eyes that iorek didn't like and he felt compelled to pull his pistol from his waist. He resisted the urge and looked straight into Alrik's eyes


"For Russ's sake. Alrik I hate you with every fibre of my being, thought you to be rude, borish and idiotic but I never thought you would lay hands upon a brother. I will not touch a brother, even my sworn enemy but if you touch Keris again you will no longer be my brother and by my pistol or my sword I will strike you down."


He stepped aside knowing that Alrik would turn his attention to him, possibly leaving Keris free from Alrik's ire. It seemed that Blackmane had seen the light in Keris and destined him for the leadership of this band of blood claws, thus Iorek sacrificed himself, for he and Alrik would never be friends, and Keris could not afford to make enemies if he was to lead, he needed unity not division.

The thought of unity made him suddenly understand why Lord Blackmane had not singled out any of the more experienced members of the group for the position of leadership. Alrik would never accept leadership from Iorek and would resent it and thus split the pack. Keris was a fresh face, no enemies, no preferences, a keen mind and good tactical sense. It was possible, and though Iorek was far from certain the thought gave him hope. Maybe he was destined to be more than a blood claw in the future, maybe the dream was not impossible.

He stood bracing himself for Alrik's riposte yet in his peripheral vision he saw the shape of a craft up ahead

"So Alrik do you have more to add or can we get aboard that infernal craft?"


----------



## Euphrati

_*Challenge him!*_

The wolf inside him screamed in Keris's ears when Alrik's hands spun him around and backed him into the wall. The beast jabbered and frothed in his mind; for a moment all Keris could think about was taking his packmate's neck between his fangs and forcing his dominance over the other wolf. His body responded to the thought, heartbeats increasing and adrenaline pouring into his systems casting his vision in red. He could practically taste Alrik's blood in his mouth.

_NO! I am not an animal and Alrik is my brother as well as my friend._

Keris fought back the urge to attack his clawmate, suddenly appalled at the very thought. He closed his eyes briefly, quelling the trembling in his muscles that had been induced by the rush of adrenaline and mouthed a silent prayer. 

When he looked back up his ice-blue eyes were hard, cold as the glaciers that clung to the sides of the Fang. His face was a blank mask,

'No, Brother, you are _not_ Russ,' he spoke in a low voice, barely above a whisper, 'None of us are.'

Keris took a deep breath, bringing his body and mind back under his full control. The wolf within him thrashed at the cage of his will, throwing itself against the bars in animal rage. But finally it submitted, retreating to the back of his mind with a low growl.

'But, part of him lives inside of us... and he _Will_ return to lead us someday,' Keris met his brother's gaze, his own eyes burning with the fires of faith and conviction, 'we must always act as if he stands by our side, because in a way he does.'

Keris turned his eyes to Iorek, including him in his words,

'He lives here,' Keris placed his hand over the geneseed in his breast before reaching out to place each hand on both of his brother's chests, '...and here.'

'We are brothers in more than just words,' Keris let his hands drop slowly, 'This is not the time to fight, we have a duty to the people of this world and the All-Father. Let us put any personal arguments aside until that duty is complete. Now, my brothers, can we at least agree on that?'


----------



## dark angel

Alrik would get Iorek back, somehow he decided after hearing him threaten to end his life. How foolish could one be? If Keris was not present he would have snapped and broke his Brother like a twig but for the younger Wolfs face he assured himself he would try and remain calm. He moved back away from his Brothers hand which was placed firmly over the Gene-Seed implanted in his chest and shook his head saying “I shall do as you wish Brother but not for Iorek or Lord Blackmane, for _you_. However I will promise him this….when we return to the Fist Of Russ I will honour you with a chance to draw my blood if I do not draw yours first but for now we have a duty for both this world and the Emperor” he let the words hang in his mouth for a tense moment and thought about turning on his Brother but spun on his heel and walked towards the PDF Transport, leaving his Brothers behind.


----------



## deathbringer

He could taste it, bristling anger, fury, ferile, almost animalistic and it emerged from his brother Keris. Iorek almost laughed, for Alrik had made another enemy today and one with influence. He glanced at Keris and felt a new form of kinship between them. As Keris became wild Iorek burnt the emotions away in his mind forming a void within his mind to reduce the fury that had built within him. 

The marine talked of Russ and he felt Keris's light touch above the geneseed within his body and he muttered to himself

"He is part of us all"

He was moved for a second and did not notice that alrik was speaking for his mind was filled with thoughts of the primarch he had never seen, yet he hoped he would see him one day. Filled with thoughts of his primarch, Iorek stared calmly into Alrik's eye as he spoke watching his lips move as he held the emotionless void in his mind.

“I shall do as you wish Brother but not for Iorek or Lord Blackmane, for you. However I will promise him this….when we return to the Fist Of Russ I will honour you with a chance to draw my blood if I do not draw yours first but for now we have a duty for both this world and the Emperor”

The Firehawk proceeded to strut away down the corridor leaving Iorek gazing fixedly at the wall where his head had been, a blissful calm within him and his inner self whispered.

"the hated one challenged you to a duel"

His mind was empty yet his inner self whispered to him once more

"You hate him but its possible he might win... you may die for a cause you dont even understand"

Confusion.. why did he hate Alrik... why?

His inner voice simply muttered
"Vengeance... avenge the dead" a memory floated in his mind closing upon the surface of his conciousness yet it failed to break the barriers and clouded away into the mists of his subconcious

Calmly he turned to the retreating back of Alrik and forced out the words clearly and calmly

"I accept your challenge"

He was left standing beside the calming form of Keris and he looked into his eyes and allowed a faint smile to cross his lips at his slightly accusing stare

"What was I meant to do brother? I must have vengeance and avenge the dead. I cannot allow a Firehawk to dishonour me even for the good of the pack, but the matter is closed now. The duel was destined to happen, at least it occurred for a worthy reason and soonmy honour will be satisfied. "

He smiled at Keris and clasped his shoulder feeling for almost the first time a second bond of brother hood growing. Njoror was his brother but to Iorek Keris was now his friend


----------



## jaren

OOC; DarkReever said for me to post as if i was always there, just imagine me as the silent type until now as i am pissed at the death of a brother Astartes.



darkreever said:


> [Follow your leader and get through to the chapel; there are close to four dozen people but they won't all fight you, some will flee and some will beg for their lives; your enraged Space Wolves after all and there are only so many people here. As Kjarl charges, the speaker enters the chapel before any of you can do anything, but the two others stay outside. You will not be able to deal with them as soon or as fast as the others.]


Seeing the enemy Leif advances out of the door advancing one quarter of the way across the courtyard, at that he drops to a knee and aims his Melta-gun towards the fortress chapel, as the red beam leaves the muzzle a single flying buttress is let loose to fall into the crowd, this brings down many large pieces of masonry on top of the men in front of the door, a good quarter of the 'defenders' either scattered where knocked unconscious or outright killed by the falling debris. smiling at his handiwork Leif draws his sword and bolt pistol, yelling at the top of his formidable lungs he charges into the fray of bodies 'for the Wolf-time and for the All-Father!' Leif's bolt pistol roars to life, hitting a man square in the chest, the battle rage taking him as he remembers the fallen brother, he hits the main body and parries a blow knocking the man back onto the ground, seeing the man as prone Leif steps down knocking the man unconscious and continuing the assault.


----------



## Euphrati

As his eyes followed his brother's footsteps, Keris could not help but feel a sense of loss welling up from deep within him. Alrik had been one of the first to accept him as a brother within the newly forged Blood Claw pack, and they had spent long nights on patrols together on the shale-slick sides of the Fang before being summoned to this world. Ever since Keris had come to know him, Alrik had displayed a tendency to let his tongue chart a course before thinking through the consequences his words might bring and his boorish mannerisms were often exaggerated due to the Wolf's sheer physicality.

Something had changed in the Space Wolf since that time. There was an aura of anger about Alrik that clung to the young astartes like a heavy cloak. There was a difference in his stance, his very scent betrayed a bitterness that caused Keris unease.

Yet, Keris was not so naive to think that Alrik was the only member of their pack who had changed since the Fist of Russ had slid from the gravitational caress of Fenris. His thoughts turned inwards. Keris had come a long way in a very short time from the young Space Wolf who had clutched at his restraints as the Thunderhawk he was assigned to roared through the upper atmosphere and into the void; leaving behind the slowly spinning blue orb of the only world he had ever know and embarking upon his first voyage into the unknown at the behest of the Great Wolf.

The voyage itself had taken its toll on him, had it not been for his stumbling over the small chapel deep within the bowels of the ship Keris felt that he surely would have gone warp-mad. It was the one place he had felt truly comfortable. Then the battle; the brief loss of control, the blood-tinted images that burned in his mind. What he had thought was rejection by Blackmane had become acknowledgement and now the newfound weight of leadership. The entire journey of experiences left his head spinning like an ice dervish. 

Keris had always in some unspoken way felt responsible for his wolfbrothers, as if something inside him called to their wellbeing. He felt a sharp pain blossom within his soul as Alrik walked away from him now, his packbrother needed him more than ever at this moment and Keris had failed him. He made a silent vow to speak with his clawmate alone when time permitted, _he would not fail his brother again_.

Iorek's words served to snap him from the spiral of memories and he glanced at the pale-skinned wolfbrother who had been willing to defend him not moments before. A duel between the two rivals had been long forthcoming and Keris nodded slowly in agreement, reaching up to place his gauntlet over Iorek's where it lay upon his shoulder,

'I know that there seems to always have been bitter blood between you and Alrik, my brother. This confrontation was bound to happen, and yet, there is something about our packmate that seems out of sorts as well,' Keris shook his head to banish the sour mood that had fallen over him,

'Have faith, my brother, that honour will be met and know that I am glad of your presence here today, Iorek,' he favoured the Wolf with a soft, but warm, smile before turning and striding the last meters to the open air of the launch pad.

The ornathropter sat like a fat game bird in the middle of the bull's eye of the pad's re-enforced surface, its overhead blades rotating slowly as the guardsmen filed into the belly of the aircraft. Keris noted with growing displeasure the meek armourments and complete lack of weaponry on the craft. The men and women of the squad were the same who had been milling about the Captain in the rooms bellow. Keris felt a wash of respect that the Captain had placed her own squad in their command and nodded to the troopers as he stepped up the ramp and ducked into the stifling confines of the ornathropter's hold. He choked down a momentary flash of panic as the walls closed in on him. An entire squad of PDF along with three of the Emperor's Angels left precious little space in the craft.

Keris lingered by the exit ramp; fixing a mask of calm over his features that belied the churning of his gut as the craft lurched skywards, angling up and away from the Palace grounds. The beast stirred within his breast, growling its discomfort at the sense of enclosure and Keris agreed whole-heartedly with the wolfspirit that shared his soul. 

Keris clasp his hands firmly together, pressing them into his chest and mouthing the words to a prayer of calming as he sorted through what to tell the Grey Hunter first upon their arrival at the chapel grounds.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek allowed Keris to walk away from him feeling that his may need a few moments of solace and his eyes fell upon the craft. He suddenly missed his brother Njoror more than ever as he remembered their drop pod descent only a few hours earlier, it had been his brothers presence that had kept him sane. He yearned for that presence once more as Njoror's beaming smile filled him. 

He saw Keris embark and he grimaced and followed the last pdf trooper up the ramp into the craft, trying to ignore its ramshackle, rickety feeling as he ducked the whirring blades and moved into the interior.

He seated himself in the cramped quarters next to a grizzled pdf veteran who looked him up and down before grudgingly shifting aside to give him a little more room.

Iorek grunted his thanks and for a moment his red eyes met those of the guard and he was suprised to see a grin upon the mans face which did not fade at Iorek's questioning glance

"Don't like flying?" whispered the guardsman quietly and his words were for Iorek alone. Iorek's frosty stare broke into a week smile and he gave a small chuckle which turned to a grimace as the craft lurched its way into the air.

He heard the grizzled vet's laughter and he laughed too echoing his soft teasing chuckles. Minutes later they were still laughing nudging one eachother like school boys yet as they swerved slightly Iorek realised that he was flying and their was this time no fear.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr was appalled at the sight of the fallen Space Wolf and the fact that that man had the audacity to disgrace the body of a fallen Astartes. Then it came to him as Kjarl lept out of cover and at the mob, these people had killed the wolf, he jumped up from behind his cover and sprinted after Kjarl his bolt pistol on single shot so he could take careful shots at the people in the crowd.

Tyr's massive form rushed after Kjarl, a snarl on his lips and his mighty power fist ready to deal judgement on the enemies of the Emperor. He didn't even stop when he reached the small wall, he simply ran through it, and smacked the first person aside with his power fist. Many of the people's faces were full of fear at the sight of this huge marine and all the others rushing them, one woman ran into his thigh and fell screaming bloody murder which surprised him. He ducked behind a tree to reload his pistol and smiled as small arms fire peppered the tree, as he was about to turn and fire he heard a bang coming from below him and looked down to see a stunned man holding a crowbar that was touching his leg. Tyr shook his head at the man and grabbed his head with his power fist and crushed it, no man who attacked an Astartes deserved to live.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr followed suit, letting Kjarl and Tyr fire their guns in front of him so he could weild his Axe with both hands and thus use it to its full potential. Merely seeing Kjarl alone running straight toward them was enough to scatter many of the traitors people. several who were willing to fight went for Tyr as he stood behind a thin dead tree in the courtyard in front of the chapel steps. 

As Tyr crushed a man's head with his powerfirst, Vermundr rushed past him taking out two by surprise who were going to attempt in assisting their comrade attacking Tyr. His super human strength combined with the Fenrisian craftsmanship put into the axe made it easy to cut straight through both of them, one quick swing for each. 

As he picked up his pace again, Kjarl was in front of him once more, still running toward the steps, new blood showing on the sides of his armor.

Vermundr kept his sights on the preacher's bodyguard, the one with the modified las-gun. This man would be his target, and unless Kjarl prevented him for some reason, this man would feel pain twice that of the fallen wolf.


----------



## dark angel

As Alrik walked towards the PDF Transport his lips curled in distaste spitting “That is going to take us there?” he shook his head and walked towards it. Unlike most of his Brothers Alrik did not mind flying however he did hate flying in cramped places. The Wolf seemed alone now on this world that Keris and him had fallen out, though he wasn’t sure if it would be a permanent thing it did not matter now because whatever happened they would be fighting side by side within the next couple of hours, though Alrik had already decided he would have to watch the bastard Iorek for his treacherous ways.

He approached it slowly, his Brothers moving past him he stared at it for several seconds before saying “Hope this thing can bloody fly” he moved forwards and stepped into the cramped interior saying “Bloody hell this is small” he grinned and took a seat in the corner when the propellers began to spin faster, it lifted into the air and Alrik stared at Iorek and a Guardsmen nudging each other laughing, he felt hatred for the albino and bared his fangs wondering if his Brother would make it past this day.


----------



## darkreever

Alrik, Iorek, and Keris; the ornathropter lurches into the air lazily at first, but quickly builds up speed as you and the eight man pdf squad head to the chapel. A vox report to the pilot and co-pilot, patched through to your own vox beads, warns of fighting outside of the chapel itself. Your pack had engaged rioters outside the chapel; though there was no report of the numbers of the engaged.

Minutes feel as though they take lifetimes before the pilots report the chapel in sight; just before a warning klaxon blairs and the cramped hold is bathed in red light. "Weapon lock, brace back there this thing is gonna ge.." Is all the pilot mnages to scream before something hits the cockpit of the 'thropter, engulfing the front end in flames and killing the pilots instantly. At once, the 'thropter begins to spin out of control before slamming into the ground below with a screach of metal. You and the troopers are thrown about before the wrecked vehicle comes to a halt.

[Could have been worse, the ornathropter is wrecked, and landed in the middle of the fighting. Kjarl and Vermundr are ahead of the wreck and Tyr and Leif behind it; the troopers with you are in various states and you might want to ignore them for now to take out the enemies around you. The sight of the transport laden with reinforcements getting taken down was a bit of a morale booster for them.]


Vermundr; several more rioters bar your way to the soldier with the modified lasgun. A swipe from your axe cuts a woman in half before pain erupts in your shoulder, a smoking hole burned right through your shoulder guard. You look beyond the two other rioters to see the soldier, lasgun aimed in your direction before he ducks behind cover; a smile on his face.
[Take care of the two rioters before any others come to help them, the soldier's lasgun is modified to use overcharged rounds similar to a hellgun.]

Tyr; before you charge again, a large shape barrels into you; seems the group was made up of a little more than rioters this time as you duck the slow attack of a lifter servitor. You punch it with your powerfist, but the creature just takes a step back as greyed skin peels away to reveal machinery and reinforced bone beneath. Four rioters are moving around to flank you, and you notice another member of the claw out of the corner of your eye. A quick glance reveals nothing good, Odin had been coming to support you, but was now slumped on the ground with a hole in the back of his head. Back where you had all started your charge from, it looks as though Gromar had suffered a similar fate.

[It looks like there is a sniper hidden somewhere, with a good view to boot. Your about to be flanked until the ornathroper crashes near you, throwing the rioters off their feet. Take out the servitor somehow, it won't go down in one blow, and either deal with the other rioters or see to the crashed vehicle. Might also be a good idea to try and warn others of a possible sniper.]

Leif, Von; (Sorry Jaren but meltaguns don't have that good a range, running a quarter the distance would still leave fifty meters between Leif and the chapel.) Your shot does not do the damage described, but it did manage to coral some of the rioters into Vermundr, Tyr, and Kjarl. Before you can move forward to support the others, a vehicle crashes into the ground before you.

[The crashed vehicle is right in your way, but you can see Tyr about to be flanked, Odin go down, and several rioters round the opposite end of the crashed vehicle. Do you help your packmates or engage the other group of flanking enemies? You will not be able to do both right away.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Through the clearing of the woman's split body came a fissure through the air, straight into Vermundr's shoulder armor, burning a clear hole deep within. He clenches his armor immediately, though his hand is unable to reach the wound. He lets out a short loud yell and found the source. The man had a smirking grin on his face that made Vermundr sick at heart. From his position and intuition he must have realized Vermundr had spotted him specifically. Into Vermundr's narrowed vision came into view a new wave of fools ready to attack him and block his path to his target

As the next two rioters continued to charge him, he thought to himself, "No sane human would charge me like this....would they?"

Whatever it was they were thinking, it was lost to Vermundr's striking blows. As the closer man continued charging even with the woman being sliced in half in front of him, Vermundr swung his axe into the man's left leg, clearing it out from under him causing him to fall forward. His chest was met with Vermundr's right foot however, which then launched him backwards into a section of the chest high walls. Just as the man's back made contact with the short wall, the next man came into reach. Vermundr let go of the axe with his left hand, in order to slam his left elbow into the man's chin. Though this instantly killed him, Vermundr cut into his right side with his axe going half way through the body. He pushed the body off, which brought pain to his shoulder, 

_"That was no ordinary lasgun round....i better be more careful, don't want to end up like Jorgun or Njoror, not yet at least. That went too deep into the armor for me to handle a head shot, or even one to the chest. Cover."_

He threw himself toward the chest high wall he had kicked one of the men into, ducking his head low, and drew his bolt pistol from his side. He was glad he had a full mag still, but he knew he would still have to use his rounds sparingly. He was going to peer over his cover but before he could the ground behind him was hit by practically a meteor. He instinctively raised his arms to protect his head from debris. It was a downed military aircraft, with its pilot section blown out and still burning. It split his squad in half but it also slammed into several rioters. He was relieved to see the armor of Space Wolves emerge from the smoke and wreck rather than more crazy enemies. Keris, Alrik, and Iorek had returned from their separate mission, but obviously not as smoothly as they had probably hoped.

Since he was now facing the open courtyard he had just crossed, he ended up spotting more space wolf armor far on the other side, near where they had emerged from the buildings. he also spotted what he recognized as Odin's long fiery red hair, and his body was on the ground motionless. he could not make out who the other one laying on the ground was. 

_"Gromar? is that who it...AGH, DAMNIT ALL!!"_ he slammed the butt of his axe into the concrete wall behind him, piercing the rock. in a rush he went to stand up but was very quickly reminded of the hellgun rounds being aimed at him as a force of energy whizzed right in front of his face as he turned. He practically fell back into his cover and looked toward his newly arrived pack mates who had now joined the fray. He could support them with his pistol if needed while in cover from the hell gun rounds by facing the open court yard, but he would need support of his own soon enough. There was also Kjarl around here still somewhere...he hoped.


----------



## Agrippa

Von rush's forward and slams his back into the now grounded vehicle gesturing for Leif to follow, and started laying fire into the Flanking enemies. The Rioters turn towards Von and start charging the position, he layed waist to one quarter of the charging enemies, before his gun jammed...


----------



## jaren

Seeing Von Gesture for him, Leif moves to him, Pistol and Sword in hand, Only twenty or so feet from the Blood Claw Leif hear an audible click, Von's fire-arm, it is as good a club now. He was committed now, the young one yells a brutal battle cray and charges in to relieve his Brother, despite his inexperience, he hadn't even managed to go on one of the patrols outside the fang. hitting the rioters as hard as he could he makes his way to Von.


----------



## Euphrati

Outwardly; Keris was the epitome of the serene warrior, head bowed and eyes closed in silent prayer as the craft lumbered skywards. Within his mind, however, the beast paced and growled its agitation at the confining space and press of bodies. The walls pressed in on him as Keris ran through the conditionings placed within his brain by the teaching engines to regulate his heart rates and control the primal need to bare his fangs and lash out at the host of bodies. He focused on the words, holding each one in his mind, as the dull thump of the rotating blades sent subsonic vibrations through the cold steel of the harness at his back.

The vox-bead in his ear crackled to life and Keris kept his eyes pressed shut as he listened to the exchange of voices. Something was happening at the Chapel that had caused his packmates to engage the rioters without them. The pressure within the craft seemed to increase a hundred fold, Keris could taste his brother's scents over those of the guardsmen. The sharp note of their eagerness comforted him in a way. The minutes slowed to a crawl, each meter seemed to stretch out to a kilometer beneath them.

Keris opened his eyes and ran his gauntleted hands over his war gear, checking each with a careful hand before running his fingers through his crest of hair, desperate to do something to keep from growling with the need to feel the open air against his face. Keris licked his lips with as the feeling of confinement weighted down on him and his subconscious calculated the distance from the palace and the time they had been in the air; soon they would be touching down and rejoining their pack. As if to answer his thoughts, the voice of the pilot sighting the Chapel came over the din of the blades. Keris felt the pressure ease slightly as they neared their destination. 

The feeling lasted only for a second as shrill klaxons blared to life and the interior of the hold was bathed in blood red of warning lights. The voice of the pilot was frantic. Keris's body and mind were alert instantly, the beast within twitched and growled low, everything taking on the hard edged note that he had come to associate with battle readiness. Something slammed into the pilot's bubble, cutting off the voices in a thunderous explosion that rocked through the craft. The ornathopter slewed sideways and slipped into a spin as guardsmen were thrown back into their harnesses.

Keris threw his head back and _howled_ like a sea daemon, unable to restrain the frantic cries of the wolf inside him any longer. His voice echoed within the closed confines as they plummeted from the sky like a meteor.

The impact was bone-jarring; Keris hardly felt it over the frothing of the wolf within his mind, it was not going to die ingloriously burning within the belly of this craft. Keris tore out of the restraining harness and slammed his fist into the glowing rune that released the ramp. The scent of the guardsmen was sharp and the copper taste of blood assaulted him, the wolfspirit raged inside his breast. He took in a deep breath and rolled the smells across his tongue, locating those of Iorek and Alrik. Their unique scents told him that his packmates were alive and moving. A red haze was creeping from the edges of his vision as the ramp juttered and began to open, the systems controlling it having been damaged with the impromptu landing. 

Keris roared in rage as the hydraulics shorted and failed, hissing and sparking as they died; a handspan of light creeping through where the ramp had started to descend. He took a step back, knocking into guardsmen who had been struggling to get free of their harnesses back to the floor plating. With a snarl he sprang at the ramp, dropping his shoulder and crashing into the ramp with a feral howl.

The portal gave way under his assault, not being designed to survive being shot from the sky then suffer the full brunt of an enraged Space Wolf. The hinges tore under the impact and Keris rode the tormented metal down as it fell away beneath him. He sprang away right before the sundered portal hit the ground with a resounding clang, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris and crushing torn bodies beneath its weight. 

Keris hit the ground and rolled away from the burning craft, the wolf inside him surged to the fore and he welcomed its rage, leaping to his feet with fangs bared and chain sword screaming in his fist. His eyes were piercing ice-blue as he took in the scene with the instincts of a predator. Small arms fire nipped around him and he could make out the towering forms of his Wolfbrothers within the crowd, Kjarl's armoured bulk leading the charge. 

The burning smell of fuel and the bright scent of blood made it hard to think, he wanted so very much to let the wolf have its head and to lay into the closest flesh with an animal rage. The stress of being under the gaze of his Wolf Lord and then dealing with the pack challenges of Alrik and Iorek had heightened the bloodlust that sang within his soul. The beast wanted nothing more than the sake its frustrations out on a bleeding target. _He almost gave in to the whispers of the hunt._

_Alrik and Iorek_. His mind came back into focus with a snap; his brothers were still inside the twisted wreck and he risked a glance back to see their armoured forms exiting the burning metal bird behind him. The beast jabbered and howled, straining against his will; he had been so close to just charging off into the crowd. He choked down the urge and stood his ground, lashing out at a man wielding a short blade that charged at his with wild eyes. He flipped the chainsword around to behead another rioter armed with a holdout pistol that spat rounds and ricochet off his armoured side. Keris opened the squad's vox channel as he grabbed another man by the neck, tossing him back into his fellows and clearing a bit of ground between him and his brothers.

'Grey Hunter Kjarl! I bring word from Blackmane and a squad of the PDF Captain's own men along with my brothers to aid!'


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr rocked back as a huge hulking mass of grey flesh barreled into his massive form. He took one step back and punched the servitor square in the chest but grunted when he realized all that he managed to do was rip open its chest and push it back. This one shows the resourcefulness of these so called 'rioters', for them to obtain a servitor like this means they had people in high places, well in places higher then the Space Wolves had believed earlier and from the looks of the servitor it might be someone from a mining guild.

He took this information and stored it away for later so that he could inform Lord Blackmane, he ducked another lazy attack and grabbed one of its limbs before punching its joint and breaking one of its arms. Before he could react the other arm smacked him square in the chest and he stumbled back before seeing Odin and Gromar with holes in the backs of their heads, sniper. His face went white and he opened a vox to his brothers just as something crashed from the sky behind him, he turned to see Space Wolves exiting the burning wreck, his brothers had returned.

He spoke into the vox as the servitor barreled into him again knocking into a wall, *"Brothers! Keep your heads down a sniper is afoot!"* He was cut off before he could continue as the servitor decked him in the face causing his helmet's systems to short out so he ripped it off. He roared as he charged the machine and punched it again in the chest causing some of its metal frame to buckle a little before it attacked again and broke his nose. Pain flared into his face but Tyr was a monster of a marine and it would take more then just a broken nose to stop him, he kicked the servitor in the chest causing it to hit the tree he had been using as cover earlier. He brought his bolt pistol up and got two shots off before the gun was shot out of his hand, the sniper again, apparently he didn't want Tyr to have his bolt pistol. The shots had hit the servitor square in the chest finally causing its ribs and framing to buckle but it was still moving, Tyr charged it and smashed it into the tree, he felt a sharp pain in his waist joint of his armor but lifted his power fist and pummeled the servitor's head to a pulp finally killing it.

When he backed away he saw one of its lifting mechanisms impaling him in the waist where his armor joint was and with a bellow of anger and pain pulled it out. Pain shot through his body and he breathed deeply for a few seconds before standing up to his full height again, he thought about his next move either go after the four rioters coming after him or help his brothers in the wreck, the sniper made his choice for him as he realized that someone his size moving out into the open was a definate death wish without knowing where the sniper was. He had a general idea, when he had aimed at the servitor his gun had been shot out of his hand, now this was either a lucky random shot or he was pointing in the general direction of the sniper and he had thought Tyr had seen him. He quickly made his way to the wreck and saw two of his brothers fly out of it with howls on their lips, Keris and Alrik, he saw Iorek in the wreck and made his way to his brother helping him up and propping him up with one of his massive arms, *"Come brother you are needed, remind me that after the battle I have something for you."*


----------



## dark angel

Alrik had found himself falling face first into the deck, hundreds of cuts across his face from where he had been in such close proximity to the forward half when it had exploded. Many were minor cuts but there was four or five, along his cheek bones that had cut into bone and were now pulsing with blood. And then it just got worse, as he landed hard his small left fang snapped apart sending it falling down beneath the grates, the Space Wolf roared in anger and brought his balled fists down upon the deck denting it he realised it was to late and shook his head sending globes of blood flying in all directions. 

The Firehawk burst out into laughter, every time he let air from his mouth he sent a mixture of spittle and blood flying from his torn lips. The reason he was hysterical was because even through the blood burning his eyes and the remaining half of his left ear he could hear and see Keris howling like a caged animal, his scent one of agitation and rage. Then the ship struck the earth like a wounded bird, digging itself into the dirt. 

Alrik wiped away the blood from his eyes with his forearm and heard the sound of crunching metal, looking around he noticed that Keris was already out light now illuminating his face. Now for the first time in months Alrik lifted up his helm and placed it upon his bloody head, twisting it into place he got up and charged outwards he roared “Let me at the bastards who broke my bloody fang!” and backhanded a charging man into the ship, he looked around and spotted Keris before chasing after him.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek was caught in mid laugh as the vox report arrived. The news of fighting outside the chapel held him immobile and his face became sombre as his hands began to slide over his weaponry. Fresh clip in the bolt pistol, the chainsword slid in and out of its sheath whilst as Iorek worked frantically to ensure he was battle ready.

"Be prepared" reverberated within his head... a mantra that provided a rhythm to his movements and resounded in the very beating of his heart. The fervour died and the mantra froze and his breathing returned to normal, his chest rising slowly as the adrenaline rush died away.

He turned to the grizzled marine and began an ireful comment yet their was a sharp fearful message from the pilot
"Weapon lock, brace back there this thing is gonna ge.." before the man screamed and his cry pierced the air as something impacted upon the hull jerking Iorek sideways and he covered his head as their was a desperate fearful howl.

A wolf in pain, a terrified wolf, desperate for escape and Iorek felt the scream building up within him as the wolf within his soul cried out in agonised horror as the craft began to fall, plummeting through space, spinning and flames streaked before his eyes. Fiery streaks danced before him and he felt himself falling through the air once more and he let out a silent echo of the wulfen howl, his mouth stretched wide in terror as the world spun sickeningly and sirens blared all around him, nauseously loud.

The craft dashed itself upon the ground and fear gripped him in sickening darkness that rushed in upon him in a clammy wave of desperation. He fought it briefly as the veteran next to him groaned yet the desperation was to strong an he had to stay awake.. had to fight.. refuse to succumb to the blackness of his unconciousness.... yet it was forcing him.. he could barely breath.. waves of nauseous blackness... and he fell.

He came too seconds later, could have been minutes... even hours yet the lolling form above him and the searing waves of flames suggested the first option. He struggled to see through the smoke and he moved his hands down to the holster at his hip gripping his pistol tight. His vision came back into focus as he held the hilt tight and he saw a figure lying in the chair next to him. The grizzled veteran's face swam before his eyes and he reached for his hand, dancing over them towards his wrist to check for a pulse yet he was spared the need by the gnarled fingers tightening upon his. He looked closely and saw no blood merely a purple bruise and now Iorek snapped to action as he heard gunfire and the sound of movement as someone pulled themselves from the ship.

He slid his chainsword from its sheeth gripping it tightly in his left hand and slipping his finger through the trigger allowing himself to balance as he twisted his body into a crouch and stared around for some way to the outside. His helmet had adjusted to the gloom and he saw small pinpricks of light from 3 rents in the hull. He hit the press stud and his chainsword whirred into life and he pressed it deep into the hull forcing it to cut through the rent in a whirl of sparks.

He looked through the gap struggling to gain some sense of the battle and saw Keris and Alrik sprinting away and he relaxed internally as he saw other power armoured forms surrounding them yet he tensed slightly as he couldn't see Njoror's form within them. A lasgun bolt ricocheted and rocketed towards him and he twisted back inside the whole in the hull as the bolt hit the back of the hull. He saw a screaming man with a smoking las gun as he withdrew and he twisted back round and aimed at his head. The pistol bucked as he pulled the trigger and the guy dropped a bullet through the throat. 

Iorek began to pull his way through the hole yet as he struggled a second huge form seized him pulling him up and wrenching him from the hole in the hull. He landed upon his feet and stumbled slightly yet a muscled forearm held him up and he heard his brother yell

"Come brother you are needed, remind me that after the battle I have something for you."

Iorek stopped for a second and stared at his brother, njoror would take all his messages, if anyone had to give him something, they would give it to Njoror, unless... something... it was impossible yet now fear coursed through his veins and he was frantic. He wrenched himself out of his brothers grip and his eyes were wide, wild and savage with fear and two of the nearest rioters fell as they pressed in, wild bolt shots slashing through their brains... it was possible but it couldn't be. He stared around and saw a figure up ahead close to the huge form of the grey hunter Kjarl, cutting through the rioters with ease and Iorek relaxed. It had to be Njoror... his brother lead from the front as usual and he nodded to the marine that he now recognized as Tyr a small grin upon his face as he clipped his helmet upon his head and readied his pistol and chainsword.

"We will draw blood together tonight Tyr" he roared yet their were seeds of doubt in his mind and as they fell to his bolts... Njoror's face swam before him and he felt fear and doubt in his head. He slashed a screaming man and watched his intestines spill out from the gash in his belly and he screamed.

A scream full of anguish and desperation and ladled with fear... fear for the possibilities, the possibility... a possibility that terrified him.


----------



## Agrippa

Von looked up and say Leif running towards him, Von slammed his bolter against the palm of his hand, dropped the magazine, and reloaded a new one. As Von stood up he unleashed a barrage of bullets, Severing one rioters head off from the force of the bullet.


----------



## jaren

seeing Von clear his weapon gave Leif heart, lunging forward Leif reaches his brother in arms. 'good to see you brother, let's clear this scum and relieve our brothers!' saying this Leif starts to make his way to Tyr to assist him in the interesting predicament he found himself, Rioters all around, if not for the shear number Tyr would be fine.


----------



## Euphrati

_Sniper._

Keris dropped into an instinctive crouch when he heard the warning and fought the urge to scan the skyline for movement. There were too many possibilities to hide a sniper; shadowed windows like the many soulless eyes of a leviathan bore down on him from all sides. Casting about would likely draw the sharpshooter's attention as well as his crosshairs so Keris judged his options with a weighted scale.

Alrik pounded up beside him; his brother's scent was laced with the biting notes of pain, anger, and the rich aroma of Space Wolf blood. The beast within him stirred restlessly, it knew they were exposed out here and the smoldering wreckage to his back was only the illusion of safety. All it would take was a single errant shot to touch off the petrol that seeped out the ornithopter's torn flank like blood from a downed mastodon. Keris turned to Alrik, noting that his clawmate had donned his helm for the foray,

'Make for the wall and keep your head down, Brother. We are too exposed here and need something solid to our backs. I will be right on your shadow once I nip at the heels of these guardsmen,' Keris's tone and scent betrayed his agitation. He sprang back across the few meters he had cleared rolling free of the craft and scampered up the ramp to bellow into the smoke-filled belly of the beast,

'Clear the craft _*NOW*_!' his voice was deep and commanding, 'Shoot from the hip and move to the dividing wall on the double! Carry the wounded. Hurry the fuel could spark any moment... Let's _*GO*_ and keep your heads down!'

Making good on his words, Keris vaulted from the lip of the ramp and hit the ground at a lope. He cut a jagged line through the dust and haze of battle towards where he could see Kjarl and Vermundr above the thinning crowds. The scent of cordite was heavy in the air along with the ozone stink of las-weapons and the lingering copper of blood. Keris caught the Grey Hunter's scent trail as he backhanded a man to the ground, with the sickening wet crunch of shattered bone, who had been hefting a clawed hammer at his chest before leaping over another who had thrown himself face first to the stone begging for mercy and forgiveness. 

Keris's hackles rose and a rumbling growl slipped between his bared fangs as he tasted the raged that laced his mentor's scent; the wolf within his mind responded instinctually to the elder's wrath and pressed forwards, straining against his will.

Keris felt the bloodlust sing within his veins as he made his way through the fanatical rioters and fought to keep his mind from being overwhelmed by the beast inside.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr nodded at Iorek as he watched him make his way toward where Kjarl and Vermundr were, he didn't know yet, and it was best he didn't know until after this battle. That was when he would give him Njoror's necklace, he heard a loud bang and his head suddenly felt very vulnerable without its helmet. He had nothing to truly hide behind, so he did the next best thing and dove into the swirling melee before him and kept moving his position so that the sniper couldn't get a bead on him, always keeping the area where he had pointed his bolt pistol in front of him so that he could see the sniper's next shot.

A rioter fell to her knees begging for mercy but Tyr simply stepped on her and crushed her under his weight as he waded into the mass of people. He could see the others in front and to the sides of him and smiled as they tore apart these traitors, a screaming man hacked at him with a pick axe and stabbed it where the lifting servitor had managed to pierce his hip joint in his armor but that was as far as he got before Tyr grabbed the man's body and crushed it in his power fist before throwing it back into the crowd. 

He backhanded another and the rioter smacked into the wall of the church with a sickening crunch. He laughed heartily as his love for battle came to the for finally and mocked the three rioters in front of him, *"You surely cannot hope to kill ME can you? Look around you, I am bigger then the rest of my brothers." * The two farthest from him turned and ran but the one in front of him, not knowing his support had fled, charged im with a yell but Tyr simply punched him in the gut, his innards and back exploding out behind him. Tyr shook his head, why would they turn on the Emperor like this?


----------



## unxpekted22

Still sitting on the ground facing the downed ornithopter, back against a short wall with his head ducked low, Vermundr continued supporting his brothers moving away from the burning wreck with his bolt pistol. They did not realize this due to the chaotic situation, and because he was taking out the rioters the pack managed to miss on their advancement toward his position.

he heard them warning of a sniper.

"A Sniper? so i could still be exposed? i cant move form here with that soldier still trained on me with that upgraded lasgun."

Vermundr realized that there seemed to be many more rioters here now than there was when he had first arrived to the scene. a handful had turned into quite the number of people. the sounds of battle must have been attracting them, which to Vermundr, only added to their state of insanity, as any normal civilian would likely run _away_ from the sounds of battle...not toward it.

Keris was the closest to him, ahead of the others coming form the wreck. 

"Keris! Take cover behind these chest-high walls the best you can, they are all we have! There are soldiers with high power weapons in cover atop of these stairs as well! We need to gather at these walls in cover, so that we may charge up the stairs togeather!"

Vermundr took the following moment to shove a full clip into his bolt pistol while his pack got out of the open and ran toward his position.

he then turned and leaned into the wall so that his left shoulder pad was facing the open area, blocking the view of his helmet if the sniper _was _actually on the opposite side of the downed ornithropter somewhere.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik did nothing over than obey his Brother’s words, continuing onwards in a crouched run, his weapons remaining un-drawn. Spinning around in a circle the Firehawk wrapped one firm hand around a throat of the now slowly dispensing enemies and pulled him towards him, standing to full height he spat “You bloody broke my fang! You shall feel the true meaning of pain before im bloody done with you!” and threw him onto his backside in the dirt, stepped over him he fell to his knees and outstretched the tips of his fingers as he did so.

His fingers pushed through flesh and bone like paper, the Astartes pushing them in deeper with a curled lip and lifted the lifeless body into the air, throwing it aside he looked around and found himself alone muttering something that was drowned out he got up and continued onwards to the wall. He pushed one shoulder ahead of the other, hoping it would cousin his power as he impacted the wall. How he was wrong. As he did so he struck a thin part of the wall, sending dust in all directions it gave way and the Firehawk found himself yelping as he struck the ground. Wiping away the dirt on his armour he muttered “Just my luck” and pulled himself back into cover.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek heard somebody yell the word sniper and he flinched immediately, looking at his bolt pistol and cursing as the crowd seemed to close upon him. He spotted a wolf in cover, and a pile of debris away to his left and changed the point of attack from straight ahead to his left and he caught the rioters by suprise by the sudden ferocity.

He was fighting for his life, a left hook decapitated a screaming man, whilst another screaming rioter lost his arm and eye before the mercy stroke fell. Other backed away stumbling and screaming yet he crushed them all as he tried to reach cover, to force the gap through away from his certain death. Then a roaring bloated miner slipped and the gap appeared, he dropped to one knee suddenly, trying to throw the sniper for a second.

The second was all he needed as he tucked throwing his arms forward to gain the momentum he needed to pull himself through the gap and behind the rubble. His pistol was raised and he began to shoot a gap around him whilst scrabbling around on the ground looking for a lasgun or something with range.

He began to move slowly towards the wolf till he was feet away. He shot down the rioter blocking his path, ducking low and diving to slip in beside his brother and through the armour he was almost saw it was Njoror. Yet there was something different about the armour, maybe he had changed it, got a new set. He turned to the marine a smile upon his face as he looked into the marines visor to see the dim shadow of the marines eyes and he jumped back hitting the wall in horror.

The eyes were not Njoror's eyes... they were not close... they were Vermundr's eyes and Iorek was stunned as possibilities flooded him once more. his breathing grew heavy and laboured and he closed his eyes trying to steady his limbs which had begun to shake. 

He must have poked out of cover because a high energy las bolt flashed inches over his head and he desperately ducked back into cover next to vermundr. He forced all thoughts away.... he's alive... he's still alive but I have to think if i'm going to stay alive. He paused for a second before he muttered into the vox

"Brothers we have a sniper pinning us down. Now charging a sniper is no use and I wish for us all to stay alive"
he paused as desperate thoughts of njoror flooded his mind but he forced them away ruthlessly trapping them within his subconcious

"We will have to shoot our way out, now i need a rifle or a lasgun or anything if I'm going to nail this bastard and give us some freedom of movement. Anyone see a rifle or anyone got a better idea?"

He turned to Vermundr
"if not its just you and me against that guy up their and if we charge... I think we will die"


----------



## Euphrati

The wall loomed up before Keris and beyond it the towering facade of the Chapel cut the skyline like the mountains of Asaheim. The thought of the cold winds of Fenris forced the bloodlust down momentarily, and as he neared the protective cover he heard Vermundr's shout and Iorek's words in the vox-bead in his ear. 

He was about to slow his stride when the faint scent reached his keen nose. The scent was that of a Wolf and held the bitter finality of death. Keris's eyes were drawn to the steps of the Chapel and the slumped form bearing the same grey-blue armour as his own but traced in the markings of a Grey Hunter. The pack of his brother Wolves that the Captain has spoken of disappearing. The wolf in his mind growled with a feral anger.

Frothing rage welled up within his breast. Though he may never have met the fallen brother, the sight of a Son of Russ cast aside in the dust of the courtyard like a broken blade filled his thoughts with righteous fury. The wolf within his mind howled like a fiend from the depths, urging him on. The beast cried in his thoughts. It wanted revenge for the deaths, to sink its fangs into the traitor's hides and tear them asunder. After the hateful ride in the belly of the flyer, caged in the dark, _now was a time for action!_

The last thought decided him and Keris strained to put more power into his last few steps. 

'Forget the sniper!' he snarled, 'Cowering will serve only to allow him time to reload! Make for the Chapel and support Kjarl!'

Keris coiled his body and sprang at the wall, catching the top in his off-hand and using his momentum to vault over the crumbling stone with a howled praise to Russ and the Emperor on his lips. He hardly missed a stride as he charged headlong after the Grey Hunter.


----------



## unxpekted22

_"if not its just you and me against that guy up there and if we charge... I think we will die"_ said Iorek.

Vermundr replied, _"According to the wolf priest, we should not worry about such trivial things as our lives. We are here to die so that loyal innocents may not. I don't see a rifle my brother, unfortunately we are blood claws still... close combat "specialists", and by the way, Njoror doesn't have a braid coming out the top of his helmet....."_ Vermundr thought carefully for a moment at how Iorek had just acted and continued, _"Njoror is fine Iorek, Kjarl sent him and Gareth on a separate task before we came to the chapel."_ 

Vermundr had regret for half a second about his decision, but if they were going to rush into enemy fire that could actually do some damage, Iorek's head needed to be straight. 

Keris and Alrik had both reached the cover of the walls. Tyr and Von were not far behind, and a couple of the Guard who survived the crash may have been willing to support them as well.

_'Forget the sniper!' Cowering will serve only to allow him time to reload! Make for the Chapel and support Kjarl!'_ Yelled Keris, who then leapt over the short wall and began his charge up the stairs. 

Vermundr smacked Iorek's shoulder pad, "LETS GO! OVER THE WALL AND UP THE STAIRS BROTHER!" he picked up his axe in one hand and still held his pistol in the other. He stood up and jumped enough to catch his elbows over the top of the wall and pulled himself over. He saw Kjarl in front of him now, charging as well. 

Vermundr ran up the stairs as fast his legs would carry him, while he shot his bolt pistol in the general direction of where the soldier had been before, knowing that even a grazing bolter round wound would be enough to take out a human.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had heard what Vermundr had said to Iorek and resolved to have words with him after this debacle, but at the moment his two brothers were running for Kjarl and the the steps of the church and he would support them. With a loud resounding howl he began his own sprint towards the steps, his huge legs pounding the earth at an alarming speed that only an Astartes could produce. The tiny wall that his brothers had been using for cover didn't stand a chance with him and instead of leaping over it he simply ran right through it, his bulk and momentum too much for it to stay up. 

A few rioters who were standing in his way only had enough time to either yell in terror or simply widen their eyes in horror as they tried to get out of his way, but all he did was lower his shoulder and run right into them, crushing them. In only a second or two he was right behind and to the left of Iorek and Vermundr howling as he closed the gap between him and his enemies.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik raised his hands to his eye pieces and clawed at them, trying to wipe away the acidic tasting blood within. The world seemed to spin around him as his Brothers either leapt, or ran through, the wall he was taking cover behind. Looking down at his open palms he muttered “What have I done? I have torn apart the very Pack and just because Keris, wisest of the wise, had become our leader” clenching them into fists he slammed them into the ground and gritted his teeth in both pain and anguish as cracks began to form around them. 

The Astartes pulled himself up, swaying he shouted over the Vox “Keris! Bloody slow down or ill put a bolt in your arse!” and burst into a weak laughter, half running half stumbling towards the church he sighted Iorek and shook his head saying over a private Vox channel to him “Brother. How long will we let our pathetic squabbles carry on? When one of use lay dead at the others feet? Or when neither of us can keep on at each others throat like a bunch of ravenous animals, it must stop Iorek and if you don’t end it I shall”.

The doors loomed ahead like a pair of giant guardians, clicking his neck Alrik could barely see out of his helm when he reached the first step, still nowhere near his Brothers and wrapped his fingers around his Bolt Pistol howling “For the Emperor and the Allfather! Keep safe Brothers!”.


----------



## deathbringer

"Njoror is fine Iorek, Kjarl sent him and Gareth on a separate task before we came to the chapel." 

Iorek's heart leapt and he felt his heart skip at the news. His brother was alive and he leapt to his feet clasping his brothers arm
"Thank you brother. It gladdens my heart to hear that he is alive. The thought of never seeing him again scared me and clouded my judgement.

His happiness rose and he reloaded his bolt pistol quickly and clamly yet he heard the call to charge and shook his head grimly. The certainty of death came upon him and he felt his limbs go limp, yet his brother was alive. He considered the situation, large moving targets covering open ground and he feared for their lives yet he heard Vermundr's yell and refused to hesitate. He vaulted the wall alongside him allowing his limbs to spread into a long loping stride closing the distance upon the steps just behind Keris. 

A voice burst through the vox network and he was suprised to hear Alrik's voice, calm and tense instead of mocking and shrewd.

His words were mature and strange and he smiled as he realised how much it must have cost Alrik to say these words.

"I don't know why I hate you,but it is something innate. I will never like you but for the good of the pack we must be united. Keris has been singled out yet though I am not certain of his talent, Blackmane is... I do not believe I am destined to lead and you will never fufill your potential or Keris his if our squabble continues. So I agree... we must stop... lets get up to the building.. .before we get our heads blown off.. I wish to live to see Njoror again."

He saw Alrik to his side and he veered slightly towards his brother to show solidarity in their new agreement. They were running side by side arms working and Iorek laughed in exhileration as the doors approached... two enemies would go through side by side and they would kill tonight. He increased his speed pushed to knew heights, new levels and he gave a surge of speed and he was certain Alrik would do the same bolstered by the adrenaline of competition. Full tilt Iorek raised his pistol and aimed at the doors ready to fire


----------



## Agrippa

Von Rev's his chain sword and starts slicing limbs off of rioters as they push for Tyr. Von brought his chain sword down upon a rioters skull and carried it all the way thru his body cutting him in half. They pushed harder, leaving a path of blood and disfigured bodies in their wake. Von knew they would reach Tyr, he would not lose another brother this day, not when he was so close.


----------



## darkreever

Everyone; You leap the walls and cross the gap to the stairs, hacking and shooting what few rioters stand in your way before fire from the pdf troopers starts to join in. Unlike Keris, Iorek, and Alrik the seven surviving members of the eight man squad had not recovered instantly, but had done so now. Rushing the steps, Vermundr round one corner in time to come upon the soldier with the modified lasgun. Despite obvious training, your reflex's are faster than his and you grab the weapon before he can bring it up and shoot. Wrenching the gun from his hands, you bend the barrel and toss the useless weapon away.

[Vermundr, finish him as you see fit and then continue with the rest of the update.]

Kjarl leaps to the second soldier, taking a blast from the shotgun at point blank but his momentum is far greater than the weapon's blast. With a downward swipe from his chainsword, Kjarl takes off the soldiers arm at the elbow, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain. Fumbling at the holster at his side, the man manages to pull out a bolt pistol before Kjarl slams his armoured boot into the soldier's face, pulverising it. Turning around, you can see crack's in Kjarl's power armour from the blast and a few clotting wounds from where shrapnel had bit deep. "Keris with me, the rest of you inside now, we need to see if there are others of the pack within. Iorek you lead the pack until we catch up to you." He says while turning his attention to the aproaching troopers. "Your presence is most welcome, and I am grateful for the return of my men, but this is as far as you all go." He informs them with a look that shows nothing will sway his order. "Make sure that nothing enters or leaves this chapel but us." He adds before finally turning his eyes on Keris. "What news from your little mission with the wolf lord pup?"


Iorek, Von, Vermundr, Alrik, Leif, and Tyr; you make your way into the chapel and after passing by several empty side rooms come upon the main chamber, rows of pews leading up to an alter with a second level looking down in a half circle. From where you enter there is a way up higher as well as two other ways up on the far ends of the alter. Upon the alter you see five figures, none of them moving. They are the speaker from when you made planetfall and four more of the soldiers.

[Check the five, the soldiers have been killed by what looks like bolter weapons and the speaker's neck has been snapped. After that you can look for a source but don't stray far, Keris and Kjarl will be joining you now. It is possible to inform Iorek of Njoror's fate, though it may not be the best time to do so.]


----------



## unxpekted22

the charge had been successful! Vermundr could hardly believe it as he came face to face with the soldier unharmed. Lasgun rounds shot forth from behind them in their favor, supressing the soldiers at the top of the stairs while the wolves charged. He had sprinted fast enough and swung hard enough with his axe through his enemies that he had met his goal. Taking the las-gun out of the soldier's hands and breaking it made the man's smirk from earlier disappear entirely. The soldier made an attempt to run under Vermundr's legs, which was easily stopped by his faster reflexes. He shoved the soldier into the wall by the chapel doors with his fist; his hands both holding weapons still. Vermundr quickly managed to pin the soldier up against the wall by shoving his bolt pistol into the soldier's mouth, breaking all of his teeth and jaw with the large barrel. He then fired a single round, painting the wall with blood. The soldier's eyes went from horrified to blank. Vermundr said through his helmet distorted voice, "_disloyalty to the All-father, arrogance and disrespect in the face of his Angels of Death...may your soul be as lost as your mind."_

right after saying this he heard Kjarl yell simultaneously with an extremely loud blast. He spun on his heels to see if his superior had been killed, seeing instead the other soldier's face explode under Kjarl's heavy foot. A relief.

the rest of his pack had pretty much reached the top of the stairs as well, and Kjarl began to give his orders.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris bounded up the steps in the shadow of Kjarl; bringing his blade down in a mercy stroke on the writhing from of a rioter when the voice of a combat shotgun echoed from the entryway, followed quickly by the scream of Kjarl's chainsword and the wet crunch of bone as the Grey Hunter crushed the skull of the man who had just peppered him with the blast.

The hiss of lasbolts and the lighter slap of boots on stone heralded the arrival of the surviving PDF troopers from the Captain's squad as Kjarl growled quick orders to the pack before turning to the guardsmen and addressing them as well. Keris took a moment to gather his thoughts as the Grey Hunter spoke to the guardsmen and his brothers disappeared through the darkened portal into the chapel's nave. His mentor's stance was still one of contained anger, but there was also a sharp note of concern to the Hunter's scent as he turned his keen eyes back to Keris. 

Keris met the elder's gaze carefully; the beast within him stirring ever so slightly in the presence of the older Wolf. He felt the utmost respect for the Grey Hunter who had been their mentor through the years of training and changes wrought on their bodies by the Canis helix. Kjarl's wisdom and temperance had helped guide him to trust his new senses, yet he found himself sizing up the older Wolf. Keris forced him mind to clear with a whispered prayer and adopted a calm and neutral posture, speaking softly in the language of Fenris,

'I was able to have words with the leader of the planetary forces; a woman by the name of Captain Ktalen, while Lord Blackmane was in conference with the Governor. According to the Captain, nearly two percent of the active forces on this planet have openly broken oath and abandoned their sworn duties to the All-father. Why we were not made aware of this before now, I cannot say, but these defections started soon after the beginning of the riots and have continued up to our arrival. A number of the traitors have been observed coming to this very Chapel at one point or another as it appears to have a significance to the rebel leaders. The Captain's scent carried frustration tainted by resignation, like a wolf that has been muzzled and kept on a short leash for far too long,' Keris paused for a breath to allow Kjarl to take in the information,

'Grey Hunter Kjarl, you have always encouraged me to trust in my instincts,' Keris swallowed hard; he was taking a risk and felt the wolf within his breast send out a silent encouragement. _It trusted him._ He set his shoulders and continued,

'I fear that number may be larger than the Captain was willing to admit, how many within the PDF could be merely parading as loyal subjects to pass information along to their masters? The PDF has been monitoring our movements since we made planetfall from ships in high orbit, but there is a delay in their images of approximately fifteen minutes,' Keris fought to keep his eyes from straying to the milling guardsmen, 'such information of our movements and deployment would be ill if the rebels were to get wind of them.'

'The heads of the mining guilds circle like sharks whom have caught the trace of blood in the water. They have much to gain if the current leadership was to be found lacking. One in particular, the Guilder Tolien, caused my hackles to rise with his eagerness. Something smells foul, the timings of these uprisings across this system were too close not to be planned. It would be good to know if one or more of these guilds have off-world contacts or holdings that would allow for such coordination or has recently acquired more funding than normal from an outside source.'

Keris paused, his mind lingering on the anonymous individual that had been present and then slipped away. He was torn for his suspicions of the figure were just that, suspicions. Yet, there was something that caused the wolf inside him to emit a low growl at the mere thought of the brief memory. 

'There was... another figure present that accompanied both our Lord and the Governor into private conference, yet did not return with them. He was robed and cowled so I did not view his features, but his scent,' Keris had to fight to keep from curling his lip back and baring his teeth, 'his scent set me on edge like no other.'

Keris shifted slightly, the scent of the dead Wolf lingered in the back of his throat and he felt compelled to say something to his mentor. He licked his lips and continued carefully and firmly,

'Hunter Kjarl, we _will_ find your pack-brothers,' Keris locked gazes with the older Wolf, 'have faith, my teacher, that they still fight.'


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek saw a wall and he checked his stride to hurdle it in a single stride, his foot hit the floor and he found himself stumbling towards the nearest cultist, a woman with staring eyes that widened as he barelled down upon her. They collided in a mass of limbs and the woman was thrown backwards by his momentum slamming upon the ground. 

She lay stunned and Iorek checked his balance using the minor impact to correct his balance and spin to his left towards a second man who was rushing frenzidly arms aloft. 

The pistol raised from his side and was levelled at the man's head in the blink of an eye and the recoil pushed upon his shoulder as the pistol reared in his hand causing the cultist's chest to explode in a shower of meshed bone and tissue.

He reached the steps and saw the grey hunter, Vermundr and Keris ahead of him and Alrik just behind him as he readied chainsword and bolter, moving slowly up the steps, looking for signs of life at the windows preparing to respond to any motion or even the glint of metal. He saw something move and he raised the bolt pistol ready to fire y feet above his head lasgun bolts rained down exploding upon the wall and he turned to smile as he noticed the pdf troopers rushing towards them lasguns raised in blistering salvos that caused the soldier to duck back into cover.

Iorek let out a laugh, hoping that the grizzled pdf trooper remained in their midst yet he trotted up the stairs to join the group surrounding the grey hunter. He stared at the behemoth in their midsts and started slightly as he saw the congealing blood that lined the cracks in the warriors power armour. Such a warrior could be wounded, was not beyond all harm.

He was started from his reverie as he heard the grey hunters tremendous voice rumble
"Keris with me, the rest of you inside now, we need to see if there are others of the pack within. Iorek you lead the pack until we catch up to you."

Iorek swelled with pride at the grey hunters words and he nodded before turning to his brothers and whispering through the vox

"Lets go... Alrik keep an eye on our rear"


----------



## Agrippa

Von rushed up the stairs, hearing fire, but seeing none. As he hit the last step, he saw Vermundr pull the trigger on a soldier he had pinned up against the wall. Von then heard a yell, looked to the left of Vermundr and saw Kjarl crush another soldier beneath his boot.

As Kjarl turned towards the party, Von noticed the slight shimmer of blood on the grey hunter's armour. Before Von could think anymore of the blood, the grey hunter let out a roar of a command. "Keris with me, the rest of you inside now, we need to see if there are others of the pack within. Iorek you lead the pack until we catch up to you.". Von took his place behind Iorek as they headed towards the chapel.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik, face throbbing with every heartbeat, could feel the skin binding together like someone threading a needle and sighed slightly, trying to hide the pain from his Pack Mates. However he did not care that he was injured, only wanting to get off this godforsaken world and rest. The Firehawk entered the Church and muttered “Quite impressive” as he slipped his hand down to the Bolt Pistol at his hip, taking the rear at Iorek’ order saying loudly “This place….It does not seem right I have got a bad feeling about this, but then again I never was good with my senses!” he burst out into pain filled laughter and looked at his Brothers saying “For the Allfather”.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr was behind Iorek in the front of the pack as they entered the church, he nudged him lightly and said quietly,* "Brother, these seats above us could be a good vantage point, allow I and another one of us to go and inspect them so that the rest of our pack does not get ambushed."* As he waited for his brother's answer he fingered Njoror's necklace in one of his belt pockets and realized now was not the time to tell his brother. He dearly missed his helmet and huffed quietly but knew that it was better he had full range of all of his own senses, it was a double edged sword he supposed.

He didn't like the feel of of this church at all, too many places for enemies to hide, and the fact that the speaker from the riot was dead on the alter didn't help his cautiousness at all. He would definately fell safer once he or some of his brothers were up on the higher levels.


----------



## unxpekted22

"I agree with Tyr Iorek, if you think it is a good idea then I volunteer to go with him. based on the bodies, i'd say it is a good chance they were ambushed themselves....unless they all killed themselves. I cannot tell form here. Once me and Tyr have your heads covered perhaps the rest of you could safely get a closer look."


----------



## dark angel

Alrik listened to Tyr and Vermundr talking to Iorek and stepped forward saying "Do not be silly Brothers. Kjarl did _not_ tell us to split the Claw, he instructed us to enter. Iorek if you cannot see the flaw in this _plan_ and allow them to leave I shall have to step in, I do not want to do this Brother but it is my duty to assure we are there in time to meet up with Keris and Kjarl. Now Tyr and Vermundr what are you going to do? I suggest you listen to Iorek _very_ closely".


----------



## unxpekted22

After turning to look at Alrik for a moment, Vermundr turns back to Iorek saying, "Its up to you Iorek. It is merely an option. we could just as easily walk in with some of us aiming our pistols forward while others aim them high. If we encounter human opponents i would assume our aim would far surpass theirs, even if they are trained well. However, we must keep in mind that....we saw....._citizens_ killed by bolter rounds, as well as being shot at ourselves. There are other space marines here of some kind, based on what we discovered them to know. that is what i am worried about running into concerning an ambush."

he pauses for a moment thinking,

"Oh, but you were not with us either Alrik. While you were with Blackmane we encountered opposition with bolter weaponry. there has been no time until now to tell you i suppose. I believe Kjarl got a close look at one of them but i did not."


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr turned to regard Alrik, they were easily the two biggest members in the pack but Tyr was just a bit larger and bulkier,* "You were not with us brother when we were ambushed for not covering our arses. It was an option like Vermundr said, if I did not respect Iorek I would have simply gone up there already by myself but I do so I voiced an opinion. Regardless we wouldn't be that far away from each other, no need to shoot down a plan that makes sure we cover all angles."* He turned back to regard Iorek, *"It is your choice brother."* He bowed his head as a sign of respect.


----------



## jaren

'Brothers!' Leif holds up his hands, 'it is not time to question these things, we are in the midst of battle, we must anticipate for the worst, I hold with Alrick in the fact that we must stay together.' looking at all the others, all of whom Leif was forced to look up to, both mentally and physically. 'I know this is my first time on the ground, but is it not true that we are stronger in our support of each other? are we not a single squad, not a band of individuals? I say let them come, we shall win if not for only our faith in the All-Father.' at that Leif backed to the edge of the group and started watching the chapel courtyard.


----------



## deathbringer

(OOC sorry guys hectic week)

They moved forward combat ready, Iorek at their head and he felt rather than saw his brothers fanning out around him. His eyes grew wary as he saw pews and steps rising to a gantry that arced in a concentric circle surrounding a stone plinth, an altar of sacrifice. 

He looked above and ducked slightly trying to scan the upper rows as his skin crawled and he suddenly wished he had Keris's strong nose to certify the bile that rose in his mouth and the stench of death and destruction that swum through his senses.

He looked at the gantry critically and his unease grew. Difficult shot with a pistol but by no means impossible and it was facile with a bolter, any marine could do it as the slope of the gantry gave an almost perfect trajectory. He felt his stomach shift as he imagined hails of bolter shells raining down upon them as they moved towards the alter and he supressed a shiver.

He opened his mouth to express his thoughts when the huge marine Tyr echoed his thoughts supported by Vermundr yet Alrik and Leif expressed doubt and Iorek faltered as each seemed to submit to his authority and leave the decision to him.

It touched him and his nerves steadied as the pressure built and he went with his instinct

"I think Kjarl would rather find us with the area secure then find us dead together. The gantry is perfect place for an ambush and from what i can see. Those wounds are created by high impact bolter rounds. I need to study them carefully but i would rather not take a bullet in the back whilst doing so"

He nodded to Vermundr and Tyr

"With me opinions are always welcome so Vermundr, Tyr go search the gallery. Alrik I would like you to go too as if anyone has the ferocity to cut their way from an ambush it is you. Tyr and Vermundr you defer to Alrik, search the gallery and the return. Leif and Von lets search the pews and the study those corpses".

He clasped Von and Leif on the back as they moved away and muttered
"lets stick close and work together"


----------



## darkreever

Alrik, Tyr, and Vermundr; you nod as Iorek gives you your orders before turning to make your way up. Their is only silence beyond the heavy footfalls of your pack and the low whine of the servo's in your own armour. Carefully stepping out on the second level, your eyes are greeted by the sight of a figure in grey-blue power armour sprawled on the ground. Further inspection shows that he is a grey hunter, felled by a high energy blast that melted his right side, possibly a melta weapon by the looks of the damage. You look down on the rest of your packmates to discover they have found a grey hunter suffering the same fate.

Iorek, Von, and Leif; as the others make their way upwards it is time for you to make your way to the center of the room. You move with caution, the scent in the air not feeling entirely right to your senses. Scanning the rows of pews, you see the form of a Grey Hunter, rushing over you discover that he is dead as well, once again at the hands of bolter weaponry it would seem. Looking up to your packmates above reveal much the same thing, they to have discovered a fallen member of the pack.

Keris; upon hearing your words Kjarl nods while just standing there, up until your final ones. His head snaps up, eyes locking on yours before his scent calms and he puts an armoured hand on your shoulder. _"Your a wise one Keris, you have that above the rest of your pack, but you have not fought with them for as long as I have. I know we will find my brothers, it is the matter of how we will find them, and who we will find them with that concerns me. There are not many that can stand up to the Sons of Russ in a fight, that we must waste our time fighting their lackies and pawns anger me above all else. Now let us hurry and catch up with the others."_ He says to you before releasing his hand from your shoulder and sprinting inside the chapel with you hot on his heels.


Everyone; Keris and Kjarl run into the open chamber that the rest of the pack have fanned out in. A jerk of Iorek's head upwards to the second level is all it takes to tell the newly arrived wolves of the wereabouts of Alrik, Tyr, and Vermundr. A nod back from Kjarl indicates that he approves of the idea and he starts to make his way over to Iorek, motioning for Keris to join the others on the second level. The bark of a bolter erupts throughout the chamber before the side of Gareth's neck explodes in a shower of blood and bone and he hits the ground, the artery in his neck destroyed and no way for his body to heal the wound.

Those of you on the ground level take cover around the pews, crouching low and aiming wildly with your pistols not knowing where the shot had come from. _"Show yourself you coward! Have enough backbone to face your enemy!"_ Kjarl snarls to the air, expecting only the return of gunfire. Instead it is a voice that responds, not a weapon. _"And who are you to make such a demand?"_ The voice yells back, either from the vox of a helmet or from an augmatic as the lack of emotion could not possibly be from a normal voice.

_"I am Kjarl of the Space Wolves, you are nothing more than a cowardly traitor to me; show yourself and let us see just who such a coward is!"_ Kjarl yells in response. Alrik, Tyr, and Vermundr, you three took cover as well, but it is only now that you see some shifting opposite you on the same level. Before you have time to yell a warning, a large figure jumps up from behind the raised pews of the second floor and levels a multi-melta at Kjarl. _"I am a head of the hydra, I am Alpharius."_ He states before pulling the trigger and a bright stream of gas strikes Kjarl in the chest, burning away his entire top half before the shooter ducks back into cover.

As he does this, a figure emerges from the pillars around the alter wielding a bolter with attached sarissa and fires into the group, rounds pinging off the hard wood pews and your own armour. _"I am Alpharius."_ He answers before ducking back. Like the first shooter, as this second enemy ducks into cover a third marine makes his existence known, between those of you on the second level and the first shooter. He carries a modified bolter with extended barrel and a scope, a shot blowing out from his gun and blasting into Tyr's normal armoured arm. _"I am Alpharius."_ He, like the others, states with a hint of a laugh in his tone.

[Iorek, Leif, Von; the second marine is taking shots at you three from the altar, from the sights you get of him, he is the same person that you engaged earlier and Njoror went after. The scent of Njoror lingers about him. You cannot help the others until he is dealt with, but be wary the marine with multi-melta is still above you. Leif, your gun, like the heavy weapon marines, cannot cut through the stone of the second level, it is simply to thick and you do not have enough time to concentrate on a spot. What do you do now? Fall back and try to make your way to the others or engage this marine on the ground level first?]

[Alrik, Tyr, and Vermundr; you three either dive or fall into cover from the marine with modified bolter. It is clear he is the sniper from before, you can see it in the eyes of his unarmoured head. The others are pinned down below you and the marine with multi-melta is taking pot shots at you with a bolt pistol until he can again fire his heavy weapon. You need to get through the third marine before you can engage him, but be wary of his gun. What will you three do? Engage this 'sniper' or try to get passed him to stop the heavy gunner?]

[Keris, when the three revealed themselves you were still on the stairs, so you did not see Kjarl's death though you did hear it. Once you exit the stairs the third marines back will be to you, but as soon as you exit the heavy weapon marine will notice you and aim his pistol at you. What will you do? Help your packmates on this level by engaging the 'sniper' or those below by trying to fight the heavy gunner?]

[None of these three can be defeated in a single post and all are veterans of war. They have sprung a trap that not even Kjarl had been able to see, and he paid the price for that.]


----------



## Euphrati

Kjarl had taken his words in silence, nodding to himself as Keris had relayed his impressions of the meeting in the palace, until Keris had trusted his instincts about his mentor's concern for the pack that had preceded them to this chapel; _they were the brothers that Kjarl had temporarily left to lead Keris's young Claw_.

The Grey Hunter's head came up and his gaze locked with Keris's icy blue eyes, age and experience met youth and intuition as the Hunter's scent calmed. Keris felt the beast within him acknowledge the one that peered from behind the elder's facade with interest and respect. Kjarl's words washed over him and the older Wolf placed a heavy hand upon his shoulder as Keris felt his mentor's praise fill him with a strength of will and righteousness,

'I walk but in the shadow of the wisdom of my elders,' he inclined his head slightly as the Grey Hunter let his hand drop and turned to sprint into the darkness of the chapel, Keris loping quickly along in his wake.

As the cool shadows swallowed him up, Keris's eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom of the chapel. A collection of smells wafted through the air; the scent trials of his clawbrothers, those of other Wolves, the incense used in benedictions to the All-Father, and under it all, a faint scent he found vaguely familiar yet failed to place before he lost it in the air currents.

The beast within his mind stirred, the place made him feel uneasy and he searched the blue shadows with wary eyes. Iorek, Von, Gareth, and Leif were in the chapel proper; Iorek's brief nod told him where the others of his pack had gone. Kjarl's look and scent was all that was needed to tell Keris that the elder wished him to join his brothers above them and he quickly backtracked to the stairs they had passed by upon entering. 

Keris paused for a heartbeat before the dark maw of the stair, peering into the darkness as his eyes followed the curving path of stone that disappeared upwards like the spiraling shell of a nautilus. He swallowed a growl and ducked under the low lentil of the door. The beast inside paced uneasily as the hewn stone walls of the stairwell, not built for the stature of a Son of Russ, seemed to press in around him. Keris bared his fangs against the feeling of claustrophobia and tightened his grip on the chainsword that he still held freely by his side, pressing upwards into the gloom against the protests of the wolf in his mind.

He was about halfway up the lengthy spiral when the echoing report of the bolter shot sliced through the darkness, freezing him in place with his hearts beating like a mewed raptor against the boney cage of his ribs. Kjarl's shout shook him from his frozen state like a terrier shakes a rat and Keris surged upwards as the cold voice answered the Grey Hunter back, his fear of the enclosed pace forgotten and dread in every scrambling bound. His mentor snarled back a challenge and the voice that answered was followed by the thunderclap of displaced air as Kjarl's low growl was cut short with a finality of death. Keris knew the hissing voice of a melta weapon and cold fingers of rage gripped his mind, the wolf inside him bayed in anger and loss. He didn't have to see the scene unfolding within the chapel proper to know his mentor had joined his fallen pack-brothers in death.

Other voices were followed by the roar of bolters as Keris finally made it to the top of the stairs, bursting through the ornately carved doorway and into the open air with a feral snarl. His senses took in the scene in a millisecond; his clawmates were far to the right of where he had surged forth, yet two other armoured forms were present as well. 

Clad in an antique copy of the power amour he wore himself but painted a rick purple with green trim work, one of the astartes stood halfway between him and his brothers, with his back to Keris. The other was to his left, approximately twenty five meters away near the lip of the balcony and gripping a glowing multi-melta and a bolt pistol in his armoured hands.

The marine with the heavy weapon reacted to his entrance immediately, pointing the bolt pistol in his direction and sending a burst of shells barreling down upon him. The shots were ill-aimed, impacting against the wall behind Keris in sprays of shattered stone, but one of the shots found a home right above his left collar bone, the miniature warhead punching through the small gap between his shoulder guard and gorget before erupting above his shoulder blade in the back. Pain bloomed from the wound drawing a snarl from the beast within him that echoed in his ears as he spun back into the shadow of the doorframe.

Keris's mind worked at a frantic pace, sorting through the events and the heraldry of their attackers from the knowledge placed in his mind by the teaching engines. Purple and green, multi-headed hydra iconography, the name 'Alpharius'. _The traitorous Alpha Legion._ Not much was known about the XX Legion, they fought wars through deceit and treachery, hiding in the shadows like vipers not facing their foes like true warriors. They were cowards, yet Keris and his brothers had walked right into their trap.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Keris flicked his vox-bead to the channels used by the Space Wolves and then snatched a frag grenade from the belt around his waist, calculating the distance and arming the weapon even as he spoke into the vox,

'This is Keris of Grey Hunter Kjarl's Claw! We have been ambushed by traitors in the armour of astartes and claiming to be 'Alpharius'! Kjarl is down! The agents of Chaos are amongst us, Brothers! For Russ and the All-Father they will pay for their sins through death!' Keris didn't know if anyone was listening, but he needed to try and alert the others if he and his brothers fell here. 

With his message sent, Keris spun back out from the cover of the door and into the fire of the traitor marine again, a snap of his wrist sent the primed grenade in a deadly arc towards the Legionnaire. Keris dropped back into the cover of the abused doorframe counting the fuse in his mind. Two heartbeats later there was an explosion and Keris lunged from the doorway with a howl pouring from his lips in the wake of the weapon. He had neither the height nor the mass of many of his brothers, but the righteous rage that burned inside him lent strength to his charge as the chainsword in his grip screamed up to speed.

The distance between them closed in an eye blink as Keris charged headlong to meet the foe that had slain his kin, the beast inside him howling in rage and pain.


----------



## dark angel

He was right! Alrik was right! Splitting the Pack had been foolish! Kjarl now lay dead, and all because Iorek had not heeded his warning. The Sniper was standing several metres away firing at Alrik and his two entrenched Brothers, every now and again a shot would ricochet off his shoulder pauldrons and whiz into the ceiling above, showering him in a thick grey dust and pounding his already battered armour even further and angering its Machine Spirit.

His Bolt Pistol was clutched tightly in both hands, ready to open fire upon the Sniper. Alrik remembered how moments before he and his two Brethren had been inspecting the corpse of a Grey Hunter, the Sniper revealing himself and opening fire on the trio sending them into cover, Alrik himself had went down onto hands and knees as rounds had whistled past with a dull humming noise that tingled his powerful senses.

Alrik turned his head to Tyr and Vermundr and shouted “Brothers! We need to take him down!” Alrik looked up at the golden-olive skin of the Traitor Legionnaire and a pang of both rage and fear bit from within “When I say so open fire! Kill the bastard!” he let go of the Bolt Pistol with one hand and said a quick prayer to the Machine Spirit within his weapon asking it to direct his rounds into the enemy and rid the universe of its foul mark once and for all. “1..2..3..4..5..NOW!” And with that Alrik Firehawk, Space Wolf opened fire on his treacherous brethren.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr roared in pain as the sniper's shot went clean through his arm making him drop his bolt pistol as his hand went limp. He cursed in thick Fenrisian and dove behind a stone column to keep from Kjarl's fate, these traitorous bastards were good, they had sprung a trap that none of them had seen and they were going to pay if they didn't act quickly. Tyr heard Alrik's order and grunted before answering, *"Brother my shooting arm has been disabled, if you can keep both of these traitors' heads down I can close in on them and enter into cloe combat with you and Vermundr close behind!"* 

As he waited for Alrik's answer he dipped his head to peek around the column and saw Keris charge the traitor with the melta weapon and realized now was the time to move or his brother would surely perish. As Alrik and Vermundr opened fire on the sniper and Keris charged the marine with the melta gun Tyr had silently made his way around the skirts of the second level crouching the whole way until he was as close as he could get without his bulk being seen. With a bellowing roar of anger and hate he rounded the column, his powerfist ready to strike, and quickly closed the gap between him and the sniper.


----------



## unxpekted22

On Alrik's command, Vermundr twisted around throwing one arm over the pew in front of him and let loose with his pistol, some of his shots seemed to make contact with the sniper but he could not tell for sure. either way, the traitor was definitely not dead. In fact, Vermundr was sure he could hear the bastard chuckling to himself as he sat in cover.

Vermundr noticed only two bolt pistols had fired, This realization was met with Tyr's explanation. he had been hit. he wanted to go into close combat with one arm...and with a powerfist.

opening the channel Vermundr says to him, "Tyr, I'd say it sounds like a good plan since we don't have any other, but with one arm and a power fist, he will probably strike you down before you even swing at him."

But then he saw Keris charge at the marine with the multi-melta.

Vermundr wanted to tell Alrik that it was his turn to command and make the decision as to whether or not Tyr's plan should be carried out, but Tyr was right, with Keris charging there was no time. Tyr had a hurt arm and a slow moving weapon. if any of them should be charging into close combat it was himself. he followed Keris's example, took a frag grenade off of his belt, yanked the pin threw it over his head at the sniper, picked his axe back up and held it high over his head while charging and emptying rounds towards the chaos marine's position.


----------



## dark angel

No, no, no! Tyr! Alrik was furious, the Astartes had bounded off and taken the fight to the Sniper, yes he was big but the Traitor Legionnaire possibly had ten thousand years worth of close combat ability and he knew the pup was no match for a Chaos Space Marine, never mind a sneaky Alpha Legionnaire. And then Keris had thrown himself at the Melta-Marine. Alrik looked at Vermundr as he threw a grenade and charged forwards to aid his Brother, the Firehawk rolled down and scooped up his fellow Astartes fallen Bolt Pistol, stepping forward he bellowed “Vermundr! Help Tyr! Im going for Keris!” and bounded forwards, heart pounding as he hoped for his wise Pack Mate.


----------



## Agrippa

Von took cover behind the closest pillar, as his brothers above opened fire upon the chaos-marines. Von fired in short burst upon the legionaries on the ground lvl, to keep them behind cover, and motioned for Iorek and Leif to take cover. Von looks over and see's the remains of Kjarl, "They will pay for their betrayal brother. They will pay with blood.". Von popped out and fired more shots upon the Chaos-marine.


----------



## darkreever

(Agrippa, come on, this whole RP all I've ever seen from you is a post of nothing more than three lines when everyone else works hard to do more than that. Its like your hardly part of the group from what I see.)

Keris; You run with bolt rounds whizzing past your head just as the grenade goes off, sending shrapnel and wood flying. Ignoring the shards bouncing off your own armour, you leap at the traitor marine with the multi-melta only to have an armoured fist ram into your gut and send you sprawling to the ground. With stars filling your vision, you just barely have enough time to roll away before a giant leg crashes down where your head previously was. _"Squirm all you want wea.."_ He begins to say before something large barrels into the marine and cuts him off.

[Alrik and the traitor have gone over, collect yourself and get after them.]

Alrik; you charge out from the pews and past the traitor with the sniper rifle, to busy with Tyr and Vermundr to stop you from getting beyond him. Within seconds you cross the gap between yourself and the heavy weapon marine only to see him land a blow on Keris and send him to the ground. 

Dropping your shoulder, you ram into the marine while his attention is on the downed Keris and crash into him. Your momentum, however, keeps you both going over the lip of the second level and you both crush pews of the ground level.

[The traitor was caught off guard, but for the moment it is just you two; get up and fight with him. He is not as big or tough as you, but his experience does give him an edge. The multi-melta fell with you two as it is attached to a power pack on his back.]

Vermundr and Tyr; you charge the sniper traitor, a grenade forcing him back into cover and allowing you both to close in with him. As you do, Tyr swings wide with his powerfist only to have the traitor duck low and smash the butt of his bolter into the young wolf's face. Vermundr hacks at him with his axe, the blow barely deflected off the traitors pouldron as he rams an elbow into your chest to force you back a step. Swinging the bolter one handed, the traitor fires a quick shot that hits Vermundr in the side, pain flaring up, but causes no major damage, while in the other hand he brandishes a combat blade.

[Vermundr, the shot did no major damage beyond the pain, Tyr the blow to the face disoriented you and is making it harder to see. Getting that gun from his hands might be a very good idea, as a direct shot at this range will be fatal.]

Von; youand Laef jump up from cover just as the third traitor does; his reflex's and experience better than yours, he snaps off a quick burst that explodes Laef's head and sends his body to the ground. Your own shots hit the traitor square in the chest, one blowing away a large chunk of ceramite and forcing him back to cover before a large mass hits the pews far to your left.

[Your shots caused damage, now might be a good time to press the attack.]

[Iorek, hopefully you get a chance to post before the fighting comes to a close.]


----------



## dark angel

Breathing hard, Alrik pushed his right shoulder forwards and slammed into the Chaos Space Marine that had nearly crushed Keris’ head with one giant, armoured foot. There was a bone shaking crunch as both Astartes kept going, tumbling over the edge they fell gracefully like a pair of angels, one a corrupt Legionnaire who had thrown himself into the oblivion that was the Horus Heresy, the other full of pride and honour. 

The Space Wolf and Alpha Legionnaire slammed into the ground floor with a resounding crunch. Bolt Pistols spinning away under a half ruined pew, Alrik reached down to his side and unsheathed his combat blade, still lying on the ground his eyes narrowing on the enemy three metres or so away. Pulling himself up to his knees the young Firehawk, last of a mighty empire, spat “Foul servant of Chaos, prepare to burn in purgatory fore there is no place for you by the side of the Emperor!” the serpent inclined its head and whispered “Nor you loyalist scum, nor you”. 

Alrik’ face contorted into a snarl, the Astartes pulled himself up and charged forwards, the Alpha Legion Chaos Space Marine mimicked his moves, raising one fist he brought it down upon the Space Wolves head, sending him to the floor sharply. Alrik brought his blade upwards, through the weak knee joint within the Traitors armour, the Astartes stepped backwards, pain burning throughout his leg. Alrik pulled himself upwards, dawning over the ancient he let out a feral howl and punched towards his head, as he did so one hand came up and caught his, twisting he fell back to his knees with a yelp.

Alrik, using all of his energy barrelled into the Chaos Marine, swiping his legs he fell back and brought the Son of Russ to the ground with him. The Firehawk raised his free arm, combat blade now dripping blood and clenched tightly, and with a roar swung it downwards towards the traitors head bellowing “Foul creature! Die!” as he did so however a punch struck him in the gut, forcing him to drop the blade. The true meaning of hand to hand now began as blows were traded, armour creaking as it was pounded like a drum.


----------



## unxpekted22

The grenade had worked, and with the traitor in cover Vermundr and Tyr reached his position successfully. Their duty as Blood Claws would be tested like never before. 

Since Tyr had a slight head start over Vermundr he reached the traitor first, but Vermundr's axe swung right over Tyr's large shoulder pad as he stepped back from a wound to the face. 

As the traitor hit Tyr in the face with his gun, he saw Vermundr leaping toward him behind his pack-mate, so he spun around causing Vermundr's axe to be deflected by his armor, and brought his elbow forward into Vermundr's solar plexus, causing him to stagger back as well. At the completion of the traitor's 360 degree spin, he brought his bolter to bear again, firing rounds into Vermundr's side.

Vermundr crashed into one of the long pews, the pain in his side burning in his mind even with the realization of no major damage. But that was too close, he was lucky, and he wouldn't be so lucky if the chaos marine had even a second to aim his weapon better.

With this thought Vermundr's reflexes acted for him. He threw his axe toward the traitor's face with it spinning through the air. It actually made contact with the blade side, but was deflected. With still no time to spare, he had to keep the traitor busy enough so he could not fire the specialized bolter again. 

The rage from Vermundr's brothers falling around him finally built up and was released, the suddenness of it coming on even surprised himself. The moment his axe ricocheted off of the alpha legionnaire's shoulder armor and flew into the pews somewhere, Vermundr threw himself at the chaos marine in a bloodthirsty rage. He tackled the enemy to the ground, who could hear Vermundr's loud wolf like growls coming from inside his helmet as he tried to block both of Vermundr's fists with only one hand of his own.

Vermundr yells out to Tyr, "_Tyr, take his weapon from him now!!_" 

sitting on top of the traitor's chest trying to pummel him with both his fists he manages to land a punch to the traitor's face. The traitor could only block two fists with one for so long, his arm holding the bolter trapped under Vermundr's left leg. 

The traitor caught his follow up punch in his hand and both tried to push in the opposite direction. with is fist shaking in the traitor's hand, Vermundr leaned close enough to the traitor for him to see Vermundr's enraged eyes through the red lenses of his helmet and said in a growl, _"I don't see you giggling like a fool now you *traitorous bastard*, did my fist wipe the grin off of your dirty face?" _

At this comment, the alpha legionnaire looked straight back into the red eyes of Vermundr's helmet and burst into chaotic laughter.

He hoped to Russ and the All-father alike that Tyr was clear headed enough after that blow to get the bolter away from the chaos space marine, now.


----------



## Agrippa

( Sorry about that Reever, my mind has just been blank, hopefully this one is much better.)

Von, seeing the chuck of the alpha legionnaire fly away, took his chance, he charged forward firing in short spaced bursts to keep the marine behind cover. As Von got halfway he dropped behind a pew and let the chaos marine fire a shot.Von popped up again and fired and moved forward, he drew chain sword as he came closer to the piller. Von, fired on the right side of the pillar then rushed to the left side of the pillar with the chain sword at full RPM's. As he turned the corner, he saw the Chaos Marine's back, he was much bigger this close up, Von swung down on the marines shoulder, in the blink of an eye, the legionnaire had swung around and deflected Von's blow with his blaster. Before Von could let out another swing he was punched in the chest by the much bigger chaos marine, knocking Von back up against the wall. The Chaos marine raised his blaster and took a shot, Von rolled out of the way just in time, and took cover behind the closest pew. Von had hit him once and seen the blood, "if it bleeds, it can be killed."Von thought to himself. Von put his bolter over the pew and took a couple shots, popped his head out, then withdrew it back behind the pew. The marine was way to fast for another Melee assault, and Von feared his dodging of fire could only last so long till he was hit. Von reloaded his bolter, as the empty magazine hit the ground, an idea popped into Von's head, he picked up the magazine, Von prepared to come out of his cover for a brief second, his plan was to throw the magazine and step out at the same time, the magazine would hit the pew on the other side of the pillar, hopefully causing the chaos marine to turn towards it and fire, at that time Von would take a shot to the back of the legionnaire. Von threw the magazine and stepped out, as the magazine hit the pew, von saw a blast of melta gun go off, he raised his bolter and as he came around the pillar, he saw the back of the huge chaos marine, he fired several shots into his back, he caught a quick glimpse of blood before he dived back behind the pew. Von had gotten lucky, their was no way he would fall for it again, Von was back to step one, but he had drawn blood, and his confidence was much higher that he could win this fight.


----------



## deathbringer

(apologies this post has no guarantee of quality. Also reever im being a bit liberal. ?)

It was like someone had switched off the sound, one moment he was filled with confidence, the next a mangled corpse lay upon the ground, the top half of the magnificent grey hunter burned away to leave his legs mangled. As the severed spine rocked Iorek was already moving and he raised his pistol only to be knocked back into the pew by an explosive round impacting upon his chest. He slid backwards and lay immobile for a second as doubts surfaced and his hand began to tremble.

It was his fault... should he have kept the group together... would that have made a difference.. yet Kjarl had approved... or had he... but he was dead... Iorek had sent him to his doom. He missed Njoror at that moment, wished his brother was their to pull him to his feet, stir him into action, tell him their was nothing he could do.... tell him it wasnt his fault.

He dropped to a crouch slamming a fresh clip into his bolt pistol for no good reason counter balaning the slight weight with his chain sword as he looked longingly at the smoking remains of Kjarl's bolter. He saw Von and Leif on the other side preparing to emerge and he realised this was his job. He led the group and he had to show his qualities even though none could see. He signalled to vermundr as the marine prepared to step out and he aimed mentally at the spot where the marine would emerge. As Von stepped out Iorek popped up and aimed as the marine stepped out.

Yet a mass of writhing bodies fell tumbling over the edge to slam upon the pews infront of him and he held his fire as he saw Alrik's snarling form grappling with the marine. Leaf's head exploded and he saw his brother fall yet Von managed to blast a chunk of the traitors armour away yet he was suspended once more. Who to help... Alrik was in more danger and as the traitor marine stepped back into cover Von charged. 

"Dont" yelled Iorek yet it was futile, the marine could step out and pick his spot, they had to work together yet maybe Von's idiotic action would by him a little time. He vaulted the pew and ran at a crouch towards the struggling mass of limbs watching as the marine flipped Alrik over slightly exposing his broad back and side for a second and Iorek swung his blade at the fweak armour under the marines arm hoping Alrik could keep the marine occupied and careful ready to swing his blade away if he could hit Alrik with his stroke.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's face flared with immense pain as the butt of the bolter smashed into his skull. He stumbled back two or three steps before shaking his head and trying to get a hold on himself, his vision was still fuzzy but since his helmet was off he could still use his other senses to get around. He could smell Vermundr and heard his brother's plea and made his way to the fumbling mass in front of him, his vision finally coming to him, and saw the traitor's bolter swinging wildly. He planted a massive foot just above the traitor's elbow and grabbed his fore-arm with his power fist and pulled with all of his might, the Alpha Legionaire's arm coming off with a sickening pop and jetting blood. Tyr howled with battlelust and tossed the arm to his side before pulling his arm back to slam his powerfist into the traitor's exposed head, his arm flying with amazing speed toward the marine.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik snarled once more, this time sending blood and spittle flying onto the inside of his helm. He could feel the Machine Spirit within roaring with him as his mighty power armour began to break under the continuous blows being loaded upon him by the Traitor Astartes. He smelt Iorek approaching and let out a faint smile, punching both curled fists into the Astartes chest a plan flickered to his mind like a light bulb in a dark room. 

He rolled over onto his back, gripping the shoulder pauldrons of the Chaos Space Marine he pulled it onto him and wrapped his arms around the Marines neck, pulling the Marines head into his chest and tightened his hold pulling the head in even closer, ignoring the punches being dealt upon him as the paint began to scrape away from both his enemies helm and his own chest. Staring up he roared “Iorek! Kill this beast! Go for the vital organs!”


----------



## Euphrati

Blood thundered in his ears and white-hot shards of shrapnel kissed the plates of his armour as Keris surged forward in the wake of the grenade, but the holy wargear was proof against the metal rain. The distinct voice of a bolt round's miniature rocket hissed by his head, the traitor marine had weathered the grenade with the skill of a veteran of ten thousand years. 

The gap closed in a heartbeat, Keris's bounding charge spoiling the aim of the traitor. He launched himself through the lifting cloud of debris with a snarl, intent on slaking his rage in the blood of the oathbreaker. 

The traitor simply set his stance and met Keris's charge with his fist. The blow caught the young Wolf right beneath his ribs, where the cabled snaked out from under the protective breastplate and across his stomach. It felt as if he had run headlong into a baneblade, the muscles in his chest went into spasm and his vision swam as Keris collapsed to the cold stone floor in a clatter of ceramite and plasteel. 

The wolf inside him thrashed and howled in rage and pain. It was furious at the wound to its pride by being felled by a single blow. Keris gasp for breath, trying to bring his body back under control and fight the raging beast in his mind at the same time. A dark shadow passed over him and instinct kicked in as he rolled to the side just as an armoured boot shattered the stone where his head had just rested. The traitor marine snarled down at him and Keris bared his fangs back as his vision cleared. The renegade raised his boot again and Keris fought to bring his chainsword up in time when Alrik's scent washed over him and a roaring form slammed into the traitor like a thunderbolt.

The marine's attention had been focused on Keris and he was ill prepared for the wrath of the larger Wolf, but Alrik's momentum was such that both marines went over the lip of the overhang with a howl. Keris kicked out with his legs, arching his back and leaping back to his feet with a nimble move. He peered down into the nave to see Alrik and the traitor struggling amidst the wreckage of the pews that had broken their fall. The wolf inside snarled in outrage; _that was his kill! How dare Alrik try to claim his kill!_

The two struggling astartes had fallen nearby Iorek, and Keris felt a sudden flash of outrage as Iorek turned to help Alrik as well. The emotions of the beast were primal and Keris was shocked by the strength of the desire; for a moment he wanted nothing more than to jump down and stake his claim over his brothers. His hackles rose and a deep growl rumbled from between his bared fangs when it suddenly hit him that his brothers weren't trying to shame him by their actions, in fact Alrik had simply come to his aid when he needed it the most. Cold logic warred with the beast, and a wash of humiliation drove the thoughts from his mind. If Alrik had not come to his aid he very well might have been dead by now, crushed under the booted foot of the Alpha Legionnaire. The realization cleared his mind like being plunging into the fringed Fenrisian oceans. 

A sudden movement caught Keris's eye, a third traitor ducked back into cover behind the altar as Von let loose a spray of fire. Keris felt a slight shock that Iorek had risked turning away from the threat to aid Alrik, but perhaps it was a good sign; perhaps the animosity between the two Wolves could be healed in the fires of combat, but that also left Von without aid. Keris judged the distance quickly. The drop was about ten meters and the altar was far, but he could make it. Keris spun away from the lip and took three great bounding strides before pivoting and charging back towards the edge.

With a roar he planted a booted foot on the lip and launched himself into the open air, out and over his struggling clawbrothers. For a brief moment he was weightless, then gravity took hold and his flight arched downwards. The stone of the short rise to the altar shattered with a thunderclap report under his weight and Keris pitched himself forward, tucking his shoulder and rolling to take the momentum out of his leap. He would only have a moment to take the hidden traitor by surprise and he wasted not a heartbeat to surge forward over the bodies of the dead rioters, his chainsword screaming in his gauntlet. With a bared fangs and a prayer to the Allfather in his heart, Keris leapt in the last direction he had seen the traitor astartes take cover.


----------



## darkreever

(Just some stuff that needs to be said; for those of you wearing helmets keep in mind you are sealing yourself off from the outside world. You are not able to pick up the scents of others, there is a reason the Space Wolves are not the biggest fans of helmets. Also, keep in mind only one of your enemies has a melta weapon and it was only used once, the rest are armed with bolters and you are all armed with bolt pistols, not bolters. Now, onto the update itself.)


Vermundr and Tyr; Even as Tyr managed to rip the traitor's arm from his body, he remains laughing despite the damage, even going so far as to ram his head up with an unexpected surge of strength and smash into your own face, rolling you into Tyr's path and forcing the large wolf to alter his attack and miss. You manage to get back up in time to see the traitor dig something out of an ammo pouch, the trigger for an explosive of some kind.
An explosion rocks the second level and light floods into your location, the backwash of an engine flooding the upper level before a figure crashes into the ground between you both and the traitor. The figure is a giant amongst even space wolves thanks to his ancient terminator armour, and lifts up a storm bolter in one arm, releasing a long burst into the traitor and felling him in one blow. The figure turns to you two, a wolf helm hiding all of features save his two ice blue eyes. _"To the rest of your pack brothers! Help has arrived, we shall kill these bastards!"_ The wolf priest roars while throwing an arm out towards the stairs you had come through before, a crozius crackling to life at the end of his armoured limb.

[Vermundr and Tyr, wolf priest Sigurd has just blasted a hole in the chapel and jumped out from the assault ramp of a thunderhawk to aid you directly. You can see from the lip of this level that Alrik, Iorek, and Von are all down and Keris is locked in combat with one of the traitors while the heavy weapon marine responsible for Kjarl's death is limping towards his brother traitor. Because of the backwash of the thunderhawk's engines, you cannot hear the aproach of other Space Wolves. Going through the stairs will take a small amount of time, and you will not be able to go to your downed brothers and try and engage the traitors; you must pick one.]


Alrik; you hold the traitor marines head to your chest and yell for Iorek to get him, but you have made the fatal error of alerting your enemy to your allies aproach. Slamming both hands together, the traitor rams them both down on your helmet, crushing the front inward and shattering the lenses; glass and sparks flying as he does so. The act forces you to loosen your grip, which is all the marine needs to break free, and in one motion tears off his own damaged helmet.

Iorek; you are moments from reaching Alrik and the traitor when you see the enemy slam his cupped fists into Alrik's face, crushing the helmet, and for all you know, Alrik's face with it. This horror is made more possible to you when the marine breaks free from Alrik's grip, tearing off his own helmet and throwing it at you. Were the distance between you two further apart, you'd have easily been able to dodge, but so close, the helmet smacks into your leg just as it is about to touch ground and forces you to fall instead.

Before you hit the ground, you get a look at the face of your enemy, heavyset with dulled grey eyes, a shaved head and some ancient bullet wound on his upper lip are all that fill this marine's features. As you fall to the ground, the traitor rushes forward from his crouched form and hits you in your side, a stabbing pain flaring up as he plants Alrik's own combat knife between weak points in your own armour. Tossing you aside, the traitor gets up just as a ripple of explosions go off from somewhere above. _"Viln's down! Time to fall back Betun!"_ He yells in the exact voice you heard before; emotionless and seemingly without any soul.

[Alrik, your helmet is crushed so that you cannot get it off and your sight is more restricted, due to it being crushed in and all. It has been destroyed, none of the internal systems work; you only have the few things that would normally be superimposed over your vision. The traitor marine has moved away from you and is limping towards the altar, having picked up his bolt pistol along the way. You can hear the sounds of other aproaching.

Iorek, the blade is lodged between two of your ribs and you have lost your bolt pistol but not your chainsword. You can fight through the pain and go after the retreating traitor marine or go to Alrik and see if he is alive. You have not noticed the aproach of others, the battle around you and your injuries having temporarily dulled your senses.]

Von; as you dive back into cover the traitor unleashes a torrent of bolter fire in your direction, chewing away at your cover with shots ricocheting off your pouldron. Suddenly the firing stops, and before you can do anything a trio of orbs land at your feet: grenades! You dive away, but they explode before you can get far, destroying your cover and sending you sprawling to the ground wracked in pain. Your hearing is slurred and you cannot make out the words of the heavy weapon traitor marine; to you they are unintelligable sounds. A crash in front of your eyes see's a wall of blue-grey power roll past you.

Keris; you hit the ground hard, rolling forward you spring up and are greeted by the sight of the traitor stabbing the sarrissa attached to his bolter at your midsection. You block the blow with your chainsword before someone shouts from behind you. _"Viln's down! Time to fall back Betun!"_ To which the traitor before you locks eyes with you through his helmet. _"Looks like playtime is over lapdog; I shall see to your death myself when next we meet."_ He says before trying to break away, only for you to jump in his way with a swipe of your chainsword, forcing him to block with his own weapon.

[Von, your hurting and your senses are a mess; you know there is an enemy behind you and you still have your bolt pistol in your hand. Because of the mess that is your senses, you cannot hear the sound of others aproaching.

Keris, you have heard and seen the aproach of others in the colours of the Space Wolves, most notably the unmistakable form of the wolf lord himself. Either fall back and try to aid your packmates or attempt to keep fighting this traitor.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr blinked in surprise at the turn of events, Wolf Priest Sigurd stood before him and Vermundr in all his glory and it took all of his willpower to get himself moving again. He turned and jerked his head at Vermundr to follow him down the steps, his vision finally returning fully to him. As he pounded down the steps he thought on his next plan of action, there three things he could do, go to the aide of his fallen brothers, help his brother Keris defeat his opponent or go after the last traitor before he had a chance to escape.

He decided that the limping melta marine was to be their target, he was the biggest liability and Vermundr and he had to get rid of him, *"Brother we must attack the limping traitor with the multi-melta! Follow me in!" * With a howl he thundered down the last two steps almost unable to hear anything because of the Thunderhawk's engines, the noise would prove to be an advantage to he and Vermundr, it meant that hopefully the traitor they were to attack would not hear them coming until it was too late.

Coming out of the stairwell Tyr saw what was going on in the middle of the chapel, Keris was locked in combat with one traitor while Iorek, Alrik and Von were on the floor injured and the last traitor was making his way to aide his brother. Tyr jerked his head to the sides of the chapel that he and Vermundr could use to flank the traitor and get behind him and began to move quickly along the edges until he and Vermundr were in position. He hoped that his brother still had his bolt pistol, *"Fire at him with your bolt pistol to keep his head down while we charge, I don't want a gapping hole in my chest!" * He chuckled at his remark and slapped Vermundr on the shouldergaurd before activating his power fist and charging the marine that would most assuredly have attacked Keris.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek was sprinting flat out as the unimaginable happened. The traitor crushed Alrik's head, helmet and all between his hands. He felt his feet falter as shards of glass exploded outwards under the treacherous fingers yet he moved on swinging his chainsword down as the fingers squeezed and he saw wires snapping and the traitor wrenched himself free. He moved his bolt pistol,swinging it upwards in frantic desperation as alarm bells rang inside his head. It was too late and the traitor whirled his arm tearing of his own helmet to hurl it at him in a fluid motion sending it spinning through the air towards him. Iorek looked into the marines eyes as he straightened from Alrik's motionless form a combat knife gleaming in his hand. 

It was a deadened face, emotionless and cold almost as if the marine was devoid of any emotion, sentiment or soul. The mouth was a small thin line that bore no expression and chilled Iorek's soul and his own lips tore apart in a snarl that was filled with revulsion, terror and an undercurrent of panic as the helmet barreled towards his falling leg.

Iorek was midstip as the helmet hit him and their momentums collided dueled as he struggled to stay on his feet yet the helmet pulled his leg and he toppled his bolt pistol flying from his hand as he saw the traitor loom over him and felt something pierce the spot under his elbow stabbing deep within his ribs and he howled reaching desperately for the traitors face yet the marine batted his groping hands away kicking him casually aside.

Agony flared and he could feel his heart pounding in terror as he realised the certainty of his own death, their was no apothecary... he was going to die.. his chest heaved and he screamed as the knife point pressed upon his lung. The knife was lodged but he couldnt leave it their, every breath caused a shard of pain in his lung. He was going to die anyway... and he watched the marine move away.. he could take him down with him. He tried to rise yet his breathing caused him to collapse

He held his breath and reached for the knife hilt as he dragged himself into a sitting position and gritted his teeth as his fingers curled upon the knife hilt. He pulled and the knife dislodged a little yet Iorek writhed as his sense were set upon fire, the flesh around the knife burning as his legs twisted. He gritted his teeth his eyes fixed upon the back of that souless head as a cold chilling voice hollored something and desperation flared. He couldn't die alone, failing in this world.

He saw his dreams before his eyes, lascannons and heavy bolters and he roared as his fingers twisted upon the knife that was soaked in his own blood. The pain returned in a torrential flood and he met it with a wall of righteous anger,desperation and the cold certainty of death. The knife dislodged as the pain receeded under his fury and he felt his strength shifting the knife inch by inch from between his ribs. 

Cold steel flooded with blood emerged and it fed the fury as the point slid through the flesh and the pain threw itself against his anger and his roar became a whimper yet triumph burst into his brain throwing its weight into his emotional battle and the knife kept slicing through his flesh and he could feel the tip belwo the surface of his skin. With a triumphant roar he tugged and it came loose and blood seeped from the wound. He could feel his genetic enhancements working trying to heal the wound yet he knew he was dead and his eyes were cold and focused.

His senses were destroyed by pain and his vision had become one dimensional fixed upon the receeding head of the traitor. He switched the knife to his left hand and unlike Alrik he kept silent refusing to the warn the traitor of his upcoming assault as he pushed himself up, sliding up the tattered remains of a pew to stand straight. 

He held himself their quivering over Alrik's body and the knife was cold in his hand. He had thrown knives before and this one was long and well balanced as he weighed it in his left hand. His vision receeded to a single spot on the back of the traitors head and he held it their as he aimed the knife. He was cold and and focused and he whirled his arm back placing every ounce of strength into the throw. It spun whistling through the air yet Iorek did not watch its progress as he slid down the pew and lay flat placing his hand upon his lips

"Avenge me brothers" he whispered as he slipped into the darkness of a sleep that he believed would be eternal.

(OOC: I said believed reever, believed :biggrin: Iorek doesn't want to die)


----------



## Agrippa

Von felt the bolter fire hitting his shoulders, then it stopped, before Von could think a grenade landed in his lap. Von rushed to his feet and dove to the side, but his efforts were futile. The grenades exploded sending Von sprawling, as Von hit the ground, his hearing disappeared, and was replaced with the loudest ringing sound Von had ever heard. He heard a muffle of words come from the Alpha Marine, his hearing to destroyed to understand them. Von tried to scramble to his feet, and do a 180 degree turn to face the chaos marine again, but he fell once he turned, as Von fell, he noticed a rolling figure, the figure got up from the roll and charged the Chaos Marine, Von still disorientated from the explosion could not make out who the figure was. Von tried to gather his senses and get to his feet to help the figure, as Von ran towards the fighting he noticed the traitor and what seemed to be Keris, locked in melee combat. Von heard faint mumbles in the area, but could not make them out, as Von looked to the left of Keris, he noticed a figure approaching Keris from behind, Von took a couple shot, causing him to dunk behind cover, then he saw another space wolf come up behind the figure Von had just shot at. Von felt useless now, his aim to messed up from the explosion to fire into close proximity of his brothers. They would fight these traitorous dogs without Von's aid.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik felt the Legionnaire’s hands come free and move up to his helm. He began to panic, sweat beading his broken face as two firm, giant hands wrapped firmly around his faceplate and squeezed. The helm creaked and the sensors flared and died suddenly as the lenses exploded inwards, sending red tinted glass wreathed in sparks of electrical energies spluttering into his eyes. Immediately his hands came up towards his helm’s seals, clawing at them viciously there was a hiss of hot air and yet the helm did not come free.

No! darkness overtook Alrik, only trickles of light gleaming in through the shattered eye lenses. He stopped struggling, his arms falling to his side limp, fingers reaching towards the skies intently. The Machine Spirit within yelled out towards him, ordering him to move and more importantly keeping him from the cold void. He inclined his head, staring at the feet of Iorek and the Alpha Legionnaire, a single tear rolling down his cheek though a pink coloured mixture of blood and water. 

He saw Iorek fall and mutter “Avenge me Brothers” and felt a guilty conscience as he tried to reach out muttering “Hold on Brother…..We shall fight once more” and rolled himself over, pulling himself up to his knees he crawled towards him and saw the blood oozing out of his chest, letting out a anguish filled howl.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

OOC: sorry reever, i knew i said i wouldnt post again till your next update but i wanted to show Tyr had some emotion, give him a face if you know what i mean


Tyr was a big man before he had become a Space Wolf, that much was evident, and since his ascension to one of the Emperor's Finest he had grown to be one of the largest wolves in his pack besides Alrik. This had boosted his already large confidence and had helped him steel his heart for what he would see in his coming years as a space marine, he took solace in the fact that it was inevitable that they would all die in battle, but what he hadn't believed was that he would see so many of his brothers fall in one day. These traitors had managed to kill so many of them today including their leader Kjarl, and at first Tyr had simply taken the first few deaths in stride and kept going as he was taught, but the death of Njoror had taken a heavey toll on all of them.

As he raced the distance between he and the marine with the multi-melta he saw Alrik fall to the floor his helmet crushed and reach toward Iorek who lay on the ground bleeding profusely from his side. The wolf inside of him cried out in anguish as it felt his pain at seeing his brothers injured so and for the first time since his full ascension he felt the need to let it loose. During all his training sessions and the his time on this planet he had kept a very tight reign on his inner wolf, his huge will making sure it didn't get him killed, but now the emotions running through him stirred it into action and it told him to let go, to let it help him...and he did.

Still charging after the marine he let out a bellowing howl of anger and pain as he sprinted, he thought he heard answering calls but was too intent on his objective to really tell, he would not let another brother die this day.


----------



## Euphrati

An arch of liquid silver flashed from the shadows, followed by the brutal from of the traitor marine as he sprung from cover to meet Keris's charge. It was all Keris could do to twist out of the razor edged attack, bringing his growling chainsword across his body to deflect the blade in a shower of white sparks. A familiar smell washed over him. The coppery taste of blood hung in the air about the Alpha Legionnaire. Astartes blood. _Space Wolf blood, coupled with the unique scent of his packbrother Njoror._ The beast within Keris's mind screamed in rage, lending speed to his limbs that barely kept him ahead of the fallen veteran's skill. 

An explosion sounded overhead and the roar of a Thunderhawk filled the chapel; Keris glimpsed the unmistakable blue-grey armoured forms of fellow Wolves from the edge of his vision as he desperately tried to keep pace ahead of the traitor's blade. A fierce elation surged through his veins as he recognized the towering silhouette of Blackmane, his call had been heard and answered by none other than the Wolf Lord himself.

The voice of the traitor marine sounded behind Keris above the howling backwash, calling to the marine he now faced. Keris snarled into the face of the traitor as the scum locked eyes with him and hissed a weak threat before trying to break away from combat. Keris spun into the traitor's path, barring his attempt to flee and forcing him to bring his wickedly sharp blade around in defense. The wolf in his soul bayed and bared its teeth in savage rage, this traitor had spilled the blood of its pack and a red-tinted cry for vengeance sang through Keris's being.

There were no doubts in Keris's mind that he was sorely outclassed by the veteran's skills; his presence served only to provide an annoyance to the traitor and yet Keris felt a sense of triumph well up within him soul. He had never felt so alive before; his senses were heightened to the point that every beat of his twin hearts, every colour, every scent was as sharp edged as the teeth of the mightiest sea dragon. 

He dodged the seeking edge of the silvery blade, slapping it aside in a desperate parry and growled back at the traitor. His voice was amplified by the acoustics of the altar and the righteous fury within his soul, 

'*Coward and Oathbreaker*!' Keris roared, 'If you think a Son of Russ fears death then you are as foolish as you are weak! Your very existence is an affront to everything honourable; you defile this place with your presence! Now, _*FACE ME*_ and take the punishment for your sins to the Allfather instead of fleeing like the spineless serpent you are!'

With an echoing howl, Keris redoubled his attacks; allowing the strength of his faith and the rage of the beast to keep him barely out of the reach of the traitor's blade and praying to Russ and the Allfather that he could delay the renegade long enough for the arrival of the veteran Wolves to make his gamble pay off.


----------



## unxpekted22

Before following Tyr down the steps, Vermundr located his axe and took hold of it once again, but not before taking the time to reload his pistol's magazine.

While coming out of the stair well, his helmet had to cut out a tremendous amount of volume from all of the noise now filling the chapel. Tyr was yelling to him and pointing at the limping chaos marine who had held the multi-melta weapon earlier. 

Entering into the main room, He saw his pack mates scattered about in disarray. There was splintered wood everywhere, the entire chapel had been a battle scene. Von was nearer to them, barely able to move. He seemed to be attempting to aim his bolt pistol towards the chaos marine Keris was dualing, but then he dropped his arm and seemed to relax his body. _"A good decision"_, thought Vermundr. He could barely see the forms of Alrik and Iorek laying amongst the wrecked pews further away from him. the dead bodies of Kjarl, Gareth, and Leif were visible as well.

Vermundr got the gist of what Tyr said to him before he headed in the other direction.

Vermundr sighted the staggering chaos marine, battered limping and no longer wearing a helmet. He took his time to aim, and pulled the trigger until his bolt pistol clicked empty letting loose a barrage of explosive bolter rounds in the chaos marine's direction.


----------



## darkreever

Vermudr; your shots are true and fly straight for the traitor’s head, but with a sudden burst of speed he manages to barely dodge the deathly shots. Most impacting off his pouldron and armour. Before you or anyone else has a chance to reach him, the traitor reaches Keris and the second traitor and grabs your packmate by the head before tossing him down the altar.

Keris; the traitor tries to drive his weapon into your chest but you deflect it at the last moment, about to lay in a strike of your own until the feeling of something large behind you sends your hackles on edge. Before you have a chance to turn and react, an armoured hand grabs the top of your head and wrenches you to the side, nearly ripping off your scalp in the process, you lose your balance and topple down the altar steps, managing to see the form of the heavy weapon traitor finally reaching the one you had been engaging.

Tyr; you howl in rage at the sight of Alrik and Iorek falling, but your chance at vengeance is denied you. Just as the traitor casts Keris to the ground he reaches the second traitor and both look to you, or rather beyond you. _“Sons of Russ; you are as predictable as your own leader. Nothing has changed after all this time for you.”_ The second traitor says before a bright flash engulfs both traitors and in an instant they are gone.

The smell of ozone making its way to your senses indicates that they were teleported away either by some device or witch craft. From behind you the wolf lord rushes forward towards the altar, blade unsheathed and the anger flowing off of him. Anger at being to late, anger that a pack of blood claws had been led into a trap. He turned away from the altar and helped Keris back to his feet, bringing the younger marine in close. _“Gather your pack, you are to return with the rest of the company to the Fist of Russ. There is nothing more that can be done here for your fallen brothers or Kjarl.”_ He said while letting go of you and then leaving you in his wake. As he left the ruined room; the heavy steps of Sigurd became louder before he put a heavy hand on Tyr that made the young wolf visibly sag. _“A valiant gesture, but now’s not the time to let your wolf take over. Help get your pack out of here; I shall tend to the fallen.”_ He says before nodding to Vermundr, _“Brains in you, being willing to give support to a valiant, if somewhat foolish charge.”_


[What a coincidence, three of you not down and three of you in need of some help. Pick a player and give their character some help; there is a thunderhawk outside the chapel, get yourselves there to move on. Iorek, a single stab wound really isn't all that bad, your not knocked out. Alrik, sorry but can't get you out of the helmet just yet. Von, your senses and balance are coming back to you; you'll probably be good once back on the Fist of Russ, though the final say is left to whichever wolf priest looks at you.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr nodded at Sigurd, *"Yes lord."* he was visibly shaking from the ordeal and it was only with an iron will that he was able to get a hold of himself and make his way over to his brothers to help them. His right hand was still paralyzed from the traitor's shot but he still could help lift a brother up, his strength would come in handy here and he reached for Iorek throwing his body over his shoulder with a deep huff of effort. Slowly and quietly Tyr could hear Iorek's labored breathing, his brother was still alive and somewhat conscious, *"Stay with us brother, we still need you. I am here now, you are safe."* he said softly to keep Iorek from falling into the darkness.

Finally he made it to the thunderhawk and gently set his brother down in one of the seats and strapped him in the whole time talking about a large bird he had hunted earlier outside the Fang and eventually caught and killed and ate. As he sat and talked he took Njoror's necklace out of the pouch it was in and gently put it in one of Iorek's knowing that once the Apothecaries got to him on the Fist they would give it to him when he woke. He tilted his head back and let out a long sigh.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik stood, stumbling backwards he regained his balance as quick as he had lost it, he tried to pull away his helm once more only for his fingers to slip away and strike his lightly armoured neck. His Machine Spirit had calmed, still whimpering however Alrik promised to get his armour seen by one of the Iron Priests onboard the Fist of Russ to get it repaired and if needed repainted, a thankful gesture from Alrik to the Machine Spirit. 

The chaos of battle still hung upon him and his Brothers, the Pack had dwindled to a measly six members and Njoror where ever he was. His eyes burned as minute flicks of glass and metal tickled at them, he wanted to crack open the helm and take a giant breath as a single drip of blood rolled from a torn lower eye lid, down to his chin and dripped into the depths of his armour. He lingered there for a few moments, trying to smell the scent of his Brothers to see who had made it and found himself being blocked off from the outside with a sigh. 

Walking from the chapel the wind blew into his helm, casting a chill down his back as he walked towards the landed Thunderhawk, missing his Bolt Pistol he had completely forgotten about using his Chainsword and now cursed himself for doing so. He walked up the ramp tiredly and slumped down into his seat, pulling the harness around him he looked around and said “Good work Brothers…..Good work”.


----------



## unxpekted22

Smoke curled up into the air from the barrel of Vermundr's bolt pistol. He held it up in disappointment after he had emptied the clip. He lowered his arm with a sigh from not making any solid hits on his target. Enough of that though, the two traitors were gone, he would work on his shooting skills later. For now there were packmates that needed help. Sigurd's directions reinforced this, and gave them permission to leave the chapel. 

Vermundr headed towards Iorek and Alrik with Tyr, but As Tyr took Iorek, Alrik staggered up on his own. Even with his helmet smashed in, and his sight most likely null, he managed to follow Tyr out of the chapel and into the waiting thunderhawk. 

that meant one living pack mate left, Von. Vermundr looked back towards his previous location and saw that Keris had not gotten to him. He put his weapons to his belt, hurried toward Von, and slung him over his shoulders. Before leaving down the hallway towards the thunderhawk He turned back towards the Alter. 

He opened his channel to Keris saying, _"Lets go brother, we need to regroup. Our superiors will take it from here. And don't worry about not killing that traitor....none of us managed to accomplish that goal."_

After this, he turned back toward the hall and proceeded to the thunder-hawk transport.


----------



## Euphrati

The traitor's blade flashed as the Legionnaire thrust it in a silvery blur towards Keris's chest; it was only his unnatural reflexes that saved Keris from the blow as he spun aside, bringing his chainsword up with a snap of his wrist to parry the strike with a snarl. Even then it was close, the tip of the renegade's modified weapon scoring a fine line across his breastplate, but the traitor's guard was now open and Keris quickly twisted his growling blade towards the exposed chest with a howl of triumph from the beast within his mind.

The moment he had committed to the attack a presence loomed up from behind him and Keris felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in warning. Before he could react, a powerful grip clamped down on his head. The tendons and reinforced vertebrae of his neck were strained as cold, armoured fingers wretched his head back and tossed him aside. Keris yelped in pain and anger as the grip nearly tore his scalp from his skull.

The sudden assault caught him off balance; sending him tumbling down the short rise to the altar in a clatter of armoured plates. As he tumbled, Keris could see the hulking from of the traitor marine reach his brother. Through sheer will, Keris kept a grip on his chainsword, pushing the deadly blade away from his body as he crashed into the unyielding stone floor. They both turned and threw words past his sprawled from before a flash of light caused him to flinch away, pupils contracting to shield his vision. 

When Keris looked back up the traitors were gone and the towering from of Lord Blackmane surged up the short rise to stop at the altar. The Wolf Lord's anger hung in the air about him like the heavy cloak of fur that swept from his shoulders as Blackmane turned away from the empty altar. The frustrated cries of the wolf echoed in Keris's ears as his Lord reached a hand down to his panting form. Keris took the offered aid, clasping Blackmane's wrist and feeling himself hauled to his feet by the mighty Wolf only to be drawn in close. He inclined his head in obedience at the Wolf Lord's rumbling words,

'Yes, Lord,' Keris couldn't keep the bitterness of failure from his voice. As Blackmane turned away, Keris stood staring at the empty air that had so recently held the enemies of everything he stood for. A deep hate well up inside of him, coupled by a sense of loss. _The wolf in his heart gave a low whine as it mourned the deaths of its packmates._ 

The combead in his ear hissed softly and Vermundr's voice broke his thoughts. Keris tore his eyes away from the altar to see his brothers were already making their way towards the waiting transport; he shook his head with a snarl and sheathed his sword at his hip, keying the combead as he turned his back and stalked down the nave,

'And that makes it better, brother?' Keris growled as he paced between the pews, 'There is _no place _for failure in our duty to the Allfather. I shall not simply roll over and accept it like a whipped dog.' 

The voice of the Wolf Priest enacting the rights of Morkai reached him and Keris stopped dead in his tracks. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before slowly letting it out and running his gauntlet through his cropped mane; wincing as his fingers found the bruises left by the traitor's grip. Keris felt his body slowly calm as he recalled one of the rituals placed deep within his mind,

'That was ill of me, Vermundr,' Keris signed as he continued towards the Thunderhawk, 'You fought honourably today and it was wrong of me to take my anger out on you. Are the others in the transport already? I did not see Njoror with the pack when I joined you, yet his scent was on the traitor I fought. Did you see him fall?' Keris blinked in the hard light as he emerged into the open air. The Thunderhawk growled as it sat like a crouched wolf, its ramp down and waiting. The guardsmen were nowhere to be seen, presumably sent off by Blackmane when he arrived.

Keris paused at the foot of the ramp, the wolf within stirred as a wave of hesitation washed over him. His ice-blue eyes flickered in the direction of the downed ornithopter and a low growl trickled from his throat. The smell of dust and exhaust laced the air as he fought against the rising panic in his mind. Red tinted anger bloomed in his thoughts; anger at his failure to see the trap, anger at the fact the traitors had escaped, anger at his own fears and weakness. The sharp scent of blood trailing from within the craft's hold cleared his mind suddenly, both Alrik's and Iorek's scents held notes of pain. Keris set his shoulders and slowly stalked up the ramp and into the darkness. _The wolf in his soul whined and retreated to the back of his mind to pace restlessly._

He stopped at the top of the ramp to await Vermundr's reply, whispering a prayer under his breath to calm his racing hearts.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr carried Von up the ramp, leaving the chapel behind him.

Keris had caught up with him now, and after he placed Von into one of the seats, he again opened a private channel to Keris. 

"Njoror is dead Keris. I could not let Iorek know this fact until we managed to get out of that battle though," he pauses for a moment, "Njoror, Odin, Gromar, Gareth, Leif, and Kjarl...have all fallen. Combined with our initial drop onto the planet, our pack has lost pretty significant numbers," Vermundr then took a seat of his own. My guess is that either you or Iorek will take command of the pack, but more likely you if Iorek is more heavily injured. Your wise, and strong in battle from what I've seen, but you should learn to control your spirit better. I did not get to kill the traitor i engaged with either, but i make no bounds about it. I for one, am glad to receive help from our elder brethren." He said this last sentence as more Space Wolves hustled into the chapel. 

He took his helmet off for the first time since they had landed in the drop pods. Strands and braids of thick brown hair fell over his large cheek bones. The rings in his ears and brow, as well as his fangs gleamed from the lights inside the thunderhawk. 

Von, Iorek, and Alrik were pretty much passed out and Tyr was at the ramp end of the ship looking out. Vermundr looked at Keris who was in front of him.
"Just my suggestion though Keris. We all just saw the first real commander we've ever had get half of his body burned away in a melta blast. Kjarl made his mistakes, and he was about as cool-headed as us space wolves seem to come. Even since before we landed on this world, i have noticed how you quarrel with your wolf spirit. I am not sure you are quite one with yourself yet, and you will have to be if you end up leading this or any other pack.


----------



## Euphrati

A sense of serenity fell over Keris as his mind recalled the words of the prayers to the Allfather, focusing his mind and calming his body, while Vermundr settled Von into the flight harness before turning back to him. His brother's words confirmed his suspicions about Njoror's fate, but he felt his back stiffen as Vermundr continued. For a long moment he stood silent, crystal blue eyes shining like the heart of a glacier; cold and distant. When he finally spoke his voice was low and guarded,

'The gift of Russ is a two edged blade, brother; it grants us our keen senses and the fierce joy in the heat of battle. Yet, the wolf within is not a tame thing and never will be. It constantly tests the bounds of our will,' Keris chose his words delicately for he was straying into the realm of the Wolf Priests, 'It is our way. War within, war without, war eternal. An unending struggle between the man and the beast. There is truth in your words that I seem to feel its touch more so than our other brothers,' Keris tone became as hard as the stone flanks of the Fang, 'but the wolf _does not_ rule my thoughts.'

He raised his voice again slightly as he shifted his weight back, 'I too am glad of the arrival of our Lord and older brothers. I was unsure if the signal I sent would get through or be blocked by the traitors, but I am now glad that I took that risk for their arrival showed us the true face of the traitorous cowards. It angers me that I was not fast enough to strike down the one I faced, mark my words Vermundr, I will see his soul placed before the Allfather's justice. You have my oath on that,' Keris flashed a brief lupine smile, his small fangs gleaming. 'You honour me with your faith in my abilities, my brother, and if Lord Blackmane places his trust in me to lead our pack then I shall do so.'

Keris's scent took on the sharp note of sadness as he continued, lowering his voice until only Vermundr could hear his words, 'the traitors have dealt us a great blow this day and I mourn the loss of our packmates as deeply as any other. Kjarl's death,' Keris paused, swallowing hard for a moment, 'is a great loss for us all; it is through our actions that we must honour his memory. But, it worries me that you feel Iorek is not strong enough to know the fate of our brother. A pack must be united in actions and in spirit, for if you cannot have the utmost trust in the Wolf by your side then all is lost.'

Keris watched his brother carefully as he took the seat across from Vermundr, sitting back against the grav-restraints but not attaching them over his armour yet. He clasped his hands before him in a gesture of meditation while he awaited the other Wolf's reply.


----------



## unxpekted22

Leaning toward Keris and continued to whisper, which only worked due to the others' senses being so out of whack. Calmly, Vermundr put his elbows on his knees and crossed his arms saying, _"Iorek is strong, but he has a heavy dependence on a single pack mate. I did not like refraining the information from him, but based on the situation I felt I did what was best for the pack... he will find out soon enough. I guess we will have to see how he acts once he finds out. I had my doubts concerning myself after seeing some of our packmates die upon first facing the rioters, which i expressed and was subsequently corrected by the wolf priest. I hope Iorek does not need any more help than that."_


----------



## deathbringer

Someone needed him, and a deep voice pleaded at him dragging him back to the real world and he slipped into conciousness, a groggy half awareness as he sensed his midriff hitting a shoulder plate and he lay still in the darkness as the voice of someone floated through his mind
"Stay with us brother, we still need you. I am here now, you are safe."
The voice echoed eerily inside him
"need you... safe"
It reverberated round his mind and he tried to move his legs yet their was no ground to push against and he lay still upon the broad shoulder plate, no the exceptionally broad shoulder plate, and still the voice played upon his hearing, softly pleading for his help. The darkness surrounded him yet in his mind he saw a bird, beautiful plumage soaring above a fortress, yet it was more than a fortress, it was a home, his home. 

It called out to him, imploring him as the bird soared high above the walls its beautiful feathers glinting in the dewy morning light, then shots rang out and the bird tumbled spinning through the air as blood matted its feathers, a broad red stain seeping across its chest.

Such a waste, to kill something so beautiful, to destroy life in such a meaningless way.

He felt his fingers opened and something pressed into his finger and the dream faded, melted away as their was a sharp stabbing pain in the tip of his finger, yet the pain was warm and familiar and he tasted some scent upon the air. 

It felt comfortable as it hit the back of its throat and his muscles relaxed at rest in its presence and he struggled to put a name to the taste that had risen within his mouth. A face bloomed before his as he felt along the orca tooth, and it smiled reaching out with large fingers to clasp his shoulder.

The name appeared upon his lips without conscious thought and his eyes flew open as he whispered it alloud and his hands clasped upon the cold chain in his left hand as his eyes searched desperately eagerly for his brothers laughing joking face, yet he could only see Tyr. 

He looked behind the massive marine as desperation welled within him as his eyes flitted round the thunderhawk. It was creeping up on him, a certainty, something he had hoped was false since the start. He felt deaths creeping hand upon his brothers shoulder as it lead him to the emperors side away from Iorek yet still he searched his eyes scrying every inch. His breathing became laboured as he looked down at the single long orca's tooth that he has seen so many times upon his brothers breast. 

Memories welled within him, their whole brotherhood span before his eyes as he recollected their first meeting, sparring side by side, their first mission, Njoror striding the hulk like a god amongst the horrific forms of the tyranids, Iorek behind covering his brothers back, duelling Hemedial and gaining the approval of the wolf Lord. His brothers smiling laughing face blossomed before his eyes yet it appeared to leer from the darkness as the memories were tainted by the chilling certainty that was eating away at his stomach.

The necklace was his brothers pride and joy and its presence here without him, could only mean one thing... his brother was dead. As he muttered it he knew he was true and the thought became fixed in his mind as his brother died a thousand times in his mind. He watched helplessly as his brother was shot in the head, he lay blood seeping from a hole between his eyes, then once again as a traitor swung his sword smashing through Njoror's guard to slash through his neck and his brother's head rolled as the stump of his neck stood erect from a moment before slumping ponderously to the ground. 

He felt his whole body shaking with an anguished cry yet he suppressed it ruthlessly as his whole body became cold, icy in his moment of grief. He denied himself emotions, forced himself to become a void, a void with one ruthless purpose... revenge. He felt his muscles tense and his eyes became narrowed his mind clear, cold and cruel. For in revenge, the stroke in anger often goes awry and he intended to execute the man that had brought about his brothers death, he did not intend to make a mistake. Revenge was his purpose now and he sat head bowed in concentration eyes fixed upon the floor. Yet something was wrong, something tasted fowl in his mouth.

He sensed betrayal and deceit for he remembered, someone had told him that Njoror was not dead, someone had given him hope, had toyed with his emotions like a tool and a wave of anger overtook him rushing through his blood as he recollected
"Njoror's fine Iorek"

Vermundr. The son of a bitch, his word's echoed endlessly causing a snarl to curl Iorek's mouth as he struggled against the straps holding him his muscles burning in flames of anger. His "brother" has toyed with him and lied to him given him hope, postponing his moments of grief... oh but he would have vengeance. He tasted Vermundr's scent upon the air and his hackles rose and his red eyes were feral as he ripped of his helmet using his elbow to release the straps that bound him. 

He was out of his seat and past Tyr in a single second and though he knew the huge marine would probably catch him he didn't care... he couldn't care, he was a wolf slinking between the seats towards his brother his red eyes ablaze with bitter hatred. He scrabbled at his hip for his bolt pistol yet it was missing and he panicked. His equipment was gone, he was unprepared and his anger wavered for a second as fear flooded him.

Njoror's death welled up inside him and his eyes streamed with grief as what he had supressed welled up inside him yet he blinked the tears away at the sight of the treacherous bastard he had once called a brother. For he could avenge Njoror, could place his ghost to rest in the fires of battle and thus preserve his memory, yet such bitter deceit from a brother caused his mouth to contort. 

His brother did not trust him, had disrespected him, affording him hours of hope before crushing his soul in the mires of grief. He took the last two steps to stand before Vermundr fists balled and he waved the chain in front of his brothers eyes yet though his rage was strong, burning like a furnace it was brief and as he stared the anger died in his eyes and his muscles became rigid as he became a void once more as he grieved not only for the brother he loved but for the loss of respect for his pack.

To his left he caught a glimpse of Alrik and Keris and his heart warmed for a second, he did not like Alrik and barely knew Keris but he knew that his brothers would have told him the truth, respected him enough to be honest. The fact warmed him slightly yet the knowledge froze in his heart once more as he turned back to Vermundr.


He was focused, a silent killer, twice as deadly and infinitely more frightening. He glared with dead eyes, emotionless yet intense and his voice was spat out as if Vermundr was beyond contempt. 

He held the chain high
"This chain was my brothers, a possession he would only give up in death. Vermundr could you answer a question thats been puzzling me? If my brother is "fine" on a mission with Gareth how come this necklace was placed into my hand." 


His voice dripped with sarcasm and he paused to catch his breath as the stab wound in his side shot a spurt of agony through his body and he clasped a hand two it before continuing, his voice more breathless yet still dripping qith ire.

"You barely know me Vermundr, and yet you judge that it is best to deceive me in matters of grief. You would know that where my brother was strong I was often weak and where he was loud I was often quiet. I am judged to be much more analytical than him, thinking through the possibilities and though possibly my grief would have overcome me I still resent that you have no trust or respect for me as a brother or a member of this pack. The consequence is you are little more than a traitor of prospero in my eyes, devoid of honour and full of deceit"

Iorek couldn't read Vermundr's face yet his eyes twitched towards Keris and Iorek staggered backwards the void destroyed into shards by the possibility as he turned to Keris, pain seeping over his face in horror.

"Keris, I barely know you but I trusted you to be honest with me. If you knew of Njoror's fate and did not tell me have the decency to speak the truth and speak it quickly."

He looked at his brother in stunned agony yet he forced the agony away as he took in the pair of the them and continued allowing the pain, dissapointment and even a tiny amount of his rage to seep into his voice.

"If you knew you are dead in my eyes but i will respect you a little more than this whoreson who even after lying blatantly to my face did not have the decency to come and correct my error and was content to let me go on blindly in hope that I may see my brother again."


----------



## dark angel

Alrik saw Iorek stand and move faster than the Astartes had thought his Wolf Brother could do. Alrik threw his harness aside and staggered to a standing position, hand on the hilt of his Chainsword as a sign he would use force if Iorek did not listen to him. He stared at the back of his Brother and then at the wound in his side, saying in a deep and commanding voice “Iorek. Stand down, even if Njoror is dead there is nothing you can do about it. We have all lost comrades this day and we should not be committing ourselves to petty squabbles but rather to finding those responsible. Our enemy does not lay within Brother but rather without, you have only proven to us you let your mind wander in times of battle. Our Pack _will_ survive without Njoror, Odin, Kjarl and the others. Now Brother stand down and return to your seat” the last part was almost a growl emitting from his weak body which now stood rocking back and forth weakly.


----------



## Euphrati

Before Vermundr could form a reply to his words, a shadow fell across both Wolves. Iorek stood trembling; anger and pain making his scent harsh as he gripped a swinging blood-stained chain in his gauntleted fist, thrusting the token out before him as his red eyes smoldered dangerously.

The wolf within Keris's soul responded to the change in his packmate's scent with a low growl of warning and Keris felt his hackles rise as he slowly stood from his seat. He took a moment while he studied Iorek's pain-etched face before meeting his brother's wild gaze with a calm heart,

'On my word, brother, I did not know for sure until just a moment ago,' Keris spoke low and clear, his tones composed. His packmate needed strength right now and Keris focused hard on the beast that flickered behind those red eyes,

'The traitor that I fought, the one bearing the blade, had the scent of Njoror's blood about him and Vermundr confirmed to me just now that he fell in battle earlier,' Keris cast a hard look toward Vermundr, the muscles in his jaw twitching in anger, 'Vermundr said he had withheld the information from you, but I did not know that he had misled you about it.'

Keris turned fully to Vermundr, cold anger and the biting note of disappointment lacing his scent,

'A Wolf's word is his Honour, brother, and if you have lied to your packmates knowingly, _despite your intentions_, then you not only have brought shame on yourself but you have shamed us all. I have no choice but to place this matter with the priests upon our return to the Fist.'

Keris gave his packmate a final hard look before turning back to Iorek, pain and loss causing his eyes to shine like crystal in the darkened hold of the craft,

'We have lost many brothers today, Iorek, and we all grieve for them. Njoror feasts side by side with the great heroes of our Chapter, men whom stood at the side of Russ himself and called him brother. You _*will*_ see him again and fight by his side at the Wolftime, as all Sons of Russ will when our great leader returns to us. _It is what you do until that time that will honour his sacrifice._ I understand Vermundr's intentions though I do not agree with him in his actions. Njoror was more than a brother to you,' Keris sighs as pain and a flash of something that could be jealousy pass over his features before they settle again, 'none of us can hope to replace him in your heart, but don't deny us the chance to earn our own place as your comrades as well.'

Keris paused and took in all of his brothers as they stood or sat within the hold of the mighty warbird, lifting his voice for them all,

'We have all died once, only to be reborne into something more that we ever were as men. From that moment forth our lives belong not to ourselves, but to the Chapter and the Allfather. We are bound by oath and honour, for it is our sacred duty to stand between humanity and the Darkness that would see it twisted and destroyed. _Our duty unto death._ But, for every hero there are a thousand others that stood by his side and called him brother and their sacrifices are no less than his own. We carry the weight of all who have come before us on our shoulders, my brothers. We are Wolves! Let us not disappoint those whose have stood before us, for mark my words brothers, they are watching.'

Keris locked eyes with Iorek before reaching out a hand and placing it gently on the older Wolf's shoulder,

'Let us return to the Fist, brother. The wounds we have taken today are more than just of the flesh and may never truly heal, but let us seek the wisdom of the priests to settle this matter. I have trust in your strength, Iorek, I now ask you to place your trust in me.'


----------



## Agrippa

Von looked skyward and saw the thunderhawk's roaring engines, The traitor marines had left with the backup of the wolf lords and company. Von slowly turned around, his head stil slightly stunned, and saw Vermundr running towards him.

As vermundr reached him, he threw one of Von's arms over his shoulder and helped him towards the landed thunderhawk for extraction, helped him to a seat and then took his own. 

As Von sat down, his senses slowly returning, he could only think about the battle, they had lost many brothers, and the battle had been hard fought, what was a win, felt like a lose with space wolf blood spilled. Von fell to sleep in mid thought, ready to awake once aboard the Fist of Russ.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr looked to Tyr,

"What do _you_ think of all this Tyr?"

After asking, Vermundr put his helmet back on, pulling his longest braid through the top so the helmet would fit smoothly over his head. He sat back in his seat crossing his arms.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr was about to fall into a sleep when Iorek had gotten up quickly and made his way over to Vermundr and Keris where it seemed to him a fight was going to unfold any moment. Slowly he undid his harness and got up, is muscles aching, and made his way over to Iorek when Vermundr had posed his question,* "What do you think of all this Tyr?"* The tone in his brother's voice made his hackles rise yet Tyr did not rise to the bait and kept a level tone as he spoke,* "I think that it is tragic that we lost so many of our number today brother, not the least of which being Njoror and Kjarl. We have all lost brothers today, and a leader that we all looked up to, yet instead of honoring them and their lives we stand here and bicker like children."* 

Tyr turned his massive head toward Iorek, his face softening with sorrow, *"Brother I knew of Njoror's death, yes, and I believed that the information should not have been told to you at the moment of our meeting lest we loose more brothers."* He turned his head back to face Vermundr, his usually kind gentle eyes narrowing slightly, *"But to lie to one who we trust our lives with is not what should have been done. Vermundr I had made it a point to speak with you after all this was over about what you had told Iorek but now that it is out in the open we will do it here and get it over with."*

*"Our brothers are right, to lie to each other even in protection is a most horrid act, something that the traitorous Alpha Legion bastards we just fought love to do. Is that what you want to be likened to among us brother, a liar? Yes you were right in not telling Iorek of his brother's fate and it should have stopped there, yet to lie to him and give him false hope is wrong and cruel."* He motioned toward Iorek's face, full of anger and pain and his voice was soft again, *"Look at his face, is this what you want to do to us? Your brothers? Make them feel like this? I know that you did what you did because you wanted to protect Iorek, but the next time you think lieing is a good act then slap yourself because it never is."*

*"Now let us all go back to our seats and we will continue this with Wolf Priest Sigurd once we are all rested and aboard the Fist and he will aide us in patching up this wound. As packmates we are supposed to help and protect each other."* Tyr turned back to Iorek and gently grabbed his brother's shoulder plate with his power fist, yet he still used a little strength to squeeze so that his brother would get the cue that they needed to sit down.


----------



## darkreever

Everyone; the sound of heavy footfalls alert you to someone making their way up the assault ramp just before it closes, sealing you all off from the outside and bathing everything in the red cabin light and what little sunlight pours through the side portals of the thunderhawk. As you turn to see the newcomer, you are greeted by the armoured form of wolf priest Sigurd, from his appearence and posture there is no telling how much he has heard.

Before any of you can speak, he puts up an armoured hand, _"your pack is hurt and all available wolf brothers are on planet or being taken back to the Fist of Russ, I am in need of a way back as well to tend to other members of the company."_ He said while moving his armoured bulk forward, grasping an overhead stanchion, Sigurd's armour preventing him from sitting in one of the grav couch's.

_"Who are any of you pups to judge the actions of another?"_ He suddenly asked, the tone in his voice like a spear as he cast an icy gaze at both Tyr and Iorek. _"Your wolf brother knew that the pain of loss would affect you, and for a time he saved you from the pain until it could and should be properly addressed. There is no honour in a lie, but there is less honour in allowing a truth to hinder you."_ Sigurd said while looking to each of the six blood claws with him, the thunderhawk lurching suddenly but the wolf priest did not move in the slightest. Finally his eyes ended on Iorek and he went on. _"Iorek, you and your pack-mates Alrik and Njoror were aboard the hulk, you witnessed your pack mauled till only you three remained. Do you need reminding of that terrible event? Accept what has happened, become stronger from it, do not gang up on your packmate; lest you unwittingly continue what the enemy started and cause more of your pack to fall from the tension within."_ This last part he said to you all and with that he said nothing more during the entire flight back to the ship.

[Might be a good idea to actually clue you in on what Sigurd is talking about regarding the hulk. During the initial touchdown, the pack Alrik, Iorek, and Njoror were originally from entered with a pack of grey hunters led by a newly inducted member of the wolf guard named Hogun. During the events he succumbed to the beast within and became a wulfen, slaying members of his pack, and most of the blood claws as well. Sigurd refers to the fact that the three of you are never to speak of the true events, but instead to claim that it was the genestealers and that Hogun died fighting them, for the truth is to much to bear for any company.]


[Two days later]

You are all in one of the Fist of Russ's training chamber's, most of you have been there since you arrived back on the Fist of Russ. 

Alrik and Tyr; you are in the training cages back to back, the upper portion of your power armoure stripped away. Within the cage you face a ten combat servitors armed with a number of spinning blades and stabbing weapons; with two others already destroyed. You each are armed with a weapon of some kind (Sword, axe, halberd, your choice just make sure it has a blade; one to each of you though, not one per hand.)

[You both might like this one, the servitors are programmed to kill and while they are standing you two are a team. Once the servitor's are down though, it is a duel till one of you draws first blood in the second half of the fight.]

Vermundr, Keris, Iorek, and Von; you each are at the firing pit, shooting targets with your bolt pistols. Despite Sigurd's words days ago, there is a tension between Iorek and Vermundr, though whether it extends to other members of the pack is not as noticable. As you fire at the targets, the hackes on your neck rise as you feel someone aproach from behind. Turning, you notice the armoured form of one of the wolf lord's retinue, the wolf guard Gunnar. "Vermudr and Keris, the wolf lord would have words with both of you." His gruff voice announced over the ringing of your pistols as he waited for you both to follow him.

[Von and Iorek; continue your firing training or watch Alrik and Tyr, the choice is up to you. When Vermundr and Keris are gone, only you four are present in this training hall.]

[Vermundr and Keris; Gunnar will lead you through the ship, past the quarters of the other wolf guard and to the wolf lord's chambers where you two will enter without him. A combination of posts from the two of you should get you there, though why summon both of you and for what?]


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek gritted his teeth and said nothing slipping back into his seat and strapping himself in yet the wolf priests words had unsettled him taking his mind off Njoror for a moment as he recalled the horrors of the hulk. He had forced it from his mind, said nothing of the horror, ignored the haunting dreams of a feral snarl and the power armoured beast that had reached, jaws snapping for his throat as he tried to bring his bolt pistol to bear. As the wolf struck Njoror was there pulling him away and the agony was back... the paij of loss... the injustice and the horror of the present melded out the terror of the past.

His emotions hinder him... it would not have hindered him.... did they think his emotions were so fragile...he had not been spared pain it had been enhanced, magnified by the false hope for when his hope had been crushed so had he, with the news of Njoror's death a little part of him had died. He had been treated as a pup rather than an equal and the indignance of his humiliation burned. He forced it inwards for the wolf priest had spoken and nothing he could say would change his decision.

He sat in silence next to Tyr head bowed but his eyes blazing as he clenched his hands over the orca tooth allowing it to dig deep into his hand. He embraced the pain and the pain in his heart lessened as the wound in his side throbbed. He had not been ready for the ambush, had not been strong enough to defeat the bastard that had killed his brother. If he was to have vengeance he must be stronger than ever before, train harder than ever before. Inside him his soul whimpered, a wolf in pain yet the whimpers turned to snarls as he focused upon vengeance and it sustained him, his need for closure as the wolf roared in anticipation.


As the thunderhawk touched down Iorek's eyes were set and he looked ahead refusing to meet anyones eye yet he glanced at Vermundr with a look of pure spite and in the back of his mind the wolf howled a long harsh howl of the hunt. Ignoring the others he headed down the ramp and strode off through the corridors to the apothecary. Within 4 hours he was pronounced fit with the apothecary pronouncing that the cut was far from life threatening and Iorek's face burned as another scar of shame was slashed into his heart.

As a flush flooded his features and he turned away from the apothecary a wolf snarled stronger than ever before in the back of his head and he felt a flash of fear as it tore at his mind, a relentless seige attacking his concious thoughts. He wrestled with the snarling beast that had risen inside him and for the first time the wolf inside him impeded upon his concious thoughts.

He struggled desperate to segregate his mind from the feral impulses that battered at his conciousness. He felt the orca's tooth upon his breast and he gripped it tight as he held onto his very sense of self forcing the wolf within him to fade away snarling into his subconcious.

Iorek felt his limbs trembling as he returned to his room, purposefully placing his feet re establishing control over his body until he reached his door. He opened it to find a new pistol hanging on his bed post and he slid it from its holster as he stripped down carefully washing the grime and spattered blood from each piece of his armour before slipping into a tight shirt and shorts. A sudden idea came to him, a random thought and he brought his new pistol to his lips and kissed its chamber before engraining a deep scratch with the orca tooth into its butt.

"I name you vengeance" he whispered before slipping the orca tooth round his neck and heading to the training halls pistol in hand. As he moved he weighed it in his hand, a little heavy and tilting a little to the left and by the time he had reached the hall he felt as if the pistol was part of his arm once more.

He approached the firing range and began to fire and found his aim was wrong and he adjusted feeling the pistol in his left hand, shifting his aim ever so slightly to accomodate. Within 3 hours he was gaining the feel of the pistol and the inner rings of the targets became tatters, but still he fired on embracing the monotonous drills of preperation. Within 5 hours he was as good as before, placing bullets into the middle ring yet he did not stop, moving quietly from the firing range to the gym.

Silently he loaded the bar and slid underneath it feeling the monotony of drills once more. Yet this time his muscles ached with every deliberated movement. He absolved himself in the pain as he worked till he could barely move his arms and he moved to the training cages, feeling fatigue throughout his body, yet he ignored it, he must work to avenge his brother, to cleanse himself of his internal agony.

He worked in the training cages chainsword in hand until he could move no longer and he left the halls brieflly to move to the mess and he ate with a feverish intensity. As he shovelled down his food sitting alone at his table he saw packmates and other blood claws raise their hands in a half hearted attempt to catch his attention yet their hands faltered as they looked into his eyes, which stoically ignored their existance and he walked from the hall head held high and eyes fixed ahead of him, though his bottom lip quivered slightly and his breathing was ragged. 

He returned to the training cages 10 minutes later and began the cycle once again glorying in the monotonous agony of the cycle and the emotionless void it created within him. In the next 24 hours he repeated the cycle 3 times pausing only when he could train no longer, alone in his self inflicted agony. He felt segregated yet that only fueled his need to be alone, he needed to prove his strength, for they all believed he was emotionally fragile, ruled by his emotions. 

Misguided or not, he would become stronger, an emotional void, for he could only place Njoror to rest through vengeance or his own death. Thus whilst nobody could show faith in him or trust him he would become a void and trust in himself for if they did not trust him he would not, could not trust them. as he re entered on the 5th cycle and prepared to shoot that he noticed that the rest of the pack were their in the training halls with him and he spotted Alrik first, waist deep dueling the trianing cages back to back with Tyr and Iorek felt soothed a little at his presence.

Alrik was an overzealous and violent to say the least yet he was honest and far from devious, for the first time Iorek almost smiled yet it fell away and his mouth remained a fixed line despite the irony of the situation. The person he trusted the most he liked the least. In the midst of those shooting was Vermundr, side by side with Keris and he let out a tiny snarl at Vermundr's back. He half hoped vermundr would turn, challenge him for though he was tired, fatigued in mind and body his hatred burnt bright and he wanted to yell force Vermundr's hand make him square up against yet he remained aloof for to shout out would only prove their point. 

He paused for a second before walking on his stance neutral and set up at the other end of the range turning his back to the target and beginning the exercise, turn two steps crouch fire at a moving target. He managed to place two shots out of three through the head of the target and was beginning to get into a grove when a space wolf entered, looking lazily around till his eyes found Keris. Iorek began his turn spinning upon his heel and tracking the target as it popped out from cover and his arm rose as he moved to his left

Vermudr and Keris, the wolf lord would have words with both of you."

The shot went awry spinning past the targets arm as Iorek jerked up at Vermundr's name and his cool broke and he sat down upon his heels his head bowed to hide his eyes which burnt with a flame. Inside him the wolf roared in agony a pained howl as realisation broke, nobody was going to try and help him, he was alone, he had to face this alone.

Spitefully he spat upon the floor as thoughts flooded through him, Vermundr was gaining an audience with the wolf lord, who despite Iorek's loss had not even given two shits, was leaving him in quandry when he really needed someone, anyone to show faith in him. The taste in Iorek's mouth was bitter as he watched Keris and Vermundr stride quickly from the training room and he struggled to gain his composure, eyes blazing he turned and placed a bullet through the head of the target his pale face showing the slightest tint of a flush.

Iorek turned to fire again and caught his reflection in the silver wall of the ship. His face looked haggard and worn though his muscles bulged yet it was his eyes that scared him, they were feral, their normal ruby red distorted by their bloodshot appearance. They were wild not controlled and he shook his head.

"Are you really a lone wolf Iorek" he whispered to his reflection. The answer was instantaneous and obvious yet he muttered it anyway

"No"

He looked around and saw Alrik and Tyr duelling the cage intense in his battle and his eyes fell upon Von and he felt a childish curiosity about the young marine, who had said nothing during the exchange, who kept himself quiet, an enigma to Iorek. Without thinking Iorek grabbed two swords from the weapons rack and walked over to Von waiting for the marine to finish his shot before extending the pommel towards the younger marine

"Spar with me brother? I need the practice.. my .." he faltered as his through clogged"Njoror always said I should work more on the sword... If i'm to avenge him I must take his advice."


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr stood back to back with Alrik, sweat dripping down both of their bodies. Yet the thrill of the fight was within Tyr now and he was riding a high he hadn't felt since they had touched down on the planet below. Across his face he wore a large smile that twisted the scar that crossed down the right side of his face, he was pleased with how he and Alrik were doing, both of them were the larger then most and it felt good to work with someone whose movements were close to his and they had been playing well off of each other.

Before the bout Tyr had chosen a weapon that he was not used to so he could increase his abilities, the halberd he was clutching was long and in his hands had an even longer reach then was intended. So far they had killed two of the combat servitors yet ten still remained and they circled the two of them like a pack of wolves circling its prey. Tyr tilted his head back a bit to speak to Alrik,* "Brother, when they move in to attack us we will dispatch the ones that get to us first and then I need to you to duck and I will swing my halberd around while you come up behind me. That should give us some room aye?"*

Tyr cracked his huge neck and flexed the giant muscles that covered his body, once these servitors attacked they would need to act quickly and this move would hopefully get rid of a handful while giving them room to work with. Looking down his line of sight at the servitors he thought about his life before becoming a Space Wolf, there wasn't much at all he could remember really.

All he could really remember was a lot of red and pain and anger, and not just the physical pain all over his body but the emotional and mental pain. He tried to push past the haze but he couldn't and he thought on what the Wolf Priest who had found him had told him about the sight. Apparently he had found Tyr on his chest and he had seemed to be covering something with his body, like he had been protecting something. When he had been moved there had been the bodies of two young girls who had been raped and killed and been layed there in snow. 

The front of Tyr's had body had been covered in blood and gore and his face had been a mess, the huge laceration on his right side looking like a bear had clawed him. Huge flayed wounds had crossed his chest, and when he had come to after all the surgeries and become a Space Wolf the Wolf Priest had sat him down and told him this story. Tyr's head had whirred with the thought of him raping these two young girls and he had openly wept in front of the Wolf Priest, ashamed of his actions. Yet the Priest had consoled him saying that he had not raped the girls, in fact he had fought off the men who had and killed them all while taking grievous wounds himself that had led to him almost bleeding out, the girls had been his sisters.

The information while heartbreaking had told Tyr something about himself, he had been made this way for a reason, he had been given this body and these abilities to protect others. It hurt him deeply that he had failed in protecting his sisters and hurt even more that he couldnt remember them but he knew that the Emperor had made him into a Space Wolf so that he could fulfill his purpose. He had told himself that he would protect as many as his brothers as possible and the fact they had lost so many had disturbed him to the core. 

When they had reached the Fist two days ago he had made a silent vow while in prayer that he would do everything in his power to make sure that none of his brothers died while he could stop it from happening. He had always admired the selflessness of the Wolf Guard and realized that that was his goal, to join their ranks at some point in his future so that he may continue to protect those who protect the Imperium. He was brought back to the present and waited for Alrik to reply as he closely watched the movements of the combat servitors. He realized something at that moment, if it was his purpose to protect his brothers he needed to make things right with he and Vermundr, he told himself that after this bout he would seek his brother out and crush him in a bear hug. He nodded his head and his smile widened, yes a crushing bear hug.


----------



## Euphrati

The atmosphere in the thunderhawk was rift with tension as the Wolves faced off; Keris could taste the emotions of this brothers like bitter fruit on his tongue. He kept a firm grip on Iorek's shoulder, momentarily unsure if the older Wolf would actually attack his brother in his grief.

Heavy steps cut through the shadows of the hold and a massive figure paused at the top of the ramp, lit from behind like a wrathful god of old. Keris felt the wolf in his heart lower its head in submission to the cold blue eyes that peered from under the polished wolfskull helm, the Wolf Priest's voice cut through the darkness like the frigid winds that howl across the flanks of the Fang itself.

The tone of the engines changed as the craft lurched skywards and Keris felt the walls of the hold press in on him as he quickly returned to the grav couch's embrace. Keris fought to keep his breathing steady as he was almost painfully aware of the priest's gaze; reciting the words of a litany of calming in whispered tones and keeping his gauntlets clasp tightly before him to keep from tugging at the harness as the vibrations of the roaring engines shook his very bones. 

The beast inside finally settled as the thunderhawk shrugged off the grasping talons of the planet's gravity, slipping into the silence of space. Keris felt his heartbeats slow and craned his neck to peer though the small crysteel portal near his seat; gripped by sudden awe as the view of stars shifted, tilting as the pilots turned the nose of the assault craft towards the Fist of Russ. The massive battleship hung in the void like a mountain of adamantium, her form cast in a pale blue-grey and bristling with the long barrels of cannons and lance batteries that sprouted her flanks. A deep sense of pride pushed aside the last wisps of unease in Keris's heart as the thunderhawk quickly closed the gap, heading for the flickering lights of one of the landing bays. Moments later they had passed through the void-fields and the whine of the engines spun down as the pilots brought her to rest on the deck with a shudder of landing struts.

There was a hiss of air escaping as the craft equalized pressure and a rune beside the ramp shifted from amber to green. The hydraulics sighed and the gangway clanged down. As Wolf Priest Sigurd and his brothers began to disembark; Keris shrugged off the embrace of the harness and padded silently in their wake. He paused at the base of the ramp, glancing around as the scents of the launch bay cresting over him; the pungent smell of sacred machine oils, the hot tang of the engines as they cooled, sweat from the bondsmen who laboured to refuel and service the crafts under the watchful eyes of the Iron Priests, and, under it all, the scent of brother Wolves.

Keris's thoughts turned inwards even as his steps led him to the arming chambers that the Blood Claws shared. The battle in the chapel played out in sequences of memories as he began stripping out of his armour, speaking softly the litanies to thank the war spirits within the ancient suit and checking over each piece for damage. A dull pain bloomed in his shoulder that caused his breath to escape in a sharp hiss as Keris's seeking fingers found the catch to his cuirass. He shrugged out of the heavy plates, frowning as he probed the wound with care. It was just a glancing shot, nothing that was worth the time of the priests, solely tissue damage and even that he could feel knitting together as his enhanced body systems repaired the muscle. His armour, however, was another matter. Keris quickly finished checking over the remaining sections of his armour before pulling on a loose blue-grey tunic and black breeches and going in search of one of the Iron Priests to see the damaged repaired.

----

Keris sighed, letting out his breath slowly and ran a hand through his crest of black hair. 

Sleep had eluded him, the memories of events on the surface of the world refusing to allow him rest. So, he had knelt in meditation, seeking to sort through the multitude of thoughts that harried his mind like the baying of a distant pack of wolves.

His Claw had returned wounded and with internal tension threatening to tear them apart. Keris found a sense of restlessness come over him, the wolf within stirring uneasily as the names and faces of the dead surfaced in his thoughts. Keris's mind kept coming back to his words with Grey Hunter Kjarl outside of the chapel. _Had there been more he could have said that would have made the difference? Something he had missed that could have altered the course of things?_ He had trusted his mentor's instincts even though deep inside his own had warned of danger. He was merely a pup on his first mission from Fenris, _who was he to question the elder Wolf's leadership?_ 

No, Kjarl had faced countless dangers and would not have been placed as their teacher had he not proven his worth. The image of the Grey Hunter sharing frothing ale and roaring tales of heroic deeds with his packbrothers and the dead members of Keris's Claw in the Hall of Russ brought a faint smile to his lips. Keris closed his icy eyes as the smile faded; bidding a silent gratitude to the Wolf that had helped guide his steps and a fare thee well to his packmates as he accepted their fates.

_Yet, the voice of doubt gnawed at his thoughts like a wolf works a bone. _

Keris climbed to his feet and slipped out into the bowels of the ship, letting his body work off some of the restlessness that coursed through his veins as he prowled the low-lit corridors. Bondsmen worked quietly at their stations, grey tunics baring the symbol of Blackmane's Company proudly over their hearts. Heads nodded respectfully in his direction and he returned the gesture in passing, noting the tokens and charms of the tribes on their persons. Many chapters relied on the half-man half-machine creations of the Mechanicus to man their vessels; the Sons of Russ called on the sweat and blood of men, many of them sailors taken from the seas of mother Fenris herself, sworn into service for the Chapter and the Allfather. Their scents and the guttural accents set his mind at ease as he slipped through the halls as silent as a shadow.

Keris's path took him by the training deck where a familiar scent and the sound of a bolt pistol caused him to pause and glance within the low lit arena. Iorek stood alone, firing off round after round into a target that bore the signs of countless shots already sent downrange. There was a strangeness about his brother that caused Keris's hair to rise; a bitterness to his scent that was almost feral. Keris almost stepped inside to offer his brother support but stopped at the threshold. They all mourned their lost packmates, but Njoror's death had left a bleeding wound in Iorek that Keris wasn't sure his clawmate _wanted_ to heal. 

The Space Wolf's posture was forlorn but with an edge of barely contained aggression that spoke volumes to Keris's instincts. Iorek would not thank him if he tried to approach his brother now and possibly even lash out; seeing Keris's attentions as a sign that he considered his brother weak and unable to cope with the emotions that hung about the young Wolf like a dark cloud. It took effort to turn away from the door and leave his brother to his almost fanatical training; the echoing sounds of Iorek's bolt pistol followed Keris long after they should have faded. As he worked his way deeper into the sections of the ship that the Blood Claws were allowed to roam, Keris could not help but think back on Vermundr's words concerning Iorek on the thunderhawk. _Were his brother's emotions a danger to the pack?_

Keris knew the direction his feet were taking him long before he stopped in front of the portal to the small chapel, pausing for but a moment before ducking inside. He spent the rest of his allotted sleep cycle on his knees in silent prayer.

----

The grip of the bolt pistol rested snuggly in his palm as Keris hefted it to check his stance before returning to the waiting position again. It felt good to be back in his armour with a weapon in hand. The restlessness that had gripped him the night before had slowly lifted as Keris had spoken the words of the prayers to the Allfather over the course of the night. He had left the chapel at peace with himself, albeit hungry.

The target popped up and Keris brought the bolt pistol up in one smooth motion to let loose a bust of shells that impacted on the ceramite target just right of dead center. Keris frowned and keyed the target to retract again, returning his pistol to the waiting position again. Vermundr's pistol roared as his brother sent bolts screaming down on his own target. Von and Iorek were present as well on the range, the latter looking haggard and exhausted. Alrik and Tyr were locked in a battle with combat drones, sweat gleaming from their massive chests as they stood back to back in the cages. 

Keris kept a wary eye on Iorek, his brother' scent making the back of his neck itch, placing himself between his clawmate and Vermundr on the line. He had caught the Wolf sending feral looks in the direction of Vermundr when his brother was occupied and Iorek's movements were sharp with challenge. It seemed that his wolfbrother was not going to forgo the slight without a fight. Keris sighed and brought his pistol up again in a sure movement to punch a hole just off dead center of the waiting target.

He was about to reach over and signal a new series of moving targets when his hackles rose and a presence swept over him from behind. Keris turned to see to whom the heavy footsteps belonged only to blink in surprise as the Wolf Guard Gunnar called out his and Vermundr's names, announcing that Lord Blackmane wished words with them both. Keris swallowed convulsively and quickly checked his pistol before holstering it at his hip across from his chainsword, falling in step with his brother behind the massive Wolf as he lead them back out and down the long hallways of the ship.

Bondsmen stepped aside at their passage and Keris's mind wheeled like a hunting pack of wolves. It wasn't every day that a Blood Claw was called to stand before his Lord, much less summoned by one of the Wolf Lord's personal bodyguards. The Wolf Guards were all heroes in their own rights; a Wolf had to serve at least ten years as a Grey Hunter before they could even be considered for the position and account for himself with enough honour and courage to catch his Lord's favour during that time. To send one of these great warriors to fetch a pair of lowly Blood Claws was an honour in itself.

The thoughts of why he had been summoned tumbled through his head, was his Lord angered with him and his brothers for walking into the trap set by the traitorous Alpha Legionnaires? _Not even Kjarl had seen the trap for what it was, yet the thought remained._ Ragnar had favoured him once before in the palace, placing Keris in charge of speaking with the Captain of the PDF, then again in delivering what he had gleaned from that meeting to the Grey Hunter. Keris felt secure in his decision to send the signal when the traitors had ambushed them and Kjarl had fallen; it had been the Wolf Lord himself along with the Wolf Priest Sigurd who had answered that call and undoubtedly turned the tide of the battle, forcing the traitors to show their true face and flee like the cowards they were. Keris had not backed down in that fight; though the renegade held countless years of experience over him he had stood his ground with courage and ferocity.

New scents found their way to his keen nose; they had passed into a section of the ship that Keris had never been before. These halls housed the quarters given over to the Wolf Guard and Lord Blackmane's personal chambers as well. Keris felt every one of his short years in the presence of these elder brothers. _What wisdom lay behind the cool eyes that marked their passage? What tales of great deeds and foes slain in the name of Russ and the Allfather lay in this chosen warriors' pasts?_ Keris felt an almost avid hunger for those tales well up from within him, coupled by a deep and profound awareness that he had the honour to call these men of legend Brothers.

Yet, he had not been the only one singled out. Vermundr padded along beside him and Keris threw a questioning glance in the direction of his packmate. Keris found himself deeply troubled with his brother's actions. Had his brother merely kept the information of Njoror's death from Iorek, Keris was certain that the other Wolf would have still been angry and distressed, but to lie about it was another matter all together.

Trust in the Wolf by your side was one of the foundations on which a healthy pack was built and Vermundr had failed in that aspect. He had cast doubt upon his word and though Keris understood his intentions had been for the good of the pack, it had in the end served to only to cause a greater wound to their already dwindled numbers. The question of just what could be done to repair the damage had crossed Keris's mind more than once in the two days they had been back aboard the Fist of Russ. It was a delicate matter, one which he had hoped to bring before the Wolf Priests sooner rather than later. Vermundr had shown his skill as a warrior on the battle field, even watching Keris's own back while he had taken the shot at the leader of the riot on their arrival to the planet. Their Claw had already lost enough men and it pained Keris to see his brothers at odds. The situation caused a lump in his stomach and the wolf in his mind to stir in agitation.

Keris caught his brother's eyes and gave him a soft nod coupled with what he hoped to be a encouraging smile before turning back to follow the movements of their Wolf Guard guide as he led them unerringly toward the chambers of their Lord. He fought to keep his heartbeats regular and his breathing level the closer they got to their goal.


----------



## unxpekted22

While Tyr was half way through his opinion, Vermundr finished putting his helmet back on, his brown haired braid falling to the left as it usually did. He then sat back and crossed his arms. The red glaring eyes of his metal mask, stared toward the floor of the thunderhawk in such a way that his real eyes could only dream of doing. They were emotionless, apart from one…confident, unyielding faith. The eyes of his space wolf helmet, something his armor had in common not only with all of his brother space wolves, but every space marine serving the emperor throughout the entire galaxy. It was into these eyes, that countless enemies of mankind looked into every day as they met their deathly fate at the hands of the All-father’s sons. It was those eyes, that Vermundr wanted his own enemies to look into with dread, knowing they have been defeated by the unmistakable essence of a space marine. Within these eyes is where he felt most comfortable, and right now he could think of no better place to be, and this single emotion of faithful confidence was the only one he wished to portray at this moment. 

The helmet granted him another favor that he would never express to his fellow wolves, a favor he just now discovered: it helped block scents. This is not to say he had not realized and been taught this in the past, but before he would not have considered this a beneficial attribute to his helmet; but the aching, wrathful, and disturbing scents of his pack mates was something he could not bear. Von’s scent told of exhaustion, reminding him of the pack mates he had lost so recently and the weariness of his first off-world mission. It sparked the realization also, of how tired he himself was. The scent of Alrik was of more Brother’s blood, the scents coming off of him telling of his dual and still carrying the repulsive odor of the alpha legionnaire…Tyr’s and Keris’s scents, emotions, and words throwing him into the pit of a mistake that he could not take back, of a mistake he made with the intent of helping the pack.

This lead of course to the sight, speech, and scent of Iorek. With Iorek standing, Alrik holding him in place, Vermundr thought of the eyes of his helmet. He would not waiver. He had said to Iorek what he had, and Iorek was making it obvious that no mere apology would be enough. In either case he would not apologize, for he firmly believed if he had simply withheld the information like the others, that Iorek would have still been too unfocused. Whether Iorek knew that Njoror was dead, or if he was unsure, it would have affected him in battle against the toughest opponents any of them have ever faced; whether it had been a foolish decision hurting him alone or throwing off the pack as a whole. Vermundr had just unexpectedly seen Odin and Gromar’s bodies on the other side of the open street with their heads blown open as Alrik, Iorek, and Keris had arrived. That added two more pack mates dead to the ones they had lost earlier, and he was not about to tell Iorek a piece of information before charging into the unknown that may have gotten them _all_ killed. 

Though he did not plan on apologizing, he did not plan on instigating, or brining up the matter at all in the future. However, he was sure it was inevitably going to be brought up by Iorek at some point. Unfortunately, as Iorek was guided to sit back down, Vermundr knew the matter would have to be resolved in one way or another before he could trust Iorek to have his back again; but it would have to first be brought up by Iorek nonetheless. The death of a friend was something Iorek would have to resolve in himself. Being angry at him served a purpose that Vermundr believed held no value to the pack. But, would Iorek even care about the “pack” any more? 

The words of Sigurd relieved him significantly. He was someone who understood what it was like to make quick decisions in the heat of battle. As the thunderhawk made its way back to the _Fist of Russ_ Vermundr continued his thoughts. He never would have guessed the death of Njoror would affect his brother in such a way. He thought to himself, how can one brother be raised to so much higher a level than the rest? Perhaps he did not understand because he had only now had past battle experience, _real_ battle experience, with any of his brothers. Yet still, he held Alrik at no higher importance than he did Keris. The same went for the other three. Is that not how a pack was supposed to be viewed by its members? If any member of the pack should be held higher in importance it would be the one put in charge by a superior. He could think of no other reasons.

Remaining unmoved until the thunderhawk docked, Vermundr only then unlocked his arms from being crossed upon his chest armor. He and Keris were the last out because of the seating arrangement. Keris paused at the base of the ramp just for a moment; allowing the surrounding air to fill his nose with familiar scents; a pleasure Vermundr had now been unable to partake in with his helmet still on. He passed Keris while he paused and continued on to the Blood Claws’ section of the ship. 

Once in the hallways, his pack mates dispersed to various locations. Vermundr went to his sleeping quarters. He walked up to a small circular window. He gazed out through his red colored lenses to find the planet below was in view. Such giant cities….He wondered how soon he would be going back to it, if at all.

The pack…what was the pack? 

He finally removed his helmet and weapons and set them down on the metal table next to him. 

What was a space wolf? Who was he kidding? There seemed to be a clear answer why he did not appear to fit in with his pack, with his brothers. He was not from Fenris like they were. Sure the world the Wolves found him on was basically a satellite to Fenris but it still wasn’t the space wolf home world. He was taken to Fenris though all the same, and the whole time through him becoming a space marine he had assumed it would never matter; the chapter deemed him honorable, courageous, and talented enough to become a part of them. Was he still less of a Space Wolf than his Fenris born brothers though? He did not seem to be as akin to his senses, and compared to some of them like Iorek and Keris the sprirt of the wolf inside him sometimes seemed to be non-existant. He had never had problems controlling this “wild” side that showed in his pack-mates. It had launched him into a rage upon the alpha legion traitor, he had a good nose, he had his fangs just as well as his brothers…but still the thought remained. They had all come from the wintry world of Fenris. Though as used to the customs of Fenris as he was, he had been born somewhere else. Though this he could not prove this either, maybe the space wolves who found him, found he was originally from Fenris. 

His thoughts went back to Iorek, and the spirit he had just doubted welled up inside of him. He stood facing the window replaying the thunderhawk scene in his mind. Replaying the moment he lied to Iorek, lying in cover beside him as high powered las shots flew over their heads. His teeth began to show and his lips began to twist. A snarl came up, and then without any further notice, his armored fist slammed into the wall in front of him. With this he yelled, *“Damn it! That lie helped the entire pack! I can’t believe how my own pack turned on me like that! I saved Tyr from further damage! I took down that chaos bastard! I carried Von out of that hell hole into safety! Just to take my seat and have them tell me they would take me to trial!? AGH!!”*

Vermundr then sat on the bedside next to him, calming down. He looked behind him and was glad to find that none of the room’s doors were open. He turned back toward the window, looked down toward his side, and rubbed his still armored fingers along the dents in his armor made by the close range shot of the alpha legionnaire. *“Just lucky”* he said quietly. *“That, or Russ and the All-father have watched over the remaining six of us. Too easily we could have died like the others.”* With this he picked his helmet up, reaching for it still sitting, and gazed into its lenses himself; something he had not done in a while.

- - - - -

Two days later he was again with the rest of the pack for the first time since the thunderhawk. They were all training. He, Keris, Von and Iorek were all working on their ballistic skills, while Tyr and Alrik had their “fun” in the cages with combat servitors. He was calm, focusing on his shots, focusing on how the Alpha legionnaire had managed to dodge his shots before. He noticed that Iorek had still not returned to his former state; the state that had previously made him such a reliable teammate. His eyes alone told Vermundr he was still looking for vengeance. Whether he still wanted to take it out on him, Vermundr did not know. He half expected Iorek to challenge him in a sparring match soon. Whether Iorek was planning on it or not, a wolf guard entered the area before such an event occurred. He reported that their Lord wanted words with him and Keris. He glanced at Keris who he was relieved to see was surprised as well. Relieved was a light term for the feeling though. But, it meant that Keris probably had not reported the incident of him breaking an honor code with part of his pack. He surely had Sigurd to thank for that if such was the case. 

He soon found himself walking down the halls of the wolves he aspired to one day become. A new found appreciation for his elder brothers, now knowing first-hand how quickly and easily all of their lives could be lost, and how these wolves had lasted as long as they had; and most likely against even fiercer odds much of the time. 
He got a warm nod from his brother walking beside him. It was a small gesture but significant nonetheless. For the past two days Vermundr had pondered about just how much a part of the pack his brothers felt he was. Not speaking to any of them since they had been on the planet, He did not know what feelings his brothers had since developed towards him. But now he knew despite their words, at least Keris still considered him a trustworthy ally. It encouraged him to speak to his brother, *“I don’t suppose you have any more knowledge on what this is about than I do?”*


----------



## Euphrati

Vermundr’s words were but a whisper over their heavy tread; Keris was sure the Wolf Guard heard them but the warrior kept his stride steady, focused on his duty. Keris chewed his lip thoughtfully a moment before replying in a low voice,

‘I do not, but I have faith that Lord Blackmane shall make his interests clear to us soon,’ he gave his brother a wary smile before a somber cast drew itself over his young features, ‘Our pack returned at under half strength and a new leader has yet to be appointed. There is also the matter of the chapel…’ Keris dropped his eyes as his voice dipped to a husky sigh, ‘I should have seen the trap for what it was.’ 

Keris remained silent for a time, seemingly lost in thought, before his head comes back up and he gives himself a bit of a shake as if to dislodge the shadows that linger in his eyes,

‘I, for one, will be glad when we are back to the hunt; those traitors have much to answer for.’


----------



## unxpekted22

"Indeed they do." Vermundr replied.

after another moment's pause he spoke again, "So what did you Iorek and Alrik do when our pack parted ways? It seemed you had not learned of the Alpha legions presence until we came to the chapel, based on the fact that Alrik had no idea. The rest of us were aware of possible traitor marine activity...based on one, or possibly two of them, attacking us before we made it to the chapel grounds. Kjarl came into contact with one I believe, but I was not there when it happened, and we had discovered that...Njoror had been killed with bolter rounds; something the planet's normal forces most likely would not have had. It almost seems futile to me for us to try and figure out why they are here, since no one has ever been sure why the Alpha legion has done anything that it ever has. _They_ might not even know why they are here." Vermundr make a quick huff with his next exhale of breath, "I just don't know Keris, this is my first encounter with traitorous chaos forces...and I must admit that I cannot claim to know how they think, or why they do what they do. Fortunately, all I will have to focus on in battle with them, is their deaths."


----------



## darkreever

Keris, Vermundr; you follow Gunnar through the halls leading to the private armoury and training hall of the wolf guard until finally the winding of the corridors end and you stand before a large set of double doors. Each one is bedecked with the aged symbols of past wolf companies, the heraldry of past wolf lords; the wolf of the new moon standing out before the rest, the same one that you each bore somewhere on your own power armour. The sounds of heavy bolts disengaging reach your keen ears, and the wolf guard Gunnar moves towards the doors, planting a hand on each one and pushing them open with what looks like relative ease before he turns to you both. _“What the wolf lord has to say is between you and him, this is as far as we travel together."_ He says with a nod before standing aside.

As you step forward into the personal chambers of lord Blackmane, you are greeted by the sight of a chamber as large as any of the feasting halls. Trophies of defeated foes and honours of past battles and campaigns hang throughout the chamber, a large hololith dominating the center of the chamber, displaying the entire system, sygils marking out the Fist of Russ and the ships of lord Krom and Egil's own ships; there are other symbols marking out system ships but they mean nothing to you. Beyond the hololith, far opposite the double doors, armourcrys windows reveal the sight of the planet you had lost so many packmates on no more than two days ago. In the middle of these windows, a lone figure stares out towards the planet, a black pelt covering his features. The lord of your company, Ragnar Blackmane, turns away from the windows as the double doors close and quickly crosses the distance towards the hololith, switching the image to the world below before motioning for you to come further in.

_“They are down there somewhere,”_ he said before looking up at you, _"the trecherous bastards who killed Kjarl and laid that trap for you all. They are down there, they will try for us again, make no mistake of that."_ Ragnar finished and then looked at the image, saying nothing for a time. As the silence started to become unbearable, Ragnar finally spoke again and broke the silence. _"Kjarl is dead, the ones who killed him made sure of that."_ He said bluntly, turning away from the hololith and towards you. _"The wolf priests say that your claw is divided and fractured, the loss of Kjarl adding to their judgement that your pack is unfit to continue until after our return to Fenris."_

He continues before turning his attention to Vermundr. _"The choice you made, to lie to your wolf brothers; it is why they feel none of you can continue to fight with us for now. But what you did was to protect your brothers, and often that is what the leader of a pack must do. The fate of the entire pack is more important than the feelings of any one member, it is a tough choice but one that must be made. That is why your pack will go planetside again with the rest of the company, and I want you to lead it."_ He finished with a grin on his face. _"Kjarl was a rare breed, a legend, and for a time a lone wolf; there are no more like him to lead your pack, and I cannot spare another to do it. So until our return to Fenris or I choose otherwise, you will lead your wolf brothers."_ Ragnar finished, clapping Vermundr on the should with an armourer gauntlet.

_"Now though, I must speak with Keris on a matter; you understand."_ He said, his eyes locking with yours, further ramming home everything that he had just said to you.


Keris; the doors of lord Blackmane's chambers close behind Vermundr as he leaves, leaving you alone with the lord of the company. For a blood claw, there is no greater honour than to be singled like this. A sudden noise jostled your senses, and you looked throughout the room for the source only to realize that it was a sigh from lord Blackmane. He made his way to a large round table made of Fenrisian wood, a likeness to the Grand Annulus within the hall of the great wolf in the Fang and beckons you to follow him. _"Your pack is divided because of your brothers actions, his leading will likely not sit well with some of the others I am sure."_ Ragnar said as you took a seat across from him.

_"Kjarl was unique, a lone wolf who lost his own pack brothers to traitors nearly a decade ago. He was not originally of the company, but he and I shared an oath when he became a part of it. In return for leading a pack and lending his experience and knowledge to train others, I would never question the direction he lead his pack."_ Lord Blackmane informed you levelly; his eyes never leaving yours. _"Vermundr will need support if he is to lead you all, so I would ask that you make an oath with me Keris. If you will follow and support Vermundr, then I will honour whatever you ask of me in return."_ He said, waiting for your response.

To say that you were shocked is an understatement, you could ask anything of lord Blackmane and he would grant it in return for supporting Vermundr as pack leader. Many thoughts went through your mind, but they meant nothing, you already knew what you wanted. _"There is nothing that I desire my lord, all that I want is the chance to kill those responsible for Kjarl and my brother's deaths."_ You said, staring back at lord Blackmane, not daring to look away as you spoke. 

Ragnar's grin became a true smile at your words, and he immediatly got up and was by you in an instant, an arm out and awaiting yours. You got up from the wooden bench, extending your arm, unsure at first, but he grabbed it in a firm warrior's shake. _"I would have it no other way Keris; and so I swear that for as long as there is life in me, I shall honour my oath to you."_ _"And I to you my lord."_ Is all you manage to return.

_"Now Vermundr will need your support as he informs the rest of your pack of what has happened. You'd best go to his side."_ Ragnar said, letting go of your arm and turning back to the hololith viewer.

[Vermundr and Keris; Keris exits the wolf lord's chambers and Vermundr is there waiting, make your way back to the others.]

Tyr; as you wait for Alrik's reply, two more of the servitors charge forward, one with a large spinning blade and the other with a pair of shock whips where its arms should be.

[Tyr; I don't think I need to say anything about what to do.
Alrik; might be a good idea to help your wolf brother.]

Iorek; Von looks at you and nods in agreement before following you to another of the training cages. When there you both begin the process of removing your armour, like Alrik and Tyr stripping down to your wastes. Unlike them, however, you each take up a dueling blade and enter the cage.

[Iorek; the first move is yours to make, for the time being Agrippa is busy with other things so I shall take control of Von until his return.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had waited long enough and the servitors were making their move, he and his brother would have to change thier plans. He let out a howl and, gripping the halberd almost at the end of its shaft, thrust it at the servitor with the electrowhips head piercing its brain. But before he had time to pull his weapon lose and turn it upon the other servitor its spinning blade came down aiming to cut his right arm off from the fore arm down. 

He let go of his halberd with his right arm and swung his body around to the other side and gripped the haft shoving it at the servitor to block its attack. The blade connected with the haft and sparks flew into his eyes, but the spinning blade stuttered down the haft and before he could get his hand fully away sliced open his hand. With a roar he let go of the haft and kicked out at the servitor, knocking it back, and picked up the halberd again swinging it above his head and lowering it as he charged the servitor. 

The tip of the halberd ripped into the servitor's stomach, and if the machine were any sort of living creature it would have died then, but it was only a machine and Tyr watched its blade arm twitch up and slice across his fore arm as he moved out of the way. He roared again in pain and ripped the halberd out of the servitor's side sparks flying before twisting and slicing its head off, he quickly turned around and jumped back as a blade cut at his face, the tip of it cutting across his skin lightly. 

Tyr lowered his massive shoulder and barreled into the machine, launching it across the mat. He looked at Alrik, *"Are you going to join in the festivities brother or just watch?!"* he laughed before going after the servitor he had just launched.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik. His name beckoned to the young Wolf as the giant Iron Priest, armour painted a dull red pried his helm with a giant Servo-claw mounted upon his back. Twisting Alrik wanted to scream out as the helm began to hum, then with a hiss finally popped off from the hinges and revealed a scarred and pitted face speckled with flecks of dry blood. The older Astartes clasped his cheeks and forced a withered yelp outwards from his mouth. 

The ancient looking Astartes laughed loudly, beard swinging and said “Young Firehawk, how did this happen to your face? You will be telling your fellow Claws you killed a accursed Daemon in no time wont you?” Alrik looked away shyly before looking back up to the Astartes and muttering “Brother-Priest….I thank you but now I ask you another favour, when we return to Fenris….Teach me of the Mechanicus” and with that Alrik stood, nodding and left.

++++++++

After that Alrik had sought out his time in the training cages, mangling Servitor after Servitor with his axe and hands. His face was a mess of scar tissue and leathery lines. A pair of lines were painted across his chest, both blue and resembling crackling lightning bolts. Tyr, the giant was fighting the Servitors in the particular cage and Alrik could not care less for his mind lay elsewhere, his Brother was downing the Servitors with ease and the Firehawk knew he could handle it until a pair of new Servitors charged forwards, weapons humming. 

One with a giant blade lunged at Alrik, the Space Wolf slid back on the tips of his toes gracefully and shouted “Tyr! You know that even though my face is like this im still better looking than you, right?” and laughed aloud as the blade pushed its tip into his lower chest and pulled back, sending a small splutter of blood backwards the Astartes swung his axe in a deadly arc.

The axe cut through the side of the creature, breaking ancient bones and getting lodged in a piece of metal, the Servitor stepped away and pulled the axe with it, leaving Alrik standing with wide eyes facing the mechanical beast. He stepped forwards and wrapped his fingers around his axe, pulling upwards it cut through dead flesh and split the creatures chin in two, sending sloppy green liquid to the floor he pulled it away and spun, letting it fly through the creatures neck and land on the floor below.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was astounded. He hadn’t needed to say a single word outside of, “Thank you my lord.” 

He walked out leaving Keris behind alone with Blackmane. He stood outside the large doors waiting for Keris with a large grin on lips. He was a bit confused on some things though. He was sure that if either of them got promoted it would have been Keris. Also, why was Keris still in there alone; was he to receive punishment of some kind instead of himself. Also, there was a lot of pride welling inside of Vermundr’s heart, and excitement at having a better opportunity to prove himself to the elders of his company. He was already a good step ahead of many blood claws under Blackmane’s command. The possibility of failure though, was a newfound shadow looming over his head. 

He had been heavily affected by the early deaths of his packmates upon planet-fall, and those had not even been his fault; in any way. He began to realize some of what Keris must have felt about the death of Kjarl. Could Keris have prevented it? Vermundr was now sure Keris must have asked himself this countless times since returning to the Fist of Russ. 

Now there was the possibility of him being the cause of his packmates’ deaths upon giving a foolish order. And who would he get leadership advice from if he needed it? Kjarl would not be around anymore, and nor would any other elder. He muttered through his teeth, “I am a Space Wolf. The price of failure is too great, and so will not be accepted as a solution under any command I may have over my brothers. Though there may be six of us left from the original pack, we six have merely proven our places as men amongst boys among the units of blood claws here. The others had their chance, and now continue on in the grand cycle of things; their souls in the clenches of Morkai.”

He thought further. He would now have to patch up the broken bond between him and Iorek. How would he do this? He knew Iorek would not take lightly to him being in command. Vermundr now realized the pain that makes a leader stronger. Making decisions for a group rather than just for one’s self. Even while telling Iorek that Njoror was still alive he knew it would become an issue at some point afterwards. He did not know how big of an issue, but he made the decision anyway. He would not lie to his brothers again, he learned from that, but he had also learned that in order for the group to be successful and survive, he would at times be forced to waive the issues of a single individual. 

He certainly had not grasped any of these concepts fully yet, but he heard Keris opening the door behind him.


----------



## Euphrati

_They knew._

Vermundr’s words shocked Keris into silence. Kjarl and his brothers had known that there was the possibility of traitor astartes and yet had let him, Alrik, and Iorek walk into the chapel blindly. _Why?_ The wolf within him stirred slightly, whining softly in confusion.

Before he could respond to Vermundr’s question, a vast set of immense double doors loomed up before them. Icons of past Wolf Lords, like watchful guardians, gazed down upon the two Blood Claws. The symbols were ancient, steeped in honour and legend within the chapter. Keris felt his mind clear and his heart swell with pride as his eyes settled on the inspiring symbol of Blackmane’s company, deeply inscribed within the façade of the heavy portal. The sounds of locks retracting echoed through the metal of the corridor as the Wolf Guard placed his mighty hands on the portal and eased the great doors open before turning to address them in low tones as he stepped aside to allow them entrance to the chambers beyond. 

Keris inclined his head in silent thanks to the warrior. His hearts beats increased in response to the excitement that welled up within his mind as the scents of the private chambers of their Lord washed over Keris as he and Vermundr stepped over the threshold, the doors swinging shut behind them. The space that greeted them was as vast as any feasting hall Keris had seen, trophies and honours taken in countless battles lining the walls and giving the chamber an air of legend. Planets and ships hung in the air, projected by the multiple glowing eyes of the hololith that dominated the center of the room.

Visible across the room, through the ghostly images of the system marked by icons that Keris was unfamiliar with, stood the towering form of their Lord himself; his back was to them as he faced the towering armourcrys windows that took up the far side of the chamber. The fur of the black wolf pelt that had given Ragnar his namesake trailed down from their lord’s powerful shoulders, gleaming softly in the light from the projection. Beyond the Wolf Lord, Keris’s eyes came to rest on the slowly turning globe of the world that had claimed the lives of so many of his packbrothers and their mentor, hanging in the cold void of space like a dark jewel. A burning hate stirred deep in his mind, the traitors would pay for their sins against the Allfather and the blood of his kinsmen if it took every breath in his body.

Blackmane suddenly turned from his vigil, striding across the room with the surprising quickness that he was known for in battle and beckoned them to join him. Keris stepped forward without pause, Vermundr at his side. Their Lord’s fingers danced across the controls of the hololith and the ancient machine responded by altering the image, the projection shimmering before focusing in on the world that spun bellow the Fist of Russ. There was a note of pain in Ragnar’s scent as he broke the silence, speaking as much to the image of the world as the two Blood Claws that stood by his side. 

Keen, blue eyes searched their faces as the moments stretched out. Keris laboured to stand firm beneath the scrutiny of those deceptively youthful eyes, acutely aware of the powerful personality that Blackmane wore as easily as the wolfskin on his back. Finally, just as the wolf within his mind had begun to twitch under the silence, Blackmane spoke again before turning back to the projection. Keris felt his hearts clench at his Lord’s words concerning his pack, for he knew that the words were nothing but the truth. They were broken, from within as well as without, yet anger warred with the feeling of failure and the wolf inside him curled back its lips at the thought of being sent back to Fenris while his Company fought on still. Blackmane was not finished speaking and his next words could not have shocked Keris more if his Lord had reached across the table and slapped him.

He stood, trying to hide the confusion and pain he was sure was written plain on his features and scent, as Ragnar named Vermundr as the leader of the pack and then dismissed him; leaving Keris alone with in his presence. Keris’s mind spun like a dragonship caught in a raging squall as he tried to understand what had just happened. 

The door behind Vermundr swung shut and the room suddenly pressed down upon him as Keris suddenly realized the honour he had just been granted. To be alone by his Lord’s side was something that a Blood Claw only dreamed about. For a brief moment panic gripped at his soul, perhaps Blackmane was going to call him to account for his packmates and Kjarl’s deaths. Yet, thought there was a faint hint of anger to his Lord’s scent it was the anger of loss and not focused upon the young Wolf before him. The sound of a sigh caused Keris to start before he realized the sound had come from Ragnar himself and quickly moved to follow his Lord’s beckoning over to the circular table that sat to one side of the room, taking a seat cautiously and fighting the urge to stare at the hand-carved surface of the dark wood. He recognized the likeness immediately, a sense of profound awe pressing any doubts from his mind as to Blackmane’s view of his actions. Ragnar’s eyes met his own ice-blue gaze and held it without question as he spoke.

Blackmane’s words hung in the air between them and, for a moment, Keris thought his hearts might stop beating in his shock. Kjarl was more than he had ever realized; the honour of having known him even for such a short time filled Keris with a quiet wonder. 

Yet, what had just been asked of him; what the Lord of his Company had just placed before him, was a trust and honour far greater than even what he had moments ago bestowed upon Vermundr. Ragnar had asked him, not ordered or demanded of him, but asked him for his oath and in return would grant him anything he desired. As Keris sat in shock a question surfaced from his churning thoughts like the first star in the evening sky, _what did he want?_

A thousand choices lay before him, yet they all seemed strangely pale and meaningless if placed upon him unearned. Duty to the Allfather and the Chapter was his everything, _could there be anything else that could compare to the gifts he had already been given?_ He had thought that perhaps the honour of leadership would fall to him, but was that what he had really desired? A sense of calm settled over Keris as he stared into the waiting eyes of his Lord; perhaps his fate lay in service of another kind where his unshakeable faith and keen mind could help guide his brothers when they needed it the most. 

He suddenly knew without a doubt what his answer would be, what it always had been. Keris’s voice was calm and low as he spoke, his gaze never faltering from the eyes of his Lord,

‘My Lord, I ask nothing in return for my oath; save the chance to seek vengeance, in the name of Russ and the Allfather, upon the traitors who slew our Brother Kjarl and my packmates.’

The smile that graced Blackmane’s features as the Wolf Lord rose to his feet made the wolf within his soul raise its voice in joy. Ragnar was by his side in an instant with his arm outstretched and Keris rose quickly to his feet. He felt the moment etch itself deep in his memory as he extended his own arm out to meet the grasp of his Lord, unsure at first but that vanished as Blackmane closed his powerful hand around Keris’s forearm and sealed the oath with a pledge of his own. Keris knew that he would never forget the pride in his Lord’s eyes as he fought to get his own words out of his breathless lungs,

‘And I to you, my Lord,’ was all he managed to force between his lips.

With the oath made, Ragnar released his arm and bade him to join his waiting brother and return to his packmates with the news. Keris dipped his head in acknowledgement and turned towards the door as Blackmane paced back across to the hololith once more. He hardly even registered the weight of the doors as he pulled them open, such was the sense of serenity coupled with righteous duty that filled his soul.

Vermundr stood to the side, his brother’s scent was a mix of excitement and apprehension. Keris calmly closed the door behind him and turned to his waiting brother, stepping close and placing his gauntleted hands on each of Vermundr’s shoulders. For a long moment he said nothing, merely searched his brother’s face with a cool gaze before slowly nodding at the renewed strength he saw behind his packmate’s eyes. When he spoke, it was with strenght and dedication,

‘It is not adversity itself that makes one great, Vermundr. It is our actions when faced with hardship that define us,’ Keris locked his gaze with his brother, _‘Never forget our purpose, brother. Never forget the oaths we made and *why* we made them.’_

He pauses and smiles softly,

‘Now, shall we return to our brothers and share the good news?’


----------



## unxpekted22

"Indeed we shall Keris...though there is still the issue of Iorek. I do not know if you agree with our lord's decision to give me command of the pack, but either way I think we can both agree that I will need support in bringing Iorek back to us. Getting him to trust me again may prove extraordinarily difficult. For many of us, that was our first mission, but even for those whom it was not, everyone in our pack and even Kjarl made mistakes down there. It would not matter who is in command of the pack if we cannot put these matters behind us and focus on getting our wrathful vengeance on the Alpha legion as a _group_. If we are not fully united, the traitors will grab onto the tear in our pack, and rip us apart entirely."

Vermundr stood silent for a moment, his long brown hair somewhat raised from the excitement of personally meeting, and being promoted, by the lord of his great company. 

He looked toward Keris now, saying to him "Since you smile I assume your meeting with Blackmane was not of the negative sort? If I am allowed to know the answer, what did he have to say to you my brother? Even if I cannot know, I feel it is safe to say that you and I, Keris, have just received an unimaginable start to sagas of our own."


----------



## Euphrati

Keris released his grip on Vermundr’s shoulders and cast a glance back towards the deeply engraved doors, a serenity passing over his features, before returning his gaze to his brother’s eyes and dropping his voice,

‘Sometimes, my brother, there are moments and honours of which the Sagas never speak.’

Keris smiled softly at that and turned down the corridor which they had been led minutes before, gesturing for his brother to walk with him,

‘You are my brother, Vermundr. For that fact alone, I am happy for you. It is not my place to judge your heart, only the Allfather and Russ himself hold that right,’ Keris favoured the new leader with an intense look, ‘and who am I to question the word of our Lord? Though, I would caution you brother, no matter how noble the intentions of a lie… it is still a lie at the heart. But you should know that although I do not agree with the choice that you made, I hold no ill toward you, Vermundr. We have been given the chance to prove ourselves again, my brother, and I offer you whatever aid I may give to see our pack healed.’

Keris paused for a moment to return the nod of a bondsman they passed before continuing,

‘Iorek’s grief concerns me deeply; he has taken his pain and turned it into an anger that rots within his soul. If there was any time that our brother needed his packmates by his side it is now,’ Keris gave his brother a thoughtful look, ‘Trust is something that is earned; perhaps you should start at the beginning and tell me the details of Njoror’s death.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr laughed heartily at Alrik's jest and spun lodging his halberd ina servitor's side causing it short circuit and send a jolt down the weapon and into his hands. He grunted as the shock passed and heard some chuckles and realized his hair was standing on end and laughed also before grasping his weapon and pulling it loose. He turned to Alrik and pointed to his hair and beard that were frizzed, *"How do you like my new look brother? Suits me does it not?" * 

He chuckled before leaping at the last servitor that had been close to him and swiping at its head. But the machine swung its axe up and blocked the blow expertly making him pivot and almost get his head cut off by its return attack, but he came in close and hit it hard with his shoulder knocking it back. He moved his hands up the pole and jabbed the weapon's point into one of the servitor's eyes causing it to ooze a sick green liquid. 

The axe swung down and he moved to the side but the tip happened to slice a thin piece of skin off his shoulder. He stopped and looked at it before roaring and cutting open the machine's stomach and ripping out its wires, as it died he looked up and saw the axe inches from his head and smiled at his luck.

He turned to see Alrik still dueling his servitors and yelled, *"Come now brother! You are not finished yet? I wait for for you then we shall duel ourselves!"* he laughed as he leaned on the servitor's husk and to the amusement of those watching it collapsed under him and he fell to the floor with it cursing as he got up.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik spun away from the last Servitor on his side, axe in the palms of both hands he brought it up and struck the dead creatures tough hide. The axe head cut through the skin, black liquid oozing outwards like some corrupted version of blood. He stepped backwards and howled in pain as the Servitor plunged a blade into his lower arm, twisting it scrapped the bone for a second before pulling away. 

This sent the young Blood Claw into a frenzy. He swung his axe in all directions, cutting through flesh, bone and metal alike. The body began to jerk wildly as Alrik pushed the axe further, he fell upon his pray and sent them both tumbling to the floor where the Astartes punched its skull twice, breaking through bones with ease he stood and muttered “Damned Servitors” as he collected his axe and walked towards Tyr. 

His Brother loomed ahead as Alrik shouted “Well Tyr, you think you can beat me? I am a Firehawk Brother, and although that name no longer means nothing to me I cannot simply drop it. And if you didn’t know I, Alrik Firehawk will not let myself be undermined by you Tyr” he punched his chest with one balled fist and leapt forwards, roaring ferociously.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr smiled impishly as Alrik finished off his last servitor and jumped at him roaring, he readied his halberd to block his brother's attack. The thing about these two weapons was their weight made them hard to move easily, but these were the two biggest Blood Claws in the pack and the ease with which they used their weapons was great. Tyr widened his stance and as Alrik got within striking range he shot the halberd forward locking it with the head of his brother's axe and slamming both weapons to the floor.

With a roar he spun and at the same time turned the halberd in the only motion he could to hit the back of Alrik's face with the butt of the pole.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik felt his axe pull from his hands, his face contorting into a feral snarl as it struck the ground, the base of the halberd flying around to strike him in the back of the head. But the Firehawk jumped forward, striking the ground hard he knew it was necessary to stop him from being struck even if it did hurt like a bitch. The Astartes scrambled back to his feet, tongue hanging from his mouth and leapt forwards, tackling Tyr at the midsection sending both of the giants tumbling to the ground. Alrik pulled himself up and raised his hands behind his head, both clenched together and brought it down on Tyr’s head.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr grunted as Alrik tackled him bringing them both to the floor in a tangle of massive limbs. His halberd was out of his reach now and he turned his head as he saw Alrik's fists come down toward his head, he did the only thing he could and bring his massive arms up to block the hit. His muscles strained to their max as they took the full brunt of Alrik's attack and he grabbed his brother's fists while throwing his head forward and slamming his forehead into Alrik's nose causing his brother to reel backword giving him some space. With a roar he bucked his feet up and tossed Alrik off and over his head, getting up he balled his fists and charged his brother.


----------



## dark angel

Tears began to fill Alrik’s eyes, the pain inflicted by Tyr’s head butt flared in the centre of his face as he stumbled backwards and saw his Brother charge forwards like a true Wolf of Fenris, hands curved into thick fists. The Astartes laughed slightly as he stepped forwards to meet the opposition shouting “Tyr! Charging like a bull as always!” and curved a punch upwards, striking his Brother in the chest as two punches were thrown at him, both hitting home however Alrik continued his onslaught desperate the break the giants skin.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr grinned as Alrik struck him in the chest and he threw two quick punches at his brother's stomach. As long as Alrik kept hitting his midriff he would be fine, all he needed to do was land one solid hit on his brother's face and his wounds would re-open and he would win the bout for sure. He howled and started throwing high punches at his brother's face who threw his arms up to block the hits.

Tyr swung low with his left and saw the opening he needed and threw all of his weight behind his right hand as it collided with Alrik's face, but what he did not expect was his brother's other fist crashing into his nose the same time he hit his brother's face. They both staggered back, blood gushing out of Tyr's nose and weeping out of Alrik's re-opened wounds. They both looked up at each other and pointed before laughing, *"Looks like it is a tie brother, hope I didn't ruin your beautiful features."* he laughed again.


----------



## deathbringer

As they stepped into the cage Iorek felt the emptiness within him drain away as excitement bubbled within him and he stared into the eyes of his opponent a small grin upon his face as he raised the sword. He had never duelled Von before, the idea was fresh and exciting and his worries drained away in the thrill of a new test.

He was used to Njoror able to read his brothers every movement and thus their duels were full of anticipated moves that made them look more Iorek look more skilled then he really was, yet this was fresh, new and exciting and he allowed his face to break into a grin.

He had never been strong on the offense with a sword, dueling Njoror and a preference for the pistol left him stronger on the back foot than the front and he immediately assumed that familiar stance, backwards on the balls of his feet. Then he made a decision, it was time to change. His brother was gone yet he wanted Iorek to improve, begged him to work on his front foot and so Iorek changed shifting his weight to his front foot.

He stretched back into his mind searching for one of Njorors opening offensive strokes and he remembered how his brother had always moved upon his weaker side forcing him to shift his weight and so he began to circle moving towards his brothers weaker side gently probing his brother guard with small thrusts, wary and ready to defend at any time yet trying to judge his opponent.

All of a sudden her remembered one of Njoror's favourite strokes and he smiled a little as he stepped away from his opponent giving ground inviting his opponent to shift his weight and attack him, then as the weight began to change Iorek stepped inwards sword raised, aiming to knock any possible stroke away from his body before lunging for his brothers shoulder


----------



## unxpekted22

"Well," Vermundr started, "After splitting with you, Alrik, and Iorek, Kjarl took us through some more of the city block. I was not sure of our goal at the time. Kjarl was not overtly clear with us from what I can remember, we simply followed his commands as would be expected. We had made it to a manufactorium where Kjarl had us split into two groups. Von, Gareth, and I were to take the ground level. Odin, Njoror, and Gromar went with Kjarl to the upper level. Because of this I am not sure exactly what happened to Njoror or how he became separated from the rest of them. Of course, all of them have died except for brother Von since then and Von was with me, so I have not had the chance to discover exactly what happened. 

My group made it to a garage, where we spotted three soldiers as well as some civilians who all turned out to be planning a trap for us. This trap included bolter fire flying over us from an unseen source....actually, i believe there were three figures of Astartes size moving away from us. It was unclear because the manufactorium had been damaged from the riots, and there were fires filling the area with smoke and haze.

We soon met back up with Kjarl who had apparently come into contact with an unknown astartes figure as well. Apparently the blood claw in Njoror got the better of him, for he ran off in pursuit of this enemy without Kjarl or the others to back him up.

The pack then sought to find him. Using our noses mostly, we did find him....but not how we had hoped.

I was the first to spot his body. He had charged through several already damaged walls in his foolish chase. His body was on its back. There was a bolter round placed between the eyes, and another to the midsection, each one a wound that would kill instantly as well as making the retrieval of his the gene-seed impossible. It told us the enemy knew much about Astartes anatomy. 

I took the Orca tooth from his neck to give to Iorek later, but had handed it to Tyr in order to further inspect the damage. 

The rest of the blood claws and I prayed for his soul, and it was after this that Kjarl told us we were going to a chapel where a pack of grey hunters had landed and had since gone out of contact."


----------



## darkreever

Iorek; You step back in a feint, inviting Von to open his guard and strike, and as he does you step in. You were prepared to parry a blow, but no such thing came; instead Von continued forward, landing an elbow into your chest and forcing you backward. That is when he pressed the advantage and made a low sweep for your legs, intent on ending things quickly. 

[Iorek, you've been caught off balance and with bad footing, what will you do? You cannot end the duel in one post.
Von, should you return before the fight ends, wait for Iorek to post and then go from there.]

Tyr and Alrik; your wounds are light and clot within moments, and as you leave the training cage you notice Iorek and Von in another one, dueling. You also feel the familiar scents of Vermundr and Keris before they return to the training hall.

[Cheer on one of your brothers, or speak with the others of your pack; when you had entered the training cage Keris and Vermundr had been practicing. Where did they go while you were busy?]

Vermundr and Keris; Making your way back through the corridors, you finally return to the training hall. Alrik and Tyr are leaving the training cage, the combat servitors a ruin and both marines bearing new dueling wounds. You also notice something else, Iorek and Von in a different cage fighting.

[Cheer on one of your brothers or speak with Tyr and Alrik; they might want to know where you to have been and why.]


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek's eyes widened in surprise as the younger claw came forward elbowing him in the chest causing a wild stabbing pain and he stumbled as suddenly his feet were going one way and his body the other and the world seemed to tilt as he tried to steady his momentum. From the cornor of his eye he saw the younger bloodclaw swiped low for his knees yet he refused to panic and allowed himself to analyse the situation

There was no hope to jump the blow with his balance shot and so Iorek allowed himself to fall backwards flattening his body to the cage floor. Though he was solidly built he was thinner than he was tall and thus the blow whistled over him.

Yet he was in trouble, flat on his back and he needed to recover quickly. He 
could tell Von was fully commited to the blow eager to end the duel and thus the sweeping blow that whilsted through the empty air where his knees had been moments had left his body open on one side

Iorek took advantage and rolled his body to lash out with both feet intent upon winding his brother or at least knocking him slightly to give him a little breathing space. As he kicked he twisted his upper body using his arm to pivot and twist away from his brother ready to return to his feet sword raised in defence and build his attacks once again.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris listened to his brother’s words as they navigated the extensive corridors of the Fist of Russ, finally approaching the area allotted to the Blood Claws of the Great Company. His senses tingled as Keris took notice of the change in the air in the familiar halls; where the scent of the quarters of the Wolf Guard held power, tempered by the burning fires of battle across the stars, the air here nearly sang with youthful exuberance. Familiar smells hung in the air here; the scent of his battle brothers and the faint taste of unguents and lapping powders that lingered in the air. 

Theirs was not the only Claw aboard the mighty vessel and Keris felt a sense of longing wrap around his soul as the sounds of boisterous laughter found his ears. He recalled how the elder Wolves cited that a pack could only be truly tested in the hot, bloody moments of battle; it was there that the bonds between brothers became unbreakable. _What had gone wrong?_ The wolf within his mind gave a low growl and a cold hatred crept through his veins. _Alpha Legion_. Blackmane’s oath of vengeance still echoed in his ears, divine justice would find the traitorous serpents in the form of the wrath of the Sons of Russ.

Keris sighed, Njoror had been caught up in the heat of the moment and paid the ultimate price for leaving his packmates; yet there was a burning lesson within the loss, if they chose to stand alone they would fall. He nodded and eyed Vermundr with interest,

‘Njoror’s death was an unfortunate one, brother, but it would be even more tragic if we failed to learn from it,’ Keris turned down the hallway to the training arena, slowing his step slightly, ‘As to your question earlier; Iorek, Alrik, and I attended our Lord to the palace. While Blackmane was in private conference with the governor, I was given the task of speaking with the Captain of the planetary forces concerning our encounter of guardsmen acting in favour of the rioters when we first made planet fall and then conveying what I learned to Kjarl. As the new leader of our pack, I offer you that same information and my impressions of the pdf forces gleaned from that meeting.’

Keris paused at the threshold before the arena, stepping to the side in a symbolic gesture to allow Vermundr first entrance, before following his brother through the portal himself. His eyes took in the scene quickly; Alrik and Tyr were both exiting a cage that was littered with the torn bodies of servitors, both Wolves bore the healing marks of a hearty duel though neither looked to be any worse for wear. What surprised Keris was the sight of Iorek facing off against Von in a nearby cage, though Iorek was currently fending off the attacks of the younger Wolf from a prone position on the sandy floor. Keris made his way across the hall to the side of the cage where his brothers still fought, nodding to Alrik as he went,

‘I see that Tyr failed to improve your looks with his fists, brother. Who won?’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr grabbed a towel off a rack as he and Alrik exited the training cage and wiped the sweat out of his eyes and off his face. He made his way over to the cage where Iorek and Von were dueling and started cheering his brothers on as they fought, *"Yes! A good fight brothers!" * He clapped his hands and cheered some more while laughing at various good moves that his brothers made in their attempts to gain the upper hand in the duel. 

His nostrils extended as he breathed deep and he smelled the scents of Vermundr and Keris as they got closer. Strange, he hadn't even noticed they had gone somewhere, where could they have gone? He leaned toward Alrik, *"Did you notice that Keris and Vermundr had left while we fought brother?"* With a hiss the doors to the training area slid open and Vermundr and Keris walked in, Keris making his way over to them. 

*‘I see that Tyr failed to improve your looks with his fists, brother. Who won?’* Tyr laughed heartily at Keris's joke and grasped his brother in a crushing bear hug, *"I think the more important question is where have you and Vermundr been my brother? Are we to head back to the surface and take the fight back to the traitors soon?"* his smile was large and his eyes glittered with excitement at the prospect of going planetside again.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris was a bit taken aback by his brother’s enthusiastic greeting. Even stripped of his armour to the waist, Tyr towered over him; the corded muscles in his arms easily encircling Keris’s smaller, fully armoured frame. His Wolfbrother’s scent was laced with the cooling sweat from the training fight, overlaid with an avid curiosity that also shown in his eyes. Keris favoured Tyr with a lupine grin as he extracted himself from the larger Wolf’s grip,

‘Aye, brother,’ Keris clapped the burly Wolf on the shoulder, ‘we have been given the chance to return to battle with the song of vengeance on our lips,’ his demeanor sobered and he continued, ‘As to where I have been; Vermundr and I were summoned by Lord Blackmane and return bearing news that concerns us all.’


----------



## unxpekted22

Following Keris's words Vermundr continues, "Before we discuss this news though, let's wait for Iorek and Von to finish their duel so nothing needs to be repeated. Also, it would be good to tell the group as a whole in any case."


----------



## Euphrati

Keris arched an eyebrow but dipped his head in acknowledgement of Vermundr’s words,

‘Consequently, that is why I said the news concerns us all,’ Keris could taste Vermundr’s tension on the back of his tongue and released his grip on Tyr’s shoulder to step to his brother’s side; meeting Vermundr’s eyes and adopting a calming stance to soothe his brother’s angst before turning his gaze upon the combatants. 

‘Besides, brother,’ Keris took in the combat with a critical eye, ‘the fight is almost over…’


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek kicked out and felt his feet connected with something, whether it be rib stomach or face he didn't know and he felt his brother take the impact like a true astartes, unflinching and he felt something heavy impact upon his knee as he twisted away struggling to his feet as his bruised knee crumpled slightly under his weight and he saw Von square off at him once more. He tried to focus yet in the cornor of his eye he noticed Keris and Vermundr being accostd by Alrik and Tyr and he tossed down his sword into the sand .

"A good fight brother and count it as your victory though we could continue it again in a minute, yet i for one wish to see what the wolf lord said to Keris and" he swallowed hard and steeled himself to whisper "Vermundr"

With that he swung himself from the cage and moved slowly over to Keris and Vermundr and addressed Keris though his eyes narrowed slightly as they flitted quickly to Vermundr's face which was still devoid of shame or repentance.

"How went it with the wolf Lord? Hurry for I have to show Von that his move was a mere fluke"

He winked back at Von
"Though i seriously did not expect that shoulder charge."


----------



## unxpekted22

Keris, Iorek, Von, Tyr, and Alrik stood around Vermundr. there was no reason for him not to tell them now. 

Vermundr looked at Iorek as he spoke to Von. Upon speaking, he makes eye contact with each of the four in front of him, Keris to his side.

"Lord Blackmane has given me command of this pack brothers. However, we were threatened with dismissal from this mission due to our pack having too many internal problems. I am sure I would not be the only one distraught beyond words if we were currently on our way back to Fenris covered in a sheet of ultimate failure. No future wolf would ever want to be in our pack. Our death toll would be high, our pack leader killed, and dismissal due to broken battle bonds. I _refuse_ to let this be our legacy. We have been given another chance brothers, another chance to go back down there and send those traitorous alpha legion bastards into a hell worse than the one from whence they came! though many of our pack has died, it only serves to show which ones of us had what it takes get out of that chaotic mess alive. This is not to dishonor any of our fallen comrades! I merely portray what the wolf priest taught me...we _cannot_ let the deaths of our brothers cause us to falter. Let instead their spirits go within us and make us stronger. Let us not make their deaths nothing more than a despicable part of a pack infamous for failure. If we get our act together, we can make their deaths a part of something better, make them famous in a positive light, pushing us toward our enemies in wrathful vengeance at the beginning of our great sagas. I know we are still mere blood claws amongst a great company full of war hardened veterans and heroes, but i believe the fact that we survived an ambush by alpha legionnaires with millenia of experience shows that we can _truly_ become a part of Lord Blackmane's great company in the future. I love all of you, and I realize some of you may be hurt by actions I have taken. If any of you still have a quarrel with me, or have an issue with me being in command, say it now in front of the pack."


----------



## dark angel

((OOC: Thought I would get a quick post up before my laptop dies))


Alrik had gone blank since Keris and Vermundr had returned, now he was standing with his Brother's around Vermundr who was telling them that Blackmane had given him command of the Squad, this should not have happened. Keris was clearly the front leader in his opinion and the one who showed the most tactical genious however it was clear that his Brother was supporting Vermundr, so would Alrik he thought to himnself and stepped forwards as the speach ended and placed one hand on the Space Wolves shoulder saying "You have my alliegence Brother".


----------



## deathbringer

It was Vermundr who stepped forward and Iorek allowed his eyes to snap towards him as he spoke loud and clearly looking at each in turn but refusing to meet Iorek's intense burning gaze

"Look at me damn you" thought Iorek but the blood caw was obstinate looking round at each brother except Iorek. The rejection made his skin crawl and he felt a small snarl in the back of his throat yet the wolf inside him was crushed by a memory, forced to the forefront by a desperate surge of reasoning.

_Inside the hulk the fighting had been fierce and the claws had been in the thick of it yet the enemy would not break, held firm through sheer numbers... until they came. Strode like gods amidst the carnage heavy bolters clamped in muscled arm, moving swiftly to the front of the melee to rain holy death upon their enemies. Others had watched them go yet Iorek had stared at there passing lingered upon the brink and he knew. He wanted to be them... to be a long fang. 

He had seen them later as he trembled over the events of the hulk and the wuflen marine that had almost killed him and they had boosted his morale, stirred his resolve and he had walked over, shyly head bowed as he felt their eyes upon him

"What do you want pup?" growled the leader, a grizzled veteran with long mangled hair and a his heavy bolter swing lazily over his shoulder

"I want to be you" Iorek had riposted quickly and the fangs around him had laughed yet the veteran did not laugh and Iorek met his gaze and a silent understanding had passed between them and gradually the laughter faded as the fangs noticed the ferocious intensity in the pups gaze.

Then the veteran spoke."
You wanna be a long fang pup. You have to have qualities" and Iorek jumped in eagerly

"What qualities?"

"First you have to be patient, your target will present itself" smiled the veteran and Iorek's face broke into a grin 

"A Long Fang is one of the key positions on the battle field, every decision you make can change a battle and you will fuck up but you have to be strong and never give up. If you miss you reload and try again, you must be persistent and always believe in yourself.

You have to have good eyes and good aim and be a thinker not impulsive, able to pick the right target at the right time. Also you have to trust your brothers with your life, because when your aiming a missile or a lascannon you wont see anything but your target and so you need to trust that your brother will tell you when the bastards are coming round to bite you in the ass."

The veteran had paused and the pack was silent as they listened to his wise words

"Most importantly you have to control your emotions. You have to put up with being called a coward, being disrespected by your brothers because you stand behind whilst they fight at the forefront. Take the jibes and carry on. You have to be able to watch your brothers being slaughtered before your eyes but still hit your target, still follow the orders. You have to be rational and not ruled by your feelings for if you are you will never be a long fang" 
_

Iorek cursed inside as the memory opened his eyes. He had always been reasonable, prided himself upon his rationality yet here he was a callous fool dictated by his emotions. 
It was not Njoror's death that hurt him now for he had transferred his agony into a desperate yearning for vengeance, a need to sate his anguish in the chaos marines blood, and to sate his desire he must return to the planet and thus eat his pride. 


What bothered him was the lack of trust Vermundr had for him the fact that he felt he could not deal with Njoror's death yet something inside him told him that Vermundr was right. He and Njoror had been brothers, nearly joined at the hip yet he could have controlled it, or could he? The question burned at him a huge spot of failure and they were joined by others, he had lost the wolf Lords favour, turned the pack against him, lost a brother, failed to make an impression.

His own failings were turning to spite him, making him look worse like a vicious cycle into degradation, falling away from his dreams and so if he wanted to achieve his dreams he had to stop this and try again. Without an apology he could not respect Vermundr for it was evident that his brother did not respect him and thought he needed coddling like a babe lost in the woods.

Well he would prove him wrong, he would become harder than ever before and gain honour once more. He would support Vermundr at every turn and not undermine him any longer... he would not do this for the pack, for none of them gave two shits about him yet he had the ability, he could over come his failings.

He felt it now, that to be a long fang was in his blood, it was his dearest wish and its memory had guided him through the painful times when the claw had turned its back upon him. 

He was no lone wolf and he would return to his niche within the pack working to gain their respect and trust once more. He would train hard and try to avenge Njoror yet he would not allow grief to blind him, he would be a long fang, devoid of emotions, analytical and ruthless.

"If any of you still have a quarrel with me, or have an issue with me being in command, say it now in front of the pack." Vermundr closed and glared around and Iorek felt all eyes upon him and Keris's gaze burned into him. Damn that bastards nose he could not lie, keris should have led the pack in truth. If it had not been for the events in the chapel, which were hardly Iorek's fault and Njoror's death Iorek may have had a shot but in the end Keris was Blackmane's favourite.

He tried to look at it from Blackmane's perspective, why promote Vermundr instead of his preferred choice keris. Was it to test Keris or to force the pack to resolve its differences, was Blackmane trying to force Iorek's hand and manipulate the pack against him or had he simply seen something in Vermundr he hadn't. Maybe his indifference and festering hatred had blinded him to qualities unseen, yet that was not the matter in hand. 

Right now Iorek was being tested and he must pass that test and so he looked up his face impassive, stone neutral

"I understand now that I could not have controlled my emotions in the event of Njoror's death, he was my brother and saved my life. My reaction shows that your decision was correct.

However I am still dissapointed that you have no respect, trust or love for me, I guess I will have to earn that trust. I care for very little except my dreams and to avenge my brother..."

He paused for a second as a startling reality occurred to him. He may not survive his vengeance to live his dreams. The irony crushed him a little and he fought to keep his face impassive and suppress the chuckle that rose within him.

"I will murder the bastard that killed him or die in the attempt and i will not have my own failures rob me of that chance. Thus you will have no more trouble from me. I will follow you as I know the rest of us will."

He looked questioningly at keris who was standing behind Vermundr and still gazing at Iorek with a piercing gaze and Iorek felt a little intimidated by the shrewd look within his eyes and he met them , his own red eyes clear and open and suddenly fatigued.

"If nobody has anything more to say then I wish to shoot a little to clear my mind and then return to my room. I have been training for too long and I am a little fatigued."

As he waited he wondered how vermundr would react. His brother had not shown a hint of remorse or even responded to Iorek, ignored him, showing him disrespect at every turn and with his speech he had implored to the pack trying to turn them , use their weight against Iorek to force him into coerscion. The pomposity and superiority in his speech caused a foul taste in Iorek's mouth and though he hoped Vermundr would humble himself and achknowledge Iorek maybe even apologising or at least showing him a little respect, he was almost certain that Vermundr would merely nod looking down from his pedestal to accept Iorek's submission.

It made Iorek's feet itch yet he forced the long fangs voice into his mind

_"You have to put up with being called a coward, disrespected by your brothers because you stand behind whilst they fight at the forefront. Take the jibes and carry on."_

He would take the disrespect and carry on, until he achieved what he desired.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been excited at the news as he saw that Vermundr was finally about to speak, yet what he had heard was not what he had expected. It was not the fact that Vermundr had been chosen to lead the pack, no he simply accepted that and had no quarrel at all with it, it was the fact that they could have been sent back to Fenris in shame. It made him feel dumb and stupid and he looked down and shuffled his feet a bit as he thought about what that would have done to the pack, they most certainly would have fallen apart. So he supposed it was good that they heard that, it would be a good kick in the arse for them, so when they did go planetside they would be true Sons of Russ.

As Alrik gave Vermundr his support and Iorek spoke up a tiny smile crept onto Tyr's face, yes that was a good first step, now they didn't have to feel as if they had to tread carefully around Iorek. Well Tyr knew he didn't, he was everyone's friend, that thought made his smile even broader and he picked his head up and crossed his arms. He stepped toward Vermundr and slapped his hand on his brother's back making him take a step forward, *"I will follow you brother, I say we all head to the mess hall for some drinks!"*


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr listened to everyone's responses, and was glad ta hear each of them. He could tell some fo them were a bit confused by Blackmane's decision as he figured they would be. Hech, he still was not entirely sure about Blackmane's reasons, but it did not matter. Blackmane stated he saw a good sense of command in Vermundr and so made him commander, maybe it really was as simple as that.

After Iorek Spoke Vermundr was especially relieved. he half expected Iorek's fist to fly at his face and then he would have had to duel his brother to obtain command. That could easily have destroyed the pack for good.

he spoke as Iorek began to walk towards the shooting ranges, _"Iorek...thank you."_

Vermundr knew Iorek had not done it for him, but whatever Iorek's reasons were, it helped the pack tremendously for him to be cooperative and level headed again; and anything that helped the pack Vermundr would be thankful for. They needed all the help they could get right now. Thank Russ Blackmane saw something in them. 

Tyr gave his support and Von stood in acknowledgment as well. 

_"The mess hall sounds like a fine idea Tyr! lets go. Iorek! your welcome to join us brother!"_


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek smiled round the group
"I will join you in a minute yet i intend to finish my shooting." he allowed his face to become a thin line of concentration

"Traitors dont kill themselves and I intend to kill at least one before this war ends"

He unholstered the pistol and fingered the scratch upon its butt as he moved smoothly towards the firing pit and flicked a switch to make the targets move at 50 yards whilst a boundary slid up to deflect all bullets not aimed at the head of the man and astartees sized targets as they ducked and weaved

"I will join you all within the hour" he yelled smiling as he ducked behind a small fence which he had placed upon the line and closed his eyes mentally preparing himself to begin. a hundred headshots. 

He smiled and ducked out swivelling upon one heel and aiming as a target poked his head out and fell with a clatter a circle through the centre of his head. A second ducked out edging its head low around the side and Iorek reaimed quickly and the targets gun began to poke round the cornor yet it fell back as Iorek's gun moved at one with his arm, fast and he fired on the move using the momentum of his arm to hit the target where its jaw would be and it fell back as Iorek ducked back into cover. 

He did not smile and his mouth was a thin line as he changed the clip quickly without thought and raised the pistol to his shoulder and controlled his breathing making his body steady and he ducked out eyes moving ready to fire once more.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris stood as a silent presence while Vermundr announced the news of Blackmane’s selection of pack leader, taking in his brothers’ reactions in with a thoughtful eye. More than once he caught a curious glance in his direction as his packmates mulled over the unexpected event each in turn, yet it was the reaction of his brother Iorek that held much of Keris’s interest.

The Wolf wore his surprise openly for the briefest of moments before returning to the hardened expression that Keris had seen etched upon his brother’s pale features since the confrontation in the Thunderhawk. There was a faint hint of fatigue that hung in Iorek’s scent; yet the wildness that had cause his hackles to raise had calmed and, though there was still a distrust that smoldered within those strange red eyes, there was also the return of reason contained within their depths as well. 

_It was that reason that gave Keris’s faith for his brother new hope_. There would still be tension between the two Wolves, but the first steps had been taken to bring the pack back together. 

As the others turned to head to the mess hall assigned to the Blood Claw packs, Keris lingered behind, 

‘Go ahead, I join you in the hall,’ he motioned towards the exit before turning to follow Iorek’s footsteps in the direction of the firing range, ‘I wish to speak with our brother for a bit.’

Keris padded silently across the floor, approaching where Iorek stood on the line calmly and with interest. He waited until there was a brief pause in his brother’s firing before speaking softly,

‘Do you mind if I join you upon the line, brother?’


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek nodded and flicked the switches to make the targets stop and he straightened from behind his little wall of cover pushing it away to stand straight next to Keris, foot upon the line.

"Do you want the targets moving or stationary, brother?"

He smiled at keris yet it was a sad smile as his eyes flittered around the room and he pushed his fingers through his hair as he reloaded the pistol and aimed at the first target and as he allowed his mind to go numb and focused upon his shot he allowed his lips to expound his thoughts at random, allowing them to float onto the air as he relaxed.

"I have spent to long in this place brother. I would say I have clocked more hours in this training room than any other bloodclaw in the pack even before Njoror's death unhinged me.'


He smiled as he reminisced, running his fingers over the pistol and bending to rub at the footmark upon the white lie

"It stems from my childhood, I have to be ready to be prepared. Yet on the battlefield against those astartes no matter how hard I tried, i was not prepared, they destroyed me and though the cultists fell, the astartes were relentless, powerful. I threw a knife and I missed, you know that brother, i tore his knife from my own body and missed the back of his head."

He turned around, span and aimed quickly at the target capping off a shot as quick as possible.

"Njoror used to tell me I was the best he had ever seen. I think that was brotherly kindness but Kjarl used to tell me I was brilliant too and I think most of my teachers saw talent in me. I only really missed once, truly missed, maybe I have hit a little off centre but I've always been able to hit what I aimed. 

The time I missed, I shot against grey hunters and almost beat them, it was onto the last shot and I had matched him shot for shot and then they psyked me out. I've always been analytical, over zealous in my preperation but one thing I have realised is that I am far to emotionally dependent. They hit my confidence, smashed it apart and I missed,completely.

So maybe Vermundr is right, maybe the pack is right not to respect me, maybe I am to emotionally fragile for war to achieve my dreams. he believes I am to weak to avenge Njoror."

"And I have to kill one. So I have to train harder than ever brother or I will never avenge my brother, never gain the respect of the pack, my lord and achieve my dreams. Unless I can gain favour with Blackmane I will never become a long fang, never achieve my potential to be a god amongst gods".

He glanced left at Keris as a thought struck him and he postulated as he raised his arm once again, aiming down the barrel

"Why aren't you crushed brother? Blackmane almost earmarked you out for leadership. How come you support Vermundr so readily?"

He looked up to find 5 holes through the very centre of 5 targets and chuckled

"Guess I should talk more when i shoot"


----------



## Euphrati

Keris met his packmate’s smile with one of his own,

‘Either shall suffice,’ Keris nodded his thanks as he stepped to the firing line beside Iorek, ‘I could stand for practice on both.’

He drew his pistol from its holster with a smooth tug; checking the blessed weapon over with a critical eye before raising it and sending a trio of shots screaming down range towards an unused target. The grouping was fair, all within the center target. He noted the placement and adjusted his grip slightly as Iorek began to speak.

Keris focused on his brother’s words with an open mind, turning his head slightly to let Iorek know he was paying close attention to what was being said. There had been something in his clawmate’s scent that told Keris that his brother could use an un-judging ear so, when the words came, he simply listened; it was the most Iorek had spoken since they had returned to the Fist of Russ.

Keris considered his brother’s question for a moment before speaking, ejecting the spent clip and reaching for a new one from the strap on his thigh,

‘It is rare that the Allfather places before us the path that we think we desire most,’ he seated the new clip in with a soft click before meeting his brother’s questioning gaze with icy blue eyes, ‘yet, it is our duty to walk that path none the less and, in our journey, we come to realize that it was truly the one always within our hearts,’ Keris paused and sighted down the range, firing at the farthest target before continuing, ‘None may walk in our stead and there will be times that we may stumble, yet we only walk alone if we chose to. It took true courage to set aside your pain and walk beside us once again, Iorek. I am glad to have you back with us.’

Keris smiled softly, ’Vermundr and I were each honoured by our Lord in our own way. Though it was not my fate to lead this pack; it troubles me not for, no matter what, you are all my brothers and that will never change.’

Keris’s expression grew solemn as he continued, ‘Our Lord’s ferocity is legendary, yet he is also wise beyond any of us. He knows us all by name, Iorek, as he knows every man in this great company and he mourns the losses we have taken just as keenly as any of us. We are not just his battle-brothers; we are his men and Blackmane would not have placed the weight of leadership upon Vermundr if he did not have trust in our pack as a whole.’

Keris turned away from the firing line, slipping his pistol back into the armoured holster and digging his gauntleted fingers into the pouch at his hip. He finally found what he sought and pulled it into the light. The identification tags that Njoror had taken from the man he had killed during the riot and presented to Blackmane. The chain was still stained dark with blood and the chits of stamped metal chimed softly off each other.

He held them out to Iorek,

‘I know you thirst for vengeance, brother,’ Keris’s eyes burned with a cold hatred, ‘and, upon my word, you _will_ have that chance.’


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek listened to Keris's words as he fixed his eyes upon the targets and hit the switch to make them move, weaving up and down and he focused his eyes upon their movements tracking their paths as he raised the pistol watching one rise high move along and he tracked its diagonal descent and fired, watching the bolt clatter through a centimeter away from the spot he had been aiming for.

He adjusted his grip fractionally and ejected the half spent clip out of habit, slipping a fresh one in with practiced ease. He gripped tight and prepared to aim once more as his brother talked yet he ws distracted by Keris holding out the dog tags of the traitor guardsman and he curled away in distaste

"Thank you brother, yet they were your claim. I will have my own revenge when I meet the astartes once more or else move into oblivion where I know Njoror will be waiting for me."

He gripped upon the orca tooth at his neck and his eyes closed as he tasted his brothers scent upon the air

"I have nothing to fear either way for brothers and dreams wait for me whether I be in this mortal body or upon the hunt with the Allfather." 

"For the first time I have nothing to fear but what is in my control for the grip of death hinders me not. I have come out of the loss of my brother stronger than before. I have a point to prove, whatever you say brother Vermundr has no respect for me and though my Lord knows my name he no longer favours me with even the briefest comment let alone command. I have to prove my worth to both of them."

"Yet though my goal is clear, I cannot see how it will happen. Yet I will try all the same."

He concetrated upon the shot once more yet as he aimed he realised that for the first time his doubts about Keris were quashed. His brother was a talker, his tactics had not been questioned, yet he could tell from how his brother held himself that he could inspire a man with a word, he was a leader, there was no doubt. 

He was certain that to be a long fang was in his blood and now he was certain that leadership was in Keris's. He did not doubt Keris's valour, courage nor his leadership and though his skills could be honed even the greatest warrior could improve.

He kept these thoughts to himself yet he saw keris in a new light, he was no longer a pup he was a brother maybe even a friend. He looked at the spot upon the target where Keris was aiming, automatically tracing a line from his eyes to the spot and he aimed across. To place a bolt as close to the spot as possible and watched as the bolt tore through the target mere mm from where he had been aiming and he laughed to himself.

"Enough about me brother. You know my dreams, but where do you hope your future lies. Grey hunter, Rune priest" he gave a chuckle

"Will we be seeing a lord Keris?"


----------



## darkreever

Keris and Iorek; before either of you can go on, a voice growls to you. _"And who are you to understand the actions of the wolf lord pup? Claim that you are fine all you want, but only you see dishonour and disrespect where there is none."_ You both turn to see a Space Wolf clad in the colours of a grey hunter quickly aproaching, seven others surrounding Tyr, Alrik, Von, and Vermundr.

Jumping down into the firing pit, grey hunter Heimdal looks at you both before a smile breaks out through his beard. _"You lot are nothing like the other claws, you fight like the rest of them but despair like hags. That difference is likely why you all seem favoured by the wolf lord."_ He said before jerking an armoured thumb behind him at the rest of his pack and the others of your claw. _"You've been chosen by lord Blackmane to make planetfall with us and Enkil's long fangs. Now get your arses together and get to the launch bays before Gunnar and Baldyr decide to leave us all on the Fist."_ He finishes with a laugh, but something in his eyes tells you that both members of the wolf guard might actually do it. 


Vermundr, Tyr, Alrik, Von; with Keris and Iorek over at the firing pit, you turn to leave for the feasting hall only to see eight grey hunters enter the training chamber and block your path. All but one of them gather around you, fully armed and armoured and with expressions that might kill a normal man. The last one, grey hunter Heimdal, moves beyond you, to Keris and Iorek before calling out to them. As one the seven remaining grey hunters advance on you, most clapping each of you on the shoulder or back. A large hunter, easily a match for Tyr or Alrik, wraps a thick armoured limb around Vermundr. _"Congradulations and honours are in order little brothers, found yourself against bastard traitor marines and live to tell the tale."_ He says.

_"Better than that, killed one of them; thin their numbers even if only by one. An great honour and good start."_ Another declares and several of the other grey hunters nod in agreement. _"Blood claw Vermundr, the wolf lord is sending us and pack Enkil planetside and he has decided that you and your pack are going with us. Gather your brothers, if you can free them from Heimdal, and get to the loading bay."_ The grey hunter Morgrin, second of Heimdal's pack, says before the large grey hunter releases his crushing grip, having apparently not realized just how hard he had been squeezing.

The large grey hunter turns away from you as the rest of his pack begin to leave, calling out to Heimdal. _"What's taking you so long Heimdal? Decided to stop and teach the pups before making a grand entrance?"_


[All; sorry about the abrupt stopping of some of your back and forth, figured some of you were itching to get back on planet. Heimdal and his pack are already making their way out, it'd probably be a good idea for you all to do the same; and for the sake of continuity Alrik and Tyr have gotten the rest of their power armour on since they finished fighting. Make your way to the launch bay; I'll get you there in my next update.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As the pack of Grey Hunters left the training area Tyr turned to his brothers, a broad grin across his face, and let out a long howl of excitement, *"Yes! Into the fight again!" *He punched his normal armored hand into his powerfist and cracked his neck before stopping and looking over himself, satisfied with himself he strapped his helmet to his waist. He was giddy with excitement to be heading back planetside and back into the fight with these traitors yet he felt that he and the rest of his brothers in the pack were going in with an upper hand this time of sorts. They had all learned much in their first battle planetside, and now they were going back into battle armed with that knowledge. He may love battle and fighting like no other but he wasn't ignorant of the lessons to be learned on the battlefield, and he was very sure to use them in the coming battles that he had ahead of him.

As he moved with the rest of his pack he thought on the coming battle, he didn't feel fear, well he was an Astartes and they were trained to beat that feeling to a pulp, and he didn't feel a nervous apprehension like he thought he would. It was more of like a hightened thrill, he would call it excitement but he knew that this was too powerful to be any normal excitement, did his brothers feel like this also he wondered to himself. 

Images of the tales he had heard and read on the warriors of his lord's great company and the chapter as a whole flashed through his mind and it helped him calm himself down a bit. He could feel the wolf inside of him growl as it felt the same way he did, it was eager to do battle again and tear apart their enemies like he was, he imagined if it was a real life wolf it would be pacing right now up and down the length in front of him. 

He walked over to Keris and Iorek who were still in the firing pit and wrapped his meaty arms around them pulling them tight to him, *"Brothers, you look a bit afraid to go into battle again, do not worry for mighty Tyr will be there to take care of you."* he had a mischeivous smile on his face as he chuckled.


----------



## unxpekted22

As the pack of grey hunters circled around him, Vermundr's first inclination was that they were angry. 

"Now what have we done?" he thought to himself.

before he knew it, he was being squeezed by the largest one in the group. He was humbled beyond words at his older brothers' excitement and recognition of him, but he could not tell them this due to him needing every last amount of air that was still in his lungs at the moment.

As the large wolf yelled to Heimdal, Vermundr caught his breath and stood fast. The Grey Hunters moved like the ultimate soldiers they were, leaving down the hallway before Vermundr could say anything back.

Tyr wasted no time in putting the entirety of his war gear back on. He then headed over to Iorek and Keris.

Vermundr reached for the ammo rack, grabbing some extra clips for his bolt pistol, "ten bolts each...blech" to which he grabbed some more. He then found his axe beside the nearest dueling cage. He took his helmet off of his belt, and holding it in his hands spoke to the three of his pack by the firing range. 

"Tyr, stop wasting time let's go! Chit-chat in the drop pod! that goes for everyone else as well; we wouldn't want to let our older brethren down. Grab your weapons and head straight to the pods."

as Iorek grabbed some ammo clips for his own pistol off the racks, Vermundr said to him, "time to put all that practice into action again brother. Out of the six of us, no one can put a bolt round into our targets as efficiently as you; and we will need that ability...I'm sure of it."

Without waiting for a reply, Vermundr put his helmet back on and began making his way to the launch bay with his small pack of blood claws. Having no time to re-braid and make his hair more organized, the hair coming from the top of his helmet now fell more like a wolf's tail to the side of his head. As he ran through the corridors the ceiling lights reflected off of his armor. His left shoulder pad yellow with the symbol of Lord Blackmane's great company. His right, yellow with thin red triangles going diagonally up toward his head. He had always liked wearing this pack symbol, feeling it most closely represented the blood claws. The wolf tail talisman on the front of his belt bounced off of his right thigh as he moved and the shining silver of his axe brought out the oaths inscribed in both its handle and blade. What the lights reflected off of that he could not see, remained most important to him for his enemies to see; the red eyes of his helmet. Unchanging, fearless, legacy....eternity. The forces of space marines had not let up their struggle to cleanse the galaxy for over ten millennia, and so he would not let up on the forces of chaos today. Whatever test would await them this time, he would not let his pack come so close to ultimate failure again.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris hid his disquiet as he tucked the tags back into his pouch; indeed his brother had been changed by the experience yet, though he seemed even more driven than before, there was still something about Iorek that set Keris ill at ease. _At what cost would his brother have the vengeance that drove him? _

Iorek’s almost fanatical training had increased his already noteworthy aim to a finely honed skill with the pistol. As impressive as it was, Keris found he still preferred the intimate dance of close combat over the destructive reach of a bolt pistol and his mind called forth the battle in the chapel where he had faced off against the traitor marine who had killed Njoror. The warmth of pride bloom within his breast remembering how he had stood before the traitor’s millenniums of skill with a ferocity built of part desperation, part talent, and part unshakeable faith in the righteousness of his duty.

The wolf within his mind stirred slightly with the recollection of the hot moments of battle._ Yes, it was there that he belonged; face to face with the Enemies of the Allfather with the song of Russ on his lips and his brothers at his side._ Iorek’s questions brought him back to the present and a low chuckle from deep within his chest, his brother seemed to have rather lofty assessments of his skills;_ yet how could he explain the calling he heard within his soul?_ The deep growling voice that resounded behind them saved him the trouble.

Grey Hunter Heimdal landed beside them in the firing pit with a clatter of armour; his eyes studied them both for a long moment before a smile bloomed beneath the older warrior’s beard. The Grey’s posture was a calm borne of experience, yet Keris could detect a faint note of concern that lingered in Heimdal’s scent. Keris met the elder Wolf’s eyes with a gaze of his own; part of him sharing the apprehension of the Grey, yet another part wanted to defend his clawmate’s state of mind to the questioning of another pack. He settled on a compromise as the mighty form of Tyr thundered down into the pit as well, wrapping his arms around both of his packmates. Keris met the Grey's eyes, acknowledging the elder's concern before dipping his head slightly in respect to Heimdal,

‘It will be an honour to fight beside you and your pack, Hunter Heimdal,’ Keris ducked out of Tyr’s embrace and vaulted out of the recessed pit with a nimble bound. He crouched for a moment at the lip before straightening, ‘Russ and the Allfather willing, we shall all find glory today. Now, let us not give our brothers cause to leave without us.’

Turning away from the pit, a handful of strides took Keris to where Vermundr and his clawbrothers were grabbing a few extra clips of ammunition before following in the wake of the Greys. He quickly exchanged his spent clips with fresh ones as Vermundr spoke, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head slightly at his brother’s words before falling into step beside his brother as they made their way towards the launch bays,

‘It is far more likely that we will return to the surface in Thunderhawks, brother. The tactical advantage of the drop pods is lessened by the fact that the enemy knows we are here; they would only serve to scatter us and make it easier for the traitors to sow confusion between the packs as they did upon our first arrival planetside,’ Keris spoke as he matched his brother’s stride, ‘as well as the gunships would provide aerial support if the cowards attempt to flee as they did before.’

Keris watched Vermundr out the corner of his eye. His brother had already donned his battlehelm where Keris’s stayed firmly attached on its carry strap at his hip. Keris found this to be an oddity about the young Wolf. _Why would he willingly limit his senses, the gifts of Russ himself, within the close confines of a helm?_ There were times when a helm was required, when the environment was ill suited for even the advanced anatomy of a Space Marine to function, yet Keris was loath to don his unless he had no other choice. It brought a fierce joy to his heart to feel the hot spray of blood on his face and to be able to taste the scents that rode the air about him, to have the Enemies of the Allfather look into his eyes and see their death within his cold gaze.

Keris felt a calmness settle over his being as they neared the launch bays, even as his heartbeats quickened in anticipation, and spoke a quiet prayer to Russ and the Allfather over the echoing tread of his brothers’s boots.


----------



## deathbringer

Their was a clatter behind him and Iorek whipped around pistol raised as a harsh growling voice called out

"And who are you to understand the actions of the wolf lord pup? Claim that you are fine all you want, but only you see dishonour and disrespect where there is none."

He recognized the older wolf who had defeated him and his brother in a duel prior to this campaign and lowered the pistol quickly yet his response was out of his mouth moments before he saw the older wolfs smile

"If we are to improve we must try and understand the actions of greater warriors...." and he allowed his words to tail away as he saw Heimdal smile blossoming from his beard and the older wolf over rode his spluttering.

"You've been chosen by lord Blackmane to make planetfall with us and Enkil's long fangs. Now get your arses together and get to the launch bays before Gunnar and Baldyr decide to leave us all on the Fist."

The feeling was almost surreal, out of body as two sentiments wrestled for control of his soul. He was to return to the affray aside Enkil's Long Fangs and Iorek felt triumphant joy gripping at his soul as he saw his chance loom before him. He could impress them for his shooting ability was evident and though they were masters of their art, he was sure he could with a little more practice match them shot for shot.

The triumphant wolf roared inside him yet their was a second wolf grappling with the first, a deadly calm wolf filled with spiteful vengeance that tore at his jubilation with focused swipes.

His revenge was nigh, vengeance would be had and upon the planet below lay only death. He felt no fear and his jubilation was crushed by a deadly focus that cocooned him within himself.

He was left staring up at Heimedal and his packs retreating backs with blank eyes, calm deadly eyes and he stood staring at a point in the distance as Tyr wrapped a huge muscular arm round him, ensnaring him easily and pulling him tight yet Iorek did not listen to his words yet he could taste the scent of a wolf at play yet he could not muster a smile.

He must prepare and he wrestled free of the muscled arm squeezing his brothers hand and allowing his eyes to meet Keris's. The dead albino eyes seemed to look through his brothers yet he flashed a grin and hoped Keris would understand that now he needed to prepare, to focus himself for the upcoming struggle and thus he needed solitude.

He moved away leaving Tyr and Keris alone in the firing pit as he clambered out moving towards the plate of his power armour that lay upon the mat against the wall and he leaned down to powder his hands, rubbing it over the pale skin of his muscled chest. He brushed against Njoror's necklace and he brought the long tooth to his lips

"You will be avenged brother, or i will join you in Elysium"

He felt a tightness in his chest and he lifted the breast and back plate, strapping them tightly across his chest and the tooth dissapeared to lie behind the aquilla upon his breast. He was slow, almost ceremonial in his attention to the power armour, tigh.tening every strap and checking every seam and join with diligent care. He left the helmet hanging from a clip upon his waist next to his sword. He drew it activating the press stud and he swiped at the air as the chainsword rumbled into life and he smiled sas he deactivated it and placed it into his belt. He felt empty places were pistol clips would be and he his eyes widened and he sprinted to the ammo rack, tossing the clip currently inside his pistol aside and sliding in a fresh one.

He reached the ammo rack sliding fresh clips into his belt and then adding two more to each of his boots as he smelt rather than saw Vermundr approach the rack. He expected nothing from his brother, no words and merely continued discharging the clip and checking the pistols mechanism before replacing it. 

He turned to leave yet as he turned his brother spoke
"time to put all that practice into action again brother. Out of the six of us, no one can put a bolt round into our targets as efficiently as you; and we will need that ability...I'm sure of it."

Iorek whipped round yet vermundr had already left leaving Iorek with a rye smile upon his face and he flipped the pistol in his hand before replacing it in his belt. Maybe Vermudr had a little respect for him after all. He stretched and felt his muscles tense as he moved towards the door that keris and Vermundr had moved through moments before.

"Tyr, Alrik, Von hurry brothers. Heimdal hinted they may leave us behnd if we take to long." 

His face broke into a smile as he licked his lips. He could almost taste the blood that he needed to spill, it was warm upon his lips and bore the sweet taste of vengeance. He was hungry for it yet the wolf within him was not restive. It was calm biding its time, haunches tense ready to pounce. He would not allow emotion to override him in front of the long fangs, he would remain passive, striking only when the time was right. 

The wolf within him growled in anticipation and approval and Iorek smiled again as he followed close behind Keris and Vermundr, moving at a trot and though the small smile remained upon his face it did not reach his eyes which were cold and focused once more.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr blinked as both of his brothers moved away and left him in the pit and shrugged sheepishly as Heimdal shook his head at him smiling before leaving. As Iorek called out for him Von and Alrik to hurry up Tyr called out as he attempted to jump out of the firing pit and barely made it,* "Why would they leave mighty Tyr behind?"* He jogged and caught up to the rest of the pack next to Alrik,* "We will do well this time brothers, I fell it in my gut..."* his stomach grumbled and he looked down at it, *"Or maybe that is the lack of mead in there."* he shrugged his huge shoulders, *"No matter, today we are reborn anew and stronger!" * He let out a howl as they made their way to the hangar bay.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr chuckled some at Keris's words. He replied through the deepened voice that came from his helm's voice system, "I suppose you're right Keris. Though Blackmane is famous for his drop pod assaults it _would_ be more tactically sound to take thunderhawks back wouldn't it? And Our Lord is no fool, of that I am sure. However we get down there brother, let's not disappoint."

As they reached the bay doors Vermundr took the axe he held in his right hand, and secured it on the backside of his armor beneath his power-pack. he turned quickly to make sure his pack was with him. Iorek and Tyr were closest behind he and Keris. Alrik and Von followed suit behind them. Though he turned back around quickly to face the opening to the launch bay, the quick glance at Von gave him a sick feeling in his gut. He had a bad feeling about his quiet pack brother. 

He says in his mind, "There are only six of us, we can _not_ lose another."


----------



## dark angel

Alrik nodded at Tyr's words, his mind deep in thought at the very aspect of the upcoming battle. In his opinion Blackmane should have deployed the entire Company to rid to world of the foul Alpha Legion or even request the entire Chapter for the damned Traitors were a matter im importance to Loyalist Astartes. However this did not matter because Alrik swore deep within that he would swiftly crush the enemy Astartes, while protecting Keris, who he saw as the only one that would rise to true meaning.


----------



## darkreever

Everyone; you quickly make your way through the ship towards the fore launch bays. You enter into a giant chamber with chapter menials and loade servitors moving about, preparing the pair of thunderhawks in which a group of Space Wolves were gathering near. They wore the armour of veterans of the chapter, five long fangs led by veteran brother Enkil along with Gunnar and Baldyr of lord Blackmane’s wolf guard. Heimdal and his grey hunters are making their way over as you enter the launch bay, but it is the four near Baldyr that your attention goes right to. They wear the armour of blood claws, likely from one of the other packs though there presence is strange.

Making your way over to the others, Gunnar turns his head towards Vermundr and nods to him before making a gesture that gets Enkil and Baldyr’s attention. Baldyr turns towards you, a cold look in his eyes before he addresses all of the gathered. _“It looks like things are not as all the guilder leaders would have had us believe. Deserters of the PDF have attacked guilder Tolau’s main compound in the mining city of Berviul. An unidentified group soon linked up with them and rioting broke out within the city to overwhelm the stationed PDF snd guilder forces. This may be the work of the traitors encountered in the capitol, but there has been no confirmation.”_ Baldyr said 

_“Whether its them or not does not matter,”_ Gunnar cut in, _“Guilder Tolau has requested the aid of the Space Wolves and lord Blackmane has seen fit to answer that call. Tolau and his workers are responsible for producing the materials required to make vehicles for the system’s forge; part of which we get.”_ He said. _“Tolau must be dead then, theres no way he would swallow his pride and have the governer ask us for help.”_ Enkil said suddenly, eliciting surprised looks from the grey hunters and wolf guard alike. 

_“What? An older wolf can’t make a joke?”_ He said to which all of the gathered could not help but laugh, yourself included. Amidst the laughing, Heimdal regained himself first. _“So we are to save the guilder’s city then, and Tolau if he is so fortunate?”_ _“Exactly, that was the request of the governer and the words of lord Blackmane. The renegades and rioters are spread throughout the city, but they seem to be under direction from those attacking the guilder’s main compound. So that is where we will strike and stop this before it can get bad.”_ Gunnar agreed as Enkil and his pack made their way to one of the thunderhawks, Gunnar and Heimdal did the same leaving only Baldyr and the four blood claws.

_“It seems as though the wolf lord has seen fit to favour you further. We fell victim to renegade heavy weapon emplacements; the claw’s under my command have been split between your claw and the other in the company to maintain strength.”_ He said before making his way to the second thunderhawk stopping and turning enough to glare at Vermundr. _“The wolf lord and others may believe your actions warrant the opportunity to lead for now pack leader Vermundr, but I am not amongst those. One who would willingly lie to another in his pack is not worth trusting. Be grateful that it is the wolf lords word that matters and not the word of others.”_ He finished before ascending the assault ramp.

Before you are four wolf brothers, who until moments ago, were members of another claw; now though, they are another part of your claw. Despite the mix of tension and grease in the air, the air between you and the new members of the pack is anything but charged. It would seem that some, if not all of them, share similar feelings to that of wolf guard Baldyr. 

[So what will you do now with these new packmates before you? Vermundr, Tyr, Alrik, Keris, and Iorek it looks as though others will be joining your pack, most notably Vidar and possibly another. Speak with them, cut the tension or make it worse, who knows what will happen; but either way eventually make your way into the thunerhawk.
Vidar and Romka, the same goes to you, interact with your new pack-mates and eventually make your way into the thunderhawk. You are either wary about the new packmates before you or on edge. Both packs were of about the same strength and it was yours that was broken up, it is possible that you are not the happiest about this.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik stared at the new Blood Claws with a pang of anticipation and rivalry. His scent was one of antagonism as he strained his back and pushed his chest outwards, his one hand wavered over his Chainsword for a few seconds before he forced it away realizing how bad he had made himself look. He stepped towards them, his scarred face looking as bad as ever and let out a faint smile outstretching a hand to the nearest he said “My name is Alrik, and who, are you?”.


----------



## Flerden

Vidar watched as a group of 5 other Blood Claws approached him and the 3 Blood Claws next to him. One of them strained his back and pushed his chest outwards, his one hand wavered over his Chainsword.
''Does he realise how stupid that makes him look.'' Vidar thought. The second after the same Blood Claws stretched out his hand and said his name is Alrik.
Vidar accepted Alriks outstretched hand.
''My name is Vidar. And I must say that you are an ugly one.'' Vidar said while laughing a little.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik shook the new Marines hand, squeezing tightly he muttered “Vidar, what in the Name of Russ does that mean?” he pushed the hand downwards and stepped backwards nodding he walked back to his original Brothers and fell back into place next to Vermundr saying to his Brother at nothing more than a murmur “I do not like this Brother, our Pack was strained before all of this and now Lord Blackmane gives us new members? I advise you to keep a eye out on these, I do not believe they are here to be friends……I think they are here for a reason other than the dwindling of their pack”.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr tilted his head toward Alrik as he spoke, keeping the eyes of his helmet facing the new members, specifically at the one who just introduced himself, Vidar.

he would get Keris's judgment once on the thunderhawk.

He spoke, "Welcome to the pack brother blood claws. I am your commanding brother, Vermundr."

He reached out his hand for Vidar to shake, saying, "Welcome to the claw."


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek felt as if the world had been turned upside down. Suddenly just as he had made peace with himself, convinced himself that he had been wrong and that Vermundr had been right to lie. The wolf lord thought so.. the wolf priest thought so.. the grey hunters thought so, he even thought that members of his claw thought yet now one of the Wolf Guard agreed with him.

He looked at Vermundr for a moment and his heart leapt slightly yet then it fell and he held his tongue. He had promised Vermundr his support and to go back upon his word would be to compromise his own honour. He could not be so hypocritical as to criticize vermundr's deceit through his own. 

He watched Vermundr step forward and announce himself

"Welcome to the pack brother blood claws. I am your commanding brother, Vermundr."

"Commanding brother" iorek thought raising his eyebrows at vermundr's pomposity. That was asking for trouble Iorek thought yet he shook his head slightly and studied the four that were to join them. 

Vidar had guts to have a go at the Firehawk and it seemed he had been rattled by the marines comment as he returned to the claw with words of caution.

Iorek nodded to the new brothers and added
"I'm Iorek. I am sorry for your loss brothers. We too lost brothers, all dear friends. Together we can pay for there lives in the blood of our enemies." he placed a fist over his heart to where he knew the necklace lay

He muttered to nobody in particular

"I'll be in that infernal contraption" he muttered, inclining his head towards the thunderhawk with a grimace.


----------



## Euphrati

The cavernous expanse of the launch bay yawned before them like a man-forged valley of steel and warmachines. Bondsmen laboured with heavy lifters to finish the preparations require on the two waiting thunderhawks. The mighty crafts loomed over the powerful forms of veteran Wolves that stood in their shadows, awaiting the arrivals of the last members of the force chosen by Blackmane. Yet, amongst the colours of the elder Wolves stood four who bore the familiar markings of Blood Claws, Keris eyed the young Wolves with a mixture of wary caution and curiosity. _Had this Claw been honoured as well by Blackmane?_

As Keris and his brothers stepped near the gathering, Gunnar nodded to Vermundr before gesturing to gain the attention of the other Wolves, yet it was Wolf Guard Baldyr who spoke. The older Wolf’s words set Keris’s senses on edge; Mentigl Tolau was the guilder who Iorek had reported speaking against the presence of the Wolves, _yet now that same guilder was requesting their aid?_ Keris felt his hackles itch with suspicion even as he chuckled at the humour of Enkil concerning the guilder’s pride. _The wolf within his mind shifted with unease, wary of another devious ruse by the traitors._ 

The Long Fangs and Greys disappeared into the waiting crafts, yet Baldyr paused before speaking to the young Blood Claws around him. The Wolf Guard’s eyes were cold and the sullen anger in his scent caused Keris pause, yet it was the elder’s last words that troubled him the most. Baldyr made no question of his stance concerning Blackmane’s choice of Vermundr and, by giving voice to his views, the Wolf Guard had cast doubt upon the packleader in the eyes of these new additions to their Claw. 

Keris studied the reactions of his new and old clawmates as Baldyr disappeared into the thunderhawk, his mind lingering on the biting words of the older Wolf. He was not surprised to see Alrik step forward first, grasping the hand of the brother who identified himself as Vidar before stepping back and growling his concern over the new additions. Vermundr’s words caused Keris to flinch inwardly; it seemed the young leader was keen to establish himself as dominate in the pack despite the words of Baldyr. Yet, Iorek’s words brought a smile to his face and Keris raised his voice, his crystal blue eyes passing over Alrik as he spoke before meeting each of the new member of the Claw,

‘We are all Sons of Russ here,’ Keris stood calmly by Vermundr’s side, ‘if Lord Blackmane has seen fit to include these brothers into our pack then it will be an honour to fight by their side. As Iorek wisely has said, we have all felt the loss of those struck down by the actions of these traitors and only by standing as one shall we overcome their taint upon this world. My name is Keris and I welcome you, brothers. Now, unless we wish to be left behind I would advise we make our way into the thunderhawks.’

Making good on his suggestion, Keris turned to follow Baldyr up the waiting ramp, pausing at the threshold for a breath as the now familiar dislike of flying reared from the back of his mind. Keris cast a glance back to Vermundr, catching his brother’s look of question before continuing into the thunderhawk.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr stood and watched as his brothers introduced themselves to thier new packmates. He studied the new additions for awhile, smell, sight in particular before even contimplating what to tell them. The wolfgaurd's reaction to Vermundr had shook him a bit but he assumed that not everyone would agree with the Wolf Lord's decision, it was simply natural, but he still hadnt expected the veteran to speak up like that in front of younger wolves.

Before heading to the Thunderhawk Tyr looked at the his new packmates, *"My name is Tyr brothers, I am sorry for your losses, but the fact that you stand here means that you are good fighters and that makes you ok with me."* A broad smile broke out across his face as he bowed his head and made his way to the Thunderhawk and squeezed himself into one of the seats with a huff of effort. 

As he sat there he shifted nervously, he hated flying, in fact he hated flying a lot and he felt the sudden urge to knock himself out so he wouldnt have to deal with the flight to the surface. He started mumbling to himself as he shifted to and fro trying to calm himself down.


----------



## unxpekted22

once seated on the Tunderhawk, Vermundr was next to Keris as planned. He reached his hand up to his helmet switching his vox to a private channel with Keris's earpiece.

"I was going to ask you what you think about our new packmates...how you feel about them...but thinking upon the wolf guard's words, that would mean I already don't trust them and if i dont trust them how _can_ they trust me? I know nothing of them yet I question their motives. They are space wolves yes? They are brothers. From that fact alone I should trust them with my back in battle without question. I must admit, I feel foolish brother. I suppose now I see why packs who have fought together feel a much greater bond with those brothers than they do the rest of the chapter. Perhaps this is all I am experiencing. Though Alrik dislikes them as well. How can I lead them without knowing them? That is my problem.... If I at all seem that I bare my pride on my shoulders in arrogance for all to see while in command, just imagine the weight of failure I feel pressing down upon them. I would not say I have become leader of this pack starting on the right foot. Just a blood claw pack leader, and already there are those above me who breath down my neck. Perhaps it is the goal of those who oppose my promotion. They feel I cannot be trusted so they will make me feel as though I can trust none of them either; and if I cant trust my superiors I will fail as a space wolf, let alone as a leader. Everyone under me then, has to to trust me, or everyone of you will fail with me. Only the coming mission will tell, right now my future might as well still be a blank slate; as blank as my vision was after first gazing up at the wolf priest's figure all that time ago. The wolf in me says I will have to make a decision that will bear heavy weight on our pack's bent bonds once again, but I followed my instinct before and it served us well so I shall follow my instinct again. That... is all I have to go on, since my experience in battle is certainly not enough to replace that."

The entire time speaking Vermundr moved not a muscle, his back straight, hands on the knees of his armor, and his helmet looking toward the ground.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris’s eyes quickly adjusted to the dark lit interior of the thunderhawk; the harsh smell of petrochemicals competing with the clean scent of machine oil and the comforting taste of other Wolves that infused the air. He chose a seat near the ramp, settling back against the hard embrace of the grav-harness with a soft sigh and clearing his mind to prepare for the coming battle. The wolf inside his soul shifted restlessly, the icy talons of claustrophobia drawing a low growl from the beast that echoed the rumble of the thunderhawk’s engines. Keris clasped his hands before him as Vermundr’s bulk settled into the restraints beside him.

Vermundr’s scent was tense; a sharp taste in the back of Keris’s throat, and his wolfbrother’s rigid posture mirrored the disquiet. Keris completed the litany of calming as Vermundr’s words issued from the vox in his ear; he forced his body to relax and studied his brother’s armoured form out the corner of his eye before replying to his pack leader’s words upon the same channel. Keris kept his voice low and tone calm, assured that the vox receiver implanted near his larynx would allow Vermundr to hear his words as clearly over the background noise of the engines,

‘The sword of leadership is forged with the edge of responsibility, Vermundr. Yet, as with many things, that blade is only as true as the one who bears it. Wielded correctly; with honour, duty, and faith, it is a powerful weapon that no foe of the Allfather may stand against,’ Keris turned his head so that Vermundr could see his eyes, ‘I think you are beginning to understand the importance of trust, my brother. Where we must place our trust in you, our chosen leader, you must also learn to place your trust in us,’

Keris paused to gather his thoughts, ‘I would ask you to think on this, brother; would you fight with any less ferocity if the man by your side was not your packbrother? I would gladly fight at the side of any member of our Chapter for we are all bound by the same oaths in our hearts, yet you will always be my pack and that will never change. It matters not that these warriors were members of another claw before this moment; they are fellow Wolves and are our clawmates now. Let us not judge them before their actions, ’

Keris then favoured Vermundr with a thoughtful look, ‘Baldyr is entitled to his own views, brother. I would remind you of the saga we all learned when we first became part of this great company; there will be time when choices you make are not received well by others. Fight with this,' Keris raised his gauntlet to place his fingers upon his brow, 'but never forget this,' he moved to place his hand over his primary heart, 'and your cast will always prove true in the end.’


----------



## darkreever

All; you make your way into the thunderhawk as the transports klaxons begin to go off. Strapping yourselves into the grav couches, the assault ramp closes, bringing in darkness only breached by the strobing red of the klaxons and what light makes its way through the portholes. With a lurch forward, the thunderhawk exits the launch bay and begins to manouver in to breach the planet's atmosphere.

You don't like this, the confined space of the thunderhawk and the sounds of straining metal make your hackles rise even though it is a definite improvement from a drop pod. The rising heat of re-entry doesn't help at all and the scents of the rest of the pack easily echo your own, try as you all might to remain calm.

Vermundr; through the rigours of re-entry Baldyr opens a line to you, telling you to get into the cockpit. Through much effort, and nearly being tossed around about the main cabin, you make your way up to where Baldyr and the flight crew are situated. Baldyr turns and acknowledges you before speaking. _"We will be over the target city in the next thirty minutes." _He informs you._ "Our mission is to cut off the leaders of this renegade force from the main body, let the local PDF deal with them while we lop off their head. Once we touch down on the guilders main compound, the task of cutting off their communication will fall to us while Gunnar, Enkil, and Heimdal's forces divert most of their attention. After severing communications we are to link up with PDF and guilder guard forces within the compound to reactivate the main defences and then go and rescue the guilder himself."_ 

All; with a final shudder, the thunderhawk makes it past re-entry and the sounds of straining metal cease. Through the portals in the sides of the transport, you see the city slowly aproaching, multiple lines of smoking blooming up from throughout. Slowly but surely, the sounds of battle make themselves known to you even over the thunder of the ships engine. Without warning, the thunderhawk lurches to the side to avoid incoming anti aircraft fire, as meager as it actually is.

Both thunderhawks open fire sparodicly, stitching lines across buildings and shredding those unfortunate to knock make it into cover. A missile arcs a dirty line through the sky and impacts off the hull, klaxons blaring at this while the ship dives low. The ground rises up to meet the ship quickly before it is propelled into the air again, leveling out twenty meters above the ground and out of sight of most enemy heavy guns. The main compound finally comes into sight, where guilder Tolau resides and runs this city.

Rocketing forward, the thunderhawk rapidly changes direction and the assault ramp opens, Baldyr jumping down from the cockpit and leaping from the ramp to the ground below, a blade exuding an aura of cold held in his hand. Vermundr is hot on his heels, calling for you to follow; engaging the release on your crash harness you do that. As you hit the ground, lasgun fire smacks into Keri's breastplate and forces him off balance and down to one knee.

[Everyone; you are on a landing pad of the main compound, the thunderhawk quickly closes the assault ramp and zooms off. Following its movements you can see the second thunderhawk crashed into a building in the distance, one wing blown off. Your on the compound though, the long fangs and grey hunters can take care of themselves. Before you is a landing pad strewn with several crates that renegade PDF forces are taking pot shots at you from; there are five in total and your superhuman senses alert you to another six making their way up from the only exit point. Deal with them all.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Keris's reply sunk in as the Thunderhawk lifted up and out. He could not relax his body though, as this canister was such a frustration to be in. No light, no freedom, a big target for the enemy to just shoot down with nothing they could do about it.

worse yet, Baldyr ordered him into the cock-pit. He instantly unhooked himself from the grav couch after Baldyr finished speaking. Nearly tripping over Keris's legs while stumbling left and right as the ship shot through the atmosphere, he made it into the cockpit to receive his orders.

attempting to reach the landing pad was a worse experience than falling through the atmosphere. the bulky transport could barely dodge incoming fire, merely rocking back and forth to do so. There must be a better way of doing this, he thought. Through the grace of the All-Father the thunderhawk made it to the landing pad and on to the compound. Just as Kjarl had done before, Baldyr without hesitating, jumped ahead of them into combat.

Vermundr made sure he was the first one out of the Thunderhawk after him, throwing himself down the ramp and almost losing his balance in his effort to keep up with the well experienced wolf guard. 

Vermundr's squad emerged from the thunderhawk behind him, jumping off the ramp as well, hardly needing his commands to do so, though they were yelled out anyway.

Upon Keris's feet touching the landing pad, he was hit with a lasgun blast that sent him to his knee, turning to see this, he also spotted his brothers' second thunderhawk which had been carrying the greys and long fangs crashed into the side of a building, a trail of smoke coming from where one its wings used to be. His pack had gotten lucky yet again.

But now was not the time for anxiety and hesitation. Their thunderhawk had moved away from the pad already and five renegades were shooting at them from behind cover. He was also alerted to several more coming from the only exit point.

Vermundr wasted no time, and yelled out his thoughts as they came to him,

"Alrik, your the biggest, guard Keris while he is down until he can regain himself! Iorek your the best shot! Take out those renegades behind the crates! You four (pointing to the new additions to the pack) give him cover fire so he can aim! Just shoot the crates! Von! Tyr! We have to take out the men coming up that way! We can't afford to be blocked off from that exit! Let's meet them head on! Tyr follow our lead, bring that power fist to bare once Von and I have struck first and caught them off guard! Go brothers, charge!"


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek allowed the others move ahead of him as he hesitated to check his pistol, sliding the mechanism back and reloading the clip. As he slid it back into his holster he hesitated casting a nervous glass at the swollen bulk of the thunderhawk and felt his teeth grind painfully as he let out a low growl.

The unnatural contraption set him on edge yet he placed his foot upon the bottom step of the ramp and strode inside unclipping his helmet from his belt as an unnatural tang of petrol caught his nose and he pressed the helmet upon his head hearing the hiss as the air escaped and the life support systems clicked into life. 

He opened his eyes, searching around for an empty seat. He found it, a small chasm between Tyr and Vidar, a parting between new and old claw members and he rolled his eyes and dropped himself into it pulling the straps over his shoulders and leaning forward to test he was restrained,. Sure enough he felt the straps tighten reassuringly and he allowed himself to relax closing his eyes once more. 

He slipped into a doze which was broken as the engines burst into a loud rumbling roar and he cursed silently as his heart rate rose dramatically and he felt his breath catch in his throat as read lights flashed, piercing the darkness in searing strobes that burned across his visor, which quickly readjusted, turning transluscent to protect his retinas.

He felt confined, trapped with the shuddering space and he clasped the arm rest once more as he felt them lurching upwards with a sickening burst of acceleration and he grunted through gritted teeth to Tyr on his left

"If we get out of this alive I'm going to smack this pilot."
He grinned nudging Tyr before adding
"Good thing we owe these pilots our lives or I might have to borrow that power fist"

The joke kept him amused, distracting him from the mounting claustrophobia that was building upon him as gunfire began to reach his ears and the thunderhawk vibrated slightly and Iorek watched a trail of smoke flash past the windows and there was a loud explosion upon the ground and the thunderhawk dived.

Plummeting from the sky and Iorek felt as if his stomach and lungs were fighting their way out of his mouth yet he could see the ground approaching and he snarled as the descent stopped and the ground levelled out to twist violently throwing Iorek slightly so his armour clattered with Tyr's and he exhaled in relief as he heard the hydrolics engage and saw a slither of light as the ramp began to descend. 

There was a flash of armour as Baldyr and Vermundr rushed for the ramp and Iorek pushed himself out of the grove he has made upon his chair and cursed as he was thrown backwards by the restraint harness and the rest of his claw rushed past him as he released the clip with a growl of frustration.

He rushed to the ramp yet he paused despite Vermundr's vehement cry for them to jump, scrying the land ahead of them as his left hand tightened upon his pistol.

The landing pad below was strewn with crates and below he saw 5 pdf duck out from behind them to fire bolts of lasfire at the claws descending upon them and he gave a little snarl as he saw one force Keris to his knee before ducking back. Quickly he fixed there positions roughly in his mind, inhaling deeply and dropping to join his claw below. 

He hit the ground hard and chose to break his fall by rolling to the left and taking the weight off his knees. He pushed himself to his feet and slid the pistol from his holster as Vermundr yelled his orders

"Iorek your the best shot! Take out those renegades behind the crates! You four (pointing to the new additions to the pack) give him cover fire so he can aim! Just shoot the crates!"

Iorek could not muster words and he gave a low bark of achknowledgement as he gripped the pistol in both hands siddling to his left keeping low as he moved towards the nearest crate and scanning his memory for the bastard that had hit Keris.

As he slid his back to the crate it shifted slightly and he stumbled backwards slipping low as he attempted to regain his balance yet an exposed foot caught his eye. The owner of the foot was lying flat against the crate ready to duck out and fire from a prone position and Iorek smiled aiming the pistol at the very centre of the foot. 

Mentally he counted to three making tiny adjustments to the shot and he ducked out from behind cover to fire a well aimed shot at the air just above the foot, subconciously accounting for the distance with height. The bullet exploded from the barrel and he heard a scream of agony as the man recoiled clutching at the bloody mass that had once been a foot and Iorek watched as the pistol slipped from his grasp to spill into the open yet as Iorek lined up a second shot movement caught his eye and he tired to duck back into cover yet a lasgun bolt still caught his outstretched hand and he struggled to keep a grip under the impact as he spun back behind the crates and looked back at his 4 new allies.

"Brothers your aid is definitely needed." He indicated with his hand the injured pdf's crate 

"The pdf over there is injured and disarmed but far from dead try and keep supressing fire on three of the crates while i line up the fourth shot and 5th shot." he did not hesitate before adding

"Thank you brothers and he glanced down at the small burn on his gauntlet from the asgun bolt and muttered angrily to himself

"Don't forget Iorek your not fucking invincible"

That was a wake up call and against the astartes he knew his wake up call would lead him to the eternal sleep. He must be alert shaking his head slightly he chose his next target, the bastard that had wounded keris. He fixed the crate in his mind and indicated the correct crate to his brothers

"The one behind there is mine, supress the others, quickly brothers"


----------



## dark angel

Keris! The wolf inside howled wildly as his Brother was struck, Alrik fighting it back and trying not to leap forwards into the enemy and butcher them with his hands alone. His helmed head turned to his Brother as Vermundr ordered him to keep him save and he charged towards him. He almost slipped the last few feet but managed to gain his balance cursing “Morkai’s Black Teeth!” as he un-holstered his Bolt Pistol and sent a spray of fire over his Brother’s heads at the PDF saying “Keris! Don’t you let me take all the glory Brother!” and outstretched his hand to his Brother with a grin beneath his helm.


----------



## Euphrati

Vermundr had fallen silent; the young leader’s scent settled somewhat as he seemed to be considering Keris’s words. The pitch of the engines changed as the thunderhawk lurched from its landing cradle and into the void of space. The grav-harness tightened down across his chest and Keris locked his hands tightly in prayer to resist the urge to claw at the restraints. The engines howled as the friction of re-entry set a vibration through the steel bones of the craft. The wolf inside his soul bared its teeth in silent protest against the confinement; the atmosphere within the hold becoming leaden and oppressive as the temperature increased and it was all Keris could do to keep the low rumble of a growl from escaping his lips.

The faint click of a vox activating reached Keris’s ear and a heartbeat later Vermundr shrugged out of his harness and staggered towards the cockpit, gripping the support columns as he went. The vibrations calmed as the thunderhawk punched its way through the remaining shreds of the atmosphere and through the armoured viewpoints along the flank of the craft Keris could see the quickly approaching skyline of the city. Oily black plumes of smoke sprouted from the heart of the complex like the coiling shadows of serpents, poised and ready to strike. Keris felt his lips pull back in a feral snarl at the allusion conjured up by his mind for there was no doubt within his being that, indeed, somewhere in the city bellow were the traitorous serpents of the Alpha Legion.

The thunderhawk veered suddenly, throwing Keris forward against the harness and drawing a low growl from the wolf inside him as the pilot slipped the craft sideways to avoid incoming fire. The linked bolters replied to the insult, echoing over the roar of the engines as they spat mass reactive shells in down upon the traitor PDF. A missile impacted on the hull with the sound of a giant’s hammer and the hold was washed in vermilion coupled with the wail of klaxons. The engines howled like sea daemons as the pilot dropped the nose of the craft into a steep dive, trading height for speed; it was all Keris could do to keep from howling along with them.

The pilot leveled out at barely twenty meters off the ground, using the surrounding structures to shield the thunderhawk from the incoming fire. Within moments the drop zone was within range and the craft whipped around in a tight arch, dropping altitude and going into a hover as the assault ramp opened with a hiss of hydraulics. Wolf Guard Baldyr’s warcry echoed over the screaming jet wash as he charged through the hold and down the ramp, Vermundr on his heels.

Keris slammed his fist into the quick release of the harness, surging out the confining embrace with an eagerness borne partly of the thrill of coming combat and partly of the desperate need to feel the open air on his face. Snatching his pistol and chainsword from their resting places on his hips, Keris stormed after his brother. His pupils contracted as he leapt into the square of daylight after Vemundr, dropping through the whipping winds and onto the ferocrete landing pad. Laz bolts hissed and spat through the air around the falling Wolves, it was chance that placed Keris in the direct path of one of the wild shots just as his boots hit the hard stone. The bolt impacted squarely upon his chest, scorching the pale blue-grey paint and filling his nose with the stink of ozone. The shot staggered him, canceling the forward momentum of his jump and sending him to a knee as Keris was suddenly caught off balance.

The wolf inside his mind yelped in anger and surprise as Keris did a quick mental check, finding no damage and hearing Vermundr’s shouted orders. A dark shadow passed over him and Alrik’s scarred features looked down at him with worry lacing his scent. Keris holstered his chainsword and reached out to grip the offered hand by the wrist, hauling himself to his feet with a snarl,

‘Perhaps I should stay on my knees, brother, at least then you will have a chance at glory!’ Keris grinned at Alrik,

‘Worry not, brothers!’ Keris growled through the vox-link as more laz bolts hissed by, ‘The only wounds I took were to my paint and my pride! For Russ and the Alfather, let us show them the error of their sins!’

He snatched a frag grenade from his waist, arming it with a press of his thumb and sending it flying in the direction of the largest group of hidden PDF traitors he had spied on his jump down. Even as it flew, Keris tugged his chainsword from his hip and thumbed the activation rune. With a feral howl, Keris charged in the direction of the nearest crates, chainsword screaming in one fist and bolt pistol clutched tightly in the other.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had always hated flying, both drop pods and Thunderhawks. Partly because he could never quite fit in the seats and also because it made him feel helpless and like his life was at the will of the fates, either way he had to deal it because he was an Astartes and this is how they went planetside. The whole ride was bumpy and once they were in the planet's atmosphere and speeding up he let out a sigh, that was before they apparently had been shot at the Thunderhawk and it shot sideways to avoid the shots aking him tense up. 

He tried to smile at Iorek's joke and laugh a bit but it came out as a nervous chuckled and he shut himself up and focused on the battle to come, closing his eyes. His mind and the wolf inside him began to calm down and his breathing returned to normal, his thoughts focused solely on killing what needed to be killed in the name of Russ and the All-Father. There was a woosh of air and Tyr looked up to see Baldyr and Vermundr close behind him leap out of the Thunderhawk to the ground below and a few of his packmates follow suit.

Tyr smashed his fist into the release on his harness and charged out of the back activating his powerfist as he went. He landed amidst some crates and unfortunately for the crates gravity and the momentum of his body crushed them under his weight causing dust and who else knew what to fly into the air. He cursed under his breath at the idiocricy of falling into crates and as he pulled himself out of the debris he heard Vermundr's order to follow him and Von into the traitors who were aiming to block off their only way off this piece of metal. 

He looked around him and found Vermundr and Von and where they were charging and pushed his way toward them. Quickly he caught up to them but stayed behind a bit as ordered so that he might be the second blow to these fools who sought to stop them.


----------



## darkreever

(Flerden, no rush in you posting though it would be nice to see something from you; whether it be a post or PM to clue me in on something.)


Keris and Alrik; Keris, your grenade sails through the air before impacting on the ground between three of the huddled troopers, including the one now partly missing a leg. The unharmed pair dive out of the way before the grenade goes off, but the wounded man is not so fortunate. Las-fire from the other two whiz past your head as you race forward and leap the crate one of the two were using for cover. Alrik is close behind Keris, a trio of shots impacting on his armour but not slowing him down in the least before he to jumps over the crate. As you plant your boots on the plascrete landing pad again, you twist to face this pair. A look of utter horror fills their features as their faces drain of all colour.

[End this pair as you see fit and then go and help deal with the new enemies. You won't be able to kill the pair and get into close combat with the newcomers in one post, but you can still start to get in there.]

Vermundr and Tyr; The sound of a grenade going off registers through your senses as you near the entry portal to the complex. As you come within ten strides, the six troopers you could feel coming, for those with their helmets off, emerge and immediately begin to lay a salvo of fire in your direction. That is, five of them take a knee and shoot at you, the sixth aims a grenade launcher at Vidar and Iorek who are already dispatching the remaining enemies that Keris’s grenade had not killed. You hear one of them shout an order in a language that feels wrong to your ears and three of the enemies stop shooting, tossing grenades at you while one of the remaining pair lands a glancing shot to Vermundr’s helmet.

[Grenades! Dive out of the way of the frag grenades and get to those enemies. You’ll be able to do that and engage some of these six in a single post. However these soldiers are not like the other five, they bear markings similar to the pair that you engaged outside the chapel two days ago. They will not break as the other five, and are apparently far more capable of handling themselves.]

Iorek and Vidar; Keris’s grenade forces two of the three enemies to dive from behind the crates while the wounded soldier is unable to do so. The detonation sends shrapnel in all directions, perforating the man and ending his life in the blink of an eye. Before either of you have a chance to react, you notice out of the corner of your vision more enemies, one of them aiming a gun in your direction and firing several times. You are both hit, one krak round smacking right into Vidar’s chest, blowing away a chunk of armour and forcing him to take a step back but doing nothing more. Another round hits Iorek in the pouldron, blowing it apart and throwing him to the ground.

[Get to your feet and finish the pair off; then go and help Vermundr and Tyr. You will not be able to reach your packmates in one post, but that does not mean you can’t shoot at those new enemies and possibly take one or two out. Unless of course your wolf brothers get in the way first, then you might not want to risk it.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik charged like a beast of legend. A feral howl left his torn lips as he planted one hand on a crate, over taking Keris and vaulted over as three Las Rounds smashed into his chest, though being a Astartes he continued undaunted. Using one hand to propel himself forwards he clutched his Bolt Pistol in the other his index finger sliding towards the trigger as he found a pair of Traitor Dogs on the other side. 

He landed hard and went down into a crouch, a snarl etched upon his face. His brow furrowed he turned to the closest PDF Trooper and grabbed hold of his fatigues, pulling him closer he pressed the cold muzzle of his weapon into his gut and pulled the trigger. The man’s innards were sent flying backwards, white glints marking out bone shards. Alrik discarded the body, sending it tumbling of the landing pad end over end. 

The second man tried to bring his weapon to bare, raising his Las Rifle only for Alrik to reach outwards with his free hand and grab hold of the barrel, he yanked it away with ease and closed in on his prey. He punched forwards with his weapon, smashing the mans nose in a welter of gore with a sigh and firing all within a short time, crushing the man’s skull he turned and darted off to aid the rest of his Brethren.


----------



## Flerden

OOC: Sorry for not posting very fast, I got no realy good reason.

Vidar walked into the Thunderhawk, sighing att the thought of flying down to the surface.
''I would prefer a Drop Pod, it goes faster.'' He though for himself. The decent was nothing special for him. When they landed he ran just to see Keris falling to a knee after being hit by a lasgun shot. Vidar prepared to run to cover Keris but Alrik was faster.
Insted he started to give them cover by shooting at the enemy's behind the crates.
Suddenly he was hit in the chest by a krak round that blew away a part of his armour, and shortly after that Iorke was hit too. He then ran to Iorek to cover him and check if he was alive.
''Iorek, are you wounded?'' Vidar asked while shooting at the two enemy's that had shoot at him and Iorek. He hit one in the shoulder, sending him flying backwards a short distance.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr had to quickly change his charging stride in order to dodge the grenades. He flung himself to the left, hitting the ground hard. Always thankful for his power armor. he had been hit in his helmet by one of the las-shots as well as he jumped away from the frags. "Yet another good reason to always wear your helmet..." he thought.

checking to make sure Von and Tyr were alright, and seeing they too had dodged the grenades with minimal damage. 

Yelling aloud from within his helmet to Tyr and Von, "You hear the _twisted_ heretical tongue of these _traitors_ brothers!? SILENCE them with your bolt pistols if they will not let us near with their COWARDLY TACTICS!!!"

He finishes with what is practically a roar minced with words, but even if Von and Tyr could not understand him he would make it clear through his actions what was to be done. 

Getting back up to his full height, keeping his spine straightened with confidence, Vermundr holds his bolt pistol straight out in front of him, making a steady and slow, almost rhythmic walk towards the exit portal while unloading his bolt rounds into the narrow passage. Unlike Iorek...he had not once taken time to carefully aim one shot at a time since they had arrived on this planet. If his enemies would not let him near to be struck down by the sharp cold blade of his axe by sending a hail of fire his way, then he would fire a barrage of death back at them until his axe could reach, or they all lay dead full of righteous holes. 

If the three of them took their pistols and unloaded in this way into the portal, the enemy PDF could only do one of two things. The preferred was of course for them to die and go to hell. The second was for them to retreat backward allowing Vermundr and his pack more breathing room, and soon more power to ram down the exit, making it easier for them to push through this landing pad trap.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris felt every sinew and muscle within his legs coil and release with each powerful stride. The air that filled his lungs was sharp with scents; he could taste them all on the back of his tongue. The wolf sharing his soul tensed with eagerness, the thrill of the hunt singing through his veins. The distanced closed in an eye blink, the haphazard stack of crates all that stood between him and the traitors.

Then the unexpected happened; the massive, snarling bulk of Alrik sailed past Keris with a feral roar, overtaking him and leaping the crates with a powerful bound. The two pdf troopers barely registered the threat that had landed within arm’s reach before they were sent to plead their souls before the Allfather. The sharp copper scent of fresh blood made it hard to think for a moment and drew a dangerous growl from the beast in Keris’s mind; animal rage coloured his thoughts in shades of crimson. 

_Had his brother spoken not moments before of sharing the glory of this day?_ A liquid snarl, low and feral, erupted from his throat as Keris fought down the conflicting emotions that thrashed within his breast. The beast was enraged; it had marked at least one of those kills for its own only to be denied both. Keris seized the frothing wolf that shared his soul in gleaming fangs of reason, he would _not_ be angry at Alrik for taking both kills. 

A voice cut across his churning thoughts like a hot knife, speaking a language that left a bitter taste in his throat. Keris whipped around, fangs bared and crystal blue eyes locking upon the new targets that were pouring fire and grenades upon his brothers. With a roar he surged forward; blood pounding in his veins and hackles raised, the wolf inside echoing his rage. Keris let the rage flow through him; fueling his motions as he charged the line of traitors, chainsword screaming like a ice daemon.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr dove to the right midstride as he saw Vermundr and Von dodge the incoming grenades. As Vermundr looked back at him to see if he was still with the living he nodded at his brother and grinned a toothy smile back at him, he was eager to take the fight back to the enemy. These bastards were hardier then what he would have expected from a normal PDF force and reminded him of the ones they had fought in the front of the chapel, veterans was what he was thinking. 

No matter they would die the same as their friends did, either from bolt round or his power fist he would send them to the burning hells that awaited all traitors. Listening to Vermundr's orders he growled a response and stood up, his pistol aiming directly down the corridor, and opened fire with his brother.

While he was a little ways behind Vermundr and Von he could still at least aim down a narrow passageway, and he knew what his brother was trying to force the traitors to do and knew it was really their only option then throw their own grenades down the passage. Tyr kept his aim steady as he strode forward, his bolt pistol blazing and clenched his power fist, he wanted so bad to get into the thick of this where he would be of more use to his brothers.


----------



## deathbringer

The grenade spilled from Keris's hand and spiralled through the air and Iorek stepped out from behind cover as it bounced lazily behind the crates and two of the men that cowered behind scrambled out into the open and he levelled his pistol as he heard the wounded man scream as his arms scrabbled frantically as he tried to drag himself away from the ball of destruction that advanced menacingly upon him. 

For a moment he was stunned as the grenade, exploded in a plume of fire and smoke and Iorek ignored the death scream as he aimed at those that had scampered from behind cover yet he was distracted, his attention pulled aside, primarily by Alrik who barreled forward , in an angry frenzy and by a sudden shout from his left and he turned to find Vermundr and Tyr diving aside.

His own shout of supris was shrill as he saw one of the traitors lining up a shot as him and Vidar and he turned, his pistol hanging limply by his side.

His feet were planted, his stance straight from the turn and the krak round exploded from the rocket launcher and flashed, plumes of smoke from its rear and he could only lean to the left in a vain attempt to evade it. 

He knew he had failed when he found himself flying backwards blown off his feet by the impact and he roared in anger as he hit the ground, the impact dulled by his power armour he lay motionless, temporarily stunned by the impact. The world was silent and his eyes were blank and all he could feel was his pistol was still clutched tightly in his hand

Suddenly the world righted itself and the sky appeared above him and he heard Vidar's concerned words as he scrambled to his feet and felt lopsided and he noticed his pauldron had been blow away, exposing his flesh and he was suprised to notice no damage had occured to the albine skin below it. It was a little red yet he ignored it raising the pistol and he barrelled forward. 

His legs were tense, cramped as he moved and he saw the pdf troopers lined up in a firing channel towards him yet he did not hesitate as he heard a feral howl that cut through his mind like a knife. A wolf was within him... the wolf that bore Njororos necklace around its neck, the wolf that desired vengeance.

His response to Vidar was a snarl of enraged hatred as he moved past him closing the gap upon his brothers assailants with long loping strides and with every stride his rage grew.

They had killed his brother and attacked Iorek. He was not like the others. his fangs were not swords or axes, the bolt pistol in his hand was his weapon, and it was sharp and deadly. His wolf was to him more deadly, he could leap over lengths that others could not and still could bring down enemies with a single blow. Combat had a thrill it always had, the spiralling dance that lingered between life and death as marshall skill and strength mingled, dipping and rising with the flashing of there blades. It was hauntingly beautiful yet his own skill with the bolt pistol gave it an extra tinge. 

He was at one with the pistol, it had the power to render mortals and immortals to the ground with its exploding rounds and he raised it now pointing it at the centre of the pdf's gunline. The centre warrior was kneeling upon the ground his lasgun pointed at the oncoming astartes. Ioreks face was a snarl and he aimed, standing 20 paces behind Vermundr as he moved from cover bolt pistol firing wildly.

He moved across Ioreks line of fire and Iorek considering firing under his arm and the wolf cried out for the kill for vengeance and Iorek's finger tightened on the trigger. The wolf howled as he saw the soldiers chest under his brother and reason battled desire, the desire for the kill, for slaughter to see his body explode outwards in a plume of flesh and bone.

Tyr stepped out next to Vermundr and he was momentarily furious that his brothers would block him from the kill. He watched the blazing shots that ripped through the air around the guardsman and he hoped that at least one would touch the bastards

"Vermundr, Tyr move to your left.... I have the shot" he snarled, moving to the right slightly trying to avoid there broad backs. It was a barked comment fuelled by the snapping jaws of the wolf within him that longed for the taste of blood and his finger was tight upon the trigger as he sprinted forward trying to reach his brothers and add some accuracy to there hail of fire.

He was about 10 steps behind and still sprinting and suddenly the shot appeared. He was standing moving to his right to avoid the hail of fire from Vermundr and Tyr and it was glorious relief. Iorek aimed above his chest up as the man back peddled desperately fear in his eyes. 

The pistol was held out pointing slightly upwards in his two hands and he braced for the recoil as the trigger slid backwards and the bolt exploded from the barrel. It seemed to take a life time to hit the man in the chest yet it impacted upon his ribs shearing through the light protection of his armour with ease and the explosive charge detonated upon his ribcage. The man fell backwards and for a second Iorek could see his heart, shocked into stillness by the loss of life before it toppled out of sight.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr and Tyr; you exchange fire with the line of enemies but your lack of aiming garners you no kills whilst the soldiers score several hits on you. Your senses warn you to the aproach of others, and that is when Iorek and Vidar come into sight, lending their fire to your own. Your shots take one of the soldiers in the stomach and fling him into the wall while Iorek clips another, spinning him but causing no other damage.

As if on cue, Keris hits their line from the side, jumping amongst them and forcing the soldiers to break up and focus on him and Alrik. _“Stop wasting time gawking and aid your wold brothers dammit!”_ The voice of Baldyr cuts through the air and he jumps in front of you all, blood of enemies and scorchmarks marking out his armour, in time to slice an incoming grenade in half with his blade before he to charges in to help Keris and Alrik.

[Except for the grenade launcher wielder, wounded soldier, and fallen soldier, the remaining enemies attention is not on you so close in and kill them.]

Vidar and Iorek; Without a clear shot at the enemy, you run up to move alongside Tyr and Vermundr, firing with them as you four close in. The combined fire of Tyr, Vermundr and Vidar manage to hit one of the soldiers in the stomach and fling him into a wall, but despite the wound he scrambles to pull a pistol from his side, blood spurting out of his mouth even as he does. Iorek manages to clip a second of the enemy, throwing him to the ground and forcing his shot to go wide and miss a shot intended for his head.

Keris and Alrik join the fray, charging into the line from its side and taking the attention of three of the soldiers, with the grenade launcher soldier and wounded one still firing at you. Baldyr slices an incoming grenade with his blade, a snarl of words roaring from his lips before he to charges through the reduced fire.


[Like Vermundr and Tyr the grenade launcher wielder, wounded soldier, and fallen soldier, the remaining enemies attention is not on you so close in and kill them. That’s four of you to three enemies, one of you should focus on the whoever Keris does not go after.]


Keris and Alrik; you run into the line of enemies, catching them completely off guard as you do so. Three of them turn quickly to engage you, but here there discipline will not save them, not against super-human warriors such as yourselves. A slash from Keris’s chainsword breaks a lasgun in two while he backhands another with the grip of his bolt pistol, forcing him to stumble behind you momentarily stunned. Alrik kicks the third soldier in the side sending him to the ground, one hand clutching shattered ribs as his other hand tears a bolt pistol of his own from a holster. A trio of explosive rounds stitch across your chest before you stamp on the hand and crush the bones, eliciting a shriek of pain in the process.

[Kill these men, Keris by the time you finish off one another of your packmates should have done in the second; feel free to take your pick though.]

Romka: Getting up after avoiding the grenades that had been fired at those of you pinning the initial soldiers down; you see Iorek turn his attention away before taking his shot and moving in towarsds the firing line. For some reason he had not killed the man, and he was taking aim with his lasgun to shoot Iorek in the back.

[Finish him as you see fit and join the others.]


----------



## CommissarHorn

Romka's opinion of his new brothers was still in the making, although he felt neither dislike or mistrust of them. 
Firing at the enemy, Romka noticed Iorek's failure to kill one of their enemies, who was aiming freely at Iorek's back.

Throwing his Boltpistol at the man, it landed heavily, crushing the soldier's cheekbone. Firing, the soldier missed his target and slumped down.

Jumping up almost instantly, Romka thrust his heel into the man's throat, smashing it and killing him.

"Too close, but it happens."


----------



## Euphrati

The distance between Keris and the line of kneeling guardsmen flashed by in the space of a heartbeat, their attention focused as they poured fire down upon his packbrothers. With a roar that called forth images of a primal god of battle; Keris landed amidst the kneeling men, scattering their fire like a herd of grazers breaking at the scent of a predator. It was a measure of their training that the guardsmen recovered as quickly as they did; three of the number scrambling to bring their weapons to bear on the unexpected threat. Yet, for all their training, the troopers were no match for the super-human reflexes of an enraged Son of Russ.

Metal screamed as Keris brought his chainsword down in a wicked arc, shearing through the body of a lasgun in a shower of blue sparks even as his left hand shot out, still gripping his pistol firmly, to connect with the face of a second traitor. There was the wet snap of bone as the man’s jaw shattered under the force of the blow, sending him spinning away with a spray of crimson erupting from his torn lips. Alrik’s scent appeared behind him as his wolfbrother landed a shattering kick to the torso of the third guardsman, sending him to the ground in a painful heap.

The first guardsman reacted the fastest, tossing aside his now bisected weapon and drawing forth a blackened combat blade and pistol of exotic design. The wolf within his mind snarled a warning and Keris spun upon his heel to face the traitor, deflecting the man’s pistol with a slap of his howling chainsword. The gun hissed as it fired, sending strange, silvery disk-like projectiles that buzzed like biting insects less than a handspan from his head.

His shot wasted; the man leapt forward with his blade flashing to strike at Keris’s midsection but the Space Wolf read the attack in the tensing of the man’s muscles and twisted with the assault, the tip of the blade missing the ribbed cabling that lay across Keris’s stomach by millimeters. With a flick of his wrist, Keris reversed his grip on his chainsword, driving the pommel into the man’s forehead with a liquid growl. Bone fractured and the man’s head snapped back with spine shattering force. Keris’s voice eclipsed the shrieking blade of his chainsword as he buried the blade to the hilt in the exposed chest of the guardsman,

‘Death is the only punishment suited for those who betray the Allfather! Eternal damnation awaits your souls, Traitors!’ 

Keris roared as he heaved back on his blade, tearing it out the twitching corpse in an arc of ruby droplets as he kicked the body towards the remaining men.


----------



## unxpekted22

There was no time and really not all that much to think about now. Though it should be obvious Vermundr yelled the command anyway, more for the fact that they were in the adrenaline rushed heat of battle, "CHARGE!!"

indicating for all of the pack still behind him, Tyr, Von, Vidar, Romka, Iorek, and the others to follow suit in Keris and Alriks' actions.

Vermundr sprinted with his axe now held high over his head, the blade reflecting white light toward the enemy pdf as he ran in for the kill. There were no more lasgun shots flashing toward him. The burning marks into his armor ceased entirely as the men floundered in close combat with the space wolves. 

Closer and closer, He practically drooled at the mouth beneath his helm, screaming the whole way.

Upon contact with the unit, he jumped off of the ground slamming his stud armored knee into the closest man while swinging his axe down toward another.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek saw the enemy go down and rushed to join Vermundr and Tyr upon the line as their moving backs clouded his vision and the pdf darted too quickly for him to take a clear shot. As he sprinted he heard the clamour of a man hitting the floor and he wheeled round turing to see one of the new brothers driving a heel into the man he thought he had killed moments before.

He stood stunned for a moment supsended in confusion and he nodded to his brother, a short curt nod that he hoped conveyed his appreciation as his lips were dry and his mouth wouldn't move. He whipped round and moved forward to the right of Vermundr eyes glued to the pdf warriors that were firing intently and off to his left he noticed one who was taking a bead at him and he whipped his pistol round to aim quickly at the trooper. 

He thought he saw a muscle in the troopers face move and Iorek fired early, not knowing if the shot would go astray in his haste and trusting to the instinct and he continued to close the distance lining up a second shot. However the first shot struck home clipping the soldiers shoulder armour and throwing him to the floor as a bolt of energy flashed from the gun and the shot whipped feet over Iorek's head as the barrel was forced upwards by the soldiers flailing momentum.

The calm shocked silence broke within Iorek and the wolf inside him roared, howled in frustration at two close calls and for once he appreciated the call to charge. He broke into a run aiming for the soldier he had just knocked to the ground, intending to finish the treacherous git that had come so close to ending his life.

His steps were heavy and the wolf howled his approval as he tore his chainsword from his belt and slavered for the kill as he thumbed the activation stud. The growl of the chainsword mixed with the deadly growl that broke from Iorek's lips and he raised the bolt pistol as he ran and fired two shots at the body that stirred upon the ground as sword raised he sprinted on.... the wolf howled and bared its fangs and Iorek longed to feel blood upon them to claim the kill at last

He did not intend to make a mistake again.. for to make another mistake could cost him his life


----------



## dark angel

Alrik hissed as he brought the tip of his armoured toe into the ribs of a enemy Trooper. There was a crunch and a spray of blood from between the mans gritted teeth, with a yelp he fell backwards clutching the shattered ribs with one dirty hand. However his other hand lowered to the holster at his side and Alrik saw death. 

A unadorned Bolt Pistol was yanked from its brown leather holster and lifted upwards, a grin spread across the mans spittle and blood freckled face as he pulled the trigger, feeling the weapon bark in his hand. The Astartes edged backwards as three rounds struck his chest, each exploding and chipping away paint and ceramite, novas of light were cast upon him, illuminating his scarred face. 

The Space Wolf crossed his arms over his face, protecting it from further rounds and barrelled forwards stamping down upon the mans hand and turning bones into crushed powder, rendering the mans fingers as mere fleshy sacks. The man yelped in pain as Alrik angled his own Bolt Pistol at the man and wheezed, firing once he watched every second of the attack, from the mans chest caving in with a howl and spray of blood to the body getting sent slipping across the floor in a bloody smear.


((Merry Christmas for yesterday everyone, hope you all enjoyed))


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr howled with glee and rage as he followed his brothers into the enemy lines. This is what he had been waiting for, this is what he was best at, hammering the enemy to small pulpy bits. Holstering his pistol he kept an eye on where his brothers were and what enemies could threaten him most once he dove into the combat, the trooper with the grenade launcher was the biggest threat but if he got close enough the fool wouldn't do much damage, all it took was one punch from his power fist.

That would be his target but first he had kill someone else first, if the grenadier saw him charging him he would most definately be shot and killed. His brothers were the first to hit the line causing disarray and confusion and he was second, a very large second, and his first kill of the day didn't even see it coming. As he howled and ran he simply barreled into the first gaurdsman knocking him back many feet and most certainly causing internal bleeding and snapping many bones.

Yet that was not who he had been after and he quickly turned his whole body to face the grenadier who shot his gun up to fire at him. But quick as his reflexes were Tyr punched the bottom of the gun up and the shot went high over his head and behind him. Punching his closed fist forward he had enough time to see the las-shot from somewhere else impact on his shouldergaurd causing his arm to swing a bit, and as it impact on the grenadier's midsection, ripping through in a fountain of blood and gore. Before he could get a good look at the soldier who had shot him he was hit again but this time in his chest causing him to take a few steps back to figure out what was happening.

Reaching down to pick up the upper half of the gaurdsman's body he had just torn in half he picked out the soldier who had shot him lining up his gun for what was most assuredly going to be a headshot and tossed the guardsman's upper body at him. The soldier shot out of reaction and it went wide but Tyr followed the body sprinting toward the gaurdsman a howl of rage on his lips.


----------



## Flerden

Vidar shoot a few times at the enemy's but he was not sure if he hit at all. Vidar then decided to charge and help the rest of the pack. He charged a enemy and activated his chainsword on the way.
He slashed at the enemy closest to him and managed to hit him in the chest ripping up a big wound. But for some reason the enemy did not die and tried to hit back with his las weapon, Vidar blocked it with his arm that and hit again with his chainsword, this time killing the enemy.


----------



## darkreever

[Romka; tossed a fully loaded pistol at a fallen enemy soldier…wow.]

Vidar; As you close in on one of the fallen soldiers, Tyr hurls the upper half of his own target into the man, making him faulter his shots before you step in, chainsword ripping him open from chest to stomach in a spray of blood. Amazingly he still has enough life in him to try and draw a pistol, though not before you take half his face and arm off at the shoulder in a final sweep.

Tyr; You hurl the upper half of the soldier into the downed enemy you knocked back only for one of your new packmates, Vidar, to get in the way and claim the kill himself.

Vermundr; The blow to the first soldier’s face snaps his head back with enough force to shatter his spine, he is dead before ever hitting the ground. You swipe out with your axe, but there is no one left to attack; the five remaining enemy soldiers have all been dispatched by your pack-brothers.

All; From the time you jumped from the thunderhawk to killing off the last of the soldiers on the landing pad, barely two minutes had passed. Romka runs up to the others and exchanges nods with Iorek while Baldyr presses onward into the building and down the steps with the rest of you following close behind.

Descending one level, you enter a wide chamber braching out in two directions on the opposite end from your position. However between you and that are a pair of hastily placed heavy stubbers manned by seven pdf soldiers and one clad differently. Both guns open fire on your position, ripping chunks of stone from the ground and ornate paneling from the walls. You all dive for cover, crouching down behind columns of marble or back down to the stairs.

Those of you taking cover in the stairway hear the sounds of footsteps coming from below, running up to pen you in. Baldyr takes three frag grenades from his belt, primes and hurls them down the stairs with a trio of explosions and screams echoing off the walls. For now the footsteps have ceased but it is only a matter of time.

Taking pot shots at the heavy weapons, one of the pdf soldiers is tossed back as Baldyr blows his head off but the volume of fire and distance are to great for you to get any proper shots off. An blast erupts down from the heavy weapons followed by a heavy gunshot, the stubbers ceasing to fire a fraction of a second later to which you break cover and charge forward; if the enemy are trying something you are not going to stand still and let them, a charge would catch them off guard and even those guns would not be able to stop all of you at once.

What you are greeted to though is something unexpected; the seven remaining soldiers are all dead, a single man stands amongst their corpses. Running to the position you get a better look at this man; clad in necklaces and other trophies taken from various enemies, a leathery belt clings to a shoulderguard on his right arm with the rest of his body clad in worn greyish-blue carapace armour. The man’s head is framed by angry yellow eyes and a brown beard with some grey in it, bisecting jagged scars cross the front of his face and the top of his head is shaved to the scalp. Holding a combat shotgun in his right arm, the wolf scout takes his left arm from the man he had been pinning to the far wall, a jagged bone like blade strapped to the bottom of his forearm and jutting out from behind slick with blood.

_“Where’s the rest of your team?”_ Morgun, the space wolf scout growls to Baldyr as the wolf guard aproaches. _“There ship went down outside of the complex, they are making way to us as we speak.”_ Balydr answers, having apparently received information the rest of you had not, likely shared between him and possibly Gunnar. _“We don’t have time to wait for them Morgun, we will have to be enough.”_ Baldyr adds, looking down both halls and then the auspex built into his armour and starting to move down the left corridor.

_“The information we have is incorrect, already went that way; we must go to the right.”_ Morgun calls out to Baldyr, stopping him and several of the pack dead before he starts to run down the right corridor, shotgun held firmly in both arms as you all follow. Morgun leads you down corridors and another floor, halting to avoid squads of soldiers running, likely to where you had been and should have been going. Forty minutes of sneaking, and you make it to the first of your targets in this complex, the main communication hub of the guilder. Morgun takes a breaching charge from a pack along his waste and clamps it to the large double doors, moving to one side, behind Vermundr with half the pack while Baldyr and the other half wait on the opposite.

The charge explodes inward, sending wooden shrapnel into the room and kicking up a cloud of smoke before you all charge in. You take in the scene before you, thirty targets, twelve of them pdf soldiers and four clad differently, two like the different soldiers each armed with hellguns. The others in the room do not appear to be armed, or only have solid slug pistols. One of them is sprawled on the ground in front of where the doors had exploded, clutching the ruined stump of his leg.

[Kill them all, the room is fairly large, easily able to accomidate a thunderhawk had this been a hanger. Cogigator stations and displays are splayed everywhere in clusters, offering cover for you and the enemy.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik pushed to the front of the Sons of Fenris and put single Bolt through the mans head below him, crushing his skull and sending fragments in all directions. A short two or three seconds later he raised his Bolt Pistol and fired in quick succession, striking a unarmed man in the back and crushing the console he was sitting at in a wave of blue fire and blood. He let out a howl and moved forwards ponderously, Chainsword swinging at targets that were not there. 

For a normal Human, Alrik must have been a fearsome sight. Sprayed with the blood of those he had killed earlier he walked forwards calmly as the enemy began to level their weapons at him and his Brethren, firing as they did so. The Firehawk ducked behind a consol and cursed, a single hard round had struck him in the chest where the Bolts had earlier and had weakened the strong material there further. 

He slammed his shoulder into the console and checked his magazine, looking around for his Brothers he spotted each one in their own states and places and let out a chuckle that was followed immediately with “Brothers! You seem troubled I have started something, are you afraid you cannot keep up with my glorious arse?” he fired two rounds over his head without aiming before sitting back down.


----------



## unxpekted22

45 minutes had passed since they had arrived onto the landing pad, Vermudnr couldn't believe it had been that long. It had all gone so fast; the sneaking around the complex. The rushing beats of his hearts due to the adrenaline rush must have been why everything seemed to pass by in such a quick manner. 

His head whirled with responsibility that was taken away by his older brethren. But, as he had known in his mind while still aboard the Fist of Russ...he was still just a blood claw.

Now more than ever he felt the yearning, the desire to prove himself and gain rank throughout his great company. He had been given the opportunity and he did not wish to waste it.

This situation though, it had no need for his commands anymore. It was relieving, but worrisome at the same time. Then again, it was good he only had to make a few decisions, since his pack still needed some time to regain full trust in him. For now, they would all do their best to protect each other in battle and continue pushing forward as one unified force, rebuilding the bonds of battle brothers that he thought could never be broken.

He had never seen a Wolf Scout in action before. The legends were truth. For the world Vermudnr could not figure out how the hell Morgun had managed to get so deep behind the enemy lines. Their blood claw pack, and even the grey hunters, had been shot at before they even landed, and furthermore were met immediately by gunfire upon stepping foot on the complex and had met three consecutive defensive blocks afterward. They would have continued to meet such resistance if Morgun had not shown up. 

Vermundr was consistently met by awe as they followed Morgun. His particular style of art in warfare was so refined, so _de_fined. Even Baldyr could not question the scout's knowledge and expertise as they obeyed his words.

Vermundr was quite happy to hear of his other older brothers surviving their crash, and hoped he would see them soon. he was sure that if he did see them soon, the happy and proud faces they had shown toward him earlier would be all seriousness. Vermundr could only imagine how angered he would have been if their own thunderhawk had been shot down. Though perhaps the grey hunters were more used to such things, more expectant of it. Everyone above him in rank did seem to always be more calm than him after all.

When the doors were blown open by the charge, He watched his pack in a joyful spirit as they charged into the room as if they were one single entity fluid in motion and quick in their aim. Iorek, Keris, Alrik, Tyr and himself...the closest and yet possibly furthest apart in the pack emotionally and spiritually. Even with the recent history they had togeather under their belts, they still fought better, and their attacks seemed much cleaner. Well, perhaps 'cleaner' wasn't the right word, but Vermudnr trusted the All-father knew what he had meant.

He took his own position crouching as he ran in, firing his pistol as he found cover to give him a few seconds. He landed behind a cogigator station, and spoke to his pack,

_"Brothers, once you find cover, try to aim for the better armored men. I don't think I need to say how much better this will go if we kill those hellguns first."_


----------



## Euphrati

His blood was up, thundering in his ears like the harsh fenrisian ocean breaking upon a jagged shoreline, as Keris loped down the stairs after the powerful shadow of Baldyr. The stairs disgorged them into a long, echoing chamber studded with columns. The far side of the room branched into two hallways, yet a hastily erected barrier barred their passage. The twin barrels of the heavy stubbers spat fire as a greeting to the pack, the men manning the guns being watched over by another of the more highly trained traitors.

Keris jinxed to the right; diving behind a pillar and snarling in response to the line of fire that nipped at his heels, throwing up chips of marble from inlaid floor and chewing at the column like a starving wolf upon a bone. The sharp sounds of footsteps and voices snapped his head back to the stairwell in time to see Baldyr toss a clutch of grenades into the shadows, the muffled whumps of the explosions and cries of pain brought a lupine grin to Keris’s cold eyes.

The grin quickly disappeared as shards of fragrant wood rained down on him from the paneling lining the wall nearest his makeshift cover. Keris leaned to the side from where he was crouched, snapping off a trio of shots before retreating back into cover as the answering voice of the stubber sliced through the air where his head had been a mere heartbeat before. Out of the corner of his eye Keris watched the gruff Wolf Guard squeeze off a shot and the wet sound of shattering bone attested to the bolt finding a home within the body of one of the traitors. Yet the fire coming from the guns was unabated, halting the pack in place and offering little chance at an aimed shot.

Without warning, an explosion racked the heavy weapons, punctuated by the heavy crack of a bolt-weapon. The streaking fire ceased and Keris scrambled from behind the cover, seizing upon the moment to close the distance and vault the barrier. Bodies lay strewn at his feet and a familiar, yet _different_, scent stopped him dead. A Wolf Scout. 

Unlike other chapters who placed the untested aspirants into the ranks of scouts, the Wolf Scouts of Russ were made up of rugged warriors; those men whom, unlike their brethren, found no solstice within the pack, their independent and aloof personalities marking them out amongst the camaraderie of their brothers. Fiercely cunning natures coupled with the ability to slip behind enemy lines like a stalking shadow had been the downfall of countless foes of the Allfather.

The back of his neck tensed and the wolf within Keris’s soul gave a low, wary growl as the golden eyes of the Wolf Scout passed over him, locking upon the form of Baldyr as the Scout removed his blood-slick blade from the body of the guardsman. Keris forced his body to relax as the Wolf Guard exchanged words with the Scout, naming him Morgun. _The wolf in his mind fidgeted in unease,_ it instinctually knew the significance of those amber-hued eyes and Keris tasted the air cautiously. Morgun’s scent was laced with exotic notes and difficult to pick out from the multitude of trophies hung about his carapace armour. There was something else in the Wolf’s scent as well; an aroma that caused Keris’s head to throb when he focused upon it and, in an attempt to cover his discomfort, Keris busied himself inspecting the bodies slumped over the still smoking guns.

Seven of the guardsmen were dressed in the typical uniforms for the pdf, however the eight was clad in the garb Keris had come to identify with the agents of the enemy. Slipping his chainsword into its sheath; he knelt by the body, quickly turning it over and letting his instincts guide his search. His sharp eyes settled upon a vox-bead in the corpse’s ear and his nimble fingers quickly plucked the device free even as his brothers began to move off, following the Scout as he led them deeper into the compound. Keris lengthening his stride, catching up quickly before fitting the device into his own ear for a moment to listen to the split of words, though he couldn’t understand what was said; Keris recognized the language as the same one he and his brothers had encountered earlier upon the landing pad. With a flick of his hand he muted the device, once again drawing his sword and resolving to ask Baldyr or Morgun about it once the Claw had completed its first task.

The Scout cut a winding path through the halls, silent as a spirit, freezing in place and then motioning them on when the echoing footsteps of squads of pdf had passed by them unnoticed. The minutes ticked by and Keris fought to keep his muscles from twitching with tension, trying to keep his steps light and letting his senses warn him of approaching danger.

Finally, after what seemed to Keris like an eternity but the chronometer in his armour marked as being just over forty-five minutes, the pack stopped before an immense set of double doors. Even through the solid wood, Keris could taste the ozone bite of electrically charged air and sacred oils used to anoint the arrays of communications devices within the Imperium. He felt his heartbeats increase as Morgun extracted a charge from one of his packs and placed it upon the face of the doors before triggering the timer and pressing himself to the side. Keris lingered on the far side from the veteran, finding himself still wary of the Scout’s scent and presence.

The breaching charge went off in a blinding flash of shrapnel and smoke; Keris snarled as he dashed forward through the shards of wood, taking in the room and its contents in an eyeblink. His ice-blue eyes settled upon the two figures across the room bearing the unmistakable silhouettes of hellguns. Even the blessed wargear of the astartes could be breached by the armour piercing capacity of the hellgun’s powerpack. The sudden destruction of the doors had bought Keris and his brothers the element of surprise, but it was only a handful of moments. _They had to act fast._

Time seemed to slow as Keris estimated the distance even as he bounded over the nearest cogigator station, his fangs bared and a howl echoing from the wolf within his mind. It was at the extent of the ground he could cover even without the databanks scattered in his path. Anger lent strength to his stride and Keris heard Vermundr’s words growl in his ear. He fought to swallow a sharp reply, turning it instead into an echoing howl. _Why did his brothers favour their pistols so greatly? Choosing to hide over closing with the enemy in battle?_ If they allowed the traitors to bring the hellguns to bear upon the pack they would be pinned down, wasting valuable time and possibly allowing other troops to be summoned.

The distance disappeared beneath his stride as Keris’s thumb found the rune on the hilt of his chainblade, the teeth leaping to life with a howl that mirrored his own.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had silently admired Morgun and the skill with which he had obviously used to get himself here so far behind enemy lines by himself. The warrior looked extremely tough and Tyr found himself thinking it would be safer to go head to head with a terminator then this grizzled old wolf. They had followed him down a few corridors watching as soldiers ran in different directions completely ignorant of where the real threat truly was.

Tyr had to admit he was never really good at sneaking, his size had seen to that, but he relished the feel of the ability to go completely unnoticed by your enemy and then to strike them where it hurt the most. To be honest Morgun scared him a bit but he wasn't about to let anyone know that or show it so he kept his face stoic and unemotional.

They reached a pair of blast doors and Morgun placed a charge on it and they all back away and pressed up against the walls and it exploded. He was further back in the pack and came through the smoke a little later then the others but in enought time to hear Vermundr's words about the two hellgun troopers and to see Keris charging at them. His brother would most assuredly be outnumbered amidst the enemy if no one were to back him up, lucky for him Tyr was more then happy to oblige.

With a roaring howl of his own he activated his power fist and charged through the first small terminal in his way and over another after his brother. He brought his pistol up and fired as he ran to keep the enemy distracted from shooting Keris and him, hoping his brothers would add their own fire to his.


----------



## unxpekted22

"No, I will not let my pack fall in front of me, if I am to prove myself as leader then I must lead!" Vermundr yelled at himself, Keris's actions causing him to realize his own foolery. One that was worse than charging straight in, was to stand behind something that the enemy's weapons would tear through in seconds, and subsequently his armor as well.

He stood and smashed through his own cover with his left shoulder hurling himself towards a man with nothing but a slug pistol. Vermundr's hand reached the man's head and pinned it against the hard floor. He stuck his own pistol into the man's face and blew it apart.

Besides, why did he choose to shoot from afar so often anyway? His pack mates probably knew as well as he did that whenever shot from a distance all he did was unload barrages of shots. He was good at standing firm and emptying clips, but he never took the the time to aim.

He pulled the dead man's body off the floor in front of him as a body shield. As he assumed, the man he walked towards next had no problem shooting at him anyway, blowing chunks from his human shield. Vermundr threw the body into the man taking hold of his axe as soon as he let go of his grip.

The man fumbled with the body, pushed it aside and got two pistol rounds into the shoulder, and an axe blade through his ribs.

Vermdunr caught his eye on the hellgun carrier that Keris was not already going for.

Another man came from his left. Bearing no weapons, he instead had taken hold of some object that had been in the room and swung it over Vermundr's left arm as he blocked it, causing it to break over his power armor. 

One of the pdf's was running toward him while firing his weapon. Vermundr blocked what he could with his right shoulder pad. Before the first man could get away from him, He swung his axe low through the man's legs. he then continued to turn left, all the way around while bringing his left leg forward as he spun on his right heel. As he completed the turn his axe flew from his right hand, spinning through the air, and landed square into the pdf's forehead.

Another man came to his right, and another to his left. With his empty right hand he elbowed the face of the one to the right and punched the one on the left in his chest. He the sprinted, followed by a leap, to the dead pdf and ripped out his axe.

The surprise was over, he would not assume these men were stupid, they would not just keep running at him. The ones that just had only did because they new they had no other option. They would have died either way. 

The light gleamed in his helmet lenses as he stood up straight and stared at his target, the man with the hellgun. His axe horizontal to the floor dripped with blood, and his bolt pistol had a nice looking spray pattern going over its front half. 

Staring down the pdf with the hellgun, even as the other men began to fire at him, he raised the end of his axe up, pointing it to the man with the hellgun indicating, "You're mine."

The soldier apparently accepted the face-off, and pointed his now ready hellgun down straight toward Vermundr and fired relentlessly. He was slightly elevated but Vermundr could get there.

As the gaze with soldier ended and Vermundr caught the accepted challenge...due to the man pointing his weapon straight for him, His body felt a change. It felt like buckets of adrenaline had spilled over into his body. He was able to make a calm exhale as the red beam of light first showed inside the barrel of the hellgun.

His instincts took over completely, he was dodging left and right, rolling on the floor as fast as he could, taking the pain of the other weapons striking his armor and concentrating only on dodging the hellgun shower. He ran for a few evasive steps before rolling again and repeated this over and over until he was in range.

It was the most difficult thing he had ever accomplished since his re-birth as a space wolf. His armor was etched with black burn marks where the shots had struck him, but it was over. With a metallic yell protruding from his Vox projector he came out of a roll flying over the few steps in his way into the soldier grabbing the hellgun and crushing it as much as he could while pulling it down.

He had let go of his weapons realizing how much harder it would have been to roll and evade the shooting with them in hand. Bringing himself up to bear he brought an uppercut into the soldiers stomach.

he could see the taint in his eyes, the taint in his skin, the Chaos markings! "AAAAGGGHH!!!" He roared with rage while the soldier was coughing and gripping his stomach leaning forward under him. He cupped his hands high over the soldiers head and brought them down. he beat the soldier to a pulp while stub pistol rounds struck him the shoulders, back, and powerpack. 

He turned his head to see of Keris had reached his goal as well.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek snarled as he saw reached the prone body of his assailant and he shook his head in surprise as he saw the hole between the guardsman's eyes. His fists were clenched and the wolf within him bristled as it paced fangs bears. He wanted to see the mans face as he died, he had wanted to tear him apart with sword and fist. He watched the slow trickle of blood from the wound and the stricken look in the mans eyes as he lay limp like a marionette and he drew in the cool air and his rage abated fading away like the scents of the dead guardsmans emotions as they were overwhelmed by the stench of death.

He stood shaking as the moment left him, as the tremors of anguished rage seeped from his body and the howling wolf in his stomach curled up and its hair feel sleek against its back, as it curled and laid its head upon its paws. He stashed his pistol and thumbed his chainsword and looked up in time to meet Romka's passing glance.

The marine nodded his face plate dipping casting a shining glow into Iorek's eyes as it reflected the dawn light and Iorek returned the shallow nod as he thumbed his shoulder with mindless strokes and felt the slight tenderness had faded to pure white skin.

He saw Baldyr press on, focused his blade at the ready and he slipped his pistol back out of his belt and followed finding himself next to Romka as they moved and he looked at the new marine once more sizing him up a little. Average height... his face covered by the helm he could be almost any blood claw yet he had most definitely saved Iorek's life and so Iorek spoke quietly so only Romka could hear as he clattered down the stairs into a sub level.

"Thank you brother... I thought he was dead.. I owe you one"

His eyes fell upon 7 pdf and widened at the heavy stubbers they bore and he froze for a milli second before he reacted instinctively pushing Romka to his left he dived for cover trying to bear them both towards a large pillar of marble as there was the metallic clamour of heavy gunfire and he felt chips of marble patter of his armour like rain as he pushed them both behind the bulky pillar.

He ducked out pistol in hand and aimed at one of the figures yet he seemed different from the others and Iorek could not tell if he was friend of foe and he aimed again at a guardsman that was screaming wildly as he fired at the stair way. The pistol clicked in Iorek's hand and he cursed his own incompitance and a spray of shots caused him to duck back behind cover. Swearing vehemently he ejecting the clip to slam in a fresh one. 

He had been careless yet again.. what was wrong with him... had the methodical confident Iorek been destroyed by grief and vehemence, replaced by a slapdash monster. It was not possible... it was pure idiocy. 

Behind him there was a deafening explosion and he froze for a second cowering at the implications before ducking back out pistol raised to see Baldyr approaching the figure that he could not work out and he scrambled forward his own ineptitude pushed away by curiosity. As he neared the figure came to view and he gasped a little hurrying foward at the veteran that stood before him leaning nonchelantly upon a corpse as he discussed something with the wolf guard.

It was an awe inspiring sight... necklaces and trophies adorned his armour, each a story, a tale of heroism in the emperors name. He had never met one before and to see a man that could ambush the clearest eyed enemy and outwit the cleverest foe was an awe inspiring experience and he followed him without question eyes wide in wonder. The scout moved with a languid grace, prowling eyes darting in all directions, constantly checking, depending upon himself and Iorek began to understand. This hero only trusted himself and it was well he did. 

The sharp ears of Morgun heard something he even at his most tense, ears straining for the tell tale sounds of feet, could not distinguish and he pulled them into doorways, where they crouched watching armoured enemies move forward. He let them pass with question, ignore the small angered protests and the whines of dissapointment from the wolf inside him, shocked and stunned by the almost supernatural senses of the scout. 

They approached some grandious wooden doors and Iorek flattened himself against the wall behind Vermundr and he discharged a clip from his bolt pistol and pushed in a new before holding the pistol to his chest. His finger looped around the trigger and his right hand danced over the engraved mark as he steadied his body.

He allowed himself to meld with the pistol for it to become at one with his arm, whatever he met through that door would taste its bite. There was an explosion and Vermundr was first through the door and he saw the buck of his pistol as he fired wildly. Iorek was much more controlled stepping quickly diagonally into the room bearing left eye searching as he strafed the room. He saw cover to his left yet as he began to move towards it a man, not pdf, but armed with a pistol all the same moved from behind it and his eyes widened and his pistol bucked as Iorek advanced. The slug whipped past Iorek's unarmoured shoulder and the man backed away a little trying to move back to cover as Iorek aimed at the unarmoured chest.

The bolt exploded from the end and impacted upon the mans chest throwing him backwards where he lay motionless. Iorek didn't take chances and placed a second bullet in his motionless carcass as he moved forward


Vermundr's voice echoed over the com link and Iorek obeyed moving forward to take cover behind the display terminal 

"Brothers, once you find cover, try to aim for the better armored men. I don't think I need to say how much better this will go if we kill those hellguns first."

He popped his head out and saw Keris and Tyr charge like mad man towards the enemy whilst a resounding howl reverberated down the com link and he shook his head in wonder. He didn't like Vermundr much he had put the fact out of his mind as he immersed himself in revenge especially as he was pack leader now. It was his reponsibility to obey... even if he didn't like the orders.

It was odd to feel so riled by such trivial acts yet he had thought better of Keris, he would never have shown such disobediance to Kjarl and though closing upon such lightly armoured foes was logical it was still insubordination and he voiced his thoughts allowed through the vox

"Keris, Tyr... the pack leader told us to take cover...would you have commited such insubordination under Kjarl... your actions may be logical but would you disregard orders so easily"

He was distracted by a small scurry of feet and he turned as a man burst from behind the terminal and his eyes widened in fear as Iorek straightened up the pistol rising and he felt a wild laugh in his throat as he saw the tiny pocket knife in the little man's hand and Iorek considered the man's desperate lunge. A last gasp gesture from a traitor that knew he would die. He took the blow in the chest and the knife snapped upon the ceramite. 

The man looked down from the useless blade in his hand then up at the giant towering above him and he seemed to shrink at Iorek's scathing laughter

"The emperor protects, motherfucker" 

he whispered before swinging his right hand round in a swift hook which caught the man upon his temple and sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious or dead, with blood trickling down his face where it began to pool upon the floor.

Without thinking Iorek performed the mercy kill placing a bolt into the fallen mans head. He pitied the traitor as much as he hated him, sent to battle gods of war with a tiny pocket knife and he still had the balls to through a blow.

Not bad for a treacherous whoreson Iorek thought as he sidled towards a second display terminal eyes scanning the floor for the uniforms of the pdf. He at least would follow orders... to be truthful... its what he would have done anyway


----------



## Euphrati

The servos of his armour hissed with each stride, only a handful of meters lay between him and the soldier bearing the hellgun. Blood pounded in his ears and he felt every twitch of his muscles as the man overcame his shock and desperately sought to bring the barrel of the weapon to bear upon his certain death. The first bolt went wide, striking the data tower to the left of Keris and sending a wave of sparks over the hapless menial hardwired into the station. The second grazed his lower torso, the heat of the bolt registering as a dull pain as it burned a black channel in the pale blue-grey ceramite plates. He ignored the pain, closing the last steps to lunge at the traitor with a feral howl. The vox hissed in his ear and Iorek’s voice issued forth. Anger, like a blinding tide, threatened to overtake him at the mention of Kjarl. _How dare his wolfbrother question his actions! Call doubt upon his loyalty to the packleader!_ Keris fought the drowning wave with all his will, focusing the rage into his charge.

Keris struck with the force of a thunderwolf, blade screaming as it carved through the collarbone of the renegade solider. The man let out a wail of anguish, his hand tightening around the trigger of the over-charged las weapon. Bright bolts spat forth, spraying the surrounding area. Pain, sharp and violent, filled Keris’s senses as agony bloomed from his left thigh; his vision washed in crimson as the wolf in his mind howled like a wounded beast. Pain blockers flooded his bloodstream and his leg went instantly numb as his advanced body prevented the nerve signals from overwhelming him for a short time. He twisted savagely on the pommel of his chainsword, tearing it from the falling corpse in a spray of blood and shards of gleaming bone before reversing his stroke and backhanding the limp body into another man who stood gripping a slug pistol, eyes wide with fear at the scene playing out before him.

The man shied sideways like a spooked horse as the body rolled past him in a wet tumble of limbs and arterial blood. Keris felt a liquid growl seep from between his bared fangs as he started to stalk forward. Needles of pain from his left side caused him to stumble slightly, a sharp whine issuing forth involuntarily as the cauterized would tore under his weight. The bolt from the hellgun had punched clear through the armour of his left thigh and deep into the corded muscle. Deep crimson blood trickled from the blackened hole, clotting almost instantly upon contact with air.

Keris fought through the pain, closing the distance with only a slight limp. The man, finding his wits, unloaded the clip of his weapon. Shots rang off Keris’s chestplate like metal rain. With a snarl, he raised his own pistol and answered the insult. The guardsman jerked as the bolts ripped through his chest and shredded his spine; his body toppling over backwards to drape over the feet of the center command throne, bright ruby blood mingling with sacred oils upon the bundles of cables that snaked around the base of the station.

Only then did Keris stop, the red haze lifting from his vision and the scent of copper coating the back of his tongue. His left side was a dull ache, throbbing in time to his twin hearts. He spat to clear the taste from his mouth before speaking into the squad’s channel, his voice low and dangerous,

‘You _dare_ to use the name of our fallen mentor to incite me, brother? If the packleader had ordered us to take cover then I would have, yet he did not and the hellguns had to be silenced before they sent us all into the jaws of Morkai,'

Keris paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as his mind came back into focus, 

'I had the opportunity and so I took it; it was _Grey Hunter Kjarl_ who taught me that to slay a dragon one must sometimes be willing to risk its teeth, brother.’

Keris shifted slightly, taking most of his weight upon his uninjured leg and let his eyes roam the room for any threat his brothers had missed.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek bit back the retort he was dying to answer...but he had doubts... was Keris right... what had Vermundr said...it faded away and he could not remember.... something about look for cover... he did not care... he was fed up of the younger marine... indeed he was promsiing yet maybe the attentions and favour of there Lord and Kjarl had swelled his head and now he walked with an undue arrogance that was rank to iorek's senses.

On the battle field he tasted the air and tasted fear, blood all mingled and rapped within the scent of death and the glorious gore of battle yet now it tasted bitter on Iorek's tongue. He knew he would find no support within the pack, Keris was too popular... too influential with his guard dog Alrik, his nervous ally Vermundr whilst Tyr was to good natured to get involved. The new marines... they seemed to have been trained... ruthlessly disciplined by Baldyr... yet though they were brothers... they were new, untrusted and hardly likely to want to split themselves and side with an outcast.

Should he hold his tongue... allow the subject to just slide away in the haze of battle... no... he had nothing to loose... yet he could split the pack once more. The wounds had only just been healed, the pack reforged... maybe it was time to bite down and shut up for a change.

He gritted his teeth and the wolf inside him let out a low growl, that rumbled with feral anger and its hackles rose and a single long fang dripping in saliva shone white through the darkness of his rage... he stealed himself refusing the biting desire to rip back and shred the young wolfs ego

He began to speak yet he felt the dripping poision that laced his tongue with a bitter sound and he forced it away, guarding his tongue and whispering

"I apologise" yet he deliberately left out brother.. left out any sign that he approved... it was no more than a hint, a suggestion that he had more to say... he wanted to invite Keris onto him.. let him start the fight... he wanted to tell keris he had become conceited... he was incensed and the wolf seemed to strain despite the forces holding it back... desperate to lash for the throat and tell Keris that if it had not been for Tyr's prompt action and then Vermundr he could have been cut off and worse look cut down. Tell him that to look for cover and charge like a bloody fool were two different things... yet he would not split the pack again. So he controlled himself and the wolf turned tail and slunk away into the darkness

"To mention Grey Hunter Kjarl was idiotic... I apologise"

Yet he refused to sanction Keris's actions and he was sure Vermundr would kiss Keris's arse and back Keris's actions. The argument was futile yet in the blackness of his heart the wolf gave a long howl that echoed with frustration and rage

It was probably why his Lord did not respect him, the arguments usually happened because of his sharp tongue...well not this time. He had apologised... though it galled him... yet he had ensured that the pack was not split on his account.. he doubted anyone would notice but he knew... he had done his bit for the Pack 

The display terminal he was crouching behind blinked and he slipped out from behind it moving forward to close in upon his brothers, his pistol was held high and he strafed the giant room as he walked sidling backwards so the wall was at his back and the room stretched out in front of them.

He saw his brothers charging like a whirlwind, a blade to the heart of the enemy yet he saw his chance coming round quietly to flank the enemy as they scattered from his brothers charge. He was quick and quiet moving in step by step and now he tugged his chainsword from his belt.. yet he wanted to be quiet and so his finger merely hovered over the activation rune as Keris tore forward and his pistol bucked sending a man to the floor, his body shredded and his eyes fearful a blood seeped over the floor. One of the unarmoured men broke from cover eyes wide fixed upon the huge form of Tyr and Iorek's own pistol rang out tracking the sprinting man. His first shot was poor and he adjusted for the desperate speed of the man and the second caught him in the arm causing him to fall in surprise clutching the huge hole that was seeping blood. 

Iorek did not break stride moving forward to kick the man in the face and he heard the satisfying crack of bone as a torrent of blood streamed for the mans broken nose and he howled through a bleeding mouth filled with shattered teeth... his chainsword stabbed downwards abruptly ending the shrieking wail that resounded like a cold knife through his heart. 

His surprise was gone and now he broke into a run feeling a slight stiffness in his hip he ignored it lengthening his stride as he thumbed the activation rune and saw a armoured member of the pdf twisting to look round as he crouched behind the display terminal, eyes searching for the source of the shriek and his eyes fixed upon Iorek who had broken into a sprint.

Maybe it was the gleaming spatters of blood over his boots or the redish tinge to his chainsword blade or merely the sheer size of the astartes yet the pdf did a double take, blinking as he looked at the behemoth bearing upon his open back and he turned copping off two rounds one of which caught him in the stomach and he slowed a little under the force of the round, yet it did not stop him and merely irked him, an annoyance, a bee sting, that he could just brush off. Ducking his head as he raised the chainsword to his shoulder and the second shot flashed over his head as the man stood to his full heightt lasgun raised like a sword as the astartes barreled towards him. 

Iorek's blade arced in a whir of teeth and now the wolf returned gnashing... eyes reddened with rabid fury at the treacherous bastards they were fighting... at the pack members... the brothers lost to these worthless scum.. at the changes to there pack... at his own indignation. Iorek howled... screamed through the air shrill and high... bellowing his feral war cry from the bottom of his lungs. The stroke was meant for power, meant to tear limb from body and the pdf raised his lasgun to meet the double handed stroke and was torn from his hands and scattered away, clattering upon the floor where it slid out of reach. 

Iorek didn't stop and he lowered his shoulder to thrust the man against the wall of the terminal and he felt the man deflate like a baloon as he crushed the air from his lungs and there was a gasp as one of his rips snapped under the impact. Iorek tried to manouver his blade to stab and end the life that writhed within the squirming body of the man he held against the terminal, yet the balde was to long too unwieldy and instead he forced the pistol upwards under the mans chin and he struggled harder than ever trying to free the arm that was pinned to his chest. 

Iorek smiled and he let out a low growl as he pulled the trigger and the mans head exploded and Iorek felt his armour spatter with blood, brain and bone and he roared as he relished in the gore and he stepped backwards, his helm wiping away the blood that obscured his visor with a literal red mist as the headless corpse slid down the wall to lie slumped at the bottom. 

Iorek turned back to the battle a small smile upon his face, the headless corpse could merely have been sleeping...


----------



## CommissarHorn

The double doors exploded and the pack charged headlong into the room. Leaping through the smoke, Romka landing beside an unfortunate soldier and shocked, the trooper fired his lasgun too high, missing Romka’s head. Suddenly Romka relised that he was missing his Bolt Pistol. “Shit, forgot to pick it up!”
To his surprise, he felt relieved.

Romka’s fist met the soldier’s face with a sharp and rapid right hook, dislodging the soldier’s skull and killing him instantly. A shot swept past his helmet, searing the side and Romka turned to see that a couple of PDF troopers had organised themselves and were fighting back. 

The pair hesitated their fire as Romka threw his Chainsword at them. Ducking down to pick up a fallen lasgun by its muzzle, he dashed over to the soldiers and batting the lasgun stock upwards smashed apart the chin of a soldier. The second soldier desperately fired at the giant Space Marine but was out of ammo and screamed as Romka lifted him above his head with both hands and tossed him at another enemy.

The trooper crashed into his comrade and concussed him although the soldier himself remained physically intact. Confused and horrified that he had just been thrown, the soldier scrambled to escape but was stopped as something grabbed his leg. Too afraid to turn, the soldier continued to thrash and claw his way to freedom. Adrenaline was pumping through his body as it tried desperately to survive, his arms and legs bloody from clawing the ground. Suddenly the grip released and the soldier turned to see what had happened to the horrifying Space Marine, to his dismay, the Marine was still there, only holding what looked like the soldier’s boot. His head tilted back as he was smacked in the face with his own boot and his body wriggled as the Space Marine continued to beat him with his shoe. The shock of not being able to comprehend what was actually happening to him hurt more than the physical pain of his boot.

“Ha ha ha” Romka beat the petrified soldier with his foot wear and stopped, laughing, to appreciate how funny the situation really was. 

Amid the gunfire and bloody battle, Romka continued to beat the PDF soldier with his boot.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik bit down on his thick tongue and loaded another fat magazine into his Bolt Pistol. He looked around and found Romka beating a PDF Trooper with the mans own boot down upon a PDF Trooper, each time he struck, Alrik could do nothing more than stare with bitter eyes. He shook his head and muttered “Brutal oaf will get himself killed, damned new Wolves think they are better than us” He got up, leaping from the destroyed console and landing in a small alcove on his gut, scrambling in quickly as a pair of Lasrounds struck the ground where his leg had been a moment before. 

More Lasrounds hissed past his head, however he simply tried to ignore them as he worked out a way to get to the two targets firing at him several metres away. He looked at the two new Wolves and curled his upper lip to reveal a half broken fang, which he proceeded to rub gently with one armoured finger tip. 

Finally he found his route. Standing he spun on his heel from the alcove and charged forwards, Lasrounds playing a rhythm upon his armoured front. Like a true Wolf he jumped the console they were hiding behind head first, firing his Bolt Pistol twice it struck the first and twisted him on his heel as his chest cavity was crushed like a ripe fruit, the second Bolt taking away his lower left arm in a splutter of arterial spray. 

The second went down on his knees and rolled end over end twice, firing into the air to try and force Alrik back. The Firehawk let out a crude howl as he descended upon his prey, pinning his body to the ground via the midsection with his lower right leg he angled his body and aimed the Bolt Pistol, covering his face he fired and didn’t stop until the dry hump of his Bolt Pistol declared it empty. Standing he looked around for the next PDF Trooper to feel his wrath.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As Keris took care of the first hellgun trooper Tyr barrelled into the second like an avalanche. He knocked the trooper back and into a comms station and gave him no time to fire his weapon, his big foot ramming into the soldier's head with a shattering crunch. As he turned to attack the next nearest enemy a spray of lasfire hit him in the chest causing him to take a few steps back, seeing Vermundr using a soldier as a meatshield Tyr decided that that was a good idea and he would follow suit before his head got shot off. 

He picked up the hellgun trooper's dead body and covered his head with it, there was no way he was going to cover even half of his body with this man but the least he could do was cover his most endangered body part. Keeping the man in front of him he charged the soldier who was peppering his shield with lasfire, unfortunately a few feet away a las-shot flew through the piece of meat he now carried and hit him straight in the hip. 

In a roar of pain Tyr threw the shield and charged right into the man, knocking the gun away and then punching through his abdomen before taking cover behind a large comms station. He looked down at his hip joint and knew that the wound was already cauterized, but by the All Father that hurt like a bastard.


----------



## Flerden

Vidar charged in after Romka and started to shoot at the PDF troopers. He watched as Romka charged some other PDF troopers. Looking away and shooting some more and trying to look what the rest of the pack was.
Vidar looked with surpirse when Vermundr and try used fallen PDF troopers as shields, but was even more surprised when he saw Romka beating a unlucku man with his own boot.
''I almost feel sorry for that enemy.'' Vidar said silently for himself.
Vidar quickly ducked when a couple of lasrounds almost hit him.
Vidar looked up and shoot one of the enemys that had shoot at him, but had to duck again.
''Romke, hurry up and kill that enemy already, I need some support, I can't even show my head for a few seconds withouth being shot at.'' Vidar yelled to Romka.
Vidar then saw a enemy that was trying to sneak behind them, he aimed and shot but only hitting the man in the leg. Vidar then ran to the man and some how managed not to get hit on the way, then he just hit the man in the head, killing him instantly.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; as if a veil lifted from your face the world becomes clearer than it was. In your anger something had come over you, the enemy you fought your way to was not one of the ones with a hellgun, Tyr and Keris had taken care of both of them in the time it took you to walk to this enemy. Whoever she was, she smelled unlike the others you had fought, likely of the same origin as the hellgun armed enemies.

All; Looking around the room for more targets, you find none left alive, you spot Baldyr kicking the forms of two PDF troopers off of his blade where he impaled them and several other falen forms around him. Thirty seconds had passed between the charge blowing and all of you entering the room, thirty seconds was all it took to clear away thirty targets. More accurately twenty nine targets, Morgun held the last one by the neck, feet dangling as his eyes bored into him. Like the soldiers with the hellguns, this one’s scent was different, off-worlder.

Without blinking, Morgun rammed him into a console, a cry of pain coming from the man before the scout spoke. _“Give me the code operative, and I swear I will end it without pain.”_ His words nothing more than a growl. Despite the pain, the man managed a smile and spit in the space wolf’s face, a mixture of spittle and blood ran down one cheek. Letting him go, Morgun backhanded him into a cogitator, the sound of bones snapping drowned out by a howl of pain. Crouching down beside him, he whispered this time, _“Do not test me traitor, your fate was sealed when you joined them. Do not prolong this suffering, give me what I ask and it shall end.”_ In response, he looked back to him, cold eyes watering from the pain inflicted and managed to speak clearly. _“You cannot stop him, not by killing me, nor by standing in his way. I will not give you what you seek, glory to Alp-“_ His final word was cut off abruptly as Morgun pulled the trigger of his shotgun and turned everything from the shoulders up into a bloody mess.

_“I don’t want to hear that name spoken if it can be helped. There is no reason to utter the name of a traitorous whoreson.”_ Morgun said flatly, as if his last act required any explanation. Looking from the mess, Morgun spoke again, mostly to Baldyr but everyone could hear. _“The main console has been locked, it will remain active for the enemy unless we can override the codes and shut it down from here.”_ At this, Baldyr started for the main cogitator and raised his blade to destroy the construct. _“No! Do that and we will never be able to stop it.”_ Morgun called out and halted Baldyr mid swing.

_“He put a code in it, destroy the main hub and everything is transferred to another location, one we do not have access to. Destroy this one and our first objective is failed, the traitors make good use of their operatives.”_ Morgun explained, this time looking at you and explaining further. _“The traitors of the Alpha Legion have always made use of non-astartes personel, they are able to slip in where one of us can not.”_

_“Then we need to locate that bastard Roth.”_ Bladyr said, the anger in his voice ever so apparant. _“The inquisitor will be able to override this trap, they always are capable of doing things like that.”_ He finished, noticing the looks from you. _“Don’t be to surprised, some of you have seen him before.”_ Baldyr inclined his head at Alrik, Iorek, and Keris. _“We are to link up with him and the leader of the loyal PDF before heading to the main gate, but it looks like that’s not happening. Morgun, can you use those things to find him?”_ He said, pointing his weapon at one of the consoles, but Morgun was a step ahead. _“Vermundr,”_ Morgun began, _“I need three of your pack here with me, the enemy will likely notice that there is nothing coming from this room and will send forces to investigate. We will hold until the rest of you return with the inquisitor and PDF forces.”_ He said, before looking at Baldyr. _“He leads his pack wolf guard, the choice must be his to make.”_


[Vermundr, it is up to you to decide who stays and who goes; once you have done this I will move forward with another update. Everyone else, feel free to act and react to what has happened.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik listened to the words of the Wolf Scout with his arms folded, his Bolt Pistol now with a new magazine slammed into the breach and held in his right hand, pointing at a wall across the room. They were talking of someone named Roth, and the only one that came to mind was the robed man back at the Governors Palace, the one who smelt different from the rest of those present and had a almost mysterious aura about him. 

Morgun was by far a interesting character and Alrik wished he had known him longer than the short time they had met up with him. Then, Morgun asked Vermundr to pick three Astartes to remain behind and hold the tide of Traitors that would probably be swarming through where they were standing in a short time. 

The Firehawk wanted to remain with Morgun and whoever else was chosen, he never did like leaving anyone to a fight without him. Nor did he expect to go far within the Chapter. People like Keris and Vermundr, they could go far for the simple reason they were respectful Brothers who gained respect and honour. Alrik would never walk amongst such Astartes and move anywhere. 

He looked at Vermundr and then at Morgun saying “I would like to stay. I never do like running from a fight, and I am sure Lord Morgun will be able to find a better use of me here than whatever lays ahead of us. Tyr can do what I can with a better ease” he nodded at Tyr “Iorek has always been a better shot than me” he grinned and nodded again “Keris, we all know Keris has always had the best senses, and whenever something was wrong, you can count on him to give you great words of wisdom and point you in the correct route. And anyway, I have been itching to show these bastards how it feels to lose loved ones ever since they took Njoror, Lief and Odin from us”. 

He stood silently, awaiting what Vermundr would say. If he would let him remain, that was his choice, if he did not there wouldn’t be any respect lost between the two Brothers.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr smiled at Alrik before speaking up, *"Aye, I would like to stay here and help defend this place. I was never good at talking, well I am but not in the sense that will be needed, I feel I will be more of a help here then outside of the battle, if that is your wish brother."* Tyr nodded his meaty head at Vermundr.


----------



## Euphrati

The assault had been swift and brutal; bodies lay shattered around the room, pools of cooling scarlet slowly seeping from under their torn forms. Keris felt his heartbeats begin to slow, the sharp taste of battle slipping from his mind. He took a slow, measured step as Baldyr pulled his frostblade from the bodies impaled upon it. The blood crackled from the runed surface of the relic, leaving the pale blade etched in ruby.

The muscle in Keris’s thigh twitched when his weight settled on it, drawing a soft growl from the beast within his chest. The wound was deep, yet Keris forced his body to take another step; stubbornly pushing through the pain with an unshakeable resolve and fighting to hide the slight limp in his step as he crossed the room to stand by his brothers. The report of Morgun’s shotgun echoed off the walls and Keris watched the scout closely, the wariness from before returning as the warrior turned his attentions back to the pack as he spoke to Baldyr. 

Keris listened to the words carefully, his ice-blue eyes narrowing at the mention of a member of the Inquisition upon the planet working with the forces of the Wolves. His mind recalled the cloaked figure whom had joined the private conversation with Lord Blackmane and the Governor. His senses had been correct then, the face-less figure was dangerous though not in a way he had foreseen. Inquisitors were a force unto themselves; Keris knew that Lord Blackmane’s own saga held note of the Wolf Lord’s previous work alongside these agents of the AllFather’s will, however his natural distrust of the prying eyes of the Inquisition made the wolf within his mind shift with unease. Morgun spoke again and Keris felt the weight of the scout’s gaze pass over him.

None of his other brothers seemed to be unsettled by the presence of the Wolf Scout, yet Keris had to struggle to keep from sneezing at Morgun’s scent. The wolf in his mind shared his unease and shifted nervously. Keris felt a cold shiver creep down his spine; _perhaps he was more sensitive to Morgun’s affliction because of the strength of the Canis Helix within his own body? _

Keris pushed the thought aside and turned to Iorek, trying to focus upon his packmate and not the pain that throbbed up his side with every beat of his twin hearts. He stood silent for a moment simply collecting his thoughts as his brothers finished the butchery around him. The skin of his face itched where blood had sprayed upon it; he holstered his pistol and brushed at it absently with the back of his gauntlet, only serving to smear the viscous fluid across his skin before letting out a soft sigh,

‘We are not the same, brother, but it is within our differences that we may still find strength. Your proficiency with ranged weaponry is unquestionable and my skills lay elsewhere. I do not wish for there to be strife between us, for we both serve the AllFather with our hearts and souls, yet I cannot change who I am and I do not expect differently from you. I have always been honest with you, Iorek, as I can only pray that you are with me,’

More than physical pain echoed in his crystal blue eyes, 

‘We both seek vengeance for those who have fallen, in that we are the same my brother. Let us set this matter aside and stand together beside our packleader undivided. That is all I ask of you Iorek.’

With that he turned away, walking with measured steps to where Baldyr and Morgun stood and removing the vox-bead from his ear. Try as he might, Keris could not keep the tension out of his muscles as Morgun’s scent filled his senses. Silently, he recited a ritual of calming and met each warrior’s eyes in turn before holding out the device,

‘Elder brothers, I took this from the body of one of the enemy with hopes that, AllFather willing, it may serve some use against them, however the language is not one I am familiar with.’


----------



## deathbringer

The battle was done and the enemies of the Allfather lay lifeless... as they should and as should all enemies of the Imperium. Yet still 6 hearts pumped blood... contracted and relaxed forcing life to flow through the vains of 3 traitors... hearts as black as ash, the crimes of a thousand years stained upon there fingers.. the deaths of thousands of loyal citizens of the imperium blazing in there eyes... and the blood of a young wolf.. a brother to him splattered across the shin guards of their armour.

His breath was like icy nails being pulled through his lungs and he felt constricted, claustrophobic in his senses, cut off and isolated by the lack of smells and tastes. He could see the body yet it was behind a wall of glass and he was cut off from immersing in the glory of the treacherous bastards death. His fingers tore at the helms catch and he tore it off relishing in the wash of air that seeped through his nostrils and he calmed himself with long deep breaths. Their was a hiss of decompressed air yet he was at one with the flood of scents passing all the way down his throat inflating his lungs as his eyes closed in rapturous ecstacy at the wash of scents.

He clipped his helm to his bed and felt the light touch of torrid blood on his finger tips contrasting with the cool metal and ceramite of his helm. He drank the scent of blood in through his nose, the faint washes of emotion and the finality of death, set his brain on fire and the wolf stood head up sniffing the air desperately... why had he always worn his helm... the safety seemed constricting to him now as he revelled in the scents.. Allfather be praised... he had never tasted such flavours... he wanted to kill like this.. to taste the fresh flavours of blood as it spilled from the skin.. to smell the aroma of a soul shredded from its body.. not by anyone.. but by his own hand.

He opened his eyes once more and saw the group converging around a huge cogitator and he stepped carefully over bodies, avoiding the splashes of blood that seeped over the floor. He paused spotting a small emblem upon a pouch at one pdf troopers belt and he bent down yet he was distracted by Keris's voice in his ear and Iorek looked around to find the marine.

The wolf was slinking towards him yet there was a certain stiffness in his stride and as he looked up he found his eyes... was it pain that lingered in their crystalline depths and he searched the eyes... angst forgotten for a moment as he became concerned. He tasted the air... trying to search for pain in his brothers scent yet it was a muddle of emotions that he couldn't distinguish, a collage of indistinct thoughts and feelings that slid through his clumsy grip.

His brothers voice was strained and Iorek was sure he saw his brothers features convulse a mere fraction as his leg hit the ground. Was his brother in pain, or was he just imagining it. Another step yet Iorek noticed Keris doggedly keeping the pain from his face and deliberately ignored it and turned his attention to his brothers words

‘We are not the same, brother, but it is within our differences that we may still find strength. Your proficiency with ranged weaponry is unquestionable and my skills lay elsewhere. I do not wish for there to be strife between us, for we both serve the AllFather with our hearts and souls, yet I cannot change who I am and I do not expect differently from you. I have always been honest with you, Iorek, as I can only pray that you are with me,’

Honesty the word caused Iorek's back to stiffen and his eyes moved from the wide orbs of Keris's eyes to the floor and he gently raised his fingers to his mouth feeling the crust of drying blood upon his dry lips. Honesty... how could he be honest? How could he stand there and unleash the vile waves of contempt that festered within his heart?

Should he be honest.. should he tell Keris he found him arrogant and that his new status as the apple of Blackmane's eye had swollen his head so that every step was laced with arrogance.. every word underlined with a tone of belief that he could do no wrong. It was true... in everyone's eyes the sun shone out of Keris's arse and they ate it up. It had been like that for him once.. once upon a time people had praised him and Njoror for there skills with blade and bolt and you blood claws had sucked up the shit he spouted like mead.. eagerly devouring his words.. yet no longer... now he meant nothing... he was the outsider.... dimmed in the shadow compared to Keris's "skills elsewhere",

His thoughts were twisted, expounded in a cackling voice and the wolf that roared in his heart seemed blackened and maimed, a twisted corrupted being that leered and jeered to the beat of its blackened heart... yet they drove on and he kept his head down and his mouth covered to hide the sneering voice that burrowed on

What had Keris got that he hadn't...nothing.. he was worse with bolt and no better with the blade....no cleverer.. no he had risen through other peoples own misfortune... the wolf in his head lashed out and his own fingers stretched out like talons desperate to lash for the throat.. to strike someone down... it was all Keris's fault... his missed opportunity at leadership... keris's fault... kjarl's death....

He recoiled as the spiteful spawn of a creature that dominated his thoughts was met by another wolf proud and strong, its grey coat gleaming translucent and a huge orca tooth around its neck, a beacon of justice within his mid. It leapt knocking the other wolf down and he could feel the snapping of jaws as they strained for eachother throats. Claws slashing, hind legs tearing as there teeth whistled through the empty air. Then suddenly the orca tooth sank deep into the repulsive creatures throat and it recoiled twisting its body till it stood and it fled into the blackness of his subconcious where he felt its searing rage coil licking its wounds as its hatred festered.

Iorek felt the wolf change, it fur receeding its hind legs straightening and lengthening whilsts its skin hardened to form ceramite plate and the smiling face, strong body and kind eyes of Njoror were within his mind. The smile widened and his brother spoke and the voice was the music of angels. He embraced it... hearing the voice he had never thought he would hear again

"Long time no see brother"

"What was that thing?"

"Jealousy... dont you see brother... you are jealoius of Keris, of his skill.. of his rise.. of how he has usurped you. That thing is the result"

"Did you kill it"

"You know i did not.. you feel it fester within you.. only you can kill it"

"You can talk your in my head and your dead. Are you?"

Their was a tiny peal of laughter and Iorek felt tears of joy welling within him yet Njoror continued

"This is me as you remember me, this is the impetuous side, the just side, the caring side. You knew what you were thinking was wrong and you stirred up that side of you. You need Keris Iorek. He may be the golden boy today but he is no different from when you first met him. Maybe a little more worldly, experienced and yes.. maybe a little more arrogant.. yet he deserves to be... he is on the rise.. allow him to enjoy the ride."

"How can I not hate him? He does everything perfectly whilst I cause fracture in the pack.. I seem to cause conflict at every turn. Maybe I should ask to transfer..."

There was a snarl and Njoror reached out as if to shake Iorek

"Run away... iorek you have never run away in your bloody life. How will it help...you aim to avenge me?"

"Of course"

"You aim to become a long fang?"

"You know its my dream brother"

"How will running help you achieve them. You know what you have to do Iorek."

"I have to get away"

"Iorek you have almost torn this pack to shreads... first Alrik almost Keris then Vermundr then Keris again. Each time they have rehealed and taken you back to the fold without a question... Will you be so blind Iorek.. will you be so blinded by my death that you wont see that you need them and they need you"

"Really"

"No im wasting my mental breath"

"He wants me to be honest"

"Iorek he is in pain.. you can't tell him... it would break the pack and this time it would never heal...but you cant lie to him"

"So what do I do"

'Avoid it like the plague and realise that they need you and if you try.. eventually you will get to avenge me and become your dream. I believe in you brother"

"I will avenge you, you know that"

The figure of Njoror smiled and turned to move away yet he turned back a cheeky grin upon the boyish face Iorek loved so much

"You'd better..or me and the Allfather will have a few things to say to you"

Iorek smiled as the figure faded and he felt him lay down and the wolf of justice curled up placing its head upon its paws. He moved his eyes upward to meet Keris's gaze noticing a small clot of blood on Keris's thigh as he met the crystal blue eyes and an idea struck him and he bent down snatching up the small pouch.

He met the clear eyes and he felt calmed by the clarity of their gaze, he knew what he needed to do and so he spoke slowly and calmly

"I need you brother. If I am to avenge Njoror and you are to avenge Kjarl I need you"

He realised the endeavours his brother was going to avoid admitting the pain and he held out the pouch

"Brother, keep hold of this medi pack. It may come in useful if one of us is injured sometime soon" 

He made a deliberate glance to the mounting clot of blood upon Keris's thigh before adding

"Come we had better join Morgun"

He watched Keris give the vox bead to Morgun and once again felt a little twinge of jealousy yet he shrugged it away. The wolf had skills... he knew he would never have thought to check. He smiled and turned to watch Vermundr hoping Keris would use the medipack. If they were to have vengeance they needed him at full strength.


----------



## unxpekted22

The rounds stopped hitting his back before he even knew it. He turned around in amazement, surprised to see the room completely cleared. As Morgun talked with the last of the traitorous enemies, Vermundr looked back down at the soldier he had beaten to death, the one with the….huh?

No hellgun? He took a step back to take a better look at the over all picture. He looked over near Tyr and Keris and found two hellgun wielding pdf troops dead on the ground. The soldier he had killed was a female, and there was no hellgun.

He checked his armor. All of the rounds he had been struck by on the edges of his carapace as he had made his way to her, were still there.

“Good,” he thought, “I haven’t gone _completely_ crazy. Looks like my rage got the better of me.” He shook his helmet covered head to clear his mind. He was glad to see all of his pack mates heart readings to still be active in the upper corner of his HUD.

He made his way over to where his weapons lay, coming to his axe first taking of it once more, lifting it from the cold hard floor. Walking toward his pistol he listened to Baldyr and Morgun speak about the mission objectives. As he knelt down, and grasped the handle of his bolt pistol, he heard his name come from the husky voice of Morgun. As he straightened his back up, picking the bolt pistol up from the floor, he faced his superiors and listened. Gazing through lens covered eyes. 

He made his way toward the rest of his pack. Some, Alrik and Tyr, gave their personal opinions and desires as he approached them. Some…Iorek and Keris seemed to have other matters to resolve, as they spoke amongst themselves for a moment.
_
“He leads his pack…..the choice must be his choice to make…._” Morgun’s voice echoed through his mind.

It would be a difficult decision indeed, splitting the pack. While he thought he stared at Baldyr, remembering his harsh words. Baldyr probably hated Morgun for bringing this up, as he disliked Vermundr it seemed. But if he did have any dissenting thoughts, Baldyr held his tongue knowing Morgun to be right. 

Keris bought him some time to think as he presented the object to the two older wolves. Time to think, seemed something not often granted to a leader. Any thought he could conger up was based on an ‘If’. Who he brought with him and who he had stay with Morgun. One’s skills would be good here if they were attacked in this room, but just as likely could be needed wherever they were going. There was no way to tell what lay ahead. 

As Morgun pointed out though, It way as well be assured that this room would need to be defended. But from how many enemies? This room was so large. Three of his pack would have an incredibly hard time defending it, especially since they would no longer have as much an element of surprise…if any. 

Defender?

Alrik instantly came to his mind. Alrik had been a defender throughout this entire mission. He used his size well, that was certain. He defended Iorek in the chapel by jumping on the legionnaire who would have killed Iorek otherwise, and took a hard hit for the team for that one. He defended Keris after he was struck coming out of the thunderhawk on the landing pad, with nothing but his own body for a shield. He defended at least half their original pack after exiting the drop pods, keeping the rioters away from his brothers better than anyone else could have. He has also consistently been a defender of honor. He defended Iorek’s honor when Vermundr lied to him. He had always defended his own honor as a firehawk. 

Alrik would stay behind; he would help defend this room.

That’s not all that would be needed to defend such a place from such a high number. Morgun provided a cunning that could not be matched by any of the blood claws here.

Weapons?

Tyr. Tyr had a powerfist. This was a weapon better suited for brutal charges. In this room, he could not see where stealth would be all that useful for his brothers. They would need someone with a powerful weapon to hold of a horde. Crush several enemies at once. This, and also Tyr obeyed orders well, and was not troubled at heart like some of the others. Vermundr could trust him to do just as Morgun said in order to hold the room. On top of these things, he and Alrik had proven to work well together, Vermudnr’s thoughts wandering to their catch match together with the serviotrs. His body was large as well, also making for a good defensive body. A bit slower, but more powerful.

Tyr would stay behind as well.

Romka and Vidar….

They were still new to him, he could not choose based on character traits or particular skills. His best bet was to split them up. He would get to know one better now and hopefully the other later, rather than having two brothers at his side whom he nothing about skill wise. Romka happened to be standing closer to Alrik, and so Vermundr chose him to stay here as the third.

Iorek: he needed to spend time with this brother. He needed Iorek around him in order for him to ever fully regain his trust, if by chance he had not yet been able to do so. Also, Iorek’s skill lay in the bolt pistol; and though many enemies could potentially be crossing the large room, Iorek’s skill with the weapon came with aiming it. Taking one out a time would not help them defend the room so much. His accuracy would more likely be put to better use advancing forward and taking out guards or other obstacles from a distance.

Keris: Keris was an invaluable pack mate. He thought outside the box, he was clever…intuitive. He held on to his emotions well, and almost always kept his wits about him. Keris and Vermundr had backed each other up before, in more than one way. During the massive riot, Vermundr guarded Keris as he took the shot at the leader of the revolt. On the Fist of Russ, Keris supported Vermundr by helping to establish his role as new leader of the pack…even when every single one of his pack-mates held an opinion of him that was not too high. Vermundr could not imagine leaving Keris behind. 

That left Vidar to come with them as well, and he would see what his new packmate was capable of.

He spoke up, loud and confident in his decision, but turned his helmet towards Morgun, rather than continuing to face Baldyr. Vermundr’s doubt in his role as pack leader dissolving into the back of his mind as he turned to Morgun,
_
“Alrik, Tyr, and Romka will stay behind and help defend this room until we can link up with this Inquisitor. By the way brother Morgun….I could not be more grateful for you to have shown up and help my pack so tremendously. We may have never even gotten here if it was not for your guidance. Granted it is all in your own duty as a scout and space wolf, but I appreciate your presence all the same.”_

Vermundr noticed Keris seemed to have hard time with himself around Morgun. Vermudnr recognized the older wolves yellow eyes, signs of the curse. But Morgun so far showed no signs of being controlled by anything other than his wits….Vermundr prayed to his heavenly father Russ not to let this curse take hold of Morgun while his pack mates held the room for him.


----------



## darkreever

Keris; Morgun looks at the device in your hand before taking it, staring you down even as he tinkers with it. _"Pretty smart for a blood claw, you sure your not something else?"_ He says with the barest hint of a smile visible through his beard. After Iorek moves away from you, Morgun pulls you in close with a strength that catches you by surprise for some reason. "Keep an eye on that one; the air about him is filled with turmoil and something worse, something similar." He said while tapping one gloved finger towards one of his eyes. _"Those who bear it can tell best, even in those only barely showing any signs. Keep an eye on him, because once it takes hold there is no going back."_ Morgun finishes as Vermundr declares that Alrik, Tyr, and Romka will stay behind.

Vidar, Iorek, Vermundr, and Keris; as the choice is made, Baldyr leads the way out of the giant room and back into the adjoining hall. Morgun's voice informs the wolf guard and Vermundr of where go for now while he locates the inquisitor. As the scout led you to this room, you had to pass through an open multi-story grand hall, and so you made way back. Without the wolf scout to halt you from incoming patrols, you did come upon several, none of them offering much resistence as you took them down without mercy.

Emerging from a corridor, you enter the top level of the grand hall, three floors make it up in total, from where you are to the opposite end lay one hundred meters, eighty of that open to the floors below with the second floor built much the same way. A trio of arched causeways allows for movement from your end to the opposite, columns of marble from the bottom floor reaching to the ceiling above your head, holding up a beautiful glass mural depicting some long distant battle of the Space Wolves taking what must have been this area from an alien foe.

Looking below, you see the forms of no less than a full platoon of men and women moving about, some are in the fatigues of PDF troopers while many are not, clad in mining gear or robes of those who work here. Every once in a while you spy what lookd like more of the Alpha Legion operatives; most importantly though, are the emplaced heavy weapons on the first and second levels.

Crouching down, you all carefully make way to the edge, waiting for word from Morgun on the inquisitor's location. What you do not detect until its to late, hoever, is the operative watching you from the opposite end of the room.

_"Roth and those with him are trapped in a a smeltering shop eight levels down from your current location."_ The voice of Morgun crackles through Baldyr and Vermundr's ears, gunfire and shouting could be heard in the background. And thats when the gunfire got louder, loud enough, in fact, that the rest of the pack could hear it; as pdf troopers started to come out from where you had emerged and from the opposite end of the room. The people below took notice of the firing, some trying to pan the heavy weapons up higher, but for now they were of no concern. The four squads of infantry pouring out from opposite ends and shooting las-weapons at you were the bigger problem.

_"Vermundr, Baldyr, there is a freight loader on the bottom level that will lead you further down; its the only way to the inquisitor."_ Morgun said before the link with him abruptly cut off in a burst of static. At that, Baldyr got up and began to run forward towards the enemy, yelling for the rest of you to make way down.

[There are a full four squads worth of troopers between your position, you are located in the center of one of the causeways, on the far end of the room is a stone stairway that leads to the second level, which has a similar stairway directly below you. It will take you some time to get down to the bottom level, for now though, make your way down and kill any in your way.]

Alrik and Tyr; As Vermundr makes his choice, you watch Baldyr leads them away, leaving only you, Romka, and Morgun left to guard this room and keep it out of the hands of the enemy. Morgun quickly gets to work at one of the stations, streams of data flowing across a blood smeared screen. The words are in the native tongue of this planet rather than in standard low gothic, but Morgun seems able to read it all the same.

After a few tense minutes, you hear the sound of footsteps getting close; to light to be astartes and unlikely to be a friendly contact. You instantly go beside the blasted open doors and wait until whoever it is comes through. A pair of men walk in, a bolt round going through the head of one and another grabbed by the neck and rammed into a wall, his spine shattering instantly. Las-fire sprays into the room, hitting nothing but corpses and unused cogitator stations.

You can hear shouting outside, someone yells to get help before a small metalic orb rolls through the opening. You both dive to the side before the grenade goes off, sending shrapnel in all directions before the sounds of aproaching boots starts up again.

[There are over a dozen men outside and coming in, deal with them. Morgun is speaking into the vox bead in his ear until a las-round clips the side of his face. Romka will not be active for some time, Horn is away for the next two or so weeks.]


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek bent to wipe the congealing blood on his blade upon the shirt of one of the armourless men. The crust fell away under his machinations and he sheathed it with a sense of satisfaction. He was on the right path once more and he could not help giving a little smile as he tasted the scent of explosives upon his bolt pistol. The world itself had taken on a new dimension, an extra tinge of ecstatic beauty in every sight. The spent clip clattered to the floor and he pressed in a new one before pressing the bolt pistol back into the belt at his waist and straightening up, feeling the sway of the unfamiliar weight of his helm. he readjusted his posture and looked around as Vermundr and Baldyr moved towards the exit and he saw Keris being held close by Morgun.

Maybe he thought he imagined it but was the veteran staring at him... he looked behind him yet when he looked back Keris was halfway across the hall, ducking between cogitators and display screens and Iorek followed suit, weaving between the blinking lights to reach the door. He found himself next to keris and he was tempted to ask what the wolf scout had said yet he changed his mind... the last thing he needed was keris back on honesty.

Despite this blip Iorek's spirits were high and he couldn't keep a small contented smile from his face and the wolf in his heart gave small contented growls as it dozed in the light of new opportunities. He had been picked for the mission and had a chance to prove himself to Baldyr, to pit himself against the most promising blood claw in the pack, skill for skill, stroke for stroke. 

He turned his head to look at Vermundr who was striding side by side with Baldyr and once again the twisted wolf that festered in his subconcious twitched its ears yet Iorek ignored it, pushed the thoughts away in the light of Njoror's home truths. The pack needed him and there was no better way to prove himself than to answer that need. 

They strode through the halls, Baldyr responding in short clipped tones to Morgun as they retraced their steps through the corridors. At one t junction, the group paused as morgun recounted the route and iorek halted and let his ears strain almost certain he had heard something and he gently slipped the pistol from his. 

They turned the cornor and found a pair of pdf walking lazily along the corridor and iorek raised his pistol to dispatch the first of the pair with a well aimed bolt shot. It shocked him a little, was this the removal of his helmet, allowing him to hear just a fraction better, or was this something else.... he shook his head... it must have been the helmet. 

The group moved swiftly through the complex and eventually they found themselves high above an ornate hall. Looking upwards he saw a shimmering scene, embodied in glass that held not only the eye but the very soul. It smelt old, ancient and the wolves upon had an added nobility as they cut down their alien foe with blades that glistened in the light. The scene was framed by rings of columns and pillars that seemed to grown from the mural like wondrous stalagmites of marble.

A causeway lead to a set of stairs and Baldyr lead the way, creeping quietly to the edge of a long narrow causeway. Arches curved gracefully mixing with the low walls to create windows and the group peaked over the edge to look down upon the great hall which was alive with activity.

Humans rushed, scurrying like ants over the floor below whilst the lower floors had been disfigured by hastily created gun emplacments stashing heavy weapons which swept over the lower floors. Iorek fixed his eyes upon the mixture of pdf and other people that scurried around and he longed to crush them all with one swift stamp. 

He waited for orders scanning the scene with his eyes when suddenly he heard gunfire, heavy rapid yet somehow distance and he reached for the pistol at his waist as Baldyr and Vermundr looked at eachother in horrified amazement. the fire intensified and Iorek stared transfixed as the line went dead, cut off in a burst of static, followed by a second burst of lasfire, much closer and much more deadly.

Rioters, mingled pdf and menials spilled onto the causeway and he felt Baldyr move springing upwards and charging towards the pdf coming up from the corridor behind with shouts that he couldn't quite hear. They were mingling, bunched together as if jostling together for support, comfort in there fanatical numbers


He turned at a cry from behind him and saw rioters entering from the stairs ahead them and he twisted, pushing himself to his knees with one hand the other reaching for his pistol yet he touched a frag grenade at his hip and the mass of pdf ahead of him gave him an idea. 

He ripped two from his belt as he felt the excitement growing and the scent of human emotion began to wash over him causing his arm to tremble slightly as he hooked the pins round his incisors and pulling. The grenades came free... active... alive... deadly... the scent was rough in his throat yet he inhaled deeply before rolling both grenades with quick flicks of his wrist. They skimmed along the floor ricocheting of the walls into the middle of the advancing group, where they rolled as if concussed amongst the startled soldiers 

Iorek didn't watch them rolled trusting his aim and leapt to his feet, pushing foward like a sprinter to explode upwards into a sprint down the causeway, pausing only to draw bolt pistol and chainsword from his belt. The wolf in his chest roared in delight and it charged to, paws light upon the stone as its long back legs propelled it forward with an easy grace and Iorek threw back his head and howled a long shrieking cry of a wolf that was free, ecstatic to be in the hunt once more.

The grenades exploded in two fiery plumes of smoke and Iorek tasted the acrid taste of singed flesh whilst the sounds of screaming reached his ears in a delightful melody of destruction. The smoke hazed his vision yet his senses were suddenly set on fire by a body toppling over the narrow wall. 

The man cartwheeled through the air arms waving wildly like an upturned beetle as he toppled out of sight, and the young blood claw heard screams of rage and anguish below, followed by washes of fresh agony that rushed through his body underlied by the scent of finality that could only be death. 

A lasbolt round burst wildly from the smoke flashing past his ear and over his shoulder and Iorek felt a kick at the narrow escape, a second rush of adrenaline that propelled him forwards causing his twin hearts to beat evermore frantically in his chest. He moved right slightly hugging the wall, to allow another comrade to come along side him... he may have the advantage yet against so many foes he needed support.... he extended his pistol arm and began to fire into the clearing smoke, not wild unaimed shots like his comrades but slow calculated shots towards the flickers of movement that his vision caught. His rounds were often met by screams and twitches of movement as the wounded rioter spasmed in agony, screaming his anguished praise of his treacherous Gods only to be silenced by the next round.

Mere feet away the pistol clicked empty and he ducked his shoulder, withdrawing his pistol and raising his sword as he burst through the haze of smoke, a wild eyed howling warrior baying for vengeance


----------



## dark angel

Alrik took the first kill. His Bolt Pistol, held loosely in his fingers barked and shattered the head of the first man to enter, his head cracking and rupturing in a rainbow of brain, bone and blood. He did not see what happened to the second, more interested upon enacting revenge upon the Traitors. Alrik had told Keris to look after himself before his Brother had left, not knowing if this would be the last time they saw one another. 

The Firehawk could only stare at the ball like object that rolled in before leaping away, a flash of light turning his shape in a silhouette for a millisecond. He landed hard, his left arm folding into his chest while his right hand still clutched the pistol grip of his Bolt Pistol. He slid half a metre or so before rolling over to his back and holding his Pistol in both hands fired once, destroying the torso of a Traitor PDF Trooper and sending him crashing into the closest wall, sliding down it and leaving a bloody smear. 

He arched his back before thrusting forwards, sending him into a crouched position upon his feet as more PDF Troopers entered. He drew his Chainsword, pressing down hard upon the activation rune and muttering a prayer to its Machine Spirit. Like a beast of legend he let out a feral howl and charged forwards, swinging his Chainsword up he caught one in the gut, lifting him in the air as flesh was mauled by the artificial teeth. 

A second was sent to his knees screaming, the butt of his Bolt Pistol pulverizing most of his face before sending a round through his chest with a loud bark. The third screamed as his lower right leg was torn away by the Chainsword, splitting the knee clean in two and yanking sinews apart. He fell to the ground clutching the blood spraying wound as Alrik fired a Bolt into his throat, separating the head while completely destroying the throat and upper chest. 

The final man in Alrik’s sight raised a Lasrifle and fired. Two rounds struck the Astartes in the helm, sending him stepping backwards once as his HUD flurried and reappeared, a anger filled howl being sent from his helm as he charged, spinning his Chainsword forwards he struck the man at the mouth and pushed him into the nearby wall, holding him in place as he cut away the head. His thoughts however, remained upon the safety of Keris.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had to admit he had been excited to be chosen to stay here and defend this room, he knew he wouldn't have done much good with the other group sneaking around and the like. This was where he could perform best, where he would be waist deep in enemies that had no hope for survival once he was that close to them, he had a feral smile on his face as his brothers walked away and left he, Alrik, Romka and Morgun here to defend.

They could hear the PDF troopers making their way down the hallway to the room they were in now and Tyr let out a low growl as he waited on one side of the blast doors. He realized he had a few frag grenades left and popped them down the hallway, but first blood had gone to Alrik who had blasted away a trooper's head. It was soon followed by a loud bang and screams which had almost distracted him from a small round object that had rolled through the blast doors.

Tyr jumped back covering his face as the grenade exploded knocking him back a bit into a cogitator. He shook his head and saw PDF entering the room and smiled, that was a big mistake on their part, and charged with a howl on his lips towards the five or so that had entered the room. 

Still holding his bolt pistol he was immediately in the thick of it and was lost to all but his battle senses, no longer was he the happy go lucky battlebrother that simply loved to fight and wanted all of his brothers in his pack to be ok, now he was what the wolf priest who had found him intended him to be, a beast of war. Those PDF troopers who had been running through the door had run right into his reach and it was his powerfist or butt of his pistol that ended their lives, for those a bit out of reach while he still had rounds in his pistol they were either killed or pushed back by his shots.

He had no idea how many he had killed once Alrik had dove into the fray, five maybe more in the first few seconds he hadnt been counting, not that he had the ability to at the moment. A las round clipped the side of his face burning it and cauterizing the wound instantly, pain flared up on his left side of his face and he knew he would have another scar and roared as he charged the man who had shot him and tore him apart.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik shook the blood away from his helm, like a wet dog dries his hide, a lump of brain matter hitting the wall he was propped against and sliding down to the destroyed, skull of the body below, landing upon a ragged topped tongue. He heard a cry of pain and looked around over his shoulder, Tyr was standing there with a steaming Las-Burn across his cheek. He shook his head and pressed his finger tips against his helm, moving it above the scars beneath. 

It had been a tragedy to the young Son of Fenris to lose a fang at his age, perhaps it would grow back? At least he hoped something miraculous such as that would happen. However he seriously doubted it. Alrik found himself face to face with three other PDF Traitors, huddled together with Lasrifles pointed towards him in quivering hands. 

He pulled himself upright, his short, three or four second break over and hissed as he charged towards them. His shoulder struck the first in the chest, caving it in and crushing organs like a nut between a clamp. A wave of blood spluttered from his nostrils, stepping backwards with each arm outstretched he tried to grab hold of his fellows fabrics only for Alrik to behead him with one swift movement. 

A second used his weapon as a club, striking Alrik in the back and forcing him upright, a more of a rattled feeling than actual pain. He pivoted, gripped the mans weapon and yanked it free, throwing it away with a clatter. The mans eyes widened, his jaw slackened and a slowly spreading black coloured wetness spread between his legs. He leveled his Bolt Pistol, pushing it into his forehead and saying “You are not worthy of the Emperor’s Mercy” and fired, sending the headless body backwards, twitching fingers outstretched towards the armoured form. 

The third, with some honour still left him managed to raise his Rifle in quivering hands, closing his eyes he fired wildly. A single Las struck him in the shoulder, the rest going wild and whizzing past into the distance. Alrik with that charged forwards, swiping the mans legs from under him with a kick he struck his Chainsword upwards and caught the man beneath his mouth, ripping through and splitting the forward half of his skull in two. 

Turning towards Tyr, he muttered through clenched teeth and rage filled lungs “I got nine, another hundred to go Brother” and burst out into laughter.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was glad Morgun and Baldyr showed no signs of disagreeing with his decisions of who stayed and who went.

making their way through the complex, his choices seemed to be working they way he had figured, and it got them to this large room, and onto the causeway successfully...until he found them surrounded on both sides by four full squads of enemies.

But, this was not before he and Baldyr were listening to Morgun.

had he sentenced Alrik, Tyr, and Romka to their deaths?...He shook his head intensively. No they were doing their duty, if they died it was not his fault, and it was all part of fighting for the Allfather in any case. He had had a decision to make as leader of the pack and he amde it. Some of them had to be left behind and he woudl ahve felt just as bad if any of the others were stuck back there as well.

The rest of the pack though, those he was with, were not currently without their own problems. 

Iorek had taken the initiative toward the stairway, as Baldyr went straight for the squads behind them. Baldyr told them to make their way down.

Vermudnr turned to watch Baldyr head into the fray on his side by himself, while the rest of them would be going the opposite. Baldyr was a wolf guard so he could handle himself with just two squads of these guys....right? It was not his duty as a blood claw to back up a member of his great company's wolf guard, but at the same time, Baldyr was a much greater asset to the company than any of them were at present.

Though Baldyr admitted his dislike of Vermundr becoming leader of his pack, he had since taken it for constructive criticism purposes...whether they were meant that way or not, they had helped him see things differently. the faster Baldyr was free of his side of the opposition, the faster he could reconnect with Vermundr's pack going down to the next level.

He had been looking back and forth on both sides his shoulders facing each of the causeway's ends as he knelt down in a defensive stance. Two of Iorek's grenades went off to his right, blowing men off the bridge. 

In case anyone else in his pack was having similar thoughts, he made sure they would not decide the same thing, _"Everyone follow Iorek's lead! All of you are to remain focusing your attacks on those two squads and get down to the next level!"_

Vermundr faced his right to speak to them. He swiftly turned his head left and caught Baldyr's form in his sights, the wolf like tail of hair from the top of his helm swinging with the motion as he launched himself up from his stance. (OOC: im tired of trying to describe it lol, if you look at the models its just like the models with a wolf tail looking thing on top of their helmets)

Knowing his shots not always being the most accurate, Vermundr clamps it to his side and takes hold of his axe with both hands and charges into the same two groups as Baldyr. Yelling into the charge, and holding his axe horizontally, he rams it into the face of the first trooper he meets, then smacks him with the pole end to the temple. He immediately back wings the blade end into the next soldier slitting his face open, getting a good spray of blood into the already red eyes of his helm.

He smirked inside remembering his thoughts from a few days ago, his wishes for the enemy to look into the eyes of a space amrine and knowing everything that comes behind it for both him as an individual and as a representation as what all the emperor's children were known for.

He was full immersed into one of the squads now, their focus on the veteran most likely being the reaosn for him not being shot down on the causeway as he charged to meet them. 

After slitting the one man's face in him he swings both his arms wide, backfisting the man to his left and the blade going into the trooper's chest to his left.

He found some spacing between his yells and grunts to speak to Baldyr, 

_"Baldyr! It is far more important that you get down those levels with the others. If only one wolf here survives this room it must be you! We could reach the objectives faster if i allow you to push forward with the others rather than watching our backs! You are a much greater asset to this company than any of us. If you wish... I will hold these squads off, and I will fight the enemies facing the backs of my pack brothers while you make it down! As their pack leader. I shall be the one to die before any of them!_


----------



## Euphrati

_Bitter. _

The scent filled Keris’s senses, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to rise, and it came from his brother. Then it was gone and Iorek seemed to relax, bending down swiftly to tear a small package from the corpse near his feet only to stand and press the cloth bundle into Keris’s hand. The simple act touched him deeply; his brother had read the pain in his eyes though he had tried desperately to hide it and he favoured the older Wolf with an unguarded smile even as Iorek turned to join the others as Vermundr made his choices.

‘Thank you, brother, more than you can understand,’ Keris whispered as he slipped the pack into his hip pouch. The contents would do him little good with his altered physiology; however, perhaps Iorek’s offering of peace could be of use in times to come. 

Turning his attention back to Morgun; Keris felt the amber-gold eyes weighting his offer with interest. The words of the Wolf Scout stirred a warmth within his breast and Keris met the untamed eyes with an unflinching gaze,

‘I had an accomplished mentor…’ 

His words were cut short as Morgun’s gloved hand closed around Keris’s forearm and he was wrenched forward with a strength that stole the breath from his chest and sent pain lancing through his leg. Morgun wore only the lightest of carapace armour, yet his strength was easily the match of Keris’s own in power armour. The scout’s voice was a low growl in his ear as Keris fought the instinct to bare his teeth at the sudden intrusion of his personal space. Morgun’s words sent a shiver up Keris’s spine and he swallowed convulsively, the bitter taste a faint echo on the back of his tongue. _The wolf in his mind stirred, shifting uneasily at the nearness of the scout and the implications of his warning._

Keris held his tongue; wanting to defend his packmate and deny the scout’s words, but knowing in his heart that they only confirmed his own suspicions. He stepped back the moment Morgun released the iron grip on his arm, for a long moment just studying the scared features of the scout’s face and giving the slightest of nods before turning back to follow in the shadow of Baldyr and his packmates as they headed for the door, limping slightly as his leg fought against the movement. Alrik’s words found him at the shattered doorway and Keris paused to favour the burly Wolf with a unguarded smile of camaraderie,

‘...and you keep that pretty face of yours down. You only have one top fang left; I would hate to see you have to explain how you lost it as well to the priests!’ Keris gave a lupine grin showing his small fangs before sobering, ‘AllFather be with you, Brother, and Russ guide your blade.’

With that, Keris ducked out the door and, gritting his teeth against the pain, lengthened his stride to catch up with the retreating backs of Baldyr and his wolfbrothers.

-----

The young Blood Claws and Wolf Guard wound their way through the echoing corridors, encountering scattered patrols that were quickly dispatched by bolt shell or screaming blade. Baldyr and Vermundr conversed in low tones with Morgun as he guided the pack through the complex. 

Keris pulled his growling blade from the twitching body at his feet, wincing as he bent to wipe the faces clean on the torn cloth of the man’s uniform as Balydr and Vermundr listened intently to the instructions only they could hear. The wound in Keris’s thigh was becoming a persistent ache in his side. He gave a low snarl and forced past it, reminding himself that pain was only another test he must endure to serve his Lord and the AllFather and sparing a glance at Iorek as he stood off to the side. The Wolf had removed his helm back in the room and now scented the air about him with flaring nostrils. 

The words of Morgun ghosted through his mind as he thought back on the changes in his brother’s behavior. It was good to see him finally embracing the gifts of Russ in his enhanced senses though, after the ominous warning of the scout, Keris found this sudden alteration in his clawmate’s behavior to only deepen his concern over Iorek’s state of mind. Baldyr and Vermundr broke his thoughts by turning to lope down another long hallway and Keris picked up his pace to fall into step beside Iorek in their wake.

-----

Sunlight filtered through thousands of palm-sized panes of glass, causing the warriors of Fenris depicted within the heroic scene to appear as if haloed in the light of the AllFather in fierce triumph over the debased creatures they battled. The artistry was magnificent, held up by the towering might of marble columns, yet the scene that played out under the wafting shafts of coloured light caused Keris’s lips to pull back in a silent snarl of anger as he crouched near the lip of the third level with his brothers.

The depth of the treachery was evident within the milling crowds of uniformed men and women, studded by the brutal forms of heavy weapons that had been hastily set the length of the hall. Keris counted no less than eight of the emplacements, each defended by a swath of traitors and overseen by the sharp eyes of the handful of elite soldiers dispersed within the hall. The wolf in his soul echoed his anger, baring its teeth and giving a rumbling growl that solidified in Keris mind as a question. _How had this been allowed to happen? How could men turn their backs on their oaths so easily and tear down all which they were meant to defend?_

The sudden whisper of gunfire caused Keris’s head to snap in the direction of the Wolf Guard and his packleader as they obviously were listening intently to the words of Morgun. A sudden wail of static was distinctly audible as Baldyr and Vermundr both leapt to their feet, las rounds hissing through the air as troopers poured from either end of the ornate causeway the pack was halfway down. Keris followed suit, anger burning brightly in his mind as the wound in his leg hobbled his actions.

Iorek was the first to act, sending a pair of grenades into the press of guardsmen then charging after them with a howl of battle upon his lips. Keris pushed the ache in his leg to the back of his mind and, a snarl on his lips, lunged forward to join Iorek in cutting a swath through the traitors to the stairway. His chainsword sang as it bit deeply into flesh and bone, and he lashed out with the butt of his pistol to crush a man’s skull before pulling the trigger and sending a trio of explosive rounds into the mass. Every single shot found a home in the bleeding flesh of a target, shredding muscle and organs as the mass reactive shells detonated in a blizzard of razor-sharp fragments.

Keris dropped his shoulder and charged to Iorek’s right, clearing a path with brute force and the sheer mass of his body. Traitors were sent screaming to the unforgiving floor levels bellow. _They had to keep moving forward, it was only time before the guns bellow were wrestled into position to open fire upon their exposed flank_. Blood pounded in his ears even as Vermundr’s words cut across the din of battle. Keris gave a growl of anger at his brother’s illogical statement, his words coming between the howling flashes of his blade and backed by the report of his pistol as he emptied the clip into the bodies before him,

‘_*Vermundr*_! The only lives that will be taken today are those of these traitorous scum! The AllFather needs *warriors* not martyrs!’ 

Keris backhanded a female pdf trooper with his empty pistol, the blood of her shattered face painting the side of his armour in a spray of crimson as the woman foundered on the ground,

‘Baldyr’s worth is no more or less than your own; do not seek to sell your life so cheaply! _Now_, you gave your oath to Blackmane that you would lead this pack so, by Morkai’s Teeth, gather your wits and *lead it*!’

Keris roared and kicked out, the pain in his side all but forgotten in his anger, connecting with bone-shattering force to the leg of a trooper before driving his blade through the screaming man’s chest.


----------



## darkreever

Iorek; Hacking at the nearest unfortunate souls before you with your chainsword, you carve a path through them. It is only when you turn to help your pack brothers that you truly notice it, you are at the head of the group, the others are following you and not Vermundr, who has chosen to take to the back and help Baldyr hold off enemies he is more than able to deal with on his own. Keris yells for Vermundr to return to his senses, but that doesn’t matter; the opportunity to lead the pack is before you and you already know of Baldyr’s feelings to Vermundr leading.


Kneeing a traitor in the face, she topples down the steps, her face a bloody ruin, bowling into a crowd of rioters of the guilder, corralled from the first and second level by what smells like half a dozen operatives clad like the rioters.

[Now is your chance, do you try and take charge of the pack and lead it as Vermundr falters from behind, or do you just press on and get to the lower level though this press of seventy lightly armed enemies?]

Vidar and Dagfari; You are hot on Iorek and Keris’s heels, shooting and carving your way through anyone that gets in your way. A shot pings off Vidar’s chest, blackening the spot and peeling the paint before you return the shot in kind, blowing a fist sized hole in the man. Dagfari, a solid slug round smacks into your cheek, ricocheting off the reinforced bone and into your mouth, causing no damage beyond the initial damage, the wound clotting within moments. To the horror of your shooter, you merely spit the bullet out and lop his head off with your chainsword.

[You are right behind Iorek at the steps, there are lightly armed rioters being corralled into blocking your path. If they would try to deny you then it is your job to find a way, kill and continue down to the first level. Your post should take you to the bottom of these stairs to second level, the stairs to first level is on the opposite side.]

Keris; Iorek, Vidar, and Dagfari slaughter everyone around you, breaking through to the steps as you focus more of your attention on yelling some sense into Vermundr. That’s when you feel a change in the scents, the rage of Baldyr is palpable and it is directed almost entirely at Vermundr. Even the remaining traitors around them have stopped, its noticeable even to them and none are willing to attack the wolves with such anger pouring out. You see the others charging down to the lower level, and Baldyr roars for Vermundr to go and lead his pack, but what of you? Do you to disobey the wolf guard and help the pair to finish the rearguard and face the anger of the senior wolf or do you go to the others and press forward?

[This is a mini-update for you Keris, make your choice and I will post more; as you can guess your choice will affect more than just yourself.]

Vermundr; Sweeping his blade out in a wide arc, Baldyr cuts two men in half before the others back away a step. The wolf guard turns to you, anger burning in his eyes, the hackles on your neck instantly shooting up. _“I am wolf guard and you are a young pack leader I do not need your help against this rabble! Now go and lead your pack or by Russ you will fail this!”_ He roars, the tension burning between you actually keeping the enemies away for now.

[What do you do Vermundr? Do you back down to the wolf guard and listen to him or do you remain defiant? And what does he mean that you will fail? As with Keris you have a mini-update, your post will be followed by another update.]


Alrik and Tyr; Looking about the carnage you just inflicted, none of the enemies that had tried to gain entry to the room live, all that lay before you are mangled corpses sprawled around the entryway. Reloading your pistol, you turn to see Morgun getting back to his feet, a lasburn blistering and blackening the skin on the side of his face but causing no other damage.

Minutes draw on, no one else attempts to gain entry but you can hear more enemies gathering outside, should they decide to charge you then their numbers could cast your superior abilities to the wind. That is, however, until you catch a scent in the air; off-worlder like the operatives yet different than those. This one is familiar, an undertone of pure malice and experience mixed in with the exotic difference of those from this world, and that’s when it speaks. _“So the wolves cower and hide before their enemies, you must do your dog primarch and corpse-god proud.”_ The voice calls out through the crackling of a vox unit, the same emotionless tone as days before.

[Two words race through your mind as you hear the voice: Alpha Legion. The scent and the voice can only mean one of these traitors wait you outside; but do you venture out to confront the bastard whore-son? Remember, this is one of those responsible for the deaths of many in your pack, including Kjarl. You can hear Morgun speaking to you, his words telling you to stay within, but do you listen? The wolf scout was not with you, certainly he does not detect the importance of the scent as you do? This is a mini update, expect more once you respond.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was rather surprised that no attack came against the Astartes within. He had reloaded his Bolt Pistol and it was now held tightly in one hand, the other pushing his Chainsword into the concrete floor, which was now turned a pink colour from the amount of blood he and Tyr had managed to spill. The smell was one that Alrik had grown accustom to since they had first landed and one he was sure that would grow on him. 

With every step he took, the blood splashed around his feet, painting them a rich crimson as he leaned lazily against the pommel of his Chainsword, staring at the door and challenging for those outside to show themselves. He could not do much but wait, wait to face the Traitors once again. Something else was different. 

The atmosphere had changed to, growing more tense in the past few minutes and causing the muscles in the back of his neck to bunch up, tightening as he tried to sniff the air through his helm. He couldn’t help but to flash his teeth at such stupidity muttering something to himself. A voice of malice and darkness filled his ears. 

Instantly he knew what it was. Alpha Legion. The cursed Sons of Alpharius were present, though Alrik could not tell how many through scent due to the helm obscuring such a thing it was obvious with the voice that came through that it was one of those that had ambushed them and murdered Kjarl however Morgun ordered him and Tyr to stay, thus he would. 

He gripped his Chainsword and spun it around so it faced the roof, he looked at Tyr and pleaded “Brother, don’t do anything foolish we shall reap them soon enough…Hold your ground” with that, he went down into a crouch, pulling his Bolt Pistol in closer to his body to strengthen his aim. He was ready.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr was surrounded by blood and gore as was Alrik and the stench relaxed his mind and muscles. His armor was covered in blood and the haze over his eyes began to recede as he and Alrik and Morgun began to ready for the rest of the traitors outside of the room. That was when he had caught the scent, he assumed he had caught it earlier then Alrik due to his brother having his helmet on, but soon he could see Alrik's back stiffen. Their fallen bretheren were present yet again and soon the same emotionless voice came over a vox. 

The haze that had begun to creep away from Tyr's eyes came back full force and it took every ounce of his strength to keep himself from charging out that door and after the traitor. Morgun was telling him to stay and he would but whatever came through that door he would surely tear in half, the anger and pain that he had for all of his brothers lost and for the death of Kjarl was bubbling right below the surface of his being now and he wanted vengeance. 

Yet he knew that if he were to waste his life he would not be able to kill one of these traitors, so when Alrik told him stay put and hold his ground he simply nodded and backed away a bit from the door and off to the side so as to surprise anyone. He could smell from his brother's scent that he was worried about him, this was not the usual Tyr that everyone saw. His hairs on the back of his neck still flecked with gore stood on end and he flexed his power fist subconciously his eyes never leaving the entrance to the room they were in.


----------



## darkreever

Alrik and Tyr; Tense minutes pass as you guard the sides of the entry, intent to engage whatever comes through but not intending to go beyond. If your enemies want this room, they are going to have to come and take it from you. From outside, you can hear the sound of men and women speaking, someone begins to shout. You dare not take a glance outside, in case that is what the traitor marines is waiting for, but from the shouting it seems as though someone is whipping others up for a second charge.

Morgun dives form the cogitators and slams himself against the wall next to Tyr, his shotgun held in both hands while the spike on his fore-arm scrapes the wall. _"Just keep calm all of you, block out the traitor and focus on the task your pack leader entrusted upon you. Keeping this room free from the enemy is all that matters; your honour and pride will suffer, but it must."_ He says before the voice calls out again. _"Spineless and cowards then? At least your brother marines from that other squad were brave enough to fight outgunned, outflanked, and outclassed."_

Without caring to hear for a response, the voice speaks to words that you barely hear, directed to someone near it: do it. Thats when the shouting from before returns and a small mob of workers charge through the opening, thirty of them all said and done, but thats not the worst of it. From behind them come a dozen troopers bearing four heavy stubber mounts.

[The charging workers, surging forward from the opening, are mobbing up between you and the big guns. Those things will need at least one update to all be made ready, can you fight your way through all these people to them in time though? What of Morgun's words? Allow your honour and pride to be stained when your hated enemy is right out there? The wolf scout may do many unsavory things, but are you so willing to walk alongside that kind of path?]


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr stood across from Baldyr, the enemies backing away some, he thinks: 

"Prior to landing back on this planet, I told myself that I would lead based on the only thing I have to go on, my instinct. I would go by my instinct because I am a space wolf, and because it has served me well thus far.

Less than half of the original pack made it back to the _Fist of Russ_, and I was one of them. In fact, by acting on my instinct I helped get this pack through an Alpha legion ambush and was seen fit to lead this pack after my _first_ mission.

I will _not_ look like an even greater fool by turning around and going back on my gut decision."

Not straying his eyes from Baldyr he replies in loud confidence, "I am well aware you could handle these traitors on your own Baldyr, I seek to help us _all_ by allowing you to push forward ahead of my pack and slay a path downwards to our objectives. I have made my decision to guard my brother's backs so that they may move on unhindered and perhaps finally trust me fully once more. I _am_ leading my pack and _this_ is how I have chosen to do so. If Lord Ragnar trusted in my abilities to lead this pack then there is no reason why I should go against what he believed. Even if my pack does not yet see why I have made this decision, they soon will see that I _am_ leading them and I trust in them to follow my commands so that we may all get out of this alive... just as I got my pack through that chapel alive!!! 

If my pack brothers continue their way down these levels they will be first met by the heavy weapons fire and a further mass of heretics without one of our company's great and glorious older brethren of Lord Ragnar's Wolf Guard to support them. I have chosen to take the rear myself because If any of the pack are to be seperated, it shall be the pack's leader thats stands apart, in defense of his good name!"

If Baldyr thought Vermundr a complete fool unfit to lead, then so be it. Baldyr had so many more years of experience than him that he surely could see if Vermundr's decision truly made him unable to lead a pack. For all Vermundr knew he had just uttered the dumbest words Baldyr had ever heard come from a fellow space wolf but it did not matter. Ragnar made him pack leader for who he was, and so he would lead as himself, doing what his heart told him to do acting in complete faith, until Ragnar took the honor back away from him. And If Baldyr killed him in his rage, then he would let his failed leadership be a lesson to the rest of his squad. He already knew each of his battle brothers would go far, with or without him by their side.

Starting with a growl but quickly gaining volume working toward a tremendous roar coming from his vox as he twisted his head back toward his fearful enemies, he took a single heavy step forward towards them with his left fist clenched tight and shaking. He then charged, bellowing toward their wide eyed faces, axe raised. The closest traitor looked up, arms dropping loosely to his sides as the heresy in his heart seemed to lift out of his soul at the last moment before his death...realizing the greatest mistake of his life at the sight before him. Vermundr had never howled so loudly in his life after this first kill. He looked downward to his back stepping enemies in complete silence as his lenses seemed to darken to an even deeper red, with a bright red flare glowing at their centers. 

"With me at their backs, I will be right behind them as they reach the first floor just as Baldyr would be..."

with untraceable swings to the traitors' eyes, Vermundr swung his axe so many times, in so many directions. The limbs of their comrades flew in a storm of bloodshed around them... in the worst nightmare they would never wake up from.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik sighted the first enemy and couldn’t help but curl his lip in distaste. Covered in simple beige robes with a black cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders, billowing behind him gently as he pointed a small blade, obviously scavenged from a previous battle due to it seeming out of place in his chubby, scarred fingers. His lower face was hidden beneath a balaclava, piggy eyes staring at Alrik as his belly spilled from beneath his robes. 

He fired. The Bolt whistled as it propelled forwards, striking the man in the torso and sending him back while outstretched fingers parted the blood hanging within the air. His body came apart in large bulbous clumps, strands of air and muscle entwining around each other in a bloody embrace. With a single hiss of warm steam from his armour, Alrik cast himself into the enemy. 

He fired twice in close succession as he entered the crowd, destroying a pair of bodies and causing them to part like a scythe through corn, his Chainsword spun immediately after and took away the chest area of a hissing woman who was about to raise a shambled looking Lasrifle at him. Four down he thought to himself, turning as he did so and kicking away a lithe man who was striking his back rather feebly with a long hooked pole. 

The Firehawk continued to wade through the bodies. A pair of oversized oafs tried to stop him with grins spread across stubby faces, without thinking Alrik double tapped the trigger and took away the head of the nearest, the other spinning in a gore filled dance as his organs were pulverized. He sighted the Heavy Stubber operators starting to work and howled wildly. 

The Space Wolf spun on his heel twice, Chainsword held out in one hand. The blood clogged screams that followed made Alrik shake his head. Eight bodies fell to the ground, those that still lived clutched ragged wounds that had been ripped open, spilling forth organs and blood. It did not matter where Tyr was. He threw himself against the guns.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr let out a low growl of understanding as Morgun spoke to them, he would do what he was told. As Alrik charged into the mass of workers Tyr jumped in after him, squishing and pulverizing bodies as he fought his way forward through the mass of flesh and bone. Through his haze he felt a tiny prick at his knee and looked down to see a wide eyed worker with a small blade poking out of his knee joint, he howled and picked the person up in his power fist and crushed them before tossing the sack of meat and pulling the tiny knife out.

He could see the stubbers in front of them and forced his way forward with more power. Suddenly there was a gap of nothing in front of him and Tyr registered Alrik spinning with his chainsword but the gap closed before Tyr could make it all the way through and he clenched his teeth as he felt the workers surround him and begin to clasp onto his armor in an effort to slow him down. 

With one last push he roared and swung his fists in all directions, pulling himself free and charging the guns.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; you charge into the nearest troopers, ending lives with every stroke of your weapon. You are brought from your attack by the sound of bolter fire going off near you; Baldyr's bolt pistol smoking as he puts a round through the last of the final troopers so that only you two are left. His face showed nothing but anger, not that anyone would be able to say it ever showed anything else for none could say they had ever seen Baldyr smile.

_"You are indeed correct, the wolf lord saw something in you and you were rewarded for it. I am here not to judge whether you deserve this, the wolf lord would not have granted you this had we not all agreed, but you are young, there is much for you to learn of leading your wolf brothers."_ The wolf guard said to you, his voice low enough for only you to hear but a rolling growl all the same.

_"Come pack leader Vermundr, its time you learned that you belong at the head of your pack, not at its tail. And show your lord the respect he is due; it is lord Blackmane, not lord Ragnar. You have not yet earned that honour."_ He said, bearing his fangs in the process. Perhaps for another the gesture might have turned into a smile, but such a thing seemed impossible for Baldyr, or it had been a very, very long time since such a thing was possible for him. Turning away from the corpses, Baldyr clapped you on the shoulder and ran to the others.

[Get to the others, lead them through the mob at the packs head. Show the others what the wolf lord and others already see in you.]


Keris; as Baldyr runs past you, you both lock eyes and he gives you the briefest of nods. It is possible that you and lord Blackmane are not the only ones who know of the details of the vow made between you and the wolf lord.


----------



## Euphrati

The others had pushed on, driving down the stairway to the second level when the scent of an enraged Wolf stopped Keris in his tracks. He whipped around, hackles on end and teeth bared as the towering form of Baldyr turned to face Vermundr. The wrath of the wolf guard was almost a physical force upon Keris’s skin. The traitor pdf paused in their assault, unwilling to face the rage that was being held in check by the barest of margins and leaving the two Wolves in a moment of calm like the eye of a storm.

_The wolf in his soul paced like a caged beast_, it wanted to rush to the side of its packmate in defense against the elder wolf. Keris felt a liquid growl seep from between his clenched teeth as he took a step back towards the two Wolves before he stopped to listen. This was Vermundr’s battle, if his brother was ever to become the leader of the Claw in more than just name it was this moment that would define him. Thus, with a prayer to Russ on his lips, Keris held back to await the choice Vermundr would make. The oath he had made to Lord Blackmane echoed in Keris’s mind as Vermundr turned to face Baldyr and spoke.

Pride bloomed within his breast as Vermundr refused to back down before the veteran Wolf, standing his ground with words spoken from the heart. _Finally_, his brother was taking up the reins of leadership! Though when Vermundr mentioned the fight at the chapel Keris felt an ache that had nothing to do with the wound in his thigh, not all of the Sons of Russ that had entered there had made it out alive and their souls cried out to him for vengeance. As Vermundr let out a powerful howl and leapt at the milling traitors with his axe reaping a heavy toll, Keris let out the breath he had not realized that he had been holding as Baldyr’s scent relaxed. Vermundr had won a small margin of respect from the mighty warrior and Keris turned away as the second in command of the Wolf Guard spoke to his packleader in tones too low for even his keen ears to catch.

Keris paused at the stairway, turning just as Baldyr’s heavy steps neared. For a moment their eyes met; the crystal blue of endless glaciers and the colour of the merciless fenrisian seas, recognition of duty and oaths passed between those two sets of blue eyes in a heartbeat as Baldyr inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. Keris returned the gesture with a solemn dignity; his voice a low growl as he addressed the elder warrior by his saga,

‘_Ice-Slayer_.’

He then turned back to the causeway and called out to Vermundr,

‘Come, my brother, glory calls and your pack awaits!’

With that Keris follow in the shadow of Baldyr, his body reminding him of his wounded state as he descended the echoing stairs with joy in his heart.


----------



## darkreever

Keris; Following close behind Baldyr, you come to the top of the steps to see a mob before you at the foot. You can tell from the air that more operatives are mixed in with them, driving these people forward if only to slow you down, and you and the wolf guard can see why. From behind the group a heavily armoured man is slowly trudging forward, his form encased in a powered harness to allow him to wield heavy machinery, or in this case a heavy bolter with a feed trailing to a pack strapped behind.

An image flashed in your head, the heavy weapon operaters of other more traditional space marine chapters; devastator, the word comes to the fore of your mind. If anything, this approaching figure is definitely a mockery of such a person. That aside though, he is slowly making his way to the back of the mob, likely getting closer in order to make sure the heavy weapon is able to cause maximum damage.

[Warn your brothers of this incoming threat and obviously try to get to him and silence that heavy weapon before it can do damage to you and the pack. Baldyr did not stop at the top of the steps, he is with the others fighting the mob.

Vermundr, you will see the same sight when you make it to the stairs, though Keris might be acting as well. Make your orders as you see fit and continue down.]


----------



## deathbringer

The sword tore through the chest of the first man, teeth growling, echoing the malicious snarl that was eminating from Iorek's throat. He maintained his swing throwing the impaled mans corpse against the wall where he lolled backwards, head and shoulders slipping over the edge. 

He watched the blood spilling over his chainsword and he felt a small smile as he flicked his wrist to send the corpse tumbling over the lip of the wall, the dead mans face looked at him, blank eyes staring accusatorily over the seeping hole in his chest before it fell out of view.

The wolf in his mind howled in triumphant ecstacy as the mass of bleeding sinew and flesh tumbled away and more screams reached his ears, fanning the flames of aggression that now raged within him. Amongst the flames the noble white furred wolf span, hackles up and fur standing on end as his claws slashed, breaking through the dancing spires that gleamed hues of orange and red, burning white and blue at the tip.

They were around Iorek too,the flames of his agression, a man screaming, eyes rolled up inside his head a his lips moved with in mesmerized anguished prayers. The wolfs padded paw flicked out and the pistol in Iorek's right whipped round in a fierce right hook and the man was sent flying into the melee of dead and soon to be deceased. The sharp invigorating tang of pain rippled across Iorek's tongue as he felt the hot burn of fresh blood spilling along the groove of the orca tooth and over his knuckles.

A second man was sent sprawling as the wolf ducked its head and charged forward into the breaking flames, Iorek pushed on refusing to break stride and merely dipping his shoulder, bending his knees to smash his full momentum into his assailants sternum and he felt the brittle bones of his ribcage flex under his weight before the man was tossed backwards into a screaming woman who struggled to retain her footing as the man slid to the floor, body curling into the fetal position, as he tried to shield his ribs.

The wolf ripped upwards, its haunches tensing as it prepared to leep and its head moved up, the beautiful ice white fur of its snout matted with blood as its teeth tore out a throat, a human trachea and voice box that steamed as the ruby red blood was boiled away, flickering in the dancing firelight. A sharp stab downwards with the whirring blade ended the fetal mans life and as the woman pushed herself off her knees, Iorek raised his own and felt a light impact through the ceramite as it collided with her face. She toppled away from him and Iorek saw that the petite nose and delicate lips were now a mash of splintered bone and flesh as she reeled backwards tumbling down the steps. 

Iorek didnt watch her though he heard the loud crack as her neck snapped, yet his eyes were searching around for his brothers. He found himself alone at the top of the stairs... and time seemed to freeze... he was ahead.. back at the front... leading his brothers once more. In his subconcious the twisted wolf raised his head and its mangled black formed straightened as it began to prowl towards him, eys reflecting the dying embers that had surrounded the noble white wolf. The white wolf gave a tiny growl, a menacing rumble of thunder and Iorek felt it tense yet as its hind legs contracted blood seeped from tiny wounds and the tension wavered.

Baldyr hated vermundr... would back Iorek... the time was right and the blackened wolf opened a mouth full of rotten uneven fangs and tasted the air with a wimper of longing yet as it pushed forward Iorek's own words rushed through his mind as his back straightened in shock and the snow white, bloodstained wolf struck

_Keris, Tyr... the pack leader told us to take cover...would you have commited such insubordination under Kjarl... your actions may be logical but would you disregard orders so easily"_

Claws lashed and teeth snapped and the twisted wolf fled once more, wheeling away into his subconcious as the noble wolf's teeth clacked upon air. He wheeled around hands ejecting a spent clip from his bolt pistol and fresh certainty gleamed in his mind, would he become such a hypocrite as to practice what he pulically decried.

He wheeled around glancing over the lip of the causeway to seea hive of activity as pdf troopers strained to move the heavy weapons to bring their fire to bear upon the astartes that were tearing through there midst. The floor was littered with corpses and once again the scent of fresh blood, agony sent a ripple of ecstacy down his spine, followed by a tirade of pure anger and he hit in a new clip as he stared around for the wild rush of emotions that caused his back to hunch involuntarily

Baldyr's ferocious words did not reach his ears yet Vermundr met his gaze and fought back and iorek felt a grudging respect for the pack leader as he held the gaze and fired back his own words. A small cry caused Iorek to turn and he found mean and women spilling up the steps towards where he stood and he laughed a long loud laugh and they trembled before his cackling glee. He could hear shouts driving the rioters forward, yet he could see no rank within the mass.

They were that... a mass... a mob of screaming infidels, unarmoured, no problem alone yet more deadly in numbers. To break a mob you must be ruthless and rip it apart, cause it to fear you more than they fear or love the force that drives it, then it wavers, doubts itself, for in the company of others a human rarely fears.... but they would fear him. The pistol and sword were warm and bloodstained in his hand and fresh blood trickled over his gauntlets and knee pad, mingling with the stains from the dead pdf whose brain he had blown out.

They would fear this bloodstained god.

He leapt down the stairs a scream of delight upon his lips... as he smelt the first tremors of fear like cool water upon his tongue, refresheing and delightful.

His pistol bucked and he locked his arm, the recoil a gentle nudge against his muscular bicep and his aim was true his rounds impacting upon the first line of the rioters. Chest after chest he blew open with roughly aimed shots into the dense mass of bodies, being driven towards him. They toppled like dominos slumping lifelessly as the rounds impacted, the explosive charges within each round sending the corpses spiralling backwards. A particuarly fat man, howling in rage had his ribs blown apart as Iorek bore down upon him and his bulk fell backwards, knocking down a small man and women who had large gouges down there faces in there frenzied rage.

It created the gap Iorek needed and he lept 5 steps from the bottom arms outstretched, pistol and sword clutched tightly. He landed upon the small man and felt his spine snap and he swing his arms forward into the necks of the men either side. Both staggered under the impacts, the breath knocked from there bodies. They were given no time to recover as a pistol round and a short through the chest ended their lives.

A joyous howl burst from his lips as he knocked the nearest rioter away with a backhanded blow with his pistol and he felt the wolf in his head standing immobile, lips curved into a fanged smile. 

Njoror's voice echoed in his mind and he felt it bursting with supressed pride

"You made the right choice brother"


----------



## Euphrati

Iorek’s howl carried over the dying screams of those who had betrayed the AllFather, echoing eerily in the acoustics of the great hall and reaching Keris as he paused at the top of the steps to survey the battlefield below. A mass of frantic bodies broke against the charging line of Wolves like a storm wave upon the bow of a dragonship. Keris thrust his chainsword into the back of a body slumped on the stairs, releasing the blade for a brief moment to slot a new clip into his pistol as he tasted the currents of air.

Emotions rolled across his tongue; fear and anger tainted by the sour presence of the traitor elites and something else. Keris’s eyes sought beyond the crowd; his vantage point at the top of the stairs allowing him an unfettered view beyond the press of bodies to where a bulky figure lumbered forward, the dull gleam of gunmetal drawing a snarl from the wolf in his soul. An impression pulled itself from his memories in response to the sight accompanied by a term; _Devastator. _

The heavy weapons teams of the more conventional chapters of Astartes; a role filled by the grizzled and honourable warriors of the Long Fangs in the Great Companies of Russ, the information having been embedded in Keris’s mind by the teaching-engines during the long and arduous process that had shaped his body from that of a young tribesman of Fenris to the exalted ranks of the warriors of the Fang.

The man; encased by the cumbersome servo-assisted harness more suited to the handling of mining equipment than the brutal form of the heavy bolter it supported now in a twisted parody of the Devastator his mind had associated it to, stalked forward with determined steps towards his packmates as they fought against the mire of traitor bodies. Keris roared in rage, such tactics of using these fear-driven civilians as a wall of flesh only served to heighten his loathing of the Traitors. _There was no honour in this!_ The wolf in his soul seethed and the taste of bile coated the back of Keris’s throat. His free hand went to the grenades at his waist even as his mouth snarled a warning to his brothers,

‘Brothers! The serpents only seek to delay us with debase tactics while they bring heavy weapons to bear from the front!’ Keris roared his warning over the screams of the dying, ’Beware the deception and show no mercy to the faithless whom have turned from the AllFather’s light!’ 

Keris’s gauntlet closed around two of the explosive canisters clipped to his belt, depressing the activation studs of both with nimble fingers as he judged the distance to the perversion of man and machine which was just under halfway down the length of the causeway. His arm snapped forward, sending the armed weapons tumbling through the air even as he reclaimed his chainsword from the corpse at this side. 

Pain tinted the edges of his vision in crimson as the wound in his thigh fought against his movements as Keris bunched his legs; forgoing the final stretch of stairs to leap out over the press of bodies like the legendary blackmaned wolf striking an unsuspecting herd of elk from an overhanging ledge. The darkness of his shadow the last thing many of them experiencing before joining the ranks of the traitorous dead with the howls of Wolves echoing for an eternity in their faithless souls.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was surprised to find Baldyr almost crack a grin rather than knocking him out cold.

With the smack of his shoulder guard Vermundr hopped around and darted forward after the great Wolf Guard, to rejoin his brothers at the front of the assault.

going down the already cleared stairway he turned to find Iorek still making headway at the front of the pack. Vermundr was glad for him, he was definitely getting the vengeance he had sought so deeply, hopefully stitching some of the wound that gouged his heart when Njoror had died.

Keris had a slight lead ahead of him, lobbing two frag grenades into the air, drawing Vermundr's eyes to the biggest threat. The heavy man with what appeared to be similar to a servo-harness of some kind helping him to carry a heavy bolter.

Vermundr growled over the vox to his packmates, "What makes these traitors think they can keep mocking us so freely, even after all we have killed?...Iorek a man lays ahead of the mob in front of you carrying a heavy bolter, let us clear the masses for you. I need your range to out do his before he feels close enough to fire effectively.

You have sprayed the blood of countless enemies in the name of vengeance today brother and there are still many more to come, but for this moment I must ask you to step back and take aim if Keris's grenades have failed to take him out.

You heard me everyone, make room for Iorek!"

With this he charges with Keris into the mass of traitors, striking as many with his fists as he does his axe, not trying to kill as fast as possible so as to give Iorek the time to kill the heavy weapon carrying pile of dirt so as not to clear the wall between them.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik let out a howl, the type that forced the bravest of souls to cower and whimper, and landed before one of the enemy Stub Gunners. He brought his Chainsword upwards, catching the man in the gut and lifting the body one handed, jerking as clothing and skin was chewed into a bloody pulp, shards of bone rolling away through the air. 

His two fellow operators, drew their old rusted side arms and fired. Several rounds struck Alrik, large round ammunition ricocheting into the nearby walls with loud pings. Servos whined in protest as he pushed forwards, steam hissing from his joints and fired his Bolt Pistol, the round tearing away the gun arm of the closest with a jet of warm blood. 

There was a click and the weapon sounded dry, its last round expended upon sending the Traitor onto the floor, clutching his stump as blood bubbled out of the torn veins and down his fatigues. Stringy parts of flesh dangled from the wound, flapping in the cold breeze as the Firehawk spun his Chainsword in his hand so it faced downwards and brought it upon the mans neck, severing his wide eyed head. 

The final Stub Gunner, his body bounded in bandoliers of ammunition and wearing a peaked cap, stared at him and fired another five times, pulling the trigger until it strained and snapped, causing his trigger finger to fly off in a spurt of red and white. The Space Wolf advanced, stepping closer and reloading his Bolt Pistol he threw his knee upwards, striking the man in the crotch and causing him to scream in pain as Alrik brought his blade down upon the lower back of the now bending man. 

He sighted his second team, who were now half way through mounting the weapon upon its tripod and licked his lips. Without thinking he charged towards them, Chainsword sputtering violently. The first managed to raise a shotgun dangling by thick leather straps at his hip and fired twice, spraying Alrik in small rounds and sending him spinning around. 

His balance had been destroyed by the close combat weapon rounds, his left leg pulled up tightly while his right twist and turned. Finally he regained some form of balance and turned towards the Traitor who had shot him, raising his Bolt Pistol he fired a single shot into the man, crushing his torso to a pulp and flaying the skin from his lower face until only the teeth could be made out. 

His two partners opened fire together with small Auto-Type Weapons, small thuds reverberating within his helm as he charged, dents slowly being pounded against his chest. His Bolt Pistol pulled back tightly into his the are between his thumb and fingers, striking the enemy between the eyes and blowing out his brains. 

With that, Alrik brought his Chainsword upwards in a swift sweeping movement, slicing away the skin of the mans face and booted him in the midsection, ripping through the slightly oversized gut as a Bolt was sent pummeling through his upper skull. Alrik turned to Tyr, and nodded simply with a smile beneath his helm.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had originally attempted to to follow Alrik through the mass of workers and on to the stubber gunners behind them but after breaking out he had realized that someone had to take care of this mass of flesh. 

With huge sweeps of his powerfist he cleared many out of the way, either killing them or dealing fatal wounds, every now and then firing his bolt pistol at someone a bit out of reach. The majority of these people were just workers and weilded every day equipment from crow-bars to wrenches against him, the pings of these things bouncing off his armor only serving to heighten his anger even more. 

A man ran towards him and he leveled his bolt pistol firing through the man's face, the round striking the woman behind him and exploding sending shrapnel everywhere. He picked up a worker with his powerfist and swung his body around using him like a sack of rocks. As he managed another hole in the group he saw Alrik dispatching the gunners and grinned knowing that the traitor's attempt to bait them had only served to strengthen their hatred towards these people. Letting out a bellowing roar he tossed the man's body and jumped on another man before punching another with his fist.


----------



## darkreever

Tyr and Alrik; as you kill the wave of workers and Alrik dispatches the heavy weapon teams, the third group manage to get their gun prepped and ready, the gunner pressing the trigger bar and raking the mob itself, cutting down a dozen as the gun turns on its mount in Alrik’s direction. Rounds ping off Tyr’s armour as they pass by, and a las-round from one of the remaining troopers smashes into the Space Wolves chest, sending him crashing to the ground were a group of eight surge over him, pounding on his armour with fists and all manner of blunt or sharp tools; seeking to find a weakpoint. Pain blossoms through Tyr’s brain as knives of pain stab into several locations. 

Even as the heavy weapon turns to lay into Alrik, he is running forward to it, braving the bullets that ping into his armour as he runs forward, a fire of pain registers as he loses a finger from one lucky round and a second one impacts beneath his pouldron.

[Tyr; get free of the press of bodies. Alrik; silence the third gun and help Tyr.]

Keris; Pushing the pain of your leg aside, you leap, attempting to clear as much of the mob of workers as possible so that you can go after the heavy weapon wielding trooper. Fate, however, is not on your side and though you clear the steps, the pain of your leg took enough from your stride to land you amidst the middle of the group. You land amidst the enemy, crushing several in the process and clearing a path for the pack-brother behind you, Dagfari. The grenades explode further away, sending shrapnel into the crowd and killing or maiming many.

Your efforts though do not go unnoticed and the heavy bolter opens fire, the wielder not quite ready but all the same he has to try and stop you while you yourself may be off balance. The shots go wide, ripping apart the five people in front of you and forcing you to dive away, a round blasting into your gut before the press of bodies shield you from the rest of the salvo.

[He will be gunning for you and Dagfari now, do you brave the heavy bolter and try to silence it yourself or try to keep his attention while Iorek does the dirty work? Depending on who responds first, your actions may affect Ioreks.]

Dagfari; As you and Iorek descended upon the people you hear the heavy footfalls of others coming from behind, the rest of the pack joining you. Suddenly a large grey-blue object crashes before you, taking the lives of some of your enemies while you dispatch others. You quickly recognize the form as Keris and suddenly the way forward is clear for you both, the heavy weapon wielding trooper letting loose a salvo that forces you both to dive away, a round clipping your side and taking a chunk of flesh with it, but nothing your superhuman body cannot deal with for now.

[As with Keris, the heavy weapon trooper will be gunning for you now, do you continue to fight the mob or go after him? Like Keris, your actions might affect what others can or cannot do so make your choice wisely.]

Vermundr and Iorek; As Keris and Vermundr reach the rest of the pack, Vermundr issue’s his orders, for everyone to clear the mob while Iorek goes after the heavy weapon. However as you both fight together, you witness the heavy bolter open fire on Keris and Dagfari, scything down your enemies without care.

This moment of inattention to the enemies about you brings a stab of pain to the back of Vermundr’s leg, where a rioter with a massive hole in her stomach had shoved a wrench with a pry-tip into the spacing between the armour plates behind the knee. Iorek as well takes a blow to the face, a chunk of broken masonry breaking the young Space Wolves nose before he is silenced by a return of bolt pistol fire.

[Iorek; while the heavy weapon’s attention is elsewhere now would be a great time to try and kill its firer, though distance and your pistol might not allow for this yet. Shooting might even garner you the attention of that gun even. Vermundr; you need to keep the crowd from Iorek, but Keris and Dagfari also need help, what do you do?]


----------



## CommissarHorn

“Wohoho!” Romka watched as a mob of poorly armed workers charged his squad. The traitor’s voice, Romka did not recognise and it meant nothing to him. 

Seeing the armaments of the frenzied peasants, Romka felt it wasn’t a fair fight and taking off his helmet, revealing his face to the enemy, he strode into the oncoming mob. 

Clutching his headgear, he smashed it across a worker and dropping it, head butted another. Romka didn’t notice the approaching Heavy Weapons because he was caught up in the middle of bashing one of the worker’s head in with another enemy’s head. 

Five workers leapt onto the Space Marine, attempting to take drag him down. They succeeded in slowing him down as he continued to beat a worker with a lasgun, oblivious of their efforts.
“Peasant bastard!”

Suddenly, Romka could feel pain surging through his brothers and looking up, finally noticed the gun emplacement. Fortunately, they hadn’t noticed him. Throwing the workers off, Romka dived into the Heavy Weapon, crashing into it, head first.
The shocked troopers fired wildly at Romka as he waved his fists and yelled at them.
“Bastard! Come ‘ere I’ll show you!”


----------



## darkreever

Romka; You barrel into some of the heavy weapon crew, completely missing the gunner as he fires on at Alrik. One of the others recovers quickly, scrabbling to unholster a las-pistol and proceeds to land a shot into your pouldron, blackening the spot and causing the skin of your neck to blister from the heat discharge. A handful of mobbing workers and rioters jump to the team's aid, several latching onto your arms and one jumping onto your back, trying to force a knife into your neck.

[You cannot stop the heavy weapon at this time, the press of bodies about you is preventing you from helping Alrik. Fight them off and then see if you can help Alrik or Tyr; you will not be able to help yourself and one of them in a single post.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr roared as killed, he felt strangely at home here in the press of bodies, slaughtering with every movement. He registered Alrik dispatching two of the guns but the other was up and gunning at them before he could get to it, shots pinging off his armor as it turned towards Alrik. Tyr saw a lasgun not too far aim and fire at him, in a slow motion he could see the round heading for him but there was nothing he could do about it and it struck him square in the chest knocking him to the floor.

Eight workers jumped him and pain blossomed on multiple spots of his body as knives and all sorts of sharp things stabbed at the weak points in his armor. He bellowed in anger as he fought to get these whelps off of him and grasped one's leg with his power fist and ripped outwards. The worker flew outwards with a howl leaving a small object protruding from Tyr's elbow joint, one down seven to go. One wiggled up his chestplate and smiled down on his face as he lifted a crowbar to smash his skull, Tyr smiled back because of two things, one his skull could take a blow from that crowbar and not even crack and two because he had spit.

The man tilted his head as he tried to contemplate Tyr's smile but swung the crowbar anyway, it collided with his skull with a loud thump and as the worker pulled his arm back up Tyr spit in his face. One of the advantages of being an Astartes was the acidic spit that they could work up, not all chapters had the ability, but it was quite common. The spit burned the man's face who fell back screaming and clawing at his face, Tyr's own head having a nice laceration from the crowbar but suffering no further damage.

All he needed to do was get one arm free and he could pick himself up and kill the rest of these whelps.


----------



## Euphrati

Bones snapped under his weight as Keris came crashing down amidst the traitors; the sensation was much akin to dropping upon a heavy snow with a crust of ice on top, the bodies holding his weight for a fraction of a moment before giving way and dropping him within the mire of traitorous miners. His blade lashed out, teeth sinking into flesh and bone with every stroke. The sharp retort of the two grenades detonating was muffled by the screams of the dying and the snarls of his brothers as they fought to follow the orders barked by Vermundr.

Keris had come down short of his mark; a low growl of anger boiled from the wolf within his mind. His wounds had slowed him, curtailed his actions, and the beast that shared his soul also shared his rage at the weakness of his body. He turned that rage back on those whom would seek to do more than merely wound him. His bolt pistol barked at point blank range, the explosive rounds passing completely though the first rank of bodies before detonating in the ones behind. The scent of one of the Wolves from Baldyr’s Claw reached Keris as he tore his growling blade from the body before him, so far the new additions to his pack had fought in silence. 

The deep-throated roar of a heavy bolter joined the fray as the traitor lugging the heavy weapon opened fire, scything down the civilians without thought as he sought Space Wolf flesh with the thundering rounds. The bodies before Keris exploded in sprays of deep crimson, the restricting press of workers suddenly gone in a haze of strafing fire. Bolt rounds tore through the empty space as Keris flung himself to the side, survival instinct and training forcing his body to move despite the lancing pain in his gut as a round detonated upon the protective plates of his torso.

Keris tucked his head and rolled, leaping to his feet with fangs bared and an imposing howl of challenge echoing across the hall. He dashed forward into the empty space, crouched low as possible while a liquid snarl poured from his throat, well aware that he was presenting a tempting target for the gunner but praying to Russ that his actions would give his brother a chance to take his shot unimpeded. Bringing his pistol up, Keris thumbed the rune to burst and rapidly depressed the trigger before letting his legs fold up under his weight and dropping to the slick marble floor in a slide.

‘Traitorous scum! Your faithlessness has earned you only death!’

He barked over the report of his pistol, his faith in the skills of his brothers without question.


----------



## deathbringer

Voices carried over the air, breaking through the screams of a woman clutching the huge gash in her stomach desperately trying to hold her severed guts inside her failing body. It was a piteous mewing and Iorek aimed his pistol as the wolf within him snarled in irritation and was shocked to find it click empty. He silenced the shrieking cries with a revolted glance and a sharp stab that left her traumatised body oozing blood over the ejected pistol clip.

The voice of Keris reached his ear followed by the commands of Vermundr, his voice suddenly authoritarian, bolstered by his triumph with the wolf lord and Iorek felt a sudden smile boost his lips. The pack was coming together, becoming a unit solidifying before his very eyes. 

"What makes these traitors think they can keep mocking us so freely, even after all we have killed?...Iorek a man lays ahead of the mob in front of you carrying a heavy bolter, let us clear the masses for you. I need your range to out do his before he feels close enough to fire effectively."

He reached into his belt sliding a pistol clip easily in and sliding back the mechanism as the wolf lifted its head and tasted the air, tasted the scent of blood fiery warm upon his tongue , the fearful fanaticism of the rioters causing a ripple of icy hatred to flood his body and now on the very edge of his sense the cool menace of a threat, a deadly purpose that tickled the very end of his nose and he stretched out trying to taste more of the new menace. 

As he tasted the air a barrage of new scents moving fast towards him, a wall of anger and desperate determination and a hint of anguish assaulted him and he turned his head eyes cast up to catch a glimpse...

A dark shape, a wolf in full flight, body spread eagled like a grotesquely deformed bird of prey flew over Iorek's head. He tasted Keris's scent clearly as the wolf arced over his head and he tasted agony in the determined wolf that spiked as he clattered, flattening rioters under his power armoured bulk. The brave wolf fought the anguish with waves of determination and his bolt pistol barked, scything down civilians as he fought to create space for Iorek's shot.

A tug , short and sharp broke the wave of scents that held iorek spellbound as a man gripped his ankle struggling to pull down his armoured form. Iorek's glance was casual and the man that had animated him once more received a chainsword thrust through the head for his trouble.

New scents assailed him, as his claw members piled around him yet he brushed them away as Vermundr roared

"You heard me everyone, make room for Iorek!"

He focused moving forward pistol outstretched as the rioters fell back in a wave away from the wrath of the wolves and the heavy bolter spat into action scything down civilians and they fell away in tatters. The way was clear and as Keris threw himself aside as the heavy boltered scythed in his direction. He had to act.. even if his shot went awry he would draw attention away from the others and give them time. His decision was made and he pushed through the crowd, walking calmly forwards raising his pistol and beginning his aim, trusting in his brothers to guard his sides.

Bollucks

There was a sharp crack and he felt something heavy impact upon his nose and a wave of agony rolled over him and both wolves, twisted and noble roared in rage, fur upon end as the joy of scent was ripped from him.

The wolves struck simultaneously raging claws tearing at Iorek's emotions. His pistol whirled as the fangs sank deep into the flesh as it bucked and he opened his eyes to see a headless corpse, a peace of stone raised comically in one hand. A savage kick sent it sprawling, yet the kill was unsatisfying... he needed more... the scent of the kill left him hollow... he had to kill again... to taste more... to feel the shocking ripples of ecstacy up his spine as the body of his victim contorted in agony and fell lifeless. He wheeled pushing on towards the heavy bolter bearing marine as Keris's legs buckled and he slipped to the floor, exposed vulnerable.

The proud wolf gave a whimper of shock that turned into a rumbling growl of vengeful fury that mingled with the twisted wolves desperate hateful fury, the savage desire for blood. The fangs gleamed bright and Iorek raised the pistol so it shimmered, black and menacing in the light. His legs carried him forward yet his mind worked frantically... the distance was against him... yet keris was wounded... weak... he had to act.... to help him give him time... He aimed slightly above the target's head hoping that the arcing path of the bullets would counteract the distance between them and cull his foe or at least serve as a distraction. The gap was closing and Keris was sliding towards the heavy bolter and Iorek pumped the trigger. 

3 times his finger compressed and 3 times the recoil bucked his arm and Iorek watched the bullets as the wolves in his head leapt forward pouncing upon their prey... they lingered in mid air fangs bared... yet would they bring down their prey or would those long fangs clench upon empty air....the chances haunted Iorek as the bullets scythed through the air and a red dribble of warm blood slithered down the pale skin under iorek's nose to press a burning caress upon his pale parted lips.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Surrounded by the workers, Romka was being dragged down again. He was already hit and a peasant was attempting to stab him in the neck. 

Grabbing the worker on his back, Romka lifted him up to his face. “Here’s your chance!” Surprised, the worker thrust the knife into Romka’s face but hit the bionic half and the knife bounced off the metal. The Space Marine chuckled. “He he, unlucky.” 

Clutching the poor enemy by his neck, Romka grabbed another trying to shoot him with a shotgun by his head. Turning to the fallen Marine (Tyr), covered in frenzied peasants, Romka counted the enemies attached to himself. Four. “That should be about right.” The worker’s bodies added to Romka’s weight, which made him into an unstoppable block of mass. 

Clumsily hurling himself, two workers clutching for their lives on his arms and another two being clutched by their heads, the Space Marine crashed and smashed his way through the mob, beating aside the fragile humans. The workers desperately fired at him, ripping parts of his face off and scorching his armour. 

Roaring with laughter Romka made it within meters of the fallen Tyr and like a spring, leapt into the air. “Hah!” With his added weight, Romka landed on Tyr, crushing several bodies in between the fallen marine and himself. Landing beside Tyr, Romka crushed another enemy underneath him and scattered the horrified workers with his skirting body.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik could only curl his lips at the sight of Romka. If he had felt a hatred, which he had with Iorek, it was not even close to that which he felt towards the newcomer. His finger pushed down upon the trigger, however he did not do it far enough for him to fire instead letting his finger move away. He was a liability filled oaf, a whore spawned Wolf who would only meet his end for being so reckless. And Alrik would not step in to end it. 

He had almost took his kill, and Alrik was a edge from snapping out at his fellow Brother, and if he did so, he would make sure that he would not stop before the bastard learned a lesson in the feeding chain, and some respect. Alrik considered himself rather high in the Pack hierarchy, thinking of himself as second only to Vermundr and Keris. 

He sighted the third crew, and watched Romka fall past, sniggering loudly he began to advance forwards at a slow walk at first, before turning into a sprint. Rounds began to play a rhythm upon his chest and midsection, pinging away as he felt his Chainsword shake violently, a shrill howl was emitted from his throat. And he leapt into the fray.

As he landed, he went into a crouch, swinging his Chainsword upwards he caught the hand of the Gunner and sent him onto his backside, clutching the pulsing wound as it sprayed blood down his fatigues. Alrik saw chipped bone amongst the red, and fired his Bolt Pistol, sending the upper body of the upright man slamming into the floor, blood and flesh flying away in all directions. 

The other two Stub Operators, one oversized man who had one to many chins and a small lithe women with a scraggly mane of blonde hair pulled tightly into a topknot, her eyes drawn within their sockets. Both were now firing at him with Las-Carbines, which they had pulled up from straps upon their hip, holding them at the hip. 

Alrik stood, making himself as big as he possibly could he howled once more, throwing his head back so that he was staring at the roof and outstretched both arms, before bringing them back in and crossing them over the form a X before him. He spun around, his Chainsword slipping forwards in his palm so only his fingers held it and came back around, firing his Bolt Pistol at the same time. 

The lady was struck by the Bolt, flying backwards with bloody streamers flying outwards from her quickly rupturing chest, the Firehawk was sure he saw her heart getting torn apart by a piece of metal but simply shook it away, giving a short prayer to the Emperor. His Chainsword struck the man in his gut. 

Like a pig, organs fell outwards spilling across the floor, blood and human waste could be seen, a destroyed intestine showing the latter clearly. However the man, somehow managed to stay upright. His eyes went wide, his hands playing with the ragged hole cut through his front, Alrik stepped forwards, and brought his blade upwards, ripping away the mans head with a spray of blood. 

The Astartes turned, looking to where Tyr and Romka was he showed his fangs and charged, beneath his armoured hands his knuckles turned white. He skidded to a halt however, and instead turned away towards the door, slowly he walked towards it and only stopped above those he had killed later, letting out a roar of defiance he challenged “Come Traitors! Face my wrath! I shall reap you from this bastard world!”.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's eyes widened as he saw Romka leaping towards him and fought to yell at his brother but soon the wind was knocked out of him as Romka landed square on his chest causing him to loose his breath. He could feel his ribcage absorb the impact and the braking bones of the workers who had been on top of him, as their bodies slid off him in a pool of blood he suddenly had the freedom to move. Roaring in anger he pulled himself up and flung a worker into the wall next to him before turning to the last one on his right arm and ripping him off with his powerfist.

He was free of the mass of bodies that he had been fighting and that had pulled him down and turned to look for more enemies to kill. What was left of the mob that had attacked them was little more then rabble now, all scared of the warriors in front of them but they really had no where to go and must have known they were going to die.

Two he managed to kill with his bolt pistol while the rest were finally dispatched by his power fist in puffs or sprays of blood and gore. Turning to Romka, pain flairing all over his body, he picked the new Blood Claw up, in his current state he had trouble speaking but a Space Wolf didn't need words to communicate at most times, and stared into his face his eyes burning and face contorted into a snarl and let out a deep menacing growl before letting go of his new brother. Romka's actions were not only starting to put him in danger but the rest of the squad too, and Tyr would be damned if he were going to let this new addition to their pack kill him from his actions.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr blinked in pain beneath his helmet and automatically stepped back due to the sharp pain, popping the woman's skull under his heel. He looked down behind him cursing the fool. He yanked the wrench out of his suit, gritting his teeth...it should heal....but for now stepping forward was no longer an easy task. 

He then heard the heavy bolter make its presence assuredly known by all, and saw the damage it wreaked amongst both enemy and ally alike, blowing traitors into red dust and forcing Keris and the silent wolf Dagfari to the ground.

Iorek remained standing and tried to land the shot as he had commanded but experienced some trouble of his own. After dispensing of his ,as Vermundr had his, Iorek raised his pistol again to aim for the major threat.

There were still a good number of enemies on the causeway and several ran past Keris as he slid to the ground, seeing Iorek aiming for their heavy support and intending on stopping him...despite their heavy support being just as willing to kill them as well.

Vermundr pushed past the sharp pain, and threw himself toward Iorek..these traitors would not mess up this shot...there was no time for it. Vermundr would NOT see his brothers blown away by this insignificant infidel; and Iorek would likely not have time to take more shots before that happened.

Though stumbling some on his injured leg, Vermundr managed to make it by Iorek's straight standing form without falling into him. He took his bolt pistol from his waist again, and swooped down to a crouch in front of Iorek, knowing his brother would be so focused on the shot that he would not move. 

Crouching right in front of Iorek's legs on his non-injured knee, Vermundr blew each traitor back one by one as they got close enough to him where he could simply point and shoot to assure their halting. And of course the more bodies falling to the ground the easier Iorek's shot would be.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Standing up, Romka stared cheerfully at his Brother. He could sense the rage flowing out from him. “Ha ha, Brother!” Clasping Tyr by the shoulder, Romka grinned joyously. “Brother, it fills me with joy to know that you are alive and your injuries are not serious enough for you to forget the reckless deeds of your Brother! Your anger warms my hearts!” 

A stupid grin on his face, Romka snapped a broken arm into place and punched his knee cap into position.
“Wow, that dive was worthy a glance from the Great Wolf Father. Lets see what else we can stir up eh, ha ha ha!” 
Punching a retreating enemy in the head, the Space Marine ducked as a spear flew inches past his face.
“Woah, did ya see that? That’s crazy!”
Picking the spear up he snapped it across his knee and threw the sharp end back at its original owner, knocking the owner down with its force rather than its point.
Still clutching the other end, Romka beat the fallen worker with it. “Teach you for throwin’ crazy shit!”


----------



## darkreever

Romka, Tyr, and Alrik; as suddenly as they surge had come through the opening, the presence of living enemies is gone; wiped out between you three and the wolf scout Morgun, blood dripping down the side of his arm, none of it his. Each of you look to the veteran marine and he nods to both Alrik and Tyr, his words the harsh tones of Fenrisian. _"Move those heavy weapons, don't want the next wave to try and use them against us, not when it can be us using them."_

When he looks to Romka however, the anger in his scent seems to expand by worlds. Crossing the distance, he grabs your gorget with one gloved hand, his strength though unaided by power armour is somehow enough to force you in close with him. _"I do not know how Baldyr puts up with your foolishness pup, but this is no time to try and mimic that damned trickster. Stop fooling about and fight with your pack, don't play with them in the middle of a fight."_ His words this time little more than harsh barks before he lets you go. Turning away, Morgun returns his attention to the nearest cogitator station, trying to see if he can't figure out how the others are doing.

[You three have a moment of respite, gather the heavy weapons or speak amongst yourselves or whatnot. You can only move and reposition one weapon each per post, but if you choose to take action towards one another you may not have time to do that. Make your choice and make it well, because you will not be able to do both.]


Iorek, Keris, Vermundr, and Dagfari; Even as Keris hurls insults and challanges to the soldier with the heavy weapon rig the man turns to face the blood claw. Before he can get his weapon ready though, a trio of shots blast into him, one bouncing off the rig itself, a second blowing a hole in his chest, and the last one taking the head in a shower of brain matter and bone. In death, the troopers body pulls the trigger and heavy bolter rounds rip into all in the falling corpses path, ripping a line through the crowd and forcing Vermundr and Iorek to dive to the side.

As Vermundr hits the ground, taking another life with him, Baldyr launches himself over the blood claws and through the lighter press of bodies, his own pistol barking out and silencing a second rig assisted trooper before he can do anything. _"Lets press on Vermundr, we will only be able to draw so many from the inquisitor and company."_ He yells over the screams of the dieing.

Watching the heavy weapon soldier die, Keris turns to the crowd about him, less than two dozen remain of nearly seventy. You haul Dagfari up from the ground, taking the head from a nearby woman trying to crawl away from the fighting.

[Finish off what remains and continue on, nothing else stands between you and the ground floor laden with heavy weapons now. Vermundr if you have any thoughts on how to possibly clear those manning the guns for a few moments, it'd be a good idea to give the order.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr hit the ground hard, continuing his shots as he threw himself to the side and watched Baldyr's shadow float over the floor in a flash.

He cut down a second heretic carrying similar weaponry. Would they have been prepared for that man at all had baldyr not been there?

to Iorek, "Excellent shot brother, it feels good to see the tainted minds of our enemies be blown apart and shed upon the ground. Even got us several more free kills." Vermundr chuckeld as he rose to his feet, "Those bastards."

he looked back across the causeway and estimated only about twenty enemies left in their way before they had to face the heavy weapons of the ground floor.

some of these heretics sprinted forwards while others looked for a way out when there was none. Vermundr flipped his pistol to burst and caught the foremost man point blank in the forehead, blowing a huge hole in the back of his head. The first round clearing enough of a passage for the other two to fly straight through hitting another heretic behind him.

Continuing in this manner, using several clips but killing each new heretic with a barrage of satisfaction and ensuring death (no more getting a wrench in the back of his knee was the idea) he made his way to Keris who had stood and gone to Dagfari. When next to them he spoke, "I did not see where all of those shots went brothers, but I assume you are both well enough to carry on?"

Baldyr's voice rang out and reminded him a plan was needed for approaching the ground floor.

Vermundr turned his head back, Iorek was finishing off the rest of the enemies here, he turned back to keris, "I dont suppose asking a wise pack brother for any suggestions would be too much to ask?"


----------



## dark angel

Alrik smiled as no more attack came and instead let his tense body grow loose, holstering his Bolt Pistol after reloading it, and letting his Chainsword dangle from the clamps at his hip. He moved towards the nearest Stubber, a long barreled weapon with a magazine dangling from its underside, a cloth grip wrapped around the forwards half of it. He remembered the rounds that had struck his armour and couldn’t help but shake his head at the sheer power the weapon could muster. 

He stood above it, looking at the woman who was lying at its tripod base, her chest caved in and her lower legs pulled apart by a Chainsword, or more than likely, a stray Bolt. He reached for it, and gripped hold of the gun with both hands, slowly and carefully he moved backwards, never turning his back to the doorway. It was heavy in his hands, and his chest swelled with honour and pride, yet with a warm pain that almost brought a tear to his eyes. 

Why this pain was within him, he did not know, however he noticed no injury nor did he feel one, and instead believed it to be for those Wolves who had fallen upon the damned world. He placed the weapon down upon its three stands, turning it by the muzzle until the faced the door and looked around at Tyr and Romka, sniffing at the last.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr looked around himself and his brothers for any other enemies to attack but found none. Deactivating his powerfist and holstering his bolt pistol he silently made his way to one of the stubbers and lifted it with a huff, pain flaired through his whole body and he knew that he had recieved multiple wounds, but the haze was still partly over him and so he didn't register if they were bad or small wounds. His chest was rising and falling visibly and the scorch mark on his face and new laceration on his forehead were already starting to heal a bit, the blood of those he had killed was sprayed all across his armor, little bits of gore still clinging to different parts.

As he reached what he thought was a suitable spot for the stubber he set it upon its legs and turned it so it faced out the doors and into the hallway beyond. He caught Alrik staring at him and then at Romka and nodded at his brother Alrik for a job well done. The haze was starting leave his body and turned into a small buzz inside his head, his body was giving him a short respite from the intensity with which he had fought but it still knew that it was not finished yet and kept him ready.

His nostrils widened as he took in the smells around him and his body shivered suddenly as the haze retreated to just the far reaches of his mind. He could tell his brother Alrik was watching Romka and Tyr knew that any wolf would be able to tell his feelings towards this new pack mate by Tyr's smell. He had always thought he could get along with anyone, but this new wolf was certainly someone that he was going to have a very hard time dealing with, he didn't mind being young and ignorant and everything that went with that, they were all like that at times, but when you endanger the rest of your pack as willingly and knowingly as Romka did Tyr had a problem.

He could smell Morgun and the wolf scout's scent helped to calm him a bit, he looked down at his hand that usually held his pistol but was empty now, and it was shaking a bit. He opened and closed his fist repeatedly so that the others wouldn't notice the shaking.


----------



## deathbringer

The narrow slanting eyes dissappeared in a shower of gore as a bolt impacted upon the traitors skull and Iorek saw the body slump through a translucscent mist of raging triumph that caused him to throw his head back and howl in triumph. The two wolves, twisted and pure alike raised their heads high in the air and howled as steaming blood streamed from their fangs, red rubies shrouded by the mist of there heaving breath. 

A tall rioter clipped his face with his fist and the triumphant howl of victory turned into a snarl as the man's neck was snapped by a left handed blow to his face. There was a howl and a sudden explosion of rounds as Baldyr toppled a second of the bastards bearing heavy bolters and rounds filled the corridor. Iorek tried to change direction and dive for cover yet suddenly his foot slipped and he clattered to the ground as the bullets ripped over his head, whistling as they tore over his back. Suddenly the whistling stopped and he pushed himself upwards knocking aside a small man that had reached for the back of his exposed head with a tiny knife clutched in his hand. The man toppled and a bullet exploded from Iorek's pistol and the man convulsed as he slumped upon the ground.

Over the lip of the stairs he saw heavy weapons teams shifting their defences into position and he heard

"I dont suppose asking a wise pack brother for any suggestions would be too much to ask?"

The twisted wolf growled, his hackles rising upon end and Iorek felt spite growing in his stomach... so Iorek wasn't wise.. he couldn't advise the pack leader.. he wasn't worthy of such honour... he who had just saved them from one of the devestators... he who had effectively saved keris's life... he who had obeyed Vermundr's to the letter... had put aside his resentment to aid his leadership. 

_undervalued unappreciated... they dont believe in you... unlike keris... look at him_

Iorek felt a twinge in his stomach yet he pushed it away ruthlessly and studied the ground below... he knew what he would do... he could see it, visualise the assault. Split his brothers... some to fire and rain down grenades from above allowing their brothers to move down the steps to the ground level.. then as his brothers reach the ground floor jump down into the melee in order to support the wolves from the very middle. The treacherous bastards would be hit from both sides and crushed between them. Yet it was the pack leaders decision and he wouldn't interfere.

"Your opinions aren't wanted anyway" whispered a cold voice in his head


----------



## CommissarHorn

Romka felt curious as he was being reprimanded by the Wolf Scout Morgun and as soon as the Scout finished giving them advice, Romka started kicking the bodies of the dead around. As he was moving the corpses out of the way, pushing them towards where he thought the enemy would come, forming a small makeshift obstacle for any attackers, he was still curious about the Scout and his new brothers. “Are they really afraid of death that much?” Picking up a fallen girder, almost the same size of himself, he hefted it onto his shoulder expecting to use it anytime soon.

Sorting out the bodies, so they wouldn’t get in the Marine’s way, Romka was baffled as to why his brothers were so worried about dying. “Its only death!” Perhaps they had loved ones to see or maybe they were playing a game he didn’t know about. Romka really liked his brothers, as Space Marines sharing the common goal of serving the Emperor, so any thoughts of them lacking faith were inconceivable and never entered his head. 

“Its probably a game, the last one to die wins. He he, even we Space Marines need some sort of entertainment! I must be ruining their chances of winning, I see now. I haven’t been invited and I don’t want to barge in, so I’ll try not to get in their way.” Romka smiled as he swept the bodies aside with the massive girder, held in both his hands.

Romka grinned at Tyr and Alrik, "Sounds fun."


----------



## Euphrati

Time seemed to slow as the solider fought to bring the heavy weapon to bear on him and Keris noted the fanatical gleam in the man’s eyes right before his skull detonated in a shower of bone fragments and brain matter. The traitor’s body convulsed in death, sending an erratic spray of bullets into the corpses around him and forcing Iorek and Vermundr to hurl themselves aside from the barrage. 

Keris pushed to his feet; gritting his teeth as his gut still ached from the impact he had taken moments before, joining the throbbing in this leg as it fought the movement. He cast about, taking account of the destruction wrought by his brothers. Bodies were strewn about, staining the stone floor in an ever-spreading stain of crimson. Of the seething mass of traitors, barely half a dozen were still moving and Keris felt no remorse at the obliteration of these faithless souls, yet the burning anger that filled his heart flickered dangerously and the wolf in his soul gave a low growl. _The treacherous serpents had much to answer for._

One of the new members of the pack, a Wolfbrother that Keris realized he did not even know the name of, knelt where he had thrown himself aside from the onslaught of the heavy weapon. He reached out, catching hold of the fellow warrior’s forearm and hauling him to his feet. The Wolf seemed relatively unharmed, though a bit shaken as Keris turned to lop off the head of a woman trying to drag her torn body from the shadow of the Wolves.

Vermundr’s scent filled his nose as his packleader stepped near to inquire on his health as well as their situation. Keris stretched to his full height, grimacing as healing bruises made themselves known to his senses, 

‘I took no notable wounds, Russ be praised, thanks to Iorek’s keen eye,’

Keris cast an appreciative glance in the direction of his packmate though Iorek’s scent again held a bitter note that caused the wolf in his mind to shift uneasily. Keris felt the mounting concern about his brother’s state of mind tug at the back of his thoughts as he quickly mulled over their predicament. His eyes came to rest on the crumpled form of the trooper and an idea blossomed into being as he holstered his chainsword and pistol. Keris spoke as he covered the distance to the first trooper’s body,

‘These weapons were forged in the name of the AllFather,’ his cold, blue eyes held a startling intensity as he knelt beside the broken from, ‘I say we let them speak with His wrath once again down upon those who would deface their spirits so.’

Keris reached down to manhandle the limp collection of flesh and metal over, taking hold of the heavy bolter and checking it for damage. The weapon was intact, though mounted firmly to the framework of metal that allowed it to be wielded by an unaugmented human. Keris gave a low growl; he knew his strength was enough that, with sufficient effort, he could tear the bolter from its mount though the risk of to the weapon itself was high. A scent crossed his senses, followed by an inspiration. Keris’s eyes drifted past Vermundr to the towering shape of the Wolf Guard and the gleaming sword in his grasp. 

Meeting Baldyr’s eyes, Keris knew he needed no words to convy his desire to the elder Wolf and hauled the weapon back until the mount-arm lay bare, like a wolf dragging down an Elk and exposing the neck to its packmate for the kill.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr watched as Keris strode to the corpse's body, the man who just moments ago was their biggest threat. Keris took the heavy bolter from him, lifting it up with confidence at seeing Baldyr's apparent acknowledgement.

excited and confident in Keris's decision, "Aye brother!" 

he turns to Iorek, "Looks like you may get a taste for being a Long Fang today Iorek. Pick up the second heavy bolter from that traitor and join Keris in raining Holy fire upon our enemies on the ground."

Vermundr motions to Dagfari, "You shall join me at the front with Baldyr silent wolf! come!"

and with that he drew both weapons in hand once again, limping only slightly as his biological repair systems focused on his injured knee.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris winced inwardly at his packleader’s words, clearing his throat with a low growling cough,

‘Vermundr,’ Keris’s voice was low and hard edged as pack-ice, 

‘_Wolf Guard_ Baldyr, named Ice-Slayer, earned his place _centuries_ before either of us were mere babes, let alone chosen Sons of Russ.’ 

Keris sighed and his tone softened,

‘Respect, my brother, and perhaps one day our own actions shall merit it in return.’


----------



## darkreever

Tyr, Romka, and Alrik; as Romka seems to just mull about doing nothing, Alrik and Tyr set about doing as Morgun had instructed and taking two of the heavy weapons for themselves. That left the third unmoved, but worse was that it was out in the open, fallen from its tripod mount in the middle of the large hole from which you had initially come.

Tense minutes go by with nothing coming, you hear the sounds of movement from out in the adjoining halls but none seem all to willing to throw another wave at you just yet. It is only a matter of time before they amass more bodies than you four alone can handle even with the two heavy weapons.

[There is still time to go after the third gun, but do you risk it? Who knows what the enemy outside is planning or has set up, and there is still the possible matter of the other out there; your hated foe. Does he still linger out there? The scent of blood and death have become to strong for you to be able to tell for sure, but it is always possible. Make your decision wisely, do you go for the gun or use the time amongst yourselves? Also, there are no fallen girders the size of you, your initial breach did not do nearly that much damage, nor are miners and soldiers of a mining world armed with spears for any reason.]


Iorek and Keris; Without further waiting, Baldyr makes his way over to Keris and hacks the exposed limb from the body to better free the heavy weapon. Iorek and Vermundr do much the same to free it before you make your way to the lip of the second level and are met by a hail of heavy fire at your very sight. Seems like they managed to get two of the autocannons in position finally, though your didn’t get much sight on the others.
[You may fire when ready, remember that in addition to the autocannons there is a missile launcher and at least two heavy bolters, maybe another autocannon and heavy bolter as well. Might be a good idea to plan ahead, one of you go for the guns trained on you while the other rakes the rest or something.]

Vermundr; As Baldyr aids Keris in freeing the first heavy bolter you do the same with Iorek on the second one. That’s when you notice the cold feeling of tension in the air, though it nearly eludes you. Your not entirely certain where it comes from, though it being something you noticed around Iorek could be an indication. Finally tearing yourself away from your pack-brother, you, Baldyr, and the rest of the pack with you make for the stairs and await the opening shots from Keris and Iorek before making your charge.

_“Theres something about that one, no good will come of whatever that something is though.”_ Baldyr rumbles to you, his eyes briefly cast in Iorek’s direction while the young wolf’s back is turned to the wolf guard. _“He is of the pack, but isolated from it; when we return to the Fist of Russ you must seek the wolf priest about this.”_ Baldyr continued, that’s when it became apparent that his words were not orders or anything of the like, but genuine advice that only the pack leader could act on. Without warning, you hear the bark of gunfire, time to get things going and end the lives of yet more enemies.

[I don’t think theres much that needs to be said here, you likely have more than enough direction without me further directing. Though how do you react to Iorek and the words of Baldyr?]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik knelt down on one knee, pushing the palm of one hand into the blood upon the floor, making a bloody handprint. He turned his palm around so it faced his face, and pulled himself up staring at the redness that filled the area. His thoughts lingered upon those lives he had reaped since the Pack had first arrived, and those of the Space Wolves that had been taken from them. What of the Gene-Seed of Odin? He had not seen it recovered, and thus his Brother would not be able to live on, yet Alrik vowed to himself that he would never be forgotten. 

Romka was dazing about, and the Firehawk had noticed that he seemed to do a lot of this since the two Packs had first met up. In the nineteen days since the Company had arrived in the Auelk system, Alrik had changed from the blood thirsty whore he had been, and had realised that not even the Astartes were impossible to down. His mind once again dwelt upon those who had fallen, and he nibbled at his lower lip before stopping abruptly and licking his lips. 

He had to say something. Slowly he began to walk forwards towards the Stubber which leaned ponderously on its tripod, as he did so he said in a calm voice “Romka, you need to set yourself upon a path, you dance around like some Jester and endanger not only your own life, but that of Mine, Tyr’s and Morgun’s, you shall find your priorities Brother, that I will make sure”. He continued slowly towards the Stubber, only stooping down when he was near, gripping it from beneath he advanced backwards without turning his back.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's mind was elsewhere as they had their small moment of respite, he was busy trying to calm himself and did not notice much else at the moment. Inside of him a huge wolf growled deeply as he fought to keep it in check, slowly he approached the great beast as he spoke calm words to it. The beast stopped and stared at him as he got closer to it and its head lowered as he put his hand out to pat it, suddenly and without warning it made its move and tried to bite him. Tyr howled in anger and punched the beast straight in the jaw and wrestled it to the ground, it struggled for awhile but finally its body went limp and he could hear its labored breathing. 

Slowly he let go of it and nothing happened, the wolf simply got up and sat on its haunches watching him,* "Good," *he said to it, *"We need each other, and I don't plan on dieing for a very long time."* The wolf stared for awhile before seeming to understand and lifted its head letting out a long howl, Tyr tilted his head back and joined in, the beast was one with itself.

Tyr was suddenly brought back to reality, he turned to look behind him and saw Morgun watching him intently and wondered if the old wolf scout knew what had just transpired in Tyr's mind. His eyes were clearer now and he felt the power and strength he had not moments before but his mind was his own, he was focused. He knew it would still be awhile until he had full control over himself and his inner wolf, but Tyr had faith as did the Wolf Priest who had found him. 

Looking around him he saw the death that he and his brothers had caused and felt no sympathy for those that now lie torn apart and dead. Romka was idling about, and took all of Tyr's control to not go over and beat his new brother some sense, but Alrik was who chided Romka this time. Tyr looked at his armor and sniffed, no wonder he couldn't smell anything else but death, not only were they surrounded by blood and gore but he was absolutely covered in it. 

No matter, he saw Alrik make his way to the last stubber and as he made his way back dragging the stubber, Tyr came up behind him ready to protect his brother if need be. His bolt pistol pointing forward and his power fist activated he stood watch over his brother silently, he would protect him at all costs as he would his other brothers.


----------



## CommissarHorn

(OOC: Idling about? Romka was moving bodies out of the way. Can’t defend a position with obstacles and bodies lying around. He was also making a small barricade with the bodies.)


“Romka, you need to set yourself upon a path, you dance around like some Jester and endanger not only your own life, but that of Mine, Tyr’s and Morgun’s, you shall find your priorities Brother, that I will make sure”. 

Romka was still confused. “Your own life…” Of course, he had understood that he was ruining this game his brothers played, but did this mean he was also playing? Perhaps they had invited him in some inconspicuous manner and he did not pick it up. Romka’s spirit was elated as he sensed his brother’s acceptance of him. Romka had a lot of friends in his village but since his transformation into Blood Claw he was too pre-occupied with prayers and killing that he forgot about friendships. He wasn’t very good at games, especially ones like this, but he understood that forming a bond with his brothers was equally important and so accepted the invitation to play and eagerly moved beside Tyr, who seemed very alert and ready to cut down any oncoming enemies.

Smiling, he stepped beside Tyr, bare fisted, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Yo, Imma sorry for buggerin’ up yer game, but thanks for invitn’ me. Tell ya the truth, you guys ‘ave got more of a chance at winnin’, Im pretty shit at this sorta stuff, so you ain’t got nothing’ to worry about.”

Romka could sense the attackers gathering so he looked around for a weapon. Picking up a dead trooper by the leg he was about to use it as a club but stopped and realised it might endanger his brother’s chances of winning. “Hmm.” He put the body back down.

The Blood Claw was about to undo his shoulder pads and started to unclip them, suddenly he stopped and palmed his face after realising that it may also ruin his own chance of winning, and although he didn’t care much for it, it wouldn’t be fun for his new friends. “Hmm.” He clipped the Armour back on.

…maybe he could use Morgun as a weapon? No, that would only upset Alrik. “Hmm.” Romka stamped his foot from frustration.

“Ha ha!” Laughing, Romka imagined how funny it would be if he was to throw shoes at the oncoming enemy to piss them off…but it would also make Morgun pissed off. “Hmm.” Romka dropped the miner’s shoe he was holding.

What was there to do but wait? Infact, what was he to do after the attackers charged? Now that jumping into the middle of the chargers, swinging his fists, was out of the question, what was he to do? 
“Hmm.” Romka scratched his head and thought hard. “Ha! I’ll ask Morgun, he’s supposed to be old…I mean wise.” 

Romka moved towards Morgun and stood, his own hands behind his head. “Sorry, Morgun, but what do ya want me to do?”


----------



## Euphrati

Keris watched as Baldyr gave a curt nod of agreement to his words, stepping forward to bring the edge of _Aonghus-run_ down in a wicked arch. Keris felt the strength of the blow vibrate through his arms; the strange, fridged aura that clung to the blade like an icy kiss of the wind from the flank of the Fang itself upon the exposed skin of his face. The frostblade bit deeply into the rig, but the forgecraft was designed to take the punishment associated with work in the most dangerous mines and it took multiple blows from the Wolf Guard to finally sheer through the arm and free the weapon.

Keris hefted the weapon; taking care with the trailing ammo feed that still remained attached to the coffer on the corpse’s back and nodded his thanks to the elder Wolf, though Baldyr seemed focused upon Vermundr as he moved off with the packleader to prepare their assault. Keris cradled the gun carefully to his chest with one hand, reaching down to drag the body closer to where Iorek was. The bitter scent that hung about his brother called his thoughts back to the words of Morgun.

The muscle in his thigh twitched and Keris flexed it unconsciously to keep the wounded leg loose. Iorek also sported a wound to his face, the rich aroma of the blood of a Son of Russ lingering in his scent as a counterpoint. Keris risked a glance over the lip of the causeway, only to be met with a hail of fire from the guns bellow and snarled a scathing oath in Fenrisian as he ducked back into cover.

This was the first time that he had been presented the chance to speak with Iorek in relative private. Though the setting was far from ideal, the warning from the Wolf Scout lay heavy upon his soul and service to the AllFather was not always about waiting for the perfect moment but seizing upon what was offered. _The wolf in his soul stirred quietly_, the sour scent disturbed it and yet there was also concern. Iorek was his brother and packmate, to taste the biting note that laced his scent was a sorrow far worse than any Keris had ever experienced.

He turned his head to meet Iorek’s red eyes, swallowing down the lump of pride that churned in the pit of his stomach and spoke softly,

‘Iorek, you know my wound is greater than I wish it to appear and my accuracy is not the most notable in the best conditions. I can provide you cover fire though and I would suggest taking out the missile launcher first if at all possible,’

Keris paused; sighing deeply before continuing and holding Iorek’s gaze as he spoke, each word weighed with utter care,

‘Brother… do you know why I could stand facing these guns without hesitation in my heart? Because I had faith that you were there and would not allow me to fall. _That_ is where my courage lays, _in you_… my brothers, my pack. We have lost so many, to lose more is an outcome I wish not think upon.’

Keris let his true concern touch his tone,

‘Morgun spoke words in my ear that I wished to deny; words of caution and warning… Your scent has changed Iorek, but my faith in your ability is absolute. What would you have of me, my brother?’


----------



## deathbringer

The heavy bolter was streaked with blood from the deadly impacts his own bolter shells, a dark congealing mass tainting the deadly beauty of the shining metal. It clled to him yet the tainted blood repulsed him, to touch a weapon that had slain in the name of those that had killed Njoror... in the name of Alpharius. A small tremor of rage and fear traversed his spine followed by a ripple of bilious revulsion that built as he forced his fingers to rub the gory spatter from the metal. A red stain lay upon his fingertips yet suddenly the blood was cleared and he felt the gentle nudge of a knee upon his arm as Vermundr bent to aid him in setting the bolter free

The pack leaders face turned in a small smile and he spoke 

"Looks like you may get a taste for being a Long Fang today Iorek."

The voice in his head lilted sickeningly and Iorek felt his eyelids clamp shut as pain exploded in his head and the lilting twisted voice burned across the back of his mind

_The bastard. What does he know of our dreams... they talk behind our back... sneer at your failures... laugh at your faults_

_Enough worm go sneer elsewhere _ The pure wolf had risen, uncurling and njoror's voice was clear and commanding and the twisted wolf gave a rasping snarl and its distorted stumpy tail flicked as it turned away.


They worked together Iorek steadying the bolter as Vermundr sawed away, hands moving together yet apart.. something... a subtle edge within the arm holding them apart... tension crusting the air... disrupting their harmony.

Eventually it came free and Iorek gripped the barrel revolving the mighty weapon in his hands to untangle the ammo feed and moving towards the lip of the causeway the corpse shifting a little as he adjusted his grip, the ammo feed swaying gently at his movements. He thought back to the long fangs, how they bore the bolter and he copied the style, adjusting his grip to better accomdate the guns massive bulk and the huge recoil he was bracing for.


His back stiffened as he felt a small short flare of pain tickle his nostrils as Keris moved towards him, the body scuffing a path through the bloodstained marble as he shuffled towards him. The wolves stirred, concern flashing through the pure mind of Njoror whilst his twisted adversery snarled and bared his teeth yet Iorek ignored them both as he looked down at the weapon that he clutched to his chest like a new born babe.

Reretfully he released it allowing the weapons wait to bear upon the crade he was forming with his arms. It was a foreign wait heaven, bulkier than a pistol yet it glistened, exuding a deadly power that made the pistol swaying at his hip, incompetent almost pathetic in comparison. Oh to have one of these for his very own.

A volley of shots flashed past him the ripple of gunfire sounds followed by scattered disorganised shouts and he fell to a crouch, allowing the massive weapon to slip to his knee. As Keris slipped down beside him, oaths and curses emitting from pain-twisted lips. Iorek felt a small stab and he reached up to his nose wincing at the touch upon the bruised flesh. He closed his eyes and let out his breath forcing the pain away. He opened them to find keris's clear eyes staring intently into his own.

He frowned questioningly and saw Keris swallow yet before he could open his mouth to speak the words came quick and fast yet calm and measured. 

‘Brother… do you know why I could stand facing these guns without hesitation in my heart? Because I had faith that you were there and would not allow me to fall.’

A drop of warmth upon his heart, hope in his soul, a shoot from the tree of his emotions, a pheonix from the ashes of his trust. He was touched and he felt tears welling up inside him yet they were chased away


_False lies...serpent toungued rat_ whispered the malicious voice yet Iorek sniffed deeply wincing slightly as his nose scrunched. He sucked in air through mouth and nose straining to taste the malstrom of scents that drifted upon the air.

Blood, gore and violence.... death... pain anguish... triumph... pride.. fear... lashed with terror... death... hatred... determinatin. Images flashed the battle replayed in scents of corpses, weapons... lashings of gunpowder and explosives, his very sword laced with the juices of lives whispered stories to his senses.

Then he felt Keris. Tasted his very scent overriding keris's emotions till he reached what he wanted to know. Njoror's voice echoed.. deep in certainty

"He speaks the truth.. you see his pain.. you know he would never admit such a thing."

_Fool you trust to much. The bastard is out to kill us_

"Iorek what does your heart tell you"

"No fool would trust the glory boy that stole his hpes and dreams. A long fang would avenge such an insult"

A stunted snout poked into his mind, rotten teeth bared in a snarl that reached out seizing Iorek's fingers, resounding around his emotions, enveloping the sudden love with a wave of hatred.

Oh to kill to watch the body fall... nobody would know... just a stray enemy bullet.. oh to taste his blood... to feel the scent of his death wash over you.. kill the hated.. kill the thief... kill the murderer.

Iorek's long finger snaked around the trigger of the heavy bolter

Point blank in the head...kill the bastard.. avenge your loss. The finger tightened

"That is where my courage lays, in you… my brothers, my pack. We have lost so many, to lose more is an outcome I wish not think upon."

"He speaks the truth" Iorek's voice was calm and clear and the finger that had intertwinned in a loving death embrace receeded away. In his heart tears doused the fires of fury, assassinated the anger.

His breathing was heavy yet he looked at Keris with clear eyes and opened his mouth yet Keris was not finished

‘Morgun spoke words in my ear that I wished to deny; words of caution and warning… Your scent has changed Iorek, but my faith in your ability is absolute. What would you have of me, my brother?’ 

Iorek met Keris's gaze and his voice was soft and steady, the Iorek of old confident and calm speaking once more

"Dark have been my thoughts of late. The person that meant most to me, that was my life sits at the Allfather's side. Vengeance has replaced companionship. I will kill his killer... I will avenge his death my own if needs be. This oath of vengeance i would swear in front of the rune priest without hesitation. I would happily bind it to my very blood. Of course my scent has changed, my very soul weeps with loss, my heart calls for the blood of my enemies like never before. In vengeance I will be sated for the completion of this oath holds the key to my very* soul*."

He stopped and swallowed his mouth suddenly dry and he ran his hand quickly across his face wiping his eyes which were suddenly damp with emotion, head scrunching into his neck to block them from Keris. 

"Thank you" his voice broke a little yet he managed to croak out the last tremulous word

"Brother"

He closed his eyes feeling the unformed tears roll up as his lids squelched against the damp surface. His breathing rose and fell,deep calming breaths as he attempted to force the emotions away... force them deep below the surface and focus.. lives where at stake... weapons below.. his duty.. his chance to show he had the power to be a long fang to direct fire. His eyes opened and his voice became sharp and direct once more as his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Describe below to me... where is the missile launcher?" yet before keris even opened his mouth he waved the words away.


"No point. With my pistol I could shoot on approximations but with this baby." he squeezed the heavy bolter gently, fingers tightening upon the cold metal. I need to see them and fire to find the recoil and range. Plus we want as many guns trained on us as possible and not on our brothers."

A small smile stretched his lips as an idea sprung to his mind. He talked quickly almost feverishly as the plan burbled over his lips like a mountain stream, half to himself half to keris

"We need to move. Opposite ends of the causeway. They know were here so they will have at least one gun trained here. The weapons are heavy, static, plus they are aiming upwards, harder to aim, most of the shots will thud into the wall if we keep low,except that missile launcher and I agree brother I have no desire to have that slamming into the wall."

He tapped his missing pauldron

"You pop up in a different position and rake whatever the hell you can. As the guns struggle to move to fire at you I pop up at the other end and cap off whatever I can at the missile launcher and anything else . All the guns will either be struggling to aim at us, dead or taking cover from our fire giving our brothers time to move down upon them. Caught in three places at once they will be in dissorray. When the fire reaches us we pop down, relocate and pop up again. Even on our knees and dragging the corpses we should be able to move fairly quickly"

His smile was wide and beaming and he focused upon Keris's wide icy eyes

"Spot an alternative or a flaw brother? Plans work better with two brains and i have a tendancy to be a little narrow minded"

_I spot a flaw.... your shit_ growled a twisted voice


----------



## Euphrati

For a long moment Iorek hesitated; his scent muddled with mixed emotions, violence simmering just below the liquid surface of those strange red eyes that held his gaze. Keris could taste the tension on his tongue; this close to his packmate the air was thick with the inner struggle. _The wolf in his mind paced in restless silence_, waiting for the outcome, and Keris did the only thing he could think to do.

He held Iorek’s troubled stare with a calm heart and prayed to Russ that the strength he knew was inside his brother would be enough to see him through.

When Iorek finally spoke it was in a steady tone, his voice at odds with his scent. The sharp tang of salt licked briefly across Keris’s tongue as Iorek passed a hand over his battered face, breaking their gaze. A quiet sense of purpose filled his heart as he listened to his brother’s words, calmly and without judgment. It was not his place to weigh his brother’s heart; only the AllFather and Russ himself held that right, yet Keris knew all too well the ache of loss that bled from Iorek’s very being as ghosts of the past flitted through his own mind. 

_The wolf in his soul gave a soft whine and he took strength in its presence_, he would never be alone again.

Iorek paused for a breath and continued; laying out his plan for their assault and Keris nodded as he spoke, watching the weight seem to lift from his brother’s features to be replaced by the joy that had been missing from his brother’s spirit for far too long. This was the Iorek he remembered; confident and sure, Keris felt a soft answering smile well up from his heart,

‘A very sound strategy, brother,’ Keris chewed his lip for a moment, ‘They will assume that we will be pushing forward, so that is where I shall go to draw their aim. If you backtrack it will give you an extra moment to choose a target. The only flaw I can see is that I shall run short on ammo before you; but, Russ and the AllFather willing, it will be enough.’

Keris halted, his expression unguarded and voice thick with emotion,

‘We shall see vengeance for those they have taken from us, of that you have my oath. There is such strength within you, my brother; it is an honour to fight by your side, yet if you ever find yourself in need… know that I am here, un-judging, no matter what may come to pass.’

Keris shifted his grip on the corpse, preparing to drag it behind him in a crouch towards the stairs where the rest of the pack had disappeared, and awaited Iorek’s signal.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek winked gripping the corpses arm and shuffling down the causeway making sure he kept low as he crawled along to the end of the wall and flattened himself against it raising the heavy bolter and checking its mechanism.

He saw Keris moving into position, the robes of his corpse distorting the pooling blood into a long red smear and turned eyes fixed upon Iorek waiting for his signal.

His left leg tensed, the muscles contracting as he shifted his weight onto one foot ready to spring upwards swinging the bolter upwards in one fluid motion.

His eyes met Keris's icy blue and smiled a broad smile and whispered

"For vengeance"

In his head their was silence.... it was menacing.


----------



## Euphrati

Iorek’s smile was all Keris needed in return to his words and he turned his efforts to dragging the body down the causeway, all the while keeping low to avoid the sporadic fire from bellow. His leg ached with a dull pain at the unaccustomed stance; Keris gave a low growl as he finally slipped into position.

Across the distance Iorek had already readied himself. Their eyes met across the gap and a feral smile flashed between them. Keris checked the feed once more and brought the weapon up to his chest, his eyes drawn upwards for a brief moment to the beauty of the stained glass overhead as he whispering a prayer to Russ. 

The familiar rush of adrenaline flooded his system as his hearts beat in perfect rhythm, every sense alight with hunger. Bellow him were those who would defy the oaths they had made to the AllFather, turning their back to His glory and defiling all that had been created in His name. Keris’s lips parted and low, bestial growl issued forth; his finger caressed the trigger gently as his muscles tensed.

With a howled praise to Russ, Keris exploded in motion. The heavy bolter bucked hard in his hands, nearly drowning out his voice as he came up firing, raking the room with vicious sweeping archs of powerful shells. Casings clattered and bounced around his feet as a counterpoint to the pounding report of the weapon. _The wolf in his soul sang in battlelust as bodies were tore asunder._

The gauntlet had been cast, now it was up to his brothers to act.


----------



## unxpekted22

After Vermundr made his comment to Iorek and helped him cut the heavy bolter away with his axe... he didn't get a word back. Nothing about being able to use a weapon the Long Fangs had mastered, nothing similar to an acknowledgment of orders. All he got was that cold feeling from him again.

Iorek lifted the heavy weapon and turned toward the side of the causeway. Vermundr stood from cutting the straps, and watched Iorek walk away through squinted eyes beneath his helm.

In his thoughts, following Baldyr down the stairs, "Are you serious Iorek? back to that again for no reason?"

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs Baldyr's words reinforced his thoughts about his packmate, he was likely to become too much trouble. He was glad he had left him with Keris...if any of his pack brothers could heal Iorek's spirit it was surely him.

Vermundr looked over his shoulder at more of the silent blood claws behind him, the group waiting in cover while Keris and Iorek formulated a plan.

The moment of pause allowed for subconscious thoughts to push forward. Had he sent Alrik and Tyr to their deaths? he had not heard anything from them or Morgun since they were at the top level of this place. He shook his head, those were weak thoughts.

Hot streaks of steaming air lined Vermundr's view of the ground floor, finally retuning fire to the heretics behind their cowardly weapons. The large rounds were coming from almost directly above them on the second level, and the other had moved across to the opposite side of the second level to where Vermundr could just make out the gray-blue form of Iorek as he opened fire toward the missile launcher platform...good.

"Ready blood claws! Chaaaarge!"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

As Tyr stood over his brother he spoke up for the first time since the battle for this room had began,* "I do not like this silence brother, it unnerves me to no end, I would much rather be facing the enemy head on where I could see him." *his statement was short but it was his scent that told his brother of his agitation, just by smelling his scent a wolf could tell how agitated and on edge Tyr was. He glanced at Romka and let out a low growl, this new brother of theirs thought this was a game, well he would soon find out that it wasn't once he actually got a round through his head or a limb blown off.

As he watched over Alrik he tried sniffing again to see if he could smell the traitor but to no success, all he could smell was blood and gore, not like he didnt mind that smell at all it was just that someone very old and experienced and was hiding out there waiting for them to make a wrong move. As he thought this the hackles on the back of his neck stood up and he thought, what in the Emperor's name are we doing out here? He looked at Romka and yelled, *"Fool be useful and cover us as we pull this thing back into the room now!" *They needed to be moving faster so Tyr holstered his pistol and helped his brother drag the stubber the rest of the way into the room.


----------



## darkreever

Romka; Your words actually get the wolf scout to take his attention away from the cogitator station he has been busying himself with after all this time. _"By Russ and the All-father, did the learning machines simply fill in that cavity within your skull with more bone? Did you not hear me before? Help your packmates with the heavy guns, this respite will only last so long."_ He growls before you hear the words of Tyr, insulting you and telling you to cover him and Alrik all in one go.

The silence doesn't last much longer, more rioters charge in and overwhelm Alrik, shortly before three hulking brutes and five more soldiers follow in from the back; let the cannon fodder take your attention while the real threat moves in.

Tyr and Alrik; As Alrik tries to carefully move the third gun, he is caught completely off guard as another wave of enemies surge into the room. More rioters rush in, easily four dozen pouring in. Half their number run right into Alrik, forcing him to the ground as they beat fists and several different types of tools against his armour to try and find weak-points. Tyr, being behind Alrik and covering him, is not caught as off guard, and is able to see what follows in behind the rush of rioters, a trio of brutish, oversized creatures easily a head taller than any of you and wielding guns that might as well have been those heavy weapons you had taken. The word Ogryn hits you, as the trio barrel into the room while being led by four pdf soldiers and one of the operatives.

[Alrik, try to get out from under the press of bodies, it won't be easy but it is possible. Tyr and Romka, you must choose: do you try to help Alrik, go for the heavy weapons, or try to deal with the ogryns? You only have enough time to make one choice and act on it, and you both can wind up making the same one.]

Vermundr, Rath, Sverik, and Conan; At Vermundr's order you charge from the steps and into the open ground as Keris and Iorek open fire with the heavy bolters. You bear witness to three of the traitors dieing to the hail of heavy fire before the remaining teams return fire. You take it all in a moment, eight heavy weapons each operated by a group of three; one of them a missile launcher, four autocannons, and three heavy bolters. For the moment, the missile launcher crew is on the ground as a hail of bolter fire rips at their position, and one of the autocannons is silent.

[Each of the heavy weapon teams is surrounded by an array of sandbags, fallen masonry, or furniture or fixtures torn down to be cover. Six of the heavy weapons are active and firing on Keris and Iorek, but already their crews are starting to notice you, deal with them; depending on what you decide to do or are ordered to do, the heavy weapons are distanced enough that you can only reach one in a single post.]


Keris and Iorek; Keris rakes the traitors below and instantly their attention is on him. Though he is no long fang, the heavy bolter's high rate of fire make skill and accuracy a joke; the sheer number of shots make it impossible not to hit someone and though the idea is just to make him the target, Keris blow two of the traitors away in the process before being forced to duck back down and avoid a lethal hail of return fire. Back to the outcropping, a blossom of pain makes itself known, an autocannon round punched through his pouldron. As all this happens, Iorek opens fire, arcing a trail of heavy bolter rounds towards the missile launcher, taking out the gunner and forcing the others manning it to dive away.

[The rest of the pack will be amongst some of the enemy guns, choose your targets wisely now.]


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was taken off guard at the tide of Rioters which charged inwards at him. Several, Alrik counted five or more, hit him and he span on his heel, arms wide. His balance was thrown into turmoil and he stumbled backwards before slipping on a puddle of blood and finally falling onto his back, his left leg coming up into the air as he did so. His view became clogged with the bastard traitors and he could only thrash and roar as fists came down on him with thuds of ceramite. 

A pick axe connected with his shoulder but slid away while a wrench struck his helm, knocking the senses away from him. Someone was kneeling on his right wrist, trapping his arm while another was trying to get a hold of his left which was swinging in all directions. A young women stumbled and fell next to him with enough force to turn her palms ragged and bloody on the chipped ground. He took his chance. 

With one mighty howl, the Firehawk struck his head forwards and caught the woman in the temple, turning the entire right side of her head into a pulsing red mass, fragments of bone embedded within the flesh. She looked at him, tears streaming from her good eye, the other of which was sloshing down to the side, and Alrik brought his left hand over, hitting her in the chest and turning it to pulp, his face plate covered in the woman's blood. Yet it was in vain as a burly man leapt onto his left arm and brought it down into the ground, a leering grin across his face. 

Alrik wriggled his right hand, twisting it around and fumbled with the holster of his Bolt Pistol cursing that he had put it away. Something came down hard on his chest before retracting, and Alrik cursed as a old, wrinkled female hit a sledge hammer into him once again. He continued to move his right hand and finally it slipped free of the mans restraining weight, gripping his Bolt Pistol he ripped it free, the flaps flying. 

He fired on the man who had held his right hand down first. His torso blew backwards, clumps of flesh and torn rags of skin trailing as his organs were pulverized. His face was one of shock and despair, even as his blood turned it a bright red. The man on his left arm turned his head around at this, and Alrik used his weapon as a club. 

The head came away with a tremendous crunch. The spine popped from place, shattering as the tip of the weapons grip hit it, skin was torn as the head lolled to the side, the lower back half of the skull caving inwards. The throat was snapped as his head jerked forwards, with his spine now ripping through the flesh. Like some ball it flew forwards, smacked the floor with a wet impact and rolled several times. 

The body remained there for a few seconds, gushing blood, before falling onto its back and covering the left pauldron and arm of his armour in a rich crimson that shorn in the light of the room. Yet several more Rioters fell on his nearly free body, two landing on his left arm while another pair pushed his right down, one of them trying to pull his fingers from his Bolt Pistol. 

The woman standing on him continued to bring her hammer down, even though it seemed as if her limbs threatened to snap with each swing. Alrik hissed at them “Bastards! You have forsaken yourself to eternal damnation! Your masters will perish by my blade, that I promise!”. He finally made his move. As the female on him was going to bring down another blow, he managed to pull his left arm over and the large hammer head pulverized the head of the farthest away. 

His now free hand came up and grabbed the hammer, yanking it away he spun it around and broke the ribs of the lady, crushing her lung and sending her flying end over end onto the ground nearby. He proceeded to swing it around in his hand, hitting the remaining man on his arm to the ground with a broken back. Finally he could stand. He pulled himself up, the two remaining men on his right arm backed away slowly as he let out a low emitting growl and raised his Bolt Pistol. 

He fired once, striking the furthest just above the legs and grinned as the flesh ripped away, the innards flying to the floor below, his face contorting in pain. The man did not die however, and his writhing upper half continued to belch blood and screams. The remaining man, in one last act of defiance leapt forwards with his pickaxe. Alrik countered with the sledge hammer, catching the underside of the tool with his haft. 

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the took flying upwards, yanked from his sweaty palms. Alrik brought the hammer down on his head, destroying the forehead with a loud crack and revealing the brain, the corpse stepped backwards, eyes rolling into the back of his head and Alrik spun his hammer, crushing the left side of the body. He chuckled to himself and muttered “I think I am going to keep this”.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been watching over Alrik when the next wave of attackers came upon them and was lucky enough to not be taken down by them. Yet as he made to help his brother who had been taken to the floor his widened as he saw the three massive beings who made their way through the hallway. Tyr didn't know who was going to help his brother but he knew that if these Ogryns were not taken care of then they were all for sure going to be either dead or hurt very badly.

Turning to see Alrik tearing those that were on him to shreds Tyr knew his brother was going to be fine and charged into the midst of workers at the first Ogryn. The beast was a head taller then him which was really saying something indeed and easily just as big as he and Alrik, this was going to be like fighting another Astartes, just a more stupid version and more like an Ork.

He took two shots at the beast closest to him one missing completely and the other hitting it in the right arm just above the elbow and blowing a large chunk of muscle out. It roared in anger and pain and turned towards him, its huge gun being held like a club, and for the first time in this fight Tyr smiled. It was a feral smile, one that would be seen across a fighter's face as he finally finds a foe he can go all out against and be truly tested. 

The Ogryn took two steps of its own towards him before the two of them collided, the force of it knocking the workers down around them. Tyr grabbed the thing's gun with his powerfist and used all of his force to crush as much of it as possible and to hold on, his right fist came up in an uppercut and slammed into the beast's chin with bonecrushing force. Tyr had expected the thing to at least be stunned but it opened its meaty mouth and roared in his face before headbutting him and grabbing his right hand in its own in an effort to overpower him completely. 

Tyr shook his head, bared his teeth, and let loose his own roar as he planted his feet square and pushed the thing backwards. It spun once it realized it was loosing the ground battle and Tyr almost fell completely on the floor before he caught himself with his powerfist. Its gun/club free the Ogryn brought it down towards Tyr's head but he through his shoulder into the blow and could feel the shoudlergaurd cracking and snapping and the strain on his muscles as they fought to absorb the blow. 

Thankfully it hadn't had its full range of motion and the blow wasn't as powerful as it could have been and Tyr bellowed in anger as he powered his power fist forward into the beast's gut feeling ribs snap and organs pulp. Yet the beast still fought on and roared back as it swung its huge fist and hit Tyr square in the face causing him to stumble back a few steps and breaking his nose for certain. As the blood coming out of his nose coagulated Tyr looked up to see the beast aiming its gun straight at him, its face twisted into a sickening smile.

Tyr smiled back and the thing's beady eyes squinted as it pulled the trigger, the round getting caught in the broken shaft and the gun backfiring and blowing up in its hands. It cried out in pain and dropped what was left of the gun before looking at Tyr and getting a look of complete hatred on its face. Tyr motioned for it to come at him, *"Come on stupid dance with me."* It opened its mouth, yelled at the top of its lungs and charged him with all of its might, as it got closer he could see Alrik behind it getting up and was happy his brother was ok. 

Just before the beast reached him he ducked to the left and swung his powerfist, connecting with the back of this thing's head. It stumbled and ran into the wall before groggily pulling itself out of the small hole it made in the wall and coming for him again, this time Tyr was too slow to get fully out of the way and the beast's fist connected with his face. Tyr took the hit and tried to move with it but ended up stumbling and falling, if his nose hadn't been broken before it was now for sure.

He got up quickly and winked playfully at the beast as it tossed a worker out of its way and said, *"You is dead."* Tyr smiled back and said, *"No, you are."* This time he charged it, is right fist going for its mid-rift and knew that the thing would try and block that hit. Sure enough it did and did so with enough force to crack his gauntlet, but Tyr didn't care, his powerfist was heading straight towards the beast's face and it connected with all of his force behind it. The Ogryn's face was pulped instantly and he was sure what brain it did have was definately gone but as it fell to the floor it grasped on to his leg and he could feel it weakly trying to crush him.

He pulled out his pistol and shot it twice in the head only to look up in time to see one of the gun/clubs coming for his chest. It hit with enough force to make him literally stumble and fall back into the wall behind him and make a few cracks in his chest plate. He dropped his pistol and brought his hands up to grip the whole gun and stop it as the Ogryn behind it brought down on him again.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik had fought he had beat off all those who had fallen upon him. How he was wrong. A brick to the back of the helm caused him to spin, roaring as he did so. When he did, a long curved blade punched through the soft section in the back of his knee, the soft section of armour there broke and ruptured as the steel blade, obviously looted from some form of PDF Officer ripped through his skin, causing a gush of warm blood to spill down his leg as bone was parted painfully. 

Roaring, Alrik tried to turn but his leg gave way and he fell onto his front, loosing his grip on the Bolt Pistol which clattered to the ground next to him. He felt the blade come free, and his Larraman’s Organ kicked into action, crystallizing the blood leaking from the wound as soon as the tip of the blade came away. He heard the owner shout “I got it! I got a Space Marine!” and Alrik grimaced, tempted to spin and behead him with a good kick as bodies began to rain down on him. 

A heavy boot came down on his head, stamping it down into the now pink ground, jarring his bones with agonizing pain. He rolled over, shaking off one woman who was kneeling on his back and roared in rage as some sixteen of the Rioters fell on him, their mass weight pushing him downwards as more fists and tools struck down upon his armoured form. Yet the Firehawk remained defiant and continued to squirm, trying to free his hands. 

A man was struggling to lift his Bolt Pistol and Alrik’s lips curled in distaste as he roared “Whore-spawn! You dare touch that which is worth more than your life?! You will pay with your blood you little bastard!” his right hand clenched into a left fist around the haft of the sledge hammer, which he had managed to pull across the bloody floor so that his open palm rested over it. He had closed his fingers around the metal aft, rolling it into the curled metal armoured around them and squeezed. 

He tried to bring it to bear upon those standing, kneeling and even sitting on him but it came to no avail. The man with the blade was standing amongst them, with it raised two handed above his head, pointing downwards at the Astartes chest. He did so with a cursed scream. The blade, however strong it could be brought upon his chest was made for ceremonial purposes and simple slid away, the sharpened tip bent inwards. The man kicked twice, and Alrik retorted with a quick growl and the man stepped off, sliding the blade into its scabbard and crossing his muscular arms. 

The man obviously thought high himself. How high would he be if Alrik cut a foot or two from that with his Chainsword? The Firehawk couldn’t help but snigger at his own thoughts yet he was strongly pinned with the enemies pushing down upon him. It was almost claustrophobic for the young Son of Fenris. Suddenly his thoughts dwelt upon the Governors Palace where he had argued with Keris and Iorek, and he muttered a silent apology to them both. No matter how strongly Iorek and Alrik had once hated one another, the Firehawk now liked to call the albino Astartes a friend, even if he did not fully trust him. 

A thick chain wrapped around his throat as he tried to pull his head up, pulling his head into the ground with a thump. He heard the sound of metal on metal and knew that someone was using a hammer to put oversized nails through the loops in the chain, slamming them as deep into the ground as they possibly could. The Astartes pulled his head, constricting his throat as he desperately tried to pull himself free, his eyes wide and rabid. 

Someone holding his legs down stood, a long pickaxe in her hands and moved around Alrik so she stood above his head. Where was his damned support? Alrik licked his lips and teeth, pushing his tongue against the broken fang in his mouth. Horror ran through his mind as he looked at the pickaxe that was about to fall on his head when suddenly, Alrik’s right hand found the calf of a man and his fingers found a grip between the bone and muscle.

The Wolf yanked. The man screamed in agony as pain flared up his leg. Alrik still held the muscle, skin and rags of green uniform in his hand. He tried to stand, but his legs gave way and he fell to the ground below, breaking his jaw with the impact and sending a cracked tooth rolling from his mouth. A young lady, who if Alrik was human and on the side of the Rioters, he might consider beautiful screamed “He’s free!” and stepped away in shock as her fellow Rioter squirmed on the ground next to her, his torn leg leaking blood. 

However Alrik was not free, his hand simply moved across the bloody floor in search of a weapon that he could use. Yet it came to no use as another chain was struck around his wrist, pinning the limb. The hammer in his left hand came up suddenly, hitting one woman in the temple and toppling her to the ground, blood running from her nose. If he was going to go down, he would do so fighting. 

The makeshift weapon had little maneuverability due to the weight that pinned Alrik to the floor, yet somehow he managed to swing it. A third died due to a hit to the throat, toppling over clutching his broken larynx. The man on his upper arm stood, clambering for a nearby weapon and Alrik’s eyes turned bright. Seeing his chance he dropped the sledge hammer and brought his hand up to the chain around his throat, pulling it with all his might. 

After two or three seconds it snapped. Buckles were sent in all directions, the man with his Bolt Pistol fired but it went wide and struck on of his companions, turning his midsection into bloody rags. Yet his right arm was still trapped. And while it remained so he could not fight properly. The man who had brought him down backed away, throwing one person into his reach and Alrik outstretched his finger tips, punching them with the force of a spear through the chest of the man. 

His organs turned into pulp and the Firehawk curled his fingers within the chest, gripping the inside of the chest plate and yanking it outwards. That meant five down. And many more to go. Tools struck him heavily, causing his armour to dent slowly and the Space Wolf howled, still trapped to the floor. The pickaxe above his head fell. Alrik however brought his free arm up, and it struck him in the wrist, breaking through he howled in rage at the woman who held it. 

Blood pulsed from the wound and Alrik felt his Larraman’s Organ fighting to heal it yet he knew as long as it remained within his arm it would be a struggle. Alrik yanked his right hand. The chains weakened with the first, a second caused the metal to begin to fracture and warp. The fourth brought pulled it from the ground while it twisted and snapped and the Firehawk was once again free to continue his bloody attack. 

He sat up, scooping up the hammer and spinning it around in his finger tips, striking one person in the knee cap as they tried to run and popped it out of place. The man fell down onto the knee, sending pain throughout him and the Firehawk punched, crushing his skull. His attentions turned to the pickaxe in his wrist next and he threw the hammer into the air, ripping it free as he did so and slammed it through the heart of the owner. 

Seven down. He pulled himself up, trying not to put to much pressure upon his knee and leapt forwards, gripping the man who had his Bolt Pistol around the wrist with his free hand. He lifted him into the air and hit him in the gut with the hammer, with enough force to rip the flesh and embed it within. With his now free hand he grabbed his weapon and torn it free from his hands and spun it in his hand, firing. 

His body popped like a balloon. Blood and flesh sprayed over him and the nearest person, the lady who had mentioned that he was free earlier. She squirmed as blood dotted her face and Alrik spun, backhanding her in the side of the head and sent her body flying away. Nine down. The man with the blade drew it and charged inwards, holding the weapon out before him. The Astartes drew his Chainsword in one swift moment, activating it at the same time. 

With a whir it shook away any goblets of blood which still clung to the surface and he brought it up in defence as a reckless swing hammered into its surface. The ornamental blade was better forged that Alrik had first assumed. It struck again, and Alrik stepped backwards as he parried several quick blows expertly, and Alrik howled furiously, stepping forwards he went on the attack. Holstering his Bolt Pistol, he rolled over and grabbed the hammer from the floor. 

The man did the same and grabbed the pickaxe, the superhuman and human staring at each other, both of them with wide eyes. Both leapt headfirst into one another. The man struck Alrik in the ribs with the pickaxe and slashed at his helm with his sabre, causing the paint on his helm to peal away from the mouth grill and up over his eye. Alrik brought his hammer in at the side and struck the mans hip, popping it out of place. His Chainsword followed close behind and tore through his lower belly, dropping intestines across the floor. 

Ten down. Six bastards left. The remainder charged towards him in one last act of glory and rage, the Firehawk simply laughed and leapt into them. One lost his head to the Chainsword, another was suffocated when his windpipe was rent open by the hammer. The third fell as his head caved in to a blow from both the pommel of the Chainsword and the head of the hammer, brain matter spraying from his nose. 

The four screamed as her chest was split open to the organs beneath, her heart still pumping before the pommel of the Chainsword crushed it. The fifth had his legs taken from beneath him by the shaft of the hammer, Alrik bringing his Chainsword down with a spin of his hand into his throat. The final, a crying woman slumped to her legs and began to ask for forgiveness. 

Alrik stepped forwards grimly, the original colours of his armour now almost completely obscured with the blood of those he had killed. His Chainsword screamed for more blood, and as the woman cried for mercy he retorted “Search for your mercy at the feet of your masters!” and beheaded her in a jet of blood and gore.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr leaped out from the stairwell, bounding straight for the nearest heavy weapon placement which was one of the auto canons. 

He hoped that Baldyr would go for the second closest one, and figured he most likely would.

Vermundr was in front of the charging blood claws and used his pistol in his typical fashion of emptying the clip simply to give him time to enter close combat. aiming mostly at the cover around them so as to not damage the auto canon but to keep the men from standing up and firing.

He commanded while firing, to his so far silent pack mates, "I will be taking the gun placement brothers since I will reach it first! Cut down these three traitors and move to the next gun immediately!! we must take them by storm, by speed, and without fear! You will be covered!!"

His pistol ran out of ammo and he had some distance left so he slapped the pistol back to its magnetic hip placement and opened a link to talk to keris and Iorek, "Keris, Iorek, I will be taking the assault canon here, be sure to fire down upon the gun placements furthest from our position once I have it!"

just as he finished speaking he came to the nearest sand bags and leaped right over them, flipping with his battle axe ready, and brought it down on the first enemy as he landed. He jumped up to the gunner ramming him with his shoulder sending him down to the floor. He trusted his pack-mates would kill the third and finish off the gunner. Without stopping to see if they did he was already swinging autocanon around and opened fire on the next closest gun placement, numbing out all other sounds around them as it burst back into life.

though he likely could not be heard he roared as loud as he could to make sure his packmates did the hit and run he had ordered, killing the two men while merely running through the gun placement's cover, and toward the next one.

"Once that gun is taken one of you are to to man that gun as well!!" he added during a brief pause of firing.


----------



## Azwraith

Rath was a silent partner in his pack he always had been and he believed he would be for a time to come yet. He saw himself as a “invisible shepherd” to his pack, he watched out for his brothers he did not want to get involved in the infighting and disagreements he was a neutral party that looked out for all of those in his pack.

However having said that he did have a soft spot for Vemundr he always felt a strong kinship as they both seemed to have the same outlook towards battle and life, perhaps it was because they both had a strong will and control over their inner wolf, Perhaps.

Either way he was sure to follow the orders of his newly appointed pack leader.

Rath noticed Vemundr charge forward from his positions as heavy bolter fire flew down from above like bright hot metal rain purging the enemies below as if Russ himself had commanded the heavens to open. Rath noticed Vemundr draw his pistol and let fire out onto the closest gun emplacement and yell out his orders, Rath jumped into action without a seconds notice drawing his own bolt pistol and firing into the right hand side of the gun emplacement only stopping when Vemundr was about to reach the position, Rath flicked his chainsword around on his arm to have it backwards like an assassin would hold his knives, he revved the chainsword into life as it vibrated and rattled against the ceramite on his fore-arm. 

Rath hurdled the Sandbags of the emplacement and sprinted past a traitorous dog his reversed chainsword ripping through the mans neck as the metal blades grabbed and tore at the flesh of its helpless victim the body fell lifelessly to the floor but Rath had no time to watch in awe at his achievement as he continued to sprint forward hurdling another wall of sandbags onto open ground he made a wide arc towards the next emplacement as to not get in the firing line of Vemundr.

He sprinted forth towards the next emplacement as he heard Vemundr’s Orders be yelled across the battlefield… *”Why didn’t he use his vox?”* he pondered.


----------



## Shacklock

_‘I will be taking the gun placement brothers since I will reach it first! Cut down these three traitors and move to the next gun immediately.’ _

With a wolfish snarl Sverik barreled down the stairway in the wake of his new pack leader. The roaring bark of heavy caliber weaponry and the acrid stench of the cowering traitors ahead had his choler up and his wolf spirit howling. Already he could feel the red-mist descending, reducing his vision to a narrow tunnel and the gun emplacement looming ahead.

Leaping into the Autocannon emplacement the young blood claw collided with the sole survivor of Vermundr’s wrath, swatting him aside in a spray of bloody gobbets. The Autocannon opened up once more as Sverik loped onwards without pause towards the nearest target, already thumbing a frag grenade from his dispenser.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Morgun was angry at Romka’s question and had begun scorning him, but Romka couldn’t hear him as the three largest looking bastards emerged, wielding massive weapons. Their size and strength silently called out to Romka, beckoning him towards them. They of course were accompanied by a small mass of workers and PDF troopers, but they weren’t a threat, well that’s the excuse Romka formed in his own head.

“Maybe I ought to stay back...” Romka thought, but as soon as he spotted Tyr lunge and wrestle one of the large monsters and begin to fight another, Romka couldn’t hold himself back. He needed a way to divert their attention first, he needed to distract them while Tyr (who, unlike Romka, could most likely actually use it) set up the heavy stubbers.

Grabbing a dead enemy by the leg, he sprinted towards the two Ogryns, dragging the corpse across the floor and stopping abruptly he used the gained momentum and hurled the body at the two remaining Ogryns, knocking one in the head and pushing him into the other. “Woahoho!” 

Leaping over the Heavy Stubber, Romka slammed his fist into an Ogryn‘s face, sending the massive figure’s head backwards. Dropping beside the other Ogryn, he squatted down and using his legs as a spring, head-butted the monster in the gut. Standing, in between the two Ogryns, Romka raised both his fists, a huge grin across his face. “Come on an’ fight!” 

Suddenly a huge hand clasped itself across Romka’s throat and hefted him off the ground. The second Ogryn that was head-butted raised its own fist. “Oright!” Romka’s face was suddenly blown back as the Ogryn’s massive fist smashed into it. Romka was being held by the throat by the first Ogryn while the second Ogryn started to pound his fists into him.

Spitting blood onto the Ogryn, Romka’s own fist flew into its face. “You hit like a gurl!” He was laughing. The Ogryn was angry and smashed another massive knuckle cannon into the suspended space marine, knocking the air out of him. The first Ogryn, holding Romka up, was watching with amusement as its mate fought with the captured marine. Tired with holding onto the Astartes warrior, the Ogryn flung Romka’s body onto the floor. 

Swinging its ripper gun, it swept Romka off the floor and sent him flying into a wall. Quickly standing up, Romka ducked, dodging another sweep from the big gun and jumping, uppercut the Ogryn in the throat. It staggered back as the other Ogryn charged the stumbling, bleeding marine. Firing its ripper gun, the heavy rounds pushed the marine back and one round managed to hit him in the face, going through his mouth, knocking some teeth out and exiting out of his cheek. The Ogryn thrust the ridiculously huge bayonet into the wounded marine. Romka pulled the bayonet past him and dashed into the Ogryn, hooking it in the face with his fist, twisting its nose around.

As the Ogryn staggered, the other kicked its leg into Romka’s torso, crushing the front of his armour and smashing him into the wall again. As Romka fell forward, he swung his fist into the Ogryn’s knee and broke it. Roaring, the Ogryn lifted its other leg to hit the falling marine but Romka pulled its leg down and pushed it forward, dropping the huge being onto its face. The other Ogryn, swung its ripper gun upwards into Romka’s face and hit him in the chest, swinging him back up into a standing position. Using the momentum, Romka stuck his fingers into its eye, causing the beast to scream in pain as it swung its fist into Romka. Groggily, the marine dodged the blow and leap forward, jabbing the Ogryn in the face with his fist. 

As the visually injured Ogryn was about to fire with his massive ripper gun, Romka was pulled down onto his back by the fallen Ogryn. Before he could reach the ground, the standing Ogryn snatched him up and tossed him into the air. 

Flying through the air, Romka crashed beside Tyr. Stumbling up he nodded at Tyr. Romka’s face was completely red, drenched in his own blood and almost every bone was broken in his upper body, including his skull, which was severely fractured. His nose was also severely smashed and his jaw was disfigured and out of place. Smiling at Tyr, Romka vomited a lot of blood. “Ha ha!” Romka pointed at the two bulking figures moving towards them. One Ogryn was limping in pain and the other was clutching his severed eye. 
“Whats happenin’ with those stubbers?” Romka cackled, spitting blood. “I’ve got the walking penis’s covered.”

Picking a boot up, he threw it at the oncoming


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been struggling with the second Ogryn when Romka had made his move and attacked both the one on him and the other that was a ways off. As Romka took on the two Ogryns, and from the looks of it, was getting beaten, Tyr was jumped by three workers who managed to take the moment to attack him. His adrenaline pumping from the first Ogryn attack he punched the first worker in the head and knocked it clean off, the other two he grabbed and smashed their heads together with a roar.

As he turned to help Romka his brother was tossed against the wall next to him and slid down it. He had been beaten to an almost bloody pulp, Tyr looked up at the two Ogryns and growled deeply, what was Romka thinking? He was so much smaller then both he and Alrik and he still tried to take on two of these things after seeing what one had done to him.

He had done a good job of injuring them though, *"Watch my back brother."* said Tyr before diving at the first Ogryn who was limping. He swept his powerfist around and connected with the thing's hurt knee and it fell with a cry of pain to the floor where he punched the back of its head with his powerfist and it popped. The next one fired its ripper at him, the first few shells missing completely but the last managed to hit him on the right side of his chest tearing through his skin and out the other side, there was a lot of blood but the wound wasnt as bad as it could have been.

With a roar Tyr closed the gap and tackled the Ogryn to the floor where they wrestled around for a bit, each of them trading blows. The Ogryn punched the side of his chest that had been hit and pain flared up and Tyr bellowed in pain. He headbutted the beast and it yelped in pain as it grasped for its face and popped eye, that was the gap he had needed and he pushed the thing off of him before getting up and kneeing it in the chest and throwing his powerfist in a menacing uppercut that broke its neck.

The beast collapsed and Tyr turned to Romka to see if his brother was ok before shooting a worker that was making his way toward Alrik.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Before Romka could resume fighting the two Ogryns, Tyr jumped right in ahead of him and with his power fist, killed them both. 

Staggering, Romka was pleased that his brother Tyr, who seemed really dull only just before, was leaping into the heat of battle and enjoying himself. “Woah...” thought Romka, “…he’s brave enough to attack two giants, even if they‘re only a bit injured.” Romka’s mood was lifted tenfold, and smiling he backhanded a worker attempting to attack him, cracked his head and dropped the worker onto the floor. 

A bone stuck out of his cheek and his body was smashed to a pulp, but he couldn’t feel any of the pain because he just felt extremely cheerful. “I feel… extremely cheerful.” 

Staggering and limping over to Tyr, Romka grabbed Tyr’s shoulder guard. “I’ve never been better brother! How do you feel?” Suddenly remembering something, Romka vomited more blood onto himself and looked up at Tyr. Romka’s face was no longer recognisable because of all the blood and smashed bone and his grey armour was half covered in blood that poured out of his face. “Can ya get the heavy stubbers workin’?”


----------



## dark angel

Alrik watched the worker who had stumbled towards him explode, falling apart with a strange grace and spraying the midsection of the Firehawk in gore. Pain still thumped up his leg in regular intervals yet the Space Wolf was to filled with rage, lost entirely within the maelstrom of battle to take any particular notice. His head snapped up at Tyr who was holding a smoking Bolt Pistol in his hand and he let out a low snarl, muttering “He was mine” Yet it was not loud enough for his Brother’s present to tell, maybe the keen ears of Morgun had however. 

One of the Operatives, the human curs of the Alpha Legion was being escorted inwards by four PDF Troopers with Las-Guns at the ready. Alrik paced over to his Brothers and pointed towards the newly acquainted targets with his hammer, and said “Brothers, we go for them next, together. The Operative is mine, keep yourself to those damned treacherous Troopers” He looked at Tyr and said “For the glorious dead Brother” and ran forwards as fast as his injured leg could carry, swatting away a Rioter with one backhand that caved away her face. 

He only hoped his fellow Sons of Fenris would follow.


----------



## Euphrati

Unbridled fury rained down upon the traitorous forces bellow as the heavy weapon sang a staccato war cant in his hands; the sheer potency of the weapon was intoxicating to Keris’s senses as flesh and bone alike were shredded in the chasing lines of fire, yet it was pale in comparison to the hot lust of face to face combat that whispered in the back of his thoughts. The response was immediate as the hastily emplaced weapons swiveled in his direction and hissing rounds filled the air around Keris, their attention firmly fixed upon his position.

The answering voice of the second heavy bolter sounded from the opposing end of the causeway, like the howl of a hunting wolf calling out in response to the cry of its packmate, as Iorek opened fire upon the missile team bellow with vicious abandon. The punishing rounds stitched a line of death across the haphazard blockade of furnishings and sandbags, shredding the gunner and forcing the other two men to dive away in desperation.

The air around Keris was alive with tracer fire; a sharp impact took him in the left pouldron followed by a bloom of pain that erupted from his upper arm. Snarling, he dropped back into the protective shadow of the causeway lip, fragments of the masonry and sparks dancing off the pale blue of his armour as the traitors’ fire continued to chew at the stonework behind where he had just been standing.

Keris spared a momentary glance at the new wound, flexing the fingers of his left gauntlet with care. Already it had begun to heal, his blood crusting in contact with the air and sealing over the flesh underneath. The pain was already lessening as his body systems reacted to the damage by shutting off nerves to the area. _The wolf in his soul gave a low growl, its anger tinting his vision in crimson hues._

Cradling the heavy weapon to his chest with his right hand, Keris quickly moved halfway back towards the middle of the causeway; keeping as low as possible and dragging the corpse behind him in a jumble of limp flesh and metal. The imprinted memory of the placement of the guns bellow danced at the forefront of his thoughts, yet with the Wolf Guard and the rest of his pack now engaged in melee simply raking the gathered foe was no longer an option.

The farther emplacements now posed the greatest threat to the charging Wolves so that is where his fire would be focused. Driving past the lingering pain in his arm and the wound in his thigh, Keris emerged once again into the open with the heavy weapon gripped tightly. He swung the sights down upon the farther clusters of traitorous guardsmen, eyes lingering upon the operatives in their midst. 

With a snarl of pure hate, his finger closed around the trigger again and death rained down upon the vile traitors to the sound of the howling of Wolves.


----------



## darkreever

[As a note, I have spoken to some about one offing powerful enemies in the past, or god modding doing to much damage to said enemies before. There are, as always, consequences to such actions as there are with many things. As the GM I reserve the right of final say on all actions of course.]

Romka and Tyr; Without warning, the third ogryn all but leaps to its feet, unable to realize the damage done to its body that should leave it dead. In its hand is the deadly block of metal that is its ripper gun, which it uses to bat Tyr aside and goes straight after Romka. Romka, who's body is already struggling with the injuries inflicted, is unable to dodge the ogryn in time as it levels its gun at him and fires. His head and weakened chest armour are shredded instantly and his corpse falls to the floor.

[Sorry, but Romka is gone; Horn your welcome to make another character but PM me first. I will not OK a new character by you, regardless of anything else, if you do not PM me.]

Tyr gets back onto his legs only to be peppered by las-fire from the traitor PDF forces; pain blossoming across his chest and left pouldron. You witness the death of Romka, having not been able to do anything to save him. As if to further deny you any though of vengeance, rounds tear into the behemoth and rip great gobbets of flesh from the last ogryn, killing it. You trace the fire to Morgun wielding one of the heavy guns, his opposite arm awash with blood likely from stopping the rioters you all chose to ignore from getting hold of them. _"By Russ get a move on, mourn the fallen after the fighting is done pup, there are more important things to deal with."_ He yells to you before placing a boot on another of the heavy weapons and turning his attention on other more pressing targets.

[Go after the rioters with Morgun as you see fit, either with your current weapons or get the other heavy weapon from the scout, there are little more than over a dozen remaining so this shall not take long.]

Alrik; You spy the operative and his entourage of pdf soldiers as they open fire on Tyr, but a salvo from Morgun, now wielding one of the heavy weapons, forces them to duck their heads and search for him. He yells something to Tyr, and at the same time the operative points towards him, swinging his lasgun and firing wildly at the scout.

[Between Morgun and Tyr, they should be able to handle the remaining rioters; deal with the pdf, the operative will not go down easily, he might even try to retreat or do something else.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr grimaced as he was tossed to the ground, Emperor this was the most pain he had ever felt since the Wolf Priest had found him years ago, his armor cracking as he hit the floor hard. Rolling and getting up he was peppered by lasfire, pain blossoming throughout his massive chest, and cried out as he saw the Ogryn fire its massive gun at Romak and tear his new brother apart, despite any hard feelings Tyr had had against Romka he was his brother and his death was another pain in his chest. He roared and was about to attack the Ogryn only to see it get torn to pieces by heavey weapons fire, turning to trace the fire he saw Morgun on one of the stubbers that he and his brothers had forgotten about, blood covering his left shoudlergaurd from the rioters he had killed.

_"By Russ get a move on, mourn the fallen after the fighting is done pup, there are more important things to deal with."_ said Morgun. Tyr had a crazed look in his eye now and he fought to keep himself in check from jumping into the rioters around him and tearing them to pieces with his teeth. He got hit again by a volley of lasfire and roared before taking off toward the stubber that Morgun had his foot on, three rioters got in his way and he showed no mercy. 

One he simply ran over and crushed beneath his bulk, the other two he shot point blank with his bolt pistol before leaping over the stubber and holstering his pistol and taking hold of the gun. Aiming down the sights he let loose at five of the rioters who were charging at him and Morgun tearing them to pieces, out of the corner of his eye he could see Morgun methodically picking off enemies with seemingly simple ease. Between the two of them, mostly Morgun because Tyr's aiming was not good to begin with and now he was in pain, they were taking care of the rest of the rioters.

A random las-bolt hit the open wound on the side of his chest and he yelped in pain as he and Morgun took down the last of the rioters with the stubbers. Gripping his side he glanced at Romka's lifeless body and then at his brother Alrik who was making his way toward the operative and his bodyguards.


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek sat back straight as Keris opened fire, the heavy bolter's muzzle flash like streaks of lightening across his compsed face and the heavy bolter rocked in his hands. He held it strong and focused raking across the ground below yet suddenly rounds began to streak past him, flashing firey streaks that thudded into the causeway above, tiny black sparks in a sea of marble.

The scent of death rose like rising sea from the ground below followed by screams and angry roars and Iorek inhaled, his body shaking in a rapture of desperate ecstacy and his fingers twitched on the heavy bolters trigger, yet he held... be calm.. be collected. The scent was a wave of rhapsodies that flooded his brain and now Iorek stood, curling his body and standing, his eyes flittering over the chaos bellow. 

The heavy bolter raised, gravity straining against his arms as he pulled it above the lip of the causeway.

A missile launcher... missile launcher.. was a mantra in his brain and his eyes swept the ground. In the cornor of his eye he saw Vermundr, roaring as he charged forward. Suddenly he saw the gunner eyes fixed on Keris and Iorek aimed and pulled the trigger.

The bolter wretched at his muscles, tearing at his bicep and he tensed and feeling the muscle roll upwards as it contracted, trembling under the exertion. The rounds tore through the air, whistling like the howling of a gale and impacting upon the gunners body. Blossoms of red liquid seeped from the holes as his body was torn into shreads, ripped apart into a shapless mass of gore and Iorek felt his eyes widen in reverence.

The weapon took on a whole new meaning, a whole new potency was revealed before his eyes, tearing the breath from his body. It had been so easy, so facile to tear this man's body apart yet the heavy bolter was still foreign , not a mere extension of his arm like his pistol, yet a few practice sessions and he could harness that power. He began to rake the surrounding area the bolts, bursting sand bags causing men to dive aside scrambling for cover. Suddenly his packmates were amongst them and Iorek pulled his finger from the trigger and swept the heavy bolter up as the air began to flash around him.

Too his left he felt and explosion of pain and he turned to see Keris snarling as he dropped into cover and began to move towards Iorek pulling the body after him. The tracer fire continued flashing around Iorek and he stood tall hoping to hold their attention a little longer as the flash of pain dimmed into a distant memory.

A round flashed across his face leaving a blurry purple streak across his vision and he blinked, dropping to the floor and staring at keris... how to play this... recognize the wound or ignore it?... recognize or ignore. He saw the stalwart grimace and decided to ignore as he began to crawl the body skidding easily through the pools of blood as he pushed onwards.

He hissed a low muttering "Good work brother" as the distance closed and the waves of pain became stronger and iorek shut his eyes, as the glorious beauty of anguish rushed over him. Oh to taste it.. to cause it... his breath was coming thicker and faster, half exertion... half desperate desire and he popped upwards, tasting the pain, embracing it... adoring it. The triumph of the gunners death and the ecstatic waves of pain melded and he felt a howl building in his throat.

He pushed upwards and allowed the howl to ring out, to rumble from his throat and surge over the roars of the bolters and the screams of the guardsman. He released the energy, released the desire inside him, expressing it and suddenly their was pain, lost and longing emerging through the howl as the heavy bolter swung over the carnage and he twisted away from his body away from his packmates as Keris's fire began to streak over the end guardsman and Iorek joined his fire allowing them to meld into a hail storm of deadly bullets flashing towards the last guardsman aiming carefully as far away from his packmate. He would hate to harm them... they had lost so much already..... inside his head another wolf howled... the howl of a thousand dieing souls... the howl of a loved ones broken body...a promising soul unavenged.... still..... horribly...unavenged


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was either totally ignorant or to blind with rage to take notice of the death of Romka. With every step he took in his run, with every roar that fell from his lips, his lust to down the Alpha Legion Operative grew. His thoughts did not fall once upon the bloody ending of his newer Pack member and instead he could only thank Russ that it had not been Morgun or Tyr who had fell to the weapons of the previously thought-to-be dead Ogryn. A wave of crackling red bolts sizzled past him and struck someone behind, but the bark of a Stubber caused them to drop onto their haunches, frantically looking for the attacker. 

He swung his head back and forth, eyes squinted and bared his fangs as he got within several feet. The first PDF Trooper, a woman with short cropped hair and a scar running from her right eye down to her lip stepped forwards and fired on full auto, causing the Firehawk to step backwards once and send a flare of pain bubbling up his leg with a crack of his armour. He pulled himself up to his full height once again, completely dwarfing the young woman and brought his Chainsword down. The metal fangs chewed the flesh from her shoulder and continued to penetrate, crushing her shoulder until nothing remained. 

Her heart ruptured, bursting like a ripe fruit within her chest cavity as the blade continued through her lung and out of her ribs, sending bone fragments and lumps of flesh on the floor with a spray. Half of her torso fell away, skin flapping as the corpse struck the wet ground and let out one last breath even though it was already nothing more than a whisper within the Warp. Blood fell from her clenched mouth freely, and finally Alrik brought his boot down upon the skull, crushing it with no apparent strain. 

The second was far closer to Alrik’s form. He was a tall, about a foot and half, perhaps even two smaller than Alrik. His chest was covered in bounded muscles, which was visible beneath a torn red tunic. His left arm was also free of his tunic, revealing a strong arm that was covered in ritual markings and scars. The Space Wolf almost reeled at the defiled Aquila which rested there. He fired point blank, scorching the armour of Alrik who proceeded to bring down his hammer.

Yet the man was quick. Quicker than anyone his size should have been. With a contorted face he brought his Las-Rifle up with one hand on the butt and the other upon the barrel, using it to block the furious blow. It held. How Alrik did not know, but somehow the weapon did not snap in two like he had expected and instead simply creaked and deformed, the barrel twisting downwards slightly. He struck the Astartes in the gut with the butt and while he knew it would come to no use he continued to fight on. 

His hammer came in from the side and connected painfully with his jaw, continuing to push until it simply came away, ripping away teeth and tearing the upper half of his throat into bloody rags. The man stumbled, and Alrik reaped him of a head with his Chainsword, slamming it point first through the lower throat directly above the chest. He felt the blade shudder as it pushed deeper through flesh and bone until finally the head came away, falling backwards while dragging sinews and fleshy strings. 

The third, a second female leapt forwards with a hiss. She was tall and lithe, with a black topknot upon her head, her lips gone to reveal teeth that had been altered to resemble some form of fangs. She brought one foot up into his helm and his head snapped backwards, a blade slid across his chest and the woman shrieked yet as she did so, Alrik brought the haft of his hammer in the path of her arm. The bones splintered out of her skin and she yelped in agony and collapsed to the ground. She knelt over, holding the bloody arm as the crimson liquid leaked freely from torn veins. 

Alrik brought his Chainsword down into her back along the spine. The flesh parted away with out any problem, large flat surfaces of skin spinning in all directions. The spine itself begun to crack, cracking and contorting under the metal teeth. Her skull itself parted in half, spilling brain onto the spinning blade and sending them backwards. As they woman finally slipped in two, steaming organs slipping in all directions, Alrik stepped over and met the next target. 

This time it was a man with a frilled beard and eyes that were half closed, the blood of his fellow turn coats freckled across his face. Alrik did not waste his time with him when he realised that the Operative had started to back away towards the door, shouldering his Las-Rifle and aiming at Alrik. A double blow from both his weapons, with the hammer swiping away his legs and sending him onto his back and a Chainsword coming down into the mans torso, the legs of which were still raised in the air. The soft skin of the gut ruptured and tore violently, the warm intestines themselves wrapped around his blade before falling away with a dozen rents in them. 

The Operative fired. His armour pinged and screamed as Las-Rounds pounded against it, yet Alrik did not falter and instead continued onwards like some ancient behemoth. The Operative, in blue robes with swirling markings across the right shoulder and left rib area and with a grey goatee stared on with wide eyes but did not remove his finger from the trigger instead, he suddenly begun to step forwards. Alrik brought his Chainsword down but before it could connect with the Operative the bastard had already rolled away. 

The Firehawk cursed and spun, yet the man was already rolling away and firing with his Las-Rifle which suddenly run dry. He used it as a club as he got behind Alrik, striking him in the wounded knee and sending him down onto his good one, the other sliding away in the blood. The Operative threw it away and spun so he was standing before the Space Wolf who howled at him in defiance as he drew a long muzzled Las-Pistol from his hip. 

He pressed it into the forehead of Alrik’s helm and sniggered while slowly putting pressure on the trigger. Alrik dropped his hammer at this, causing him to look away for a fraction of a second and gave Alrik all the time he needed. His hand fell into his holster and came up about a second later with his Bolt Pistol held tightly in his hand. He fired a single shot, sending the thick round rolling forwards out of the barrel. The Operative howled in agony as his leg came away just above the knee, falling backwards onto the floor and twitching as the last of the nerves sputtered and died. The Firehawk pulled himself up, leaning down above the injured man he gripped his fatigues and dragged him back to where Morgun and Tyr was. Perhaps, the Scout could find some use of the cur.


----------



## Captain Stillios

Conan glanced over to his packmates and saw that several of the guns had been silenced while it seemed that Keris had the attention of a few, looking over at a still operational gun he broke from cover and roared at the top of his voice.

Reaching back over his shoulder he felt his fathers spear shaft and drew it around then hurling it over arm into one emplaement, although he could not see Conan knew it had done somthing as the rate of fire from within slowed. 

Lasrounds impacted his armour stinging the machine spirit within and further angering Conan, diving into an emplacement he rolled to his feet and fired at the gun crew with his pistol then unloading the rest of the rounds into the milling traitors around him, hearing the clack of the empty chamber he quickley drew his chainsword and his old blade, "Come on then you whoresons!" he yelled before barrleling into the battered survivors.

Striking left and right he saw that one of the scum had hefted his fathers spear and was now trying to attack him with it. Bellowing curses at the man he charged towards him and knocked him from his feet and into the ground, "If you think you are worthy to touch this, then maybe you think you can bleed on in!" he hissed before pounding the mans face with savage punches causing blood to splatter onto his fathers blade.


----------



## Azwraith

Rath continued sprinting in a wide arc towards the next emplacement supporting troops having noticed the quick take over of the first emplacment turned their lasfire towards Vemundr on the auto cannon as rounds punished into their fortifications. Rath new he had to quickly reach the emplacement as to stop the fire upon his pack leader. 

Rath once again drew his bolt pistol from its holster this time trying to be more accurate with his fire he bent his knees as he ran trying to stay as level as possible as he squeezed the trigger and the pistol burst into life round after round flew forward clipping the sandbags and eventually taking out one of the traitors in the emplacement as soon as this happened the rest of the surviving rioters turned and began firing upon Rath. he spun on his feet trying to dodge the fire as a plane would do in a dog fight. 

Las fire flew past his armour as some of the fire skimmed his armour at that very second rath jumped and slid along the ground his ceramite armour sparking and hissing under the strain of his weight and the contact with the concrete below he bellowed forth and slammed into the sandbags with a large thud throwing the traitors backwards like a shock wave, he revved his chainsword let out a furious howl and leaped up.


----------



## unxpekted22

Every part of Vermundr's arms bucked with the recoil of the auto canon. blasting out rounds toward the next closest gun emplacement purposefully not hitting anything but keeping the heads of his enemies down so his pack mates could better reach it.

Rath was smart to make an arc, not getting in his line of fire, and had just now slid into the sandbags and reached the emplacement. Sverik was not far behind him. The third charging pack mate had separated form the group and had charged a different gun emplacement. He seemed to have gained control of it which was good...all the faster they would have control of the room.

Soon he saw the wolf, Conan he believed his name to be if he remembered right, take the time to punch one of the downed enemies repeatedly so Vermundr chimed into his vox addressing him,"_Conan, we don't have time for that! Finish off your enemies with haste and get on that heavy bolter_!"

He continued speaking now addressing Rath and Sverik,_ "One of you take that gun quickly and turn its fire around, who ever does not take it must provide cover for the other to reach the next!"_

He then turned his auto canon onto a new emplacement and no longer cared about not damaging the gun. He aimed specifically for it now to knock it out.


----------



## Azwraith

Rath had only just slammed into the sandbags as he heard Vemundr's new orders bellow through his vox *"One of you take that gun quickly and turn its fire around, who ever does not take it must provide cover for the other to reach the next!"* Rath immediatly jumped up over the sandbags trying to take advantage of the shock of him hitting the cover. 

He noticed two of the traitorous dogs starting to get back up off the ground quickly leaped onto them pinning them both down and crushing their chests with his large ceramite covered knee after a split second he felt himself sink a bit lower as the two rioters bodies gave way under the bulk of a space marine.

he spun around shooting another traitor through his shoulder the mans arm fell lifelessly to the floor as he screamed in pain and agony, Rath let out a booming howl at this sight kicking another traitor to the ground and jumping on the auto cannon, he had faith in his pack brother Sverik to take out the rest as he clamped down upon the auto cannons trigger burrying himself into the sandbags that held it down, the recoil was almighty however his machine spirit kicked into gear absorbing blow after blow from the mighty gun, how these tiny humans had absorbed the shock from this gun he did not know. perhaps their foul gods had given them strength, or merely tricked their minds into ignoring the pain.


----------



## darkreever

Iorek and Keris; locating the missile launcher amongst the destruction, your combined fire shreds the traitor manning the heavy weapon as well as the two others with him. You continue to fire, rounds sending chunks of masonry everywhere as your shots trail to the next nearest heavy weapon, damaging its mount and blowing one of the operators in half.


[Now might be a good time to join your brothers below or continue to cover them with heavy weapons fire. They are amongst the remaining guns now though, so that might not be to easy.]

Vermundr, Rath, Conan, Sverik; You all spread out from the first emplacement, each of you making your way to one of the emplacements. You smash into the crew and throw them about, killing some while turning their guns on others.

Conan; Your spear actually impales the autocannon, stopping it dead as you land amongst its team.
Rath; You charge towards one of the heavy bolters, diving to the side as the loader and third operator fire at you with the lasguns and the gunner of the heavy gun starts to redirect his attention to you.
Sverik; You run towards an autocannon team firing up at Keris and Iorek, the gunner and loader do not notice your approach though the third one does. He yells for his compatriots to your presence, but your on them before they have a chance to do anything. The third man shoots his lasgun point blank, pain flaring up your side as the shot lands.
Vermundr; As you tear the autocannon from its mount and heft it in both hands, you witness Baldyr barrel into a heavy bolter aimed right at him. High caliber rounds whiz by his armoured form, several shots hitting him but not stopping him. He leaps at the last moment, landing on the gun and bringing an boot into the face of the gunner before a sweep of his blade cuts another in half.

[Finish off the crew of whatever heavy weapon your at, once you do this it’ll be time to move on.]

Alrik and Tyr; Between you and Morgun, the remaining traitors go down in a hail of gunfire. Alrik hauls the injured operative over to Morgun, tossing him at the scouts feet before searching for more enemies to finish off. Finding none, Alrik and Tyr turn their attention to the only remaining enemy in time to see Morgun leveling his shotgun and pulling the trigger. Looking up, what might be a smile almost breaks through his beard as he speaks. _“Good intention, but he wouldn’t talk, none of these bastards will; putting them to death is all we can do.”_

[Alrik, now would be a time to notice the fate of Romka, might do to find out what happened. Tyr, react to the turn of events, speak with Alrik, or prepare for the next inevitable group of enemies.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr huffed at the death of the operative, Morgun was right, they most likely wouldnt have gotten anything out of him. Taking a deep breath needles of pain shot through his chest from the multiple wounds he had taken earlier, damned traitors, he thought. Turning to Alrik he put his hand on his shoulder, *"Well brother I am joyed to see you all in one piece, but we should prepare for the next assault, these bastards dont appear to understand the meaning of no."* 

He flexed his powerfist and holstered his pistol as he surveyed the carnage before them, blood, guts and limbs were strewn everywhere either with clean cuts or smashed to bits. Both he and Alrik were covered in blood, some of it their own and some of it from those they had slain. Tyr ran his hand through his long hair, it came out red and he smiled, he and his brother must have looked frightening indeed with all this blood on them and howls on their lips.

He picked up his right arm to gaze at his open wound, part of his armor was blown away and he could see the raw meat of where he had been hit by the Ogryn's Ripper gun. It still hurt when it was touched and he felt like when he did the pain shot to all his other wounds on his chest. He looked down at his chestplate and thought about how lucky he and Alrik were to be as big as they were, it did provide extra protection at points. 

Tyr looked at Alrik,* "These bastards dont know how to quit."*


----------



## dark angel

Alrik threw the weight of the man to the feet of Morgun, who was smeared in the blood of the attackers. The Wolf Scout was a interesting Marine, and Alrik was mystified by his aura. He rubbed his hands together, blood dripping from the embraced fingers and pattering gently on the floor. He turned and walked away, scanning the bodies until he found one that seemed to be still breathing. Slowly he paced over towards it and placed the tips of one boot into the mans ribs, flipping it onto the back. Then he realised how foolish he had been. 

The head was caved in on one side, leaking clumps of brain and pearl white chips across the crimson ground. With one firm kick it slid away into a nearby wall and a wet impact sounded, he spun on his heel and watched as Morgun pressed the muzzle of his Shotgun into the Operative and fired. A star shaped flame erupted from the barrel and the torso of the man exploded in a gory shower of blood, flipping him onto his back, the broken ribs protruding from his flesh which now dangled like bloody decorations from the bone. 

Morgun looked at him, and Alrik’s hearts pounded tightly within as his lips parted almost as if a smile and he said “Good intentions, but he wouldn’t talk, none of them will; putting them to death is all we can do” the Firehawk smiled beneath his helm and nodded it gently. He reached out to place a arm on his shoulder but recoiled and said “Then we shall put every single one that comes through those doors to death Brother-Scout or we shall die trying” he turned towards Tyr who had spoken and saw the Marine was bearing a wound to the chest. 

Tyr went without his helm, and Alrik knew that while it was dangerous to not wear one, it also granted a Wolf of Fenris his better sense of smell and heightened reflexes. Alrik could do with the smell of his own body for now, and cared more than his face was safe from damage. He straightened his back and replied “Tyr, Brother. It is good to see you do not dine with the All Father yet, I hope the bloody others hurry, my Chainsword will be halted with the flesh of the Alpha Legionnaire servants by the time they arrive back! However I see Romka was not so fortunate, may he be remembered by us”. 

He had passed the torn remains of Romka when he had investigated the body and could only help to sigh. He had been a viability for those who had been elected to remain behind, and Alrik had not enjoyed his strange company but he was still a Son of Russ and a fellow Wolf so Alrik would mourn his loss, at least for the moment. The next assault would more than likely be soon and Alrik quickly reloaded his Bolt Pistol, his Chainsword leaning against his side. Holstering it, he placed the hammer into a spare holster on his right hip with the head first, the haft protruding outwards. 

He looked back at the Wolf Scout, his eyes focusing upon the blade which was strapped to his arm and asked inquisitively “Morgun, your blade it is….Strange. May I ask how you came into its ownership?”.


----------



## deathbringer

The missile launcher was hefted onto another shoulder as autocannon rounds spattered along the causeway and Iorek turned his attention towards the missile launcher adjusting his aim and he felt the tremor of the heavy bolter as he pulled the trigger, sliding it smoothly backwards to rain righteus retribution upon the bastard that dared to defy the wolves of fenris.

Below the wolves were upon the gunners tearing through there midst and iorek allowed the writhing snake in his hands to placate as he tried to find a target amongst the wave of power armoured forms that flooded, breaking upon the emplacements before finally overwhelming them, pulling the barriers to the ground and destroying the heavy weapons. Bolt and blade tore down the enemy warriors and iorek felt a sudden longing to be with them, to be amongst them, to be at one with the mood of the pack, to slaughter as a pack rather than an individual once more.

Yet in his heart he felt the keen sting of loss.... So many lost... he had been so rapped up in the loss of his closest and dearest he had forgotten others that needed vengeance. The pack was a shattered shard of what had first landed upon the world, had first howled in the great hall to acclaim the honour of their pack. 

Odin, dead... how Iorek did not know... he had not even stopped to think... another friend lost and he began to see the faces of brothers lost, torn down by the subtle schemes of the alpha legion. Kjarl blown apart during an ambush... Njoror...

The wolf in his mind stirred whimpering as if suddenly struck by a stabbing pain in his side. The wolf howled, a hunting call.. a call to arms... a call for vengeance, the call of the wild... a call that would gather wolves and forge the bond of retribution between them... yet only Iorek heard this howl... only Iorek knelt placing the heavy bolter aside with ceremonial care, a last gesture of respect to a deadly weapon. Only Iorek responded to this echoing summons...drew chainsword and pistol in long fluid motions moving to the lip of the causeway to find a 30 foot drop between him and the battle. 

Once again he felt alone... it was only Iorek

He wanted to leap yet he knew he would not survive the fall and so he turned away, not deigning to keep low as he sprinted towards the stairs, to keris... eyes wide, blood smears streaked over his ghostly skin, chainsword and pistol gripped tightly in his hand.

(I think the rest of the post is self explanatory plus until I know what Keris is doing i think it would be unfair to push past)


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr made his way over to Romka's lifeless body and picked it up, throwing it over his shoulder, and taking inside the room that they were protecting. He set the marine's body down as gently as possible in a far corner, he would not have the traitorous bastards who were attacking them defile the body of one of the Sons of Russ. Looking at the dead body he sighed, one more brother he had failed to protect and one more that had been sent to stand by the Emperor's side, hopefully their father could knock some sense into this one.

The moment played through his mind in slow motion, he had stood in front of Romka to protect his brother even though the feelings Tyr had held towards him were not well. He had assumed he had killed both of the injured Ogryns, but he had been wrong, the one that he had broken its neck somehow had pulled itself up and in one last act of defiance swatted him away with more force then he had thought possible and blown his brother away.

Tyr had roared in anger and just when he was about to deliver his vengeance that had been taken away from him by Morgun. At the time he had found it very hard to keep himself together and not attempt to tear the wolf scout to pieces, how could the wolf scout take that chance away from him? He looked at his chest plate and the wounds peppered across it, his mind had been clouded, Morgun was much older and more experienced then he was and saw the wounds that Tyr had. 

Tyr had no doubt that he would have been able to kill the Ogryn but the beating that he would have taken and then the volley of lasfire that would have followed would have most certainly done some serious damage if not killed him. Although Tyr realized that the scout had helped him he still found it hard to swallow, but he did and took a deep breath even though it hurt.

His mind was brought back to the room they were in, the sounds of tech equipment lightly humming and they could actually hear it now that there was a lull in the battle. He looked at Romka's body one last time and said a silent prayer to Russ and the Allfather before taking his brother's combat knife that he hadn't even pulled out of its sheath. Somehow Tyr had lost his somewhere on this damned planet and he figured when his bolt pistol ran out of ammo, because these humans seemed to be infinite in number, he could do with another weapon other then just his fist.

Looking at the gauntlet over his right hand he could see the cracks in the ceramite, yes a combat knife would most certainly help indeed especially if more of those Ogryns were on their way here. That way he wouldn't have to bust his glove open and use his bare hand to kill things, not that he wouldn't have minded of course, just that he preferred to keep his biological hand as long as possible.

Turning from Romka's body he could see Alrik and Morgun speaking and let them have their privacy, even though he could hear their words, and made his way to the entrance to the room where he took up a position to the side of the door so he could have some cover and still be able to shoot his bolt pistol. His mind drifted to his brothers that had left what seemed like ages ago to go find the Inquisitor on this planet that was somewhere here in this facility, and wondered as to their fates at the moment.

What kind of enemies were they facing, and were all of them still alive? He had faith in his brothers that they would do their duty and if they were going to die that they would do so while taking some of these traitors with them. He himself had no intention of dieing here or letting anymore of his brothers perishing while he was with them, not only that but he intended to keep this room out of the hands of the enemy no matter what and he didn't care how many he had to kill to do that.


----------



## Euphrati

His finger lifted from the trigger and the voice of the heavy bolter fell silent; the remnants of the renegade missile team lay bleeding amid the upturned furniture and torn barricades of sandbags that had offered them little in the way of protection from the Allfather’s judgment. Keris’s eyes danced across the destruction bellow as Vermundr and his packmates cut a bloody swath through the traitors, the massive form of Baldyr smashing down on a smoking heavy bolter like an avalanche of fury.

The sight of Vermundr at the head of the pack brought a faint smile to Keris’s lips, finally his brother had taken up the mantle of leadership and he could face Blackmane knowing he had stood by his oath. _The wolf in his soul stirred,_ the heady copper tang of freshly spilled blood was thick upon the air currents and the yearning to join his packmates bellow was potent. The Wolves were fully engaged in the mass of scattered weaponry and Keris judged the risk to be too great that a stray round might strike his brothers, bending to place the borrowed weapon on the cold stone floor and drawing his chainsword and pistol as he rose.

For a moment Keris contemplated jumping, the distance to the floor below was far but not beyond his abilities. His muscles bunched in anticipation of the leap and an acute pain lanced up his left side, drawing a soundless snarl from his lips. The wound from the hellgun lingered and the high caliber round that had struck his left arm had done its share of damage though it was already healing. Anger, hot and brutal, rose like a fine crimson mist in Keris’s thoughts as he fought the urge to defy his injures and leap despite the risk. Duty and honour prevailed, forcing the mists back; there was more at stake here than his pride and Keris took a deliberate step back from the lip as heavy footfalls approached accompanied by a familiar, yet subtly different, scent. _Iorek._

His wolfbrother came up at a lope, his head up and anticipation written clearly in every powerful stride. Keris greeted him with a nod of respect, 

‘Fine kills brother, that weapon suits the strength of your aim and steady hand,’

Keris gestured towards the stairs, a feral grin causing his eyes to glitter like starlight upon a glacier,

‘Now, shall we join our pack before they try to claim all the glory?’


----------



## unxpekted22

Just as Keris had finished his words to Iorek, 'claim all the glory' Vermundr, deciding whatever ammo was left on the dual drum magazine would be enough, yanked back with all his might, the weakest point in the metal casting shrieked in agony and gave way. 

He walked forward autocanon in hand, moving ahead of his brothers at the emplacement they had each taken over themselves, launching the heavy rounds to the few remaining heavy guns. Every bone in his arms and back bucked with each closure on the handle but he bellowed forward, they would finally soon be out of this forsaken place, this tainted room of history. 

He noticed the heavy bolter fire form above had ceased, "good" ,he thought, "Keris and Iorek come to aid us in person now, they have earned a final kill.

As baldyr was in the corner of his sight destroying a second emplacement with ease, and his packmates on the other weapons gunned down a couple mroe emplacements doubling the firepower the enemies could push out, Vermundr walked straight towards the final heavy bolter.

One pull of the auto canons handle and the heavy bolter blew apart in sparks, the man trying to fire it gone with it. the other two enemies slid behind the snad bags. A second shot at the sandbags and a splash of blood was sent over. A third round to keep the third one down.

Vermundr reached the sand bags, dropped the heavy gun with a cracking dent in the floor. He reached over the bags and grabbed the final heretic by the shirt and heaved him over the meager defense back the way he had come, causing him to slide towards the incoming feet of Iorek and Keris.

"Finish him off brothers. You have earned the final kill here without doubt."

He had purposefully thrown them only one, final enemy. He needed to know how they would handle it, if Iorek would again hold some kind of grudge against him for yet another petty thing, or if they would take the prize equally like a pack should.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris spun on his heel, loping back to the stairway with ground devouring strides and pushing past the ache that accompanied each impact of his left ceramite shod foot with the polished surface of the stone floor. Adrenaline dulled the pain as it flooded through his veins and he bounded down the darkened stairs, taking them three at a time as the hunger for combat sang in his soul.

He emerged on the lower level with a howl upon his lips, charging through the destruction wrought by his brothers with savage glee only to come to an abrupt halt as the trashing body of a traitor slid in an ungainly heap across the floor to stop before him. Vermundr’s voice was like a stinging slap across Keris’s senses, the hair at the nape of his neck standing on end as the flames of indignation licked at the corners of his mind. _The wolf in his soul gave a low and menacing growl._

Then the rage was gone, draining out his body like mead from a cracked drinking horn, leaving behind a bitter mix of disappointment and shame that lingered in its wake. His bolt pistol came up in one smooth motion, the crimson lines of blood from his wound cutting dark tracks down the pale blue-grey plates of Keris’s arm as his finger found the trigger.

The shot echoed off the vast mosaic overhead, the guardsman’s head disappearing in a shower of shattered bone and flesh, yet Keris felt no pride in the kill._ Did Vermundr truly find honour in this?_ His cold eyes flickered from Vermundr to the brutal form of the Wolf Guard and back as a thin coil of smoke twisted its way from the barrel of his pistol. Slowly, Keris left his arm drop to hang loose at his side. For a long moment he just searched his brother and packleader’s helmeted face, the soulless red lenes glowing faintly from within, before giving a dismal shake of his head and stepping past the corpse to stride silently up to Vermundr’s side.

_Keris’s silence spoke louder than any words he could have given voice._


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek smiled at Keris's words

"It feels like it was made for me, it was an instaneous kinship, like wolf and man, a bond built upon love trust and loyalty, it pains me to leave it."

He winced risking a glance back at the bolter that lay glistening upon the marble floor.

"The fact that one of the treacherous bastards has sallied such a beautiful weapon makes my blood boil"

They moved together Iorek shortening his steps to match Keris's reduced stride his leg bearing the slightest traces of a limp which he desperately tried to conceal and Iorek tried, without success, to ignore.

They clattered down the stairs and Iorek watched looking around at the carnage of weapons and carcasses and he slowed by the missile launcher which lay lopsided and alone upon the corpse of its deceased master.

The last lingering echoes of the howl raised his blood and he felt the tiniest growl in his throat as he tasted the scents of death. Corpses lay slain by bullet and blade in a tangled mishmash and the metallic tang of there demise scent a tremor through his chest.

"Finish him off brothers. You have earned the final kill here without doubt."

Iorek looked up sharply to see a traitor sliding towards him, fingers scrabbling for purchase upon the tiles as he slid through the mass of corpses, hoping that in death those whoresons could delay his own. Distaste filled his mouth overpowering the blood. A malouderous stench of treachery that rolled of the traitor yet it was overwhelmed by bitterness of Vermundr's barbarism.

A shot rang out and Iorek tasted the discharge of a pistol before he saw the snaking coil of smoke from Keris's pistol. He hadn't even bothered to raise his own, not wishing to taint himself with such a dishonourable kill.

The bolt shattered and severed the cranium of the guardsman and the pathetic scrabbling ceased though the bloody slid a little further leavcing shards of bone upon the ground. 

It was the cold lack of mercy, of eloquence, of honour. To gift a mans life to another was barbaric let alone to expect two people to scrap over it. The terror upon the traitors was no longer pathetic, it was a shocking endicement to barbarism. To have your life drawn out, held in the hands of another and then gifted, by the All Father, there could be no greater shame

He looked at Vermundr whose eyes were fixed upon him and he shrugged meeting the packleaders gaze

"If to be a pack leader is to have no mercy, then I am glad it is you who bears the crown"

Iorek's eyes were clear, open and honest, there was no bitter jealousy, no desire for petty revenge. His red eyes were two deep pools of sadness, regret and shame.


----------



## unxpekted22

"I believe Rath, Sverik, and Conan here would not give me such attitude on their commencement of orders Keris and Iorek. Why do you shake your head at me Keris? Have you not killed enough traitors in this room today? That kill would have made no difference how it was presented, it was worthless no matter what. What is important is that you both covered us well enough to make all of this a success, be proud of yourselves for something, like the wolves you are."

Vermundr shook his head, every thing he did these two disapproved. He should have simply blown that damn human away with the auto canon like he had the others.

He eyed the elevator, and then Baldyr, waiting for his words. Hopefully the rest of the way to the Inquisitor they were supposed to meet would not be so time consuming. Emperor only knew how much trouble Alrik, Romka, and Tyr had to deal with at this point.


----------



## Shacklock

Racing onward through the destruction wrought by a singularly well placed grenade Sverik let out a savage howl, chainsword flashing down in a blur of gore as he dispatched the dazed recipients of the explosion. The crackle of his vox-bead snapped the roaring blood claw’s situation back into clarity as Vermundr’s orders pierced his raging consciousness._ His packmates needed him_. Nostrils flaring Sverik raised his bolt-pistol, firing into a rabble of traitors scrambling towards Rath. The pistol clicked empty as the last man fell, his chest ruptured by the series of explosive bolts pumped into him.

Wasting little time Sverik continued onward towards his intended target. A three man team manned the Autocannon, raking deadly shots across the upper floors in search of Iorek and Keris. Eating up the ground between himself and the weapon’s team with frightening speed the Space Wolf was almost toe to toe with them before the heretics were even made aware of his presence. The ragged spotter turned his gaze from the upper floor for a heartbeat, his vicious grin turning to a panicked scream as he locked eyes with his impending doom. Warned to the danger the autocannon’s gunner spun around to be greeted with the solid haft of a chainsword crumpling his face. The second man raised a battered laspistol in a pathetic bid to deter the sweeping path of Sverik’s oncoming chainsword as it clove clean through the weapon’s barrel and into the man’s chest, spitting mutilated flakes of flesh and bone. Turning to face his final opponent, Sverik snorted with derision as the heretic shouldered his rifle. That such pathetic creatures could even dare to oppose him rankled with the blood claw somewhat. With supernatural agility, well beyond anything his mere mortal enemy could match, Sverik darted forward. Still, much to the Space Wolf’s surprise, a red hot beam of light punched into his armoured side as he decapitated the man. Glancing down in cursory inspection Sverik saw that the lasbeam had stripped layers of paint and ceramite with its point blank impact. Grunting in irritation, the momentary pain coupled with the sudden lull of battle around him already sobering his slavering spirit. 

Striding towards the now silent Autocannon Sverik hefted it with ease. Adding its blaring voice to those of his fellow packmates, he methodically panned a path of destruction across the remaining traitors taking cover behind the meager protection offered by sandbags and upturned furniture. Sverik found the detached, precise method of killing oddly soothing in the immediate aftermath of his gory personal combat. _The wolf finally ceasing in its snarling rage_. With that heartening thought Sverik suddenly became aware of the silence that had descended upon their immediate vicinity. Twisting his head the young blood claw caught a confusing mix of scents stemming from several of his packmates. With a last final look about the field of battle he unceremoniously discarded the Autocannon and loped over to investigate.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris turned to face his brother, frustration and pain worn openly upon his features and his mane of hair bristled like the hackles of an enraged wolf. His distinctive calm replaced by a glimpse of wavering restraint,

‘Have I not stood by you from the start, Vermundr? Have I done nothing but pledge what skills I possess to your aid as packleader? _I am proud_, brother. Nothing fills my heart with greater honour than to fight at the sides of my brothers. To face the enemies of the Allfather at your flank…’

Keris limped closer, his spine stiff and thoughts of concealing his injury pushed aside as he stood before Vermundr, 

‘Did I err in following your order? I admit I took no pleasure in it, brother. What more would you have of me? I am a warrior, a Son of Russ and your wolf-kin as is Iorek, and I would follow you into the gates of Hell itself if you but asked it of me, yet you would toss us the scraps of your kill like the bones from a jarl’s table. Are we not worthy of more?’

Keris sighed deeply; his ice-blue eyes never leaving the cold lenses of Vermundr’s helm, nevertheless he was keenly aware of the presence of the Wolf Guard and the weight of his oath,

‘Know that my words are not spoken out of spite, Vermundr, but in the desire to see you become the leader I have faith you have the strength to be my brother.’


----------



## Captain Stillios

Conan heard a shout from behind him but not the exact words, standing from his kill he saw that his spear had actually landed in the gun causing a large rent in the side and stopping the gun from firing, looking around he realised that most of the traitors were already dead with only a few still near him which he quickley finished off with quick execution blows from his chainsword.

Seeing Sverick throw down the auto-cannon and start to make his way back to the pack Conan scented the air and found many different scents, anger chief among them,then hurried to join him and sprinted over to him.
"Damn there were a lot of them" he said


----------



## Azwraith

A lucky or unlucky placed shot from a lasgun managed to punch through the barrel of the heavy bolter Rath had been holding, he let out a sigh as he let go of the gun he did not want to risk a backfire of heavy bolter shells.

he dropped to the floor looking for the next emplacement to run to many of his fellow brothers were flanking around him so the only option was to go straight ahead.

With a swift leap over the table like barracade he was behind he started charging towards the next emplacement who had been distracted by the heavy fire above.. when it all but ceased the traitors turned to his position and let out of wave of las fire. The heavy bolter in the emplacement was slowly being whinched to his position he had to do something immediatly if the fire from the gun hit him he would surely die.

Rath comtemplated turning back but his momentum was just too great for him to stop now. reaching down he pulled out his bolt pistol and carefully aimed at the heavy bolter letting out a round of bolter fire, and in a feat of accuracy managed to take down the gunner in a bone shattering hit to his rib section.

Lasfire continued to be fired at Rath as he closed in on the position he let out a menacing howl trying to scare the traitors into ducking for cover.. it was to no aval as a single las beam hit into the joint between his armour in his elbow. Rath grinded his teeth as he held back showing any signs of pain. He continued forward many las beams being absorbed by the ceramite as his armour became surprisingly hot.

Rath finally reach thed position leaping the sandbags waving his chainsword around in what seemed to be a frenzy... perhaps it was however Rath intended to scare the traitors so they would not all jump him at once, this time however it was effective as the only a few traitors decided to fight him as many began to turn away, Rath systematically swung his chainsword downing every traitor that had fired a shot at him from that position claiming the emplacement in the name of the Allfather, he kneeled letting out a deafening roar.


----------



## darkreever

Alrik and Tyr; Morgun turns to Alrik and then back at his own arm before answering. _“It’s an armoured quill, my prize from a beast I encountered half a century ago. Now however is neither the time nor place for that tale boy. We’ll likely be encountering more soon enough and I don’t need both of you lost in a tale. Get that last gun, not that we’ll be needing it for much longer.”_ Morgun said before turning his attention back to the cogitator station and speaking to someone through his vox unit.

[Sorry guys, not much for you two this update; you both heard what Morgun said, so get the gun, speak to each other about that or whats happened so far.]

Vermundr, Keris, and Iorek; As you stand there staring at one another over the final kill, Baldyr grunts to gather your attention. _“If you two are through with your pack leader, could we move on before the enemy get to the inquisitor and the others?”_ He said before turning away and nodding to Conan and Rath.

Conan, Sverik, Rath, Alexandros, and Kuzin; You make your way back to the others in time to just miss whatever transpired between Keris, Iorek, Vermundr, and Baldyr. Baldyr leaves the trio as you approach, nodding towards Conan and Rath before making his way towards the service elevator that would take you al further down to where the inquisitor and the others were.

All; You follow the wolf guard and instantly notice something wrong, no one has touched anything and its already moving upward to your position. From what little you can see into the chamber, it is circular, fifteen meters in diameter, and completely dark. _“Positions now!”_ Baldyr yelled before taking up a spot to the immediate side of the only way out for whoever or whatever, if anything, might be coming up.

[Vermundr, I leave it to you to give the others any orders, though there are still some functioning autocannons and heavy bolters, might be a good idea to have packmates manning them. A look from Baldyr shows you that he wants you opposite him though, perhaps he has something he wishes to say. As for the rest of you, take up positions in the room, by Baldyr or the emplacements, or opposite the wolf guard or where your pack leader tells you to go.]


----------



## unxpekted22

motioning towards the three nearest gun emplacements, two heavy bolters and one auto canon that were still operational,"Iorek, Sverik, and Alexandros, man those three guns, quickly!"

He turned to Rath and Conan, "follow them to the guns but take cover behind the sand bags or other makeshift cover."

turning again to Keris and Kuzin, "You two, flank to the side of the elevator shaft, it will be easier for an enemy if we are all facing one direction. Especially if we need to charge, having some of us come from the side will be of utmost importance."

Continuing to speak on an open vox channel, he finished his orders with, "Everyone try to stay off any itchy trigger fingers. We dont know who, if anyone, is coming up to meet us yet."

He finished taking his place across from Baldyr at the front.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik wondered what kind of creature could possibly produce such a quill, something which was not meant too harm which could cut the way the blade that Morgun wielded did so. It split flesh with ease, or at least appeared too from what the Firehawk had witnessed. He was a tad disappointed that Morgun would not tell Alrik and Tyr, but he swore that before they parted ways Alrik would learn more of the Wolf-Scout, or at least attempt to do so. He walked towards the remaining gun, striking Tyr across the back with a smile beneath his helm and saying “Come Brother, let us reclaim the weapon”. 

As he moved towards it he said too Tyr, not knowing if he was following “We have lost many upon this bastard world Brother. I, at least I believe that before we are done here more will fall. I pray it is not more of our Pack, we have been strained far too much. Tensions are thick within us, we can barely keep ourselves from ripping away the throats of one another. I myself have had such thoughts, I know I should not, such things will lead me into the path of loss and destruction. When we are rejoined, we must hold it together. For the sake of those who have fallen. I will make it my oath too make sure we suffer no longer at the hands of the Alpha Legion and their cursed servants”.


----------



## deathbringer

The elevator rose slowly and menacingly of its own accord sliding upwards upon greased hinges and Iorek raised his chainsword a low rumbling growl mrging from is throat and he strafed left angling towards the door of te levator as the distant rumble grew closer like thunder in the distance, the faintest hint of trouble ahead.

He wanted to be at the front to leap upon the alpha legionnaires and cut them down, tear them apart, show his claw that he could kill, he did not need Vermundr's spoils, he would tear down the alpha legionnaire and avenge his brother. The vengeance that was consuming him seemed to leap, a peak of anticipation, excitement and possibility, they could be coming.

He edged forwards another step and perhaps vermundr caught his eagerness for he barked his orders

,"Iorek, Sverik, and Alexandros, man those three guns, quickly!"

Iorek tossed his head in frustration and wheeled around tearing away towards the sand bags. He needed someone he could trust, someone that knew, that understood the pain he was going through. His eyes flitted over the wizened face of Baldyr, the older wolf didn't give two shits, the young ager face of vermundr, too eager, to much to prove.

His eyes fell upon keris and he realised that Keris understood, maybe even... cared and he touched his arm, whispering quietly in his ear, his ruby red lips inches away from the suntanned skin.

"This is one of the oddest requests I will ever make. If Allfather protect us, the alpha legionnaires come through that door and the bastard that killed Njoror is there. Dont let anyone kill him, I have to... I need to kill him, for my brother.... for me"

He did not wait for Keris to reply, vermundr had stressed haste yet he made sure the vox bead was embedded deep within his ear as he vaulted the sandbags and dropped to a crouch.

The autocannon called to him, yet he stared at the heavy bolter and gave a small smile as he felt the bond of kinship between them. 

"Welcome back older friend he muttered as he hoisted it, feeling the weight no longer foreign, comforting and familiar.

He saw two unfamiliar brothers drop in beside him and he adjusted the aim of the heavy bolter readjusting his grip to give him better aim

"Beware the recoil its like being kicked in the face by a carthorse in terminator armour"
He gave a weak smile 

"Perhaps an over exaggeration but best to be prepared i find" he muttered. The lift slid upwards and he inhaled deeply, whatever came through that door, he would match it.


----------



## Euphrati

The moment drew on and, not for the first time, Keris pondered his brother’s desire to constantly wear his helm, hiding his face from his packmates and stifling his senses. _The wolf in his soul paced restlessly_, its unease echoing his own as Keris tried to understand Vermundr’s reason for such a petty act. A rough grunt broke the silence and Baldyr’s voice called them all back to the task at hand. The Wolf Guard’s scent was heavy with various tones of anger, like the taste of lightning carried upon the wind before a storm front.

Keris gave a curt nod, more to himself than in acknowledgment, as he followed in the wake of the elder Wolf and his packleader; this was not the time to allow such things to interfere with their duty and he pressed it to the back of his mind as more important matters came to light. 

The low whine of the lift issued from behind the closed doors of the shaft and Keris tasted the air around him cautiously, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. There was something amiss that he could quite put his finger on; something faint that ghosted on the edge of his abilities, hidden under the sharp odor of blood and the unique scents of his packmates gave Keris pause and drew a low growl from his throat as the Wolf Guard barked out a warning and Vermundr turned to issue orders to the pack.

As Keris moved to follow his packleader’s orders, he was stopped by a light touch upon him arm. Iorek’s sharp scent filled his nose as his wolfbrother stepped in to whisper low words into his ear before quickly moving away. Keris threw his packmate a regretful look for he could not promise such a thing; he felt the pleading pain in Iorek’s hushed tones yet it would take all his will to stay his own hand much less those of his brothers. Keris knew the pain all too well for they all bore the wounds of this world fresh upon their souls and though his clawbrother’s scent was more stable, the feral tones were still there like glowing embers hidden under a bed of ash just waiting for a chance gust of wind to fan them into roaring flames.

Gesturing to Kuzin to join him off to the left flank of the lift, Keris made his way to a toppled marble statue. It was scant cover, but would serve to break up their outlines if whoever was in the lift proved to be a threat. As he crouched to the side of the cold stone, Keris kept his senses open and, while the lift still whined its way slowly to their level, took a quick glance back to the soaring causeways overhead. It would be just like the traitorous cowards to attack them from behind and he had a sick feeling in his gut that the vile serpents knew _exactly_ where the Sons of Russ were.


----------



## Azwraith

Rath continued to walk back to his Pack leader and brothers when he saw Baldyr walk away from the three and nod to Rath as he walked past. Rath had great respect for Baldyr he had helped direct a pack of blood claws who were all on the verge of falling to their inner wolf and turn it around, as well as help guide their newly appointed pack leader.

Rath also had a respect for Vermundr though he was not one to announce it but his decision when against the Alpha Legion and withholding information about the fate of the pack when in a dire situation Rath greatly respected.

Vermundr had just turned his attention to Rath and Conan and issued his orders *"follow them to the guns but take cover behind the sand bags or other makeshift cover"*.

Rath immediatly spun on his heels and headed towards the closest heavy bolter emplacement, after reaching the position he saw Iorek move from the auto cannon towards his position. Rath was not sure if this was a good thing or not, yes he could keep a closer eye on Iorek or atleast see what his situation was like as Rath had very little communication with Iorek even during their days of training, still Rath was uncertain of Ioreks stability and worried that he would not be able to rely on him.

*"Brother"* Rath spoke sternly and bowed to Iorek as he came closer turning and kneeling at the sandbags to the right of Iorek, the lift groaned and Rath new it was only a matter of seconds before the doors opened.

Rath decided to it would be best to show Iorek his support and opened a direct link to Iorek through his Vox. *"Brother let us work as a team, I will always have your back the pack is not one man we are The Pack"* Rath was unsure on how Iorek would take his advice he meant it to perhaps try and stop his hatred towards Vermundr and remind him that we are all a team. though it may be taken in other ways Rath realized after he spoke, but their was not time to correct his wording as the elevator let out a loud Ringing noise.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr followed Alrik and listened as he spoke, he waited until his brother was finished before answering him, *"I agree with you brother, too many of our brothers have fallen to the traitorous bastards of the Alpha Legion....."* he lowered his head and said a silent prayer for his brothers that were at the Emperor's side now and waiting for the final battle.

As he picked his head up he continued on, *"You have my word brother, I will not allow another one of our brothers to fall if I can help it. There are tensions within our pack yes, but I believe in our brothers and I believe that we will pull through this and in the end be stronger then when we started. There is only way for one to get stronger and that is through trials that test us to our limits, some will fall yes, but we must carry on knowing that they have gone to the Emperor's side to fight in the End Times." *

He slapped Alrik on the shoulder, *"Do not worry brother, the more enemies that we fight side by side the stronger our pack will become and the stronger we will become."*


----------



## CommissarHorn

Kuzin moved beside Keris and nodded to his brother. Smiling under his helmet, he whispered "How much would it suck if they came out running, we tore them to shreds and then found out they were ours?"

Lifting his bolt pistol he readied himself for an attack.


----------



## Shacklock

One of his brothers appeared beside Sverik as he headed back to the group, phrasing some irrelevant fact. Sverik was more interested with the grizzled Wolf Guard Baldyr as he strode past, acknowledging Rath and another of his pack brothers with a nod._ Unprompted the Wolf riled within its confine, growling lividly in irrational fury._ Hackles rising from instinct, Sverik issued a silent snarl, fingering the hilt of his chainsword.

_‘Iorek, Sverik, and Alexandros, man those three guns, quickly!’_ 
Head jerking towards the source of the welcome distraction, his gaze fell upon the nearby lift shaft. With a grinding screech the carriage was rising inevitably to meet the Blood Claws! Springing to comply with his pack leader’s orders automatically, Sverik silently despaired. Here, on this campaign, on this planet, his guard was slipping. Light years from the comforting familiarity of the Fang, wading through the blood of an entire population of Imperial citizens, the Wolf was slowly winning the battle for his soul. 

Kicking aside the former owner, Sverik scooped up a still functional autocannon before vaulting into cover within the former gun emplacement. Grunting in non committal response to Iorek’s comment Sverik narrowed his eyes, sighting the autocannon’s barrel dead centre on the metal shutters that shielded the ascending lift-carriage from sight._ ‘Let the cursed whoresons come, by Russ I swear these Alpha Legion bastards will curse the day they came for us,’_ Sverik vowed coldly. He was the master of his soul not the wolf and he had the Allfather’s justice to dispense.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris gave a low grunt of acknowledgement as his clawbrother dropped down beside him, eyeing the young Wolf thoughtfully as he readied his pistol in anticipation. He did not know this member of the pack well, though they had spoken in passing a handful of times before, and it saddened Keris to admit such a fact. Kuzin’s scent was intense with eagerness, a sharp note on the back of Keris’s tongue as he sampled the air currents around them before replying in calming tones,

‘We are not mindless killers, brother, firing without reason. Trust in our packleader and your own instincts, as well as the experience of Wolf Guard Baldyr. Russ gave us _wits_ along with ferocity, it would be ill if we failed to honour both those gifts.’

Keris flashed his wolfbrother a lupine grin, his cold eyes flickering from the powerful form of Baldyr to Vermundr and finally settling upon the sliver of cry-steel in the reinforced door that led to the lift. The tension in the air surrounding the Wolves was almost visible as the grinding of gears echoed faintly through the room.


----------



## deathbringer

It was a sudden tingling in his ears that caused Iorek to turn round, wheeling to aim his heavy bolter back the way they had come, eyes tracing above his head to the causeways above.

So... convenient to have everyone facing the lift... focused... leaving there back totally exposed... it worried him that the pack leader had missed the possibility of attack from the rear... maybe it was just Iorek but he had always heard the alpha legion were cunning traitors... 

"Vermundr maybe its just me but I have a bad feeling about this... our rear is completely exposed... feels like all our attention being in one place is a bad idea... permission to watch the rear?"

As he waited for an answer he heard a voice

"Brother let us work as a team, I will always have your back the pack is not one man we are The Pack" 

Iorek wheeled round his unease replaced by a sudden blazing, raging anger and he let out a low growl a hiss of twisted rage trying to keep ...

"What is that meant to mean... have I failed as a pack brother... is that what your saying... you dont trust me to have your back? I don't have to take your patronizing shit... you all think im incapable... you all say we have all lost packmates... brothers in a arms... but I lost the nearest thing to a blood brother i have ever known... never got to say goodbye, haven't had the chance to avenge him"

He gave a low snarl though his eyes never left the causeways

"You know what torments me... when we were ambushed by the alpha legion... I tasted Njoror's scent upon the air... it was inexplicable... confused me a little but I just assumed Njoror was close. That is why I can never forgive ... if one of my pack brothers, Keris and Alrik aside, had told me of Njoror's fall I would have had the chance to avenge him...that chance may be lost..."

He spat the last words yet he was not finished and turned to meet his brothers eyes

" So as the unreliable pack brother you cant trust, I'd rather watch my own back." 

With that he turned away to stare uneasily back at the causeway... his heart pounding and mouth contorted in anger... his contented calm was shattered and his lungs rose and fell quickly as a twisted choking howl resounded within his head....


----------



## Azwraith

Rath listened patiently to Iorek's words, it was as he feared his brother lashed out at him when he simply wanted to give a friendly reminder.

*"Iorek, i understand well your situation.. all to well i was too there when those traitorous dogs ambushed us, and perhaps i understand your point of view and can to a degree agree with it. Having said that i do also agree with Vermundr's decision in that situation we all knew how close you were and we wanted to ensure we didnt lose you or more of us to the bastards. perhaps vermundr showed little faith in you on that day. i would like to hope that you can be the bigger wolf."* Rath hoped to correct his poorly worded sentance with these words... he respected Iorek he knew any lesser man would have completely fallen to the wolf within with the strain he has been under and he only wanted to give support

*"Brother though you may not have faith in me i will watch the balcony"* Rath turned and sat with his back upon the sandbags looking up at the overpass above he had his pistol drawn.. he hoped to prove to Iorek that he was trustworthy.... Rath contemplated, maybe he was rather shallow that he wanted the approval of all his brothers.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr quickly reacted to Iorek's request speaking openly over the vox, "Good thinking Iorek. That is how the Alpha legion thinks, permission granted. Glad to have you watching our backs brother. In return i can only say that we will do our damnedest to not let what ever comes out of this elevator hit _your_ back.

Sverik, make sure you keep that auto-canon pointed this way though, we need at least one of the heavy weapons aimed at the elevator doors."


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek give a curt growl of assent at Vermundr's words and kept his eyes flitting over the causeways above yet his mind was pulsing as he listened to Rath's words

"Iorek, i understand well your situation.. all to well i was too there when those traitorous dogs ambushed us, and perhaps i understand your point of view and can to a degree agree with it. Having said that i do also agree with Vermundr's decision in that situation we all knew how close you were and we wanted to ensure we didnt lose you or more of us to the bastards. perhaps vermundr showed little faith in you on that day. i would like to hope that you can be the bigger wolf. Brother though you may not have faith in me i will watch the balcony"

"Do what you like, watch were you like, the packleader wants you to watch the rear, then watch the rear. In the end your words are empty and your tongue is forked, you cannot be one or the other, either you trust me to manage my emotions and agree or you believe i cant be trusted and agree with Vermundr's actions."

The wolf howled, a gleeful howl, and Iorek had to stop himself from trembling

"The funny thing is Keris had helped me find some closure, tamed the wolf in my soul, yet ill timed words open old wounds"

The wolfs scorched nose appeared in Iorek's mind and he felt waves of revulsion and the heavy bolter trembled in his hand. He gripped it tight and forced the emotion away, he had to be ready, if the alpha legion arrived he was the rear guard. He had to be vigilant.


----------



## Shacklock

The thick stench of high tension and smouldering rage enveloped Sverik as he crouched, hunkered down behind a partially collapsed section of sandbags. Lips curling back in a grim snarl, the bloodclaw let out a low growl, his eyes roving over Iorek and Rath with all the frosty disapproval of a Fenrisian winter. Uneasily fingering the firing stud of his autocannon Sverik called up a soothing battle-mantra from the cavernous library buried within his head, silently mouthing the words.

Iorek, seemingly finished with his bickering, called out to Vermundr and a moment later the pack leader’s voice crackled over the vox._ ‘Sverik, make sure you keep that auto-canon pointed this way though, we need at least one of the heavy weapons aimed at the elevator doors.’_ Shifting uneasily Sverik clicked his vox-bead in silent affirmation, casting a brief, wary gaze back towards the upper levels. The Alpha Legion were hardly known for honorable combat. He didn’t much fancy being shot in the back.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; You may not have caught the exchange, or simply chose not to act on it, but a look at Baldyr tells you that he clearly did as he turns his attention dead on you. _“After this stops and we deal with what lies within, keep him close to you at all times. You lead this pack, you cannot brook one like that Vermundr. He is your responsibility to deal with aboard the Fist of Russ and yours alone."_

All; With mounting slowness, the lift continues on its way up, finally groaning to a halt after what felt as ages compared to the recent fighting. The darkness that prevented sight of the left before all but permeates the entryway and continues to hinder your sight. Baldyr slams an armoured fist into the opening rune and the portal rolls open. The room instantly cools by several degree’s and all of your hackles stand on end. _“Witch-craft!”_ Baldyr snarls before something darts out from the darkness drawing all of your attention.

It rolls to the side before springing up and giving you a good look, to which you immediately lower your weapon. Adorned in pelts and other more exotic draping's and clad in faded and beaten carapace armour stood a figure, his face beaten and hard as leather, a snarling wolf tattoo inscribed on the side of his face, a trio of braids making up his grey-black beard. _“Have some respect wolf guard, you know full well this is not mere witch craft, merely the powers of a trained psyker.”_ Hiymrik the wolf scout said while aiming his bolter at Baldyr, the affixed blade no more than a hands breadth away from the wolf guard’s throat. The two locked eyes, Baldyr’s deep blue to Hiymrik’s steely grey, framed by the snarling wolf and black dreadlocks about his head.

_“Can this wait for another time?”_ A voice called out, drawing your attention back to the lift in time to see close to a dozen figures emerging. Most were pdf troopers under the command of captain Katalyn, while there were three others, a man who smelled of death, another who looked severely strained, and finally a woman from which the question had come from. From the scent of her, this had to be the inquisitor, and Baldyr’s next words confirmed just that. 

_“Yes inquisitor LeBlanc, there is much that needs to be done and less and less time to get it done.”_ He said, eyes looking at the straining man and a twitch making itself known for an instant on his features. _“Lets move before any more of the enemy show up!”_ He ordered before turning to move back to the steps, Hiymrik the scout falling beside the inquisitor and her entourage.

*“Something is coming!”* The straining man called out almost too late as something massive crashed into the front of the grand room, followed by another something massive as well. The first a half-track hauler, spinning out of control and flipping onto its side, the cab end smashing into a pillar and crumpling like paper. The second though, that one is more sturdy, and something designed for use of the local law, sporting a manned heavy bolter crewed by a wild eyed traitor. Fifteen others, a mixture of traitor pdf and rioters, run in behind the vehicles into the breach as if they are fleeing from something. For now though, they are in your way, so its time to get passed them.

The man on the gun notices the dozen Space Wolves and dozen loyalists before him and pulls the trigger, raking the nearest of the pack with heavy fire.


Iorek, Sverik and Rath; The guns attention is on you, as he stitches a line of fire through the makeshift cover, blowing away chunks of masonry and wood and forcing you to the ground. Sverik is grazed by a trio of shots and thrown back, the armour dented and cracked where the impacts took but no other major damage beyond that. Conan takes shots as well, but he is less fortunate, one round blowing away the side of his head and another punching into the soft portion of his armour at the abdomen and blowing open a ragged hole. He hits the ground, dieing with no way to help him.

[Iorek and Rath, duck the incoming shots and try to return fire as you can, help Sverik if you can. Sverik, it hurts but you still live, get up and help the others.]


Keris and Kuzin; You go to the pdf troopers, Keris recognizing the captain and going to her. As the entreance is reduced to rubble, you are with the squad when it occurs, closest to the stairs. The half-track flips, and crashes right in your path.

[Through the efforts of both of you, you halt the flipped vehicle before it completely blocks off your route, but for now much of it is cut off. Fleeing enemies are quickly coming to your spot, best to engage them while the pdf and inquisitor make their way up above.]


Vermundr, Virgil, and Sydornis; You are with Baldyr, Hiymrik, and the inquisitor when the vehicles come crashing in, instantly rushing forward to shield her from possible harm. You witness Kuzin and Keris stopping the flipped first vehicle as well as the second one opening fire. Baldyr darts forward to where Kuzin and Keris are, something has spooked the traitors, do you want to wait and find out what it is or get back to your packmates in the communication room?

[Vermundr, what orders you declare are yours to make, though it may be best to get the inquisitor up those stairs and abandon this position for now. You might have a few heavy weapons, but do you really want to test them out against the vehicle? Virgil and Sydornis, do you rush to the aid of your packmates with the heavy weapons having witnessed Conan and Sverik go down? Do you rush to the aid of Keris and Kuzin as they deal with incoming traitors? Choose, you can only do one of these, though Vermundr may make the decision for you.]



Tyr and Alrik, you move to retrieve the last of the heavy weapons, Alrik grasping the thing one handed before the inevitable happens and the next wave of foes charge in. You are ready for them this time, Alrik with the heavy weapon, Tyr backing him up, and Morgun further back with another of the guns. Thirty rioters rush in, as if they are running from something, but what? Whatever it might be, it is herding them in your direction, and they’d rather face you three then whatever lies outside.

Despite running in terror from something, these thirty are still armed with a variety of weapons and rush towards you once your in sight. So scared as they are, they are not completely robbed of what fleeting sense they possess.

[Take them down, and possibly prepare for what is coming]


----------



## Azwraith

Iorek scoffed incoherent profanities at Rath as he turned the heavy bolters attention to the ledge above, Rath had all but tried to stop conversing with Iorek as no matter the words he spoke Iorek would see the negative. as he continuted this train of thought the elevator grinded to a halt he turned his attention immediatly to the door.

Baldyr smashed against the opening Rune of the Elevator the Metal doors whirring into life a cold aura bellowed from the bowels of the lift *"Witch-Craft!"* Cried Baldyr as Rath raised his bolt pistol ready to fire any second. 

As the wolf scout rolled from the icy mist Rath relaxed his grip upon his bolt pistol only to tighten it again as he saw the scout draw his blade upon Baldyr. Rath was caught in the confusion of the incident but tried to keep his focus. the wolf scout had lowered his blade and once again Rath released his grip.

With a crash as loud as a earthshaker round a enemy PDF Vehicle came flipping through the wall and pillars, the crash drew Raths attention only to be lost again as a second PDF Vehicle came through and this time his eyes locked with the Traitorous dog manning the heavy bolter atop the wretched vehicle. the guns burst into life hitting rounds into Conan as he was blasted to the floor Ceramite and flesh blasting into a cloud of gore.
the guns fire traced back and forth between Rath and Sverik. 

Rath wanted to draw the fire away from Iorek so he could fire upon the enemy as his gun was already roughly in the right direction. he sprinted across the open area bolter rounds bouncing around his feet.. then all but stopped. Rath was confused as to why he was not being fired upon, he raised his head to see Sverik's position starting to lighten up like a firecracker, Rath turned his stride towards his position and just as Sverik was hit Rath lunged into Sverik knocking him to the ground and behind the shelter of one of the emplacements.


----------



## unxpekted22

Baldyr's words actually paralleled Vermundr's thoughts for once, with the concern for Iorek's state. Maybe now he could see why he felt the need to lie to Iorek earlier on, even if it was not the honorable thing to do.

But, the new bit of information coming from Baldyr was about Iorek being his 'problem' to deal with, and his alone as the pack's leader. If he was to be honest with himself, he had kind of hoped Keris would solve this problem for him. However, he now realized that Keris could not and could only help and support the pack; as he had apparent natural talent for doing so. Support was nothing without foundation though, and the foundation of Iorek's current state of mind was because of Vermundr himself. Besides, how can the problem be solved if the one issuing commands for the pack could not be trusted? As a pack's leader it was not only one's responsibility to give tactical orders on the battlefield, but also to ensure the well being of his pack outside of battle...otherwise, how could they accurately carry out such orders? But was it too late to mend Iorek, had he already fallen to the curse?

A chill came over his skin, even through his armor. Baldyr called it out, witchcraft. Vermundr shivered to both the sudden rush of cold, as well as the anticipation.

Forget his own, not even the Wolf Guard's reflexes were fast enough to catch the new wolf scout flying out the lift's doors. Vermundr was not about to interfere between the blades of these two, so he stood silent as relief came over him to see the inquisitor and a pdf escort exit the life next. finally, some good luck...

like a punch to the throat he bit his tongue with these whispered words, as the opposite wall burst open with a ridiculous crash scene unfolding before his lens covered eyes. target reticules lit up his vision before he knew what was even going on. Over a dozen rioters came running through the whole in the wall after a half-track that came sliding to a crash and a police type vehicle with a heavy bolter turret. He, baldyr, Hiymrik, Virgil and Sydornis instantly leapt forward to guard the inquisitor from the sliding crashed vehicle.

Oddly enough, the rioters already looked scared this time. plowing through a wall? they didnt seem to already know that the wolves were here, as the man on the turret hesitated for a moment;

but it was just a moment.

Before he even had time to think of orders to give Sverik was shot down from his weapon, and Conan, one of the silent pack-mates, was blown apart in front of him... 

This was the first brother Vermundr had lost since he had become pack-leader. His first loss. His head began to spin and he froze for a moment as the Wolves around him sprung to further actions. Most awaited his command. In a daze, he watched Rath run from his cover to help Sverik. His helmet's audio protection clicking in, numbing the pounding drum of the heavy bolter and the dust and debris from blown cover shattering everywhere. The twisted, crushing metal of the half track as it finished crunching into the pillar became the sound of a memory.

Was it his fault? What if he had not ordered Conan to take cover there? Oh, he was such a damn fool! so inexperienced; dammit if Baldyr had given the orders perhaps no one would be dead! Conan's blood was on his hands as much as they were the damn traitor behind that gun. He had known this would happen eventually, but that didn't mean he was any better prepared for it.

His body kicked back into gear:

"Keris! Kuzin! Follow Baldyr with the inquisitor! get up those stairs! once you've reached the next level provide fire down on that gunner if he is not yet dead!"

"Virgil! Sydornis! Engage those heretics! Keep them off the backs of Keris and Kuzin then follow them up the stairs!" pointing to the group of running traitors.

He began running toward the gun emplacement Iorek was still at while issuing his next orders:

"Rath, get Sverik into cover behind that Half-track! Once we establish his condition and get you cover fire, make it over to the stairs next!"

Vermundr leapt the sand bags and makeshift cover landing near Iorek, sliding into a crouch behind it all, where Conan's body lay next him, sending an extra surge of adrenaline through his body

"Iorek, hold strong brother! We must protect the pack, and now the Inquisitor as well. I need you to get back on that gun and fire at that traitor on the vehicle! I will attempt to draw his fire. If we survive this, we may have to deal with whatever these cowards are running from, and it may be just you and I who must do it, but the Inquisitor must reach the top level. Iorek.... I don't think the words here need to be said, if they can even be described. 

with this, he slid a fresh clip into his pistol, flipped his axe around in his hand, looked over the bags for timing, and jumped over the cover raising his axe up high. He sprinted with all the speed he could muster toward the pillar opposite of the one the half track crashed into. A diagonal b-line between Iorek's heavy bolter and the heavy bolter of his enemy.


----------



## CommissarHorn

The lift clanked to a stop and suddenly Baldyr shouted in alarm. It was a false alarm as a wolf scout, followed by Loyal PDF troops and an Inquisitor emerged from the elevator. Beside the Inquisitor stood a man, smelling of death and another, severely strained. 

The Inquisitor was called LeBlanc, as Baldyr had just called her. They exchanged words and the squad started to move out, before any enemy could arrive. 

“Something is coming!” The strained man yelled in warning as almost simultaneously two huge objects crashed into the room. The first object skirted into the room and started flipping into Keris and Kuzin. 
“Shit!” Clenching his teeth, Kuzin pushed both his arms into the way of the vehicle.

The shock smashed into his arms, pushing him back with the mighty force. Heaving, Kuzin stepped forward, using his own weight to help him. His shoulders tore and burned while his elbows stung painfully as he pushed with all his strength. “Why don’t we do this kind of exercise at training?” He groaned

Finally the vehicle ground to a halt and Kuzin let his arms drop with a sigh. Behind him, the Inquisitor and the troopers had already started making their way up. Kuzin’s arms were healing rapidly and the pain was already almost gone. Before he could pick up his chainsword, an enemy trooper had run smack-bang into him and crashed back as Kuzin head-butted him. Quickly picking up the chainsword, he leapt back, landing beside Keris and swung his chainsword upwards at the same time, ripping apart an advancing Traitor. 

“Where’d all this scum appear from? So much for getting out before they got here.” Slashing across, he cut open a running traitor. Smashing the hilt across another’s face he suddenly realised that they were almost blocked off, with a mass of traitors running their way. They didn’t seem to be attacking or anything, just running in Keris’ and Kuzin’s direction. 

“Whatever they’re doing, we won’t step back an inch brother.” He slapped Keris on the shoulder before slowly stepping forward into the mass of bodies, his chainsword held angled in front, both hands clenched on the hilt.

Suddenly, Vermundr issued Kuzin and Keris their orders. Pushing against the oncoming rioters, Kuzin raised his voice into his vox. “Keris! Get back to the stairs and fire a few bolts into the heathen bastards! I’m too bloody surrounded, I need to break away!” 

Smacking his elbow into a clawing worker, Kuzin kicked another back and slashed into the horde with his Chainsword.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr snarled as he heard and smelled the next mass of rioters charging towards them, except this time something was different, there was a certain tinge in their smell. It took him a little while to notice it but finally he pegged it down to fear, they were scared of something, and as they turned and he and his brothers were finally able to see them his assumption was rectified by the looks on their faces. Eyes were wide open, mouths screaming, they reeked of it and he knew for certain that they were more afraid of whatever was behind them then he, Alrik and Morgun.

As they charged at them he readied himself to back Alrik up should any of the rioters get too close to him. He flexed his muscles and took a deep breath, the pain from his chest wounds slowly dissipating as his mind narrowed, only focusing on the battle to come and who and what he would kill. He cracked his neck and let out a deep howl before aiming his pistol and firing at one of the rioters, the round pulping his upper body and throwing his legs back.

He fired again, this time hitting a woman in the face, the shot making him smile before firing again and hitting man on his right shoulder and blowing off his arm in a fountain of gore and blood.


----------



## Euphrati

The lift finally clanged into position and Keris felt the hair at the nape of his neck bristle as the air became thick. The echoing of Baldyr’s armoured fist against the rune to release the hatch was akin to a gunshot and the doors rolled open with a soft hiss. Immediately the temperature in the area plummeted and Keris bared his teeth as Baldyr growled, his voice like the breaking of a mighty glacier.

The blackness of the void seemed to swallow the interior of the lift, but before any of the Claw could re-act a sleek from darted from the rolling morass of sorcery and leapt to his feet with a bared blade at Baldyr’s throat. Keris watched the Wolf scout and Wolf guard exchange silently, his bolt pistol hovering in a low grip. The air between to the two elder Wolves was heavy with challenge, yet the voice that issued from the men and women emerging from the lift brought the contest of wills to an end.

Keris caught a familiar scent in the retinue of guardsmen and quickly hopped over the broken statue to make his way over to where the Captain stood, casting a wary glance at the psyker accompanying the Inquisitor as he slipped through the ranks and noting the addition of a new rank to the collar of Katalyn’s uniform as she acknowledged his approach.

‘Colonel, it is good to see you unmarred,’

Keris rumbled as he touched his pistol to his chest in return, stepping near the pdf commander. Before Katalyn could form a reply, the man who smelled of power let out a strangled cry and a resound crash shook the building’s structure. Debris and masonry exploded inward from the far end of the hall, heralding the arrival of two armoured vehicles and a slew of renegade guardsmen. One of the vehecles, a half-tracked transport, tipped precariously on its side before crashing down upon the armoured flank and sliding directly into the path of Keris and the pdf. 

Keris snarled and leapt forward, dropping his shoulder and feeling the heavy impact of the upturned vehicle as its bulk threatening to blockade the stairwell. He shoved back, the slick marble beneath his boots offering little in the way of traction to stop the cumbersome weight. Kuzin had come forward with him, lending his own strength to the battle. The efforts of two young Wolves together brought the half-track to a halt and Keris felt his wounds burning in response to the exertion he had placed on them.

The second transport careened into the opening left by its overturned kin, the gunner twisting around to strafe the Wolves with explosive rounds. The barrage hammered into the make-shift barricades, but some found his brothers where they turned to meet the new threat. Keris felt more than heard the howl of anguish that erupted from his throat as one of his packmates dropped with the finality of death in his scent. Fury, red-tinted and scalding, roared from the depths of his mind as he surged forward to bury his chainsword through the upraised guard and into the chest of one of the fleeing men. 

The blade chewed through flak armour and bone, trailing an arch of scarlet droplets as Keris yanked it from the twitching corpse before backhanding another traitor with the butt of his pistol. The wet sound of the man’s skull fracturing was a counterpoint to his bellowed words,

‘By Russ you shall burn for your treachery! The Allfather’s judgment awaits your souls in the black abyss of damnation!’

Keris reared to his full height and lashed out with an armoured kick, the pain in his leg and arm pushed to the back of his mind with the burning wrath of his anger. His ceramite shod foot connected with a sickening crunch into the side of another of the renegades, sending his broken body smashing into that of his fellows and clearing a moment of breathing room from the press. Keris whirled and located the Colonel, his fangs bared and the warm tracks of fresh blood cutting across his features,

‘*Go!* Up the stairs now!’

Keris half barked, half snarled at the woman as he spun on his heel to decapitate a traitor who strayed too close to his reach. The air was leaden with the scent of fresh spilled blood and Keris felt the wolf in his soul give a keening cry of hunger. The urge to push into the melee was like the ominous presence of a storm on the horizon, a looming weight in his mind that whispered of the unfettered joy of the hunt. Keris gave a low growl and forced his body to take a single step back, then another as he took aim at the press of traitors. There was the scent of fear riding on the currents of air; something had frightened these men into the wall. Something they feared worst than the death they faced now. 

Keris tasted the air about him, trying to pick out the myriad of tones what could have so spooked these faithless curs, even as he darted forward a step to disembowel a man clutching a las gun next to Kuzin and freeing his packmate of the crowd’s press,

‘Come brother, where Wolves tread… they tread together!’


----------



## dark angel

Alrik placed the barrel in the open palm of his hand, letting it slide into the armoured groove that it had formed. His finger wrapped around the trigger, pushing it into the first pressure point. The sound of footsteps, frantic footsteps at that, running at a considerable pace filled the inside of his helm. A man spun into sight, a cloak of thousands of small metal circles wrapped amongst one another fluttering out to his left. The Firehawk fired, sending one round spinning forwards. He felt it vibrate as it was sent spiraling down the barrel by the hammer in the breach. It struck the man in the chest as his left leg slid out to the side on the blood slicked floor and he let out a loud scream that echoed around the room. 

His arms went wild, spinning as his heart was chewed violently. The round carried on, breaking his spine in two and flaying the skin on as shards of white bone tore through it, dragging blood banners with it. He was sent back into the ground, slamming his head hard against the ground. A sickening crack could be picked up as the limp form slid back three or four feet. A second, this time a lithe woman with a mane of sandy hair pulled into a high topknot entered with wide eyes, her mouth held half open. She drew a snub nosed Auto-Pistol from a pouch at her hip and fired twice, the stars of flame at the muzzle flashing powerfully. 

The first round bounced harmlessly from his shoulder, ricocheting into the wall nearby, a cloud of grey dust filtering from the wound in the wall. The second struck the top of his helm, snapping his head backwards and ripping away the paint there. He snarled, uttering a apology to the Machine Spirit entombed within his armour and opened fire. Rounds spun forwards in a mighty whirlwind, striking her several times. Her flesh was sheered from the bones wherever his weapon found a target, clumps of flesh was sent into the air behind her, some dragging fluttering veins and ligaments. The Firehawk grinned beneath his helm, pushing his shoulders upwards; Lifting the weapon in his hands further up his body. 

He adopted a fighting stance, turning on his side with one leg pushed forwards and the other outstretched towards the room behind him. His knuckles turned white beneath his armoured gauntlets, his fingers clenching tightly around their grips. The flesh of his face turned red as he held his breath. The next four targets came into view. One suddenly keeled over, and Alrik could only assume that Tyr or Morgun had managed to score a hit. He pushed the trigger as far as it would go and watched as two of the three Rioters burst like ripe fruits, their organs tossing outwards with drapes of skin wrapped around it like a bloody wrapper. 

Chips of bone, fractured beyond repair clattered as they struck the floor, tinted pink by the blood which had smeared them. The third however, had dropped into cover behind a sparking conduit and was now bringing a Auto-Pistol from his holster. He slotted a magazine into place at the bottom of the pistol-grip, lengthening it further. He stood from behind cover, his free arm used as a support and fired. Rounds struck him across his front, pinging and panging loudly as Alrik focused on the form and fired. The man lost his head in a spray of glorious crimson and Alrik eased up on the trigger for a moment. He threw back his head and howled loudly, roaring for the All Father and Russ to bring vengeance upon their enemies. He continued the fire fight undaunted, roaring and bellowing with each kill the small group scored.


----------



## Shacklock

The tense silence of anticipation was shattered in a heartbeat as everything exploded into action. Hackles static straight, Sverik had been intently eyeing the Inquisitor and his bedraggled entourage, the wolf prompting his mounting distrust of the situation. He had been caught woefully unprepared by the traitor’s onslaught. A bolt round clipped the Blood claw’s left pauldron, spinning him around before Rath barrelled into him pitching them both into cover as Sverik’s previous position melted under the ferocious onslaught from the heavy-bolter. Pulling himself from under his pack-brother Sverik swiftly scanned his armour for damage, satisfied that it was nothing overly serious he offered up a silent thanks to the All father before springing up to assess the unfolding battlefield. One of his brothers was down, the heavy finality of death on the air leaving no mistake. With a grim snarl Sverik levelled his pistol, eyes locked on the murderous whoreson manning the transport’s sponson mounted bolter. Firing off a trio of shots he ducked back beneath the flimsy cover of sandbags and plasteel furnishings, glancing towards Rath. ‘Go, I’ll cover you whilst you gut the bastards.’


----------



## Shacklock

The tense silence of anticipation was shattered in a heartbeat as everything exploded into action. Hackles static straight, Sverik had been intently eyeing the Inquisitor and his bedraggled entourage, the wolf prompting his mounting distrust of the situation. He had been caught woefully unprepared by the traitor’s onslaught. A bolt round clipped the Blood claw’s left pauldron, spinning him around before Rath barrelled into him pitching them both into cover as Sverik’s previous position melted under the ferocious onslaught from the heavy-bolter. Pulling himself from under his pack-brother Sverik swiftly scanned his armour for damage, satisfied that it was nothing overly serious he offered up a silent thanks to the All father before springing up to assess the unfolding battlefield. One of his brothers was down, the heavy finality of death on the air leaving no mistake. With a grim snarl Sverik levelled his pistol, eyes locking on the murderous whoreson manning the transport’s sponson mounted bolter. Firing off a trio of shots he ducked back beneath the flimsy cover of sandbags and plasteel furnishings, glancing towards Rath. _‘Go, I’ll cover you whilst you gut the bastards.’_


----------



## deathbringer

The sudden frosty gnaw of winters blade, a biting chill and the snake like hiss of the lifts hydrolics, caused Iorek to turn his eyes away from the balcony though the heavy bolter remained suspended, aimlessly directed as Baldyr's snarl cut through his heart. The rage that boiled in that God of War's head,the things he must have seen, the terrible haunting vestiges within his mind... they terrified Iorek eyes fixed upon the elevator doors slid open

"Witchcraft" his arm trembled, half a shiver half a shudder. Chaotic sorcerers, witches, mad and deranged beings of incredible and terrible power. A shape moved and the heavy bolter twitched as something rolled from the elevator, a mass of scents and smells rushing towards them, bolter raised.

Blade and bolt crossed as the elder wolves recognized eachother and the intensity grew as they squared up to one another and Iorek felt his eyes narrow in interest as he watched the mental conflict backed up with the grip of theireyes and the savage challenging tone.

Neither looked away, misty gry and clear blue locked in a private battle for supremacy. It was a half amused half irked drawl that brought them back to life as the inquisitor stepped forward sliding between the circling wolves with an air of authority that brought them back to their senses. They broke the gaze and the wolves slunk away and Iorek turned shifting the weight of the heavy bolter in his hands as a flurry of new sents caught his nostrils, a mingle of emotions yet one made his stomach clench

Death, pure death... sickly yet so potent and powerful... who was this instrument of malice, this weapon that oozed the sweet scent of shredded souls. Iorek desperately wanted to glimpse the man yet suddenly a voice cried out, strain etched in every syllable

“Something is coming!”

The wall ahead of Iorek exploded in a mass of rubble and dust that flew tiny granules clouding his eyes and he pulled the trigger of the heavy bolter blinded by the grains of brick dust that coated his exposed face. Tje bolter bucked rounds impacting with clangs as it hit metal and Iorek opened his eyes desperately blinking away the dust to find two vehicles, one flipping and sliding sideways along the floor, The second rocked yet remained upright careering towards him followed by wild eyed farful cultists that rushed towards him. Quick glances over there shoulder and wild eye looks of fear told Iorek something terrible was coming through that door, something more horrific than astartes,something evil. He was distracted by wild rounds flashing around him and suddenly Iorek's eyes met the eyes of the gunner, a heavy bolter clamped in his hands.

The look lasted seconds yet it told Iorek all he needed to know and he threw himself down behind the sand bags. Sand toppled out spilling over the marble floor, a soggy mass distorting the blood stains creating deep blood red clots amongst the pools of jet black congealed blood.

A cry to his left and he saw sverik topple a ragged line of bullet holes across his chest and Rath ran rushed keeping low till he reached his side.

Iorek heard him roar, chst heaving with the noble strian

Go, I’ll cover you whilst you gut the bastards.’

and he hollored back

"Don't be ridiculous, Rath follow the packleaders orders and get Sverik back to the stairs. We don't want another loss on our hands

Suddenly Vermundr was beside him slipping into a low crouch beside him and Iorek pulled himself close beside him and looked into the packleaders eye slits. he wished he could see his eyes, wished he could look into them yet Vermundr was already talking

"Iorek, hold strong brother! We must protect the pack, and now the Inquisitor as well. I need you to get back on that gun and fire at that traitor on the vehicle! I will attempt to draw his fire. If we survive this, we may have to deal with whatever these cowards are running from, and it may be just you and I who must do it, but the Inquisitor must reach the top level. Iorek.... I don't think the words here need to be said, if they can even be described. "

Iorek nodded swallowing slightly as he took hold of the bolter and whispered solumnly

"I'm here to the very end brother. To whatever end."

He gave a small morose smile

"I pray the alpha have come for us at last, to gain closure is my only wish... to gain vengeance, tis all that is left."

Iorek forced himself to focus and he pulled the heavy bolter feed straight ready to leap up. 

"Make your move brother, I have your back"

Vermundr leapt up and Iorek counted in his head one step two step three step before leaping up, pushing the gun onto the wall, he kept low, . The heavy bolter swung upwards and he braced, clamping it into his elbow. The gunner cover was light and Iorek took rough aim, knowing that he needed speed, the bolter was powerful enough to blast through the cover. He adjusted his aim, aiming for the gunners midriff and pulled the trigger.

The bolter bucked in a hail of recoil yet iorek held his ground, arms locked and face steady

"Let them come" he whispered, it was half grim determination, half a desperate plea, a plea for the end, the end that would put the wolves to sleep


----------



## Azwraith

As bodies collided and scrambled upon the floor Sverik made a quick acknowledging glance towards Rath thanking him. Sverik trying to fire upon the traitorous dog who had shot upon him called out to Rath *"Go, I’ll cover you whilst you gut the bastards.* this seemed all so tempting to Rath but wisdom entered his enraged mind as he grabbed Sverik by the arm.

*"Brother you are not well and i wish not to lose another brother": making a somber glance towards Conan "Please follow me and make your way to the inquisitor you are wounded and we need men to cover the inquisitor Vermundr and Iorek have it covered." Rath spoke sternly towards Sverik grabbing his arm giving him no choice but to comply as they quickly dashed towards the inquisitor. Rath silently parted ways with Sverik before he noticed making his way back to the position he had left from.

With Sverik in guarding the inquisitor and letting his antibodies take care of the wound Rath was more concerned with the position Iorek and Vermundr were under. they were was a big enough gap between them to make it difficult to cross due to the open ground. and he feared for what lied ahead. he only hoped that he could turn the tide.*


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis heard the commands of Vermundr and leapt into action. Loading his Bolt Pistol with a fresh clip he opened fire into the heretics, two fell with their heads pulped and another blown in half. "For Russ and the Allfather!" the Blood Claw thought in his head, preferring to remain quiet in the midst of war. He kept pumping shots into the mass of heretics but there were too many for him to shoot, holstering his pistol and drawing his Chainsword he charged into the fray.

A screaming man wearing bloody clothing leapt at Sydornis, a knife raised to strike his heart. A backhanded slice of his roaring Chainsword bisected the heretic. Sydornis cut his way through until he could see the body of his fallen comrade Conan, he was dead but his legacy could still live on. Several heretics rushed the Space Wolf, only to meet their ends as he spun and sliced through them with his blade, eventually reaching Kuzin and Keris. "Brothers!, we cant leave Conan's body, we must recover his gene-seed!" Sydornis shouted over the screams of the living, dying and of his blade. He hoped that these Wolves would see his point and aid him in getting Conan's body, otherwise the legacy of a fellow Space Wolf would truly die here. Sydornis awaited their answer as he helped them slash through the crush of Heretics assailing them.


----------



## Doelago

Virgil jumped over some rubble and quickly surveyed the carnage before charging into a screaming man. He kicked the man to the ground and blasted his chest to pieces with the bolt pistol. He jumped to the next one, a man with a pistol and a bayonet. The man was better aware of what was happening around him and swung his sword against him, shouting at the same time. 

Virgil blocked the hit with his sword, _"Even if this sword could not penetrate a suit of power armor, it can easily parry any of your hits and easily kill *You!*"_, he shouted to the man, who tried again, only to have his sword hand cut of by the ancient sword. The man screamed, but was still in the game, he lifted the pistol and fired, hitting Virgil in the shoulder. The pain came fast, but it was only pain, and he rather felt pain than nothing at all.

_"*Infidel!*"_ he shouted before slicing the mans head of with a clean hit from the sword._ "You failed the Allfather, and the punishment is death..."_


----------



## Euphrati

The feral rage that welled up within Keris’s mind was like a storm wave bearing down upon a dragonboat; yet he weathered it with a steadfast will as it crashed around the shoals of his thoughts and backed doggedly away from the melee, his growling chainsword echoing the low rumble that issued from between his parted lips. Another of the pack had fought through the surge to stand near his and Kuzin’s positions, speaking between thrusts of his blade.

Keris gave a sharp shake of his head at his packbrother’s words, his icy-blue eyes remaining locked upon the treacherous guardsmen as he held the portal clear for the Wolf Guard and Inquisitor’s team,

‘Honour the dead _after _you honour the living, brother. We have our duty and you have your packleader’s orders, it would be advised that you heed them. Conan will not be forgotten, but there is naught any of us present can do for him,’

Keris had nearly reached the partially obscured stair, awaiting the Wolf Guard and his precious charges,

‘Give his sacrifice the respect a Son of Russ is due by standing fast and completing the responsibilities that we must to see our oaths fulfilled!’


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr, Iorek, and Rath; Vermundr charges at the vehicle, but the gunner’s attention is not on him, throwing a quick glance back you see Rath surging forward towards Iorek’s position, a line of heavy bolter rounds following him like a tail. One shot manages to clip his pouldron and tear a chunk of ceramite away from the mass-reactive plate but he dives into cover before any damage could truly be done. That’s when Iorek opens fire, the gun in his hands bucking wildly and sending a spray of heavy caliber rounds into the gunner, a few shots punching into the plating guarding his body and doing no damage, one shot taking his head in a spray of blood.

Without another thought, Vermudr crosses the last of the gap between him and the vehicle, punching an armoured fist into the plastic guard of the drivers column, exposing a wild eyed driver who hastily fires some sort of service pistol at your face. The round goes wide and clips the side of your head doing no damage.

[Vermundr, finish him as you see fit and continue to lead your pack; seems that not all of them were keen to heed your orders. Iorek, the heavy weapon in your hands clicks dry, you toss it to the ground before seeing another dozen or so rioters fleeing from something, their present course will throw them right into Vermundr’s path. Get Rath up and help him, you never know if something so trivial as a dozen rioters could end one of your lives. Rath, you hit the ground with a crunch, pain registering along your arm, but the damage is superficial. If you get up before Iorek tries to help you, you will not see the new possible threat.]


Virgil; As you cut down the man nearest you, you spot Sydornis next to the fallen form of Conan.

Sydornis and Virgil; You hear Keris’s words ring through the vox in your ear, he is right there is little you can do for Conan here and now and you have your orders. You look away from your fallen packmate and turn to help Keris and Kuzin protect the inquisitor and loyal pdf forces when you see a group of ten or more traitor pdf running from whatever is outside. Despite the fallen half-track, they seem to be making a bee-line for the stairs in your pack-brothers’ blindside.

[Not much of a challenge for you, warn Keris and Kuzin, come to their aid as the traitors round on them, or head these bastards off so that the others can fall back. Remember, these are deserters and rioters, not full blown cultists or anything; they don’t speak in heretical tongues, they speak in normal gothic just as any imperial citizen or soldier does.]

Keris and Kuzin; You clear the nearest enemies as the loyalist pdf troopers make for the stairway, half their number, the colonel included, turn on the spot to guard the backs of the others as well as allow the inquisitor, Baldyr, and Hiymrik. As they do, two of the troopers run to the top of the stairs where las-fire cuts them down and sends their corpses falling back down. You hear Hiymrik cursing in Fenrisian and Baldyr growling at the sight before he turns to you. _“We can’t wait for the rest of the pack, you both with me, we have to breach whatever is up there now.”_ He says before making his way just before the top section of steps and unclipping a grenade from his belt.

[Once again unto the breach; Baldyr is going to hurl a grenade, do you do the same? Regardless of that choice, Kuzin when you charge forward a las-beam hits you in the chest but does no true damage. Keris, you dodge harm for a change and get a clear look at what your charging, two heavy weapons and at least twice that in crew. And do your enhanced eyes deceive you or is there something blue-grey moving above? In your post you can make it to the position, though will you get there before those above?]

Sverik; You turn in time to see Iorek and Vermundr finishing off the gunner and driver of the half track; pain still registers through your senses but its nothing you cannot handle. As you look at the heavy weapon in your hands, it is clear that the thing is a ruined mess and is of little use to you. Hurling it away, you see two new groups of people entering the enormous room, some heading in Vermundr, Iorek, and Rath’s position and some in Keris and Kuzin’s direction.

In addition to both enemy groups, you get a clear look outside and see what the traitors are running from: more Space Wolves. You don’t see much, but you clearly see the form of Heimdal, a bolter held in one hand while his other swipes down with a double headed axe and cuts a fleeing rioter in half. You don’t know how many of the grey hunters pack is with him, or if the wolf guard is there, or the state of the long fangs, but these fleeing enemies now make sense. They were trying to escape the Space Wolves breaching their positions outside and ran headlong into another pack.

[Not much for you, sorry ‘bout that, but do you leap from your position and go to the aid of Keris and Kuzin and help them get the inquisitor back to the communication room or do you disregard that and go to the aid of Vermundr, Iorek, and Rath?]


Alrik and Tyr; You fall on these wretches without mercy, carving half their number down in moments between you. A flash of retina burning light erupts in the room and for the briefest second you believe some of these enemies to have charges on their bodies, making them no more than living bombs, but a second blast, a ball of blue superheated energy, fells four of the fleeing rioters. After your superhuman senses deal with the light, you get a good look at why these enemies were so adamant to throw themselves against you.

Three power armoured bodies stand before you clad in the colours of Space Wolves, two wielding mighty plasmacannons and the last a storm bolter. You quickly realize that it is Enkil and his long fangs, and that’s when you notice the sound of heavy weapons fire and the screams of dieing enemies outside. _“Bastards didn’t want to give ground at first, we persuaded them the error of their ways.”_ Enkil declared with a smile, his large fangs making his smile as menacing as any Space Wolf could.

Turning his head to where Romka’s body lay, Enkil turned back and fixed you with a stare. _“Not many of them left out there, my pack can keep this room secure, go and help your packmates.”_ He said while pointing out the shattered doorway.

[Go to your pack, when you step out of the room you’ll see three other long fangs, two with heavy bolters and one with a multi-melta and the bodies of at least sixty rioters and pdf traitors. Strangely there are no bodies of any operatives, and no sign of the traitor who spoke to you beyond a failing scent all but masked by the dead. Head towards the area your pack is falling back from, you can skip forward in time for this (because surprise, you two were behind the others chronologically and get to catch up.)

Tyr, as you emerge from the last hall you look down over the causeway to see utter carnage, bodies lay strewn about your position and a firefight of some kind is going on down on the ground level. Alrik, your eyes look not to the bottom level but to the second floor where you see a pair of heavy weapons being put up in order to cut down anyone trying to fall back to the upper levels. Get Tyr and act now, move soon enough and maybe you can save someone from getting gunned down like that. For you it’s a bit of a race, will you make it to the position first or will what appears to be Keris, Kuzin, and Baldyr beat you to it?]


----------



## darkreever

-Gods I hate it when that happens-


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had fought like a wolf possessed as the last wave of rioters pushed its way through into the room where he, Alrik and Morgun all stood waiting for them. His armor was caked in blood and specks of gore were spattered throughout his long hair and on his face, his power fist crackling as its power field fried the blood on it. He had been grateful when Enkil had arrived, he had thought that his pack brothers might have hit a very large obstacle and not been able to return, but now he and Alrik were free to go and aide them.

He rushed out of the mangled doors to the room and passed three Long Fangs, two with Heavey Bolters and one with a Multi-Melta. He looked at the carnage and how many bodies lay strewn across the floor and wondered at something that he just now noticed, no operatives were amongst the dead and neither was the body of the traitor who had spoken to he and Alrik. He felt a shiver run down his spine, damned Alpha Legion was always hiding just inside the shadows, watching and waiting until they saw fit to show themselves.

He and Alrik made their way towards their brothers' position and came out onto a causeway and into a scene of carnage. He examined it with the practiced eye that was taught to him and realized that this was where his brothers were, the sound of gunfire only serving to confirm his belief. The wound in his chest burned with pain as he took air in from the running, but he had just slaughtered too many enemies to count with this wound so he would not let it stop him now.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik blinked his eyes rapidly at the bright light, the after image of three figures swathed in smoke and blood burning into his eye. He looked at them for several seconds, his mouth half held open and smiled when he realised what they were. Long Fangs. Each was a behemoth and hefted between them a pair of smoking Plasma-Cannons, the coils wreathed in blue fluorescent energies and the last a similarly smoking Storm-Bolter that Alrik had no doubt of that it could tear a Astartes head from his shoulders like a baby could crush an ant. He brain scoured his memory for the name of the Marine, and after a few seconds of silence it came into being as the Space Wolf smiled, revealing monstrous fangs at the trio of defenders and talked.

The Firehawk threw the Stubber to the floor when he had finished, the barrel red hot and said “I do thank you, Lord Enkil. It was rather timely of you and your two Brothers, who I apologise for not knowing your names, arrival. It is good to see you alive, my older Brother’s but now we must go” with that, Alrik spun on his heel and moved after Tyr out of the room. As he did so, he looked over his shoulder and nodded to the Wolf Scout Morgun, showing his respect for the carapace armoured Marine who had fought bravely with the Blood Claws.

They walked in silence, their feet resounding within the hallways as they did so. Neither dared to talk, for their own personal reasons but Alrik suspected that his larger Brother was trying to mask the pain which had thumped throughout his enhanced body. Alrik, his injured leg dotted with perspiration and crystals of blood, did not talk due to his thoughts being cast upon the Long Fangs and the Scout, each of which were veterans of untold battles. It made his mind fall upon his own future and that of the Pack that were his strength, his mind and his courage. Each, even the albino Iorek were counted as close friends to him, although only Vermundr, Tyr, Keris and Iorek were actually respected by Alrik.

They came into a scene of carnage. The doors were mangled on their frames, dangling ponderously by half broken hinges. Alrik was sure, that if he did not have his helm in place that the stench of the dead would have caused his powerful nostrils to flair. Dead bodies, broken and bloody littered the floor where they had been torn apart by the metallic teeth of Chain-Swords and the projectiles of Bolt Pistols. He rushed forwards, leaning over the edge and his heart skipped a pace as he saw most of his Squad still standing. His eyes bulged when he noticed a triplet of weapons getting pulled into place and turned, running towards Tyr. 

He grabbed his pauldron and yanked ordering firmly “Tyr, we move now! The second floor, a heavy weapons group! Now Brother, my leg will slow me but you can still go, run! I will be right behind you” even Alrik knew that was a lie, it was not possible for him to catch up if the Space Wolf broke into a sprint. However he would not give up, and vowed to himself that he would stay right behind his slightly larger Brother.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr turned as Alrik pulled him around, *“Tyr, we move now! The second floor, a heavy weapons group! Now Brother, my leg will slow me but you can still go, run! I will be right behind you” * Tyr shot his head round to look up and spotted the guns that Alrik had seen, if they were allowed to fully set up he was sure that they would tear apart their brothers beneath them as they fought their way up.

He turned and sprinted down the causeway as fast as he could, the pain in his chest burning with each breath. He had no grenades, those had been used against the inumerable amount of rioters and traitor PDF that had attacked the room they had been defending, so he charged forward and brought his pistol up to aim up at the guns being set up. He let off two shots, even though he knew he would not hit anything, he knew that the shots would at least serve to distract the enemy up top for a short period and each second they lost to that he and his brothers gained. 

He shot again and the bolt round exploded as it hit the railing and peppered two troopers who fell screaming, their comrades around them moving faster as they noticed the huge bloody Space Wolf charging their position. As he got closer someone had pulled out an auto-pistol and he felt a few rounds ping off of his armor, one of them managed to graze his chest wound and he roared in pain as he finally reached the enemy position and fell upon them. 

The first died without a chance to scream as Tyr's fist pulped his face, his body flinging back from the hit. His pistol was up and firing at another as the troopers reacted to him, those closest to him trying to get out of his reach and those not moving to pull out their weapons. He reached out and grabbed one by the arm and moved to throw him off the level they were on and over the edge to the floor, as he did this the side of his chest that was injured was wide open and one of the troopers whipped out his combat knife and lept at Tyr.

He saw the flash of the blade too late as the trooper hit the railing and flew over and down to the floor where he landed with a crunch and felt an unbelievable pain shoot through his body. He bellowed in pain and rage and looked down to the trooper who backed away from his side quickly and saw the knife sticking out of the already wounded side of his chest, the grip the only thing showing.

Pain clouded his vision for a second, he saw his brothers all being torn apart as the one heavey weapon that was left opened fire on them as they attempted to retreat to the upper levels, all because he had fallen right here. He would not allow that to happen, he would destroy these guns and the crew and allow his brothers the safe passage they needed to accomplish the mission they had been given. 

He squinted his eyes and felt the knife keenly in the side of his chest, but instead of letting the pain cloud him he let it fuel his anger, he opened his eyes wide and grunted as he lept at the trooper who had stabbed him and beat him down with his power fist. He aimed with his pistol as quickly as he could at the crewman who was still trying to get one of the guns operational and the man's left arm blew apart at the shoulder, showering the gun in blood as he fell to the floor screaming. 

Tyr let out a howl and turned towards where the last few crewmen were and stopped to see at least three lasguns pointed right at him. At first he had thought that he would have been able to keep the momentum up and the surprise to keep these traitors from really getting to hurt him. Originally their attention had been either on the guns or down the other side of the causeway where there were some steps leading down below, but after he had been stabbed he realized that he had lost the momentum he had had and now he was caught out in the open and was very vulnerable.

He noticed that their backs were towards the steps and remembered seeing a few shots coming from the troopers towards the steps. His brothers must be on their way up to get rid of the guns, he hoped to the Emperor that they came within the next two seconds or that Alrik was not far behind him, otherwise he would have more then the bloody knife in his chest to worry about.


----------



## unxpekted22

He sprinted with all his might, axe raised the whole time, but the bastard hadnt taken the bate. A thumping of bolter fire came from in front of him, but surprisingly it was the heretics head he saw explode into a splash of red. Beneath his helmet he accidentally let out a single loud laugh, but not through the vox; his pride for Iorek as a pack brother bursting back into his heart.

He placed his axe and pistol back at his hips and without stopping his sprint he hurled himself to the door of the vehicle, seeing his reflection come into view for only a second before his blue gray fist smashed through driver's plastic guard. The smash of plastic material was met almost instantaneously with a round firing into his face. The round did no damage deflecting off the side of his helmet and knocking his head to the side a bit. He felt the fist he used to punch through the pane contact with the man's side causing him flinch harshly in his seat. Before he could react further, Vermundr caught his balance, snapped the same hand that punched behind the driver's head and swung it forward sending his head through the front windshield with a bloody crash. 

The heretic was screaming in pain as Vermudnr pulled him back out, some shards of the glass sticking into the head wounds. He pulled the man out of the side window he had smashed, and flung him onto the ground.

He shoved his foot beneath the man's body, and kicked him up into the air to about Vermundr's midsection, who then grabbed the body with both hands, turned, and with a yell took one step and did a 360 spin throwing the man's body straight into one of the massive columns; causing the body to stick into the side of the now cracked column for a few seconds before falling to the ground.

Now facing the pack again, backing up against the vehicle he saw one of the less familiar wolves to him, Sydornis, at Conan's body by the sandbags. On top of this, the four of them he had ordered up the stairs Sydornis included, hadn't even begun to make their way up yet. He snarled beneath his helm and looked for Rath and Sverik.

better news, They had not made it toward the stairs but that was not necessarily their fault, Sverik had been struck, and the heavy bolter had until now forced them to remain in cover. He saw Sverik's head pop up form behind the sandbags while Rath was behind the same wall of sand bags looking around the ends of them closest to the wall of sandbags Iorek was behind.

Sverik seemed to be looking at something in particular, Vermundr could tell he was seeing whatever the rioters had been running from so he voxed into Sverik's helm, 

_"Sverik! what are we facing?"_


----------



## Doelago

Virgil was had already taken a few steps in the direction of the stairs, when he noticed a group consisting of at least ten more traitor PDF soldiers trying to get to the stairs.

*`Incoming!`* he shouted before firing his bolt pistol. The gun barked, and a traitor was blown apart into bloody pieces. He stepped back and took aim, before pressing the trigger again, a second one was down. 

_`Sydornis, help me clear this filth in the name of Russ and the Allfather!`_ he voxed over to his brother before jumping into a run. It only took him a few seconds to reach the first man, and the man soon got a hit in the face from Virgil elbow. The man fell to the ground screaming and Virgil crushed one of his legs before planting the sword in his chest. The man went silent, as his heart was penetrated by the sword. The body begun bleeding heavily and the man vent quiet, and Virgil pulled the sword out. Half of the sword was covered in blood, and Virgil wondered as he watched at it how many souls had meet the same fate when his predecessors had used the same weapon.


----------



## deathbringer

The metal splintered, the thin sheet breaking as the bullets burrowed into them like brass earwigs, lodging themselves deep within the metal, momentum spent and Iorek aimed upwards, allowing the recoil to carry his final shot upwards. The bullet flashed through the air, smoke spiralling from the tail in a fizzling plume as it arced. Nerves were set aflame as it catapulted forwarded, the sound of the gunshot followed by a silent menacing click

From the cornor of his fixed vision he saw Vermundr darting across axe raised high, legs punmping, two wild pistons of muscle carrying him towards the enemy. Bullets streaked across his vision as the traitors eyes widened, the arc of bullets he was spraying flicking back towards Iorek. The bullet dipped perfectly aimed as it smashed into the treacherous bastards fatuous features.

He toppled like a stone, pivoting backwards corpse rigid as his muscled loosened, a marionette is strings cut as it dropped out of sight and Iorek thought he heard a distant yelp of approval as his own roar of triumph mingled with the sounds of battle. His roar turned into a chocking laugh as blood began to drip off the raised platform, spattering onto the floor below. He started at the destruction, curiously fixated by the spreading blood, the scents wafting off it.

They teased him, swirling aroma's tantalising him, holding him as he embraced the potent sensory stimulations created within his body. A yelp and a flash of anguish flashed through Iorek's mind and he whipped round, the heavy bolter sliding from his hand as he caught sight of a protruding grey armoured foot, a small trickle of pain wafting towards him, faint, a teasing tickle at his nostrils. 

He moved towards it eyes now moving past the vehicle towards a small clump of hurrying figures fleeing from something in the distance. They saw Vermundr as he struggled with the driver and after a quick glance they rushed towards him a vestige of weapon raised. A motley crew yet his finger gently sliding over the new bump in his nose, vestige of a lump of granite born by a wild eyed rioter, and he snarled, next time the rioters may cause greater damage. The foot twitched and Iorek pushed towards it opening a vox channel to the group at large he hollored

"Vermundr, be aware, you've got rioters moving upon your position, 10 plus, i'd say more than 12, my bolter is dry brother, you have no cover fire"


Looking over the barrier he found Rath lying prostrate upon his arm and he kept his face impassive, supressing the twitch of contempt that rose despite the swift surge of irritation at their previous conversation. 

"Are you hurt brother? Rioters advance upon the pack leader? The heavy bolters and autocannon you bore, are they dry? If so and your wound is superficial we should charge to the aid of Vermundr? I thirst for blood brother"

He reached down extending a hand towards Rath, it was a meaningless gesture, no feeling accompanied it, only a desire for speed, a desire to hurry into battle and take the lives of their enemies once more.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis cursed in Fenrisian, his helmet amplifying it quite heavily, and he resolved to vent his anger on the traitors. Bringing his Chainsword up and slicing a traitor PDF soldier from waist to shoulder and quickly following it up with several point blank Bolt Pistol shots into a squad of screaming turncoats. It was definitely helping his rage, although he could feel the Wolf within waiting to strike. Suddenly Sydornis heard Brother Virgil's cry for aid over the vox, "Yes Brother. Im en route" he barked out before breaking into a sprint.

Sydornis quickly brought his Bolt Pistol up and snapped off two shots, pulping the heads of two traitors who were about to blind-side Virgil. "Keep your attention on the battle brother, I wont carry you around if you get wounded for being lax" Sydornis said, admonishing Virgil. The young Blood Claw leapt forward and lunged with his Chainsword, punching right into a traitor, then ripping it free and quickly burying the roaring blade in another traitor's head. Sydornis pulled his blade free, gore splattering all over him, and leapt back into battle.


----------



## Euphrati

The chainsword in Keris’s fist growled a counterpoint to the wolf in his soul as the limp and bleeding bodies of the loyal troopers slid down the steps they had just moments before mounted, coming to rest in an ungainly heap on the cold stone at his feet. The Wolf Scout’s oaths were colourfully inventive and Keris cocked an eyebrow at the physical impossibility of at least one of the acts mentioned as he nodded in response to the Wolf Guard’s words as he followed Baldyr up the blood-slick steps.

The ozone reek of las fire riddled the air around him; a bright bolt scored a dark burn upon the ceramite of Kuzin’s chest though, for once, Keris found himself unscathed by the snapping lines of angry ruby as he risked a glance beyond the hewn stone of the doorway. His anger at seeing the traitors scrambling to erect the heavy guns came out in a low snarl, yet something else caused his ice blue eyes to dart upwards searching.

_There._ A flash of motion and colour, the shadowy blue-grey of a distant thunderhead; the same pale shade that graced Keris’s own armour under the blood that drenched the holy plates encasing his body. The barking voice of a bolt pistol echoed from above, followed by screams from the cadre of traitors and the resounding howl of a Son of Russ.

Keris recognized the tonal range of the feral battlecry immediately as Tyr. _By Morkai’s fangs, what was his wolfbrother doing here and not defending the communications room? _He made a staying gesture to Baldyr as the Wolf Guard readied a grenade,

‘Blades may be the wiser choice, Iceslayer, least you wish my packmate to be dodging fire from his own kin as well as from these faithless traitors.’

The words had barely left his lips before Keris sprang forward; devouring the last few meters of hewn stone that stood between him and the renegades with an answering howl to Tyr on his lips, the wound in his thigh burning with each powerful stride. 

Cresting the last step, Keris took in the scene before him in the time it took his twin hearts to beat once. 

Tyr, blood staining his armour nearly black and caged lightning licking his clenched powerfist, fought like a raging thunderwolf amid the broken bodies of the traitorous deserters. The hilt of a blade protruded from the Space Wolf’s side, buried to the handguard in a vicious rent in the side of Tyr’s breastplate. Many of the remaining renegades had turned to face the newest threat to their pitiful existence, caught as they were between the closing jaws of the Allfather’s justice. It was a mistake that they would pay for with their lives as Keris thrust his chainsword through the exposed back of the nearest man, a callous looking youth with a hard-angled countenance. The body convused as the adamantium teeth chewed through the front of the traitor’s breastbone in a welter of crimson lifeblood. Keris jerked the churning blade from the still twitching corpse,

‘Tyr! What are you doing here brother? Where is Alrik?'

Keris paused, taking in his brother's battered and gore-smeared form,

'By Russ, you look as if you bathed in blood...’


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was calmly moving downwards, resounding screams and small arms fire fluttering around his encased form. His Chainsword was held in both hands, his fingers wrapped tightly in a strong embrace that he refused to let go. His thoughts kept dwelling upon Morgun and Romka, the former mostly but the latter remained stuck firmly in his head. Morgun was a veteran of an untold number of campaigns, and Alrik respected the Scout for the tasks of which he had undertaken in his life time. His leg felt dead on him, although Alrik had no doubt that if he wanted to he could have kept up with the mountain of flab which was Tyr.

The corners of his mouth plucked up for a moment in a cheeky grin and his eyes flashed with joy for a second, although that was replaced forcefully by his dwellings upon death. His Pack had been reduced greatly, the pyromaniac Odin, the former whaler Njoror and so many others. The Alpha Legion had played their plan expertly, and Alrik had almost fallen himself at their hands. That, in the Chapel with the death of wise Kjarl was the true reckoning of the Wolves. Keris had been hit particularly hard by that, and both he and Alrik had avoided one another for quite some time since the Firehawk’s outburst within the Palace of the Governor. 

While it was regrettable, Alrik could do nothing more than go with the flow and thus their relationship had grown strained, the two close Brothers barely ushering a word to one another. How he hoped Keris had survived. Iorek, Vermundr, Tyr and Keris……His Brothers, the closest thing to an family that he would ever have. The others of his Squad he had ignored and looked down upon for some time, disliking the way they were for his own myriad amount of reasons. When Vermundr had been chosen as the Pack-Leader, Alrik was not surprised by the outrage from Iorek who had been lied to about the death of his Brother. 

He continued to descend slowly, until finally he came to the second floor. He laughed loudly as Keris spoke, chuckling so that his Brother could hear as he came into view, standing on the stairs with the Chainsword in his hands. He spun it and slid it down into his scabbard saying “Keris! Still in one piece are we? Got a bit worried then ehh? What _would _you do without me!” he moved forwards at a rush, leaping from the stairs and putting his weight down on his uninjured leg, continuing forwards until he found himself gripping his Brother by the pauldrons and inspected him slowly before looking up at his face. With a laugh he stepped away, letting his hands fall limp at his side and said “I am here, never fear” before falling back into a outburst of laughter.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Leaping over the fallen loyalists , Kuzin kept beside Keris and the older Wolves as las-fire drizzled around them. Unclipping a frag grenade from his belt Kuzin was thrown back an inch, a fresh scorch from a las shot seared across his chest. Before he could think, he was swinging his chainsword and running in the direction of the enemy. “I’ll show you, you bastards…!” Forgetting the grenade.

Keris was already there, at the Heavy weapons, ripping his chainsword through an unfortunate soul. Standing, next to Keris and drenched in blood was Tyr, one of the other Marines he was not familiar with. The Blood Claw was wounded as a hilt stuck out of his side. 

Angling his body back, Kuzin dodged the swinging stock of a lasgun and instinctively hammered his Bolt Pistol down onto the traitor’s head, splitting his skull and breaking his neck. The beared traitor vomited blood onto Kuzin’s legs as he dropped. “Rude bastard.”

Keris was helping out Tyr, so Kuzin kicked an oncoming traitor in the stomach and stared at the heavy weapons. 

He really wanted to take one with him.

From the stairs leapt the other Blood Claw, Kuzin had not gotten familiar with yet. His name, thought Kuzin, was Alrik wasn’t it? The marine was entertained and laughed a lot. It appeared the three knew each other. Looking away, Kuzin thought about how he could pick up one of the heavy weapons.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr just about collapsed he was so relieved to see Keris charge into the midst of the last gaurdsmen with another wolf he had not seen before.

_ ‘Tyr! What are you doing here brother? Where is Alrik?'_ said Keris

Despite all that had happened Tyr chuckled, *"He is right behind me brother, you seemed to have missed all of our fun back at the control room. Enkil and his Long Fangs are aiding Morgun in defending it now and gave us leave to come and find the rest of you...." *he paused thinking on what else to tell Keris when his brother mentioned the amount of blood he had on him. 

Tyr smiled, *"Aye that I did, the blood of traitors, bastards came in droves they did but Morgun, Alrik and I beat them back every time. Tell me brother,"* he winced as he walked over to Keris and lifted his arm up, his hand clenching around the blade in his chest and with a grunt of pain he wrenched it out before tossing it away, *"Have you ever fought an Ogryn before?" *he tapped the huge rent in his armor, *"Dumber then a pile of snow but as strong as any one of us....did a number on me they did." *

Looking over the edge of the railing he could see his brothers down below in a firefight and who he guessed to be the Inquisitor and their retinue. He turned back to Keris and saw that Alrik had made it to them and was extremely happy to see their brother, every time Tyr breathed it felt as though a blade was being shot into his chest, so he kept his excitement level down to a minimum. 

He placed his hands on the shoulders of Alrik and Keris, the change that had happened within him visible in his eyes still, *"Come, we will have time to speak and tell stories once we are out of this infernal place and back on the Fist of Russ....." *he paused as if thinking, *"Or when all the traitors are dead.....I like that option better."* he smiled menacingly at his brothers before letting go of them and making his way towards the new wolf that was eyeing the heavy guns and slapped him hard on the back making him take a step forward, *"And who might you be brother?"*the blood that was all over his armor and face made his smile look almost demonic.


----------



## Azwraith

Rath's world was spinning after being flicked around by bolter fire he landed firmly in the safety of the sandbags.. to his surprise he was okay clenching his shoulder pad noticing a large chunk of his ceramite armour was missing... he contemplated cursing at the weakness of his armour before biting his lip.

Iorek's Bolter burst into life recoiling bolt after bolt, Rath watched intently upon his brother Iorek's body tightened and braced each impact allowing the gun to do the work for him, a feeling of admiration came over Rath which was in surprise again as he had never thought this way of Iorek before, Perhaps Iorek's Bloodlust was settling or Raths Morals was shifting, eitherway he watched in amazement as Iorek controlled the wildbeast that was the heavy bolter. 

Rath turned looking to see what was over the sandbags when he felt Iorek move by his side, Iorek spoke firmly to Rath with a hint of disgust *"Are you hurt brother? Rioters advance upon the pack leader? The heavy bolters and autocannon you bore, are they dry? If so and your wound is superficial we should charge to the aid of Vermundr? I thirst for blood brother"*

Rath kept silent he reached up and grabbed Ioreks hand who promptly hauled him upon his feet. which to Rath felt like he tried to pull his arm out of its socket.
The two without a second thought sprinted to Vermundr's position.


----------



## deathbringer

Anger flared inside iorek as Rath merely stood using iorek as a lever before charging off silently towards Vermundr's position.

The wolves in his head gave a snarl and Iorek leapt after him drawing his pistol and chainsword with two flourishes of his wrist. His blood was up and he saw the rioters now pushing over the ground towards Vermundr, he would hit them in the side as they focused upon the squad leader. He moved at a sprint, his face a mask of hatred and he felt the desire for blood building as the twisted wolf roared at him, urging him on, urging him to strike.

Bloodlust addled his brain and he raised his bolt pistol, holding it straight out in front of him as he leapt over wreckage, making his way towards the small group.

If it exposed him to what was behind, terrifying the addled rioters so be it, yet he fully intended to cause carnage in there lines if he could. 

He could feel it already, the upcoming bloodbath as his steps clattered over the stone floor towards them. A rioters face turned spotted his progress towards them. Iorek's round screached past his ear and he let out a roar of triumph as it bureid itself in his neighbours ear, exploding his brains and covering the rioters in gore. A second round buried itself in the wall behind them, a little black indent of scorched stone, as the rioters ducked, turning towards him as he leapt amongst them and he thumbed the activation rune of his chainsword as his bulk knocked the rioters ahead of him to the floor. He had room to swing and he took the chainsword opening his body and slashing in a long one handed arc. He felt the long blade swing for a long time, gaining in power and momentum beofre biting into flesh and he felt the whirring teeth tear through bone and sinew, blood spattering warm and metallic upon his face, droplets dripping onto his lips. 

He lapped them up eagerly as he unloaded a bolt round into the melee point blank at the cultists ahead of him and let out a long howl of ecstacy. It was good to taste blood once more.


----------



## unxpekted22

Sverik never answered him, and he was instead answered with Iorek and Rath charging forwards from their cover at whatever was coming.

Vermudnr turned just as more rioters ran around the half-track smacking into him as Rath charged back at them front the front.

"Get off of me you worthless scum!" He pulled a rioter off his armor through him on the ground face first, and stomped down as hard he could on the man's spine. He saw Iorek coming in at the traitors from the side, blowing apart their fleeing ranks. 

A drop of fear landed on Vermundr's heart, these people were still fleeing from something they were not the main problem. He glanced back at the steps and was relieved to see the rest of the pack had finally made their way up to the next level. He looked again towards the giant hole in the wall and through the dust in time to see fellow wolves marching through, gunning down more fleeing traitors.

Once Rath and Iorek were finished he said to them, "Calm yourselves brothers, our elder brethren have arrived."


----------



## Euphrati

The ghost of a smile played within the icy depths of Keris’s eyes as the towering Wolf leapt from the far stair, a deep-chested chuckle rolling before him like thunder before a storm. Powerful hands gripped his pauldrons as Keris relented to Alrik’s inspection, wincing slightly as his packmate unwittingly jostled the wound in his upper arm. Keris gave a soft chuckle in reply to his brother’s words, his eyes taking on a sly glint,

‘It is good to see you in relatively one piece as well, brother,’ 

A brief lupine grin flashed a set of gleaming ivory fangs as Keris allowed his own gaze to slide across the myriad of new scars that graced Alrik’s battle plate, tasting the tones of his brother’s scent as it filled his senses. 

‘I didn’t think it possible for you to get any uglier, however it seems you have contrived a way!’

The fact that only two of the three packmates that had been left to guard the communications room with the Wolf Scout now stood, bloodied and wounded, in front of him was not lost on the young Space Wolf. Keris shook his head, growing solemn again as Tyr spoke before replying in low tones,

‘We are the Wolves of Russ, Tyr. We fight as long as we can, as hard as we can, and when we can do no more… then, _and only then_, do we move on. It is the way of Fenris. Enough for now though, Vermundr could use your strength in tearing those vehicles apart. Alrik, with me in seeing the Lady Inquisitor to the communications room,’

Keris paused to cast a sidelong glance at Alrik’s battered form, a wry expression etched across his features,

‘At least we have one good set of legs between the two of us, brother.’


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr, Iorek, Rath, Sveric, Sydornis, and Virgil; You butcher any enemy foolish enough to come within reach of your weapons while making your way to the steps. The sound of heavy gunfire steals your attention as the last of these enemies, if they could even be called that, are felled. Standing atop one of the now wrecked vehicles is Gunnar, the wolf guard who had been with pack’s Heimdal and Enkil on the second thunderhawk that had gone down. One of his arms ended in a claw, the blades bathed in blue energy while the opposite held a storm bolter, spitting death into anyone that fell on the veteran wolf’s sight.

_“Don’t just stand there gawking, back up your packmates above and lets take down that communication!”_ He roared over the vox before leaping down. _“Vermundr gather your pack and move, we’ll keep whoever we can find busy, go after Tolau after the communications are done.”_ This time the voice of Heimdal, though he was out of sight as his voice echoed in all your ears.

You didn’t need any prompting after that, with nothing in your way, you quickly make it to the steps and up to the second level only to see another recent bit of destruction. You pay that no mind, however, seeing the armoured forms of Space Wolves racing to the third level with the inquisitor and pdf following as best they could, though they would be hard pressed to keep up the pace any of you could muster.

Despite the other group’s lead, you are not hampered by normal men and women and easily catch up, instantly noticing that Alrik and Tyr are with Keris, Kuzin, and Baldyr, who somehow looks even more unhappy than usual.


Alrik, Keris, Tyr, and Kuzin; As you four converge, Baldyr moves in between you all, breaking things up while he moves past towards the third level. _“Leave the explanations and banter for another time, we have enemies yet to kill, objectives to fulfill, and a head guilder to save if at all possible.”_ His granite hard voice biting through each of you. Keris and Kuzin, as you make to follow Baldyr, the Katelen and her troopers along with the inquisitor and her pair run from the steps after you, now that the coast is clear, and you notice the inquisitor’s eyes darting from the warrior of her group over to Baldyr and back again. Perhaps something to ponder, or just ignore it? Without another moment’s hesitation, you break into a run after Baldyr and the others, reaching the steps to the third floor only to be joined by the rest of the pack.

All; The return to the communications room is made as fast as possible, the compound seeming more deserted than before, all attention likely having gone to the communication room or outside where the grey hunters were. Rather than the forty minutes it took to get from the communication room, you all manage to get there in half that time, the pdf squad looking utterly drained though the same could not be said of the inquisitor for some reason. More psyker witchery maybe?

Whatever it is doesn’t really matter to you, the number of corpses does though. It appears that the long fangs had been busy since last you were here, though to Alrik and Tyr the number of dead does not seem to have increased by that much. Enkil emerges from the blown in doors, a smile on his face at the sight of you and your packmates and he makes his way over to Vermundr, clapping him on the shoulder. _“Glad to see your still in one piece young-blood, get to go and have yet more fun once things are settled here.”_ He says before another figure emerges, Morgun. _“Inquisitor, a pleasure to see you once again; if you would lend us assistance in ending this we would very much like to pay these traitors for the damage they have caused.”_ Morgun says, his voice taking on a softer tone, or as soft as someone who looks like him can.

_“Of course; Carlo, I want you and Lyle to find Tolau and whoever else may be with him.”_ The younger woman says before looking to colonel Katalen. _“Colonel, leave half your squad with me; it would likely not be a good idea for me to come in your wake without any support.”_ This she says and before the colonel even acknowledges the order, she darts into the room with Morgun. Enkil looks at Baldyr and Vermundr before turning back to follow the pair. _“Still a pompous guild leader to rescue and humiliate, no need to remain here.”_ He says and Baldyr nods.


With little else, you are once again off, Hymrik choosing to go with your and your packmates with the colonel and three soldiers following from behind. Of the inquisitor’s pair, Carlo and Lyle, there is no sign of either. Unlike finding the inquisitor, the layout of the complex and the location of the guilder seems to have remained accurate, and within minutes you emerge into a long hall with a high arched ceiling of clear glass. Above you can see an observation tower, where Tolau should be, only four levels above your current position with only two ways up. And one of those ways is currently guarded by what looks to be twenty pdf soldiers with an array of heavy bolters.

_“Less than five percent my ass; did the most heavily armed five percent of this world turn traitor.”_ Baldyr growls in Fenrisian before hurling himself behind a statue depicting some former head guilder. You all are forced to see cover as yet more fire is poured down the corridor towards you. As you leap for cover, some of you can't help but wonder, was that a joke from Baldyr just now?


[Right, so back into the thick of things for you lot, sorry for the delay in updating these last few days. Anyway, Vermundr, Kuzin, and Keris; you three dive for the same cover, none of you escaping the heavy weapon fire without taking a hit or two. The damage isn’t anything you can’t ignore, but they did just damage your armour. Rath, Virgil, Tyr, and Iorek; you manage to get into cover with more success than the others, managing to just barely avoid getting hit. Sydornis, Alrik, and Sveric; you are furthest back and along with Hymrik manage to fall back to the corridor and escape las-fire and heavy bolter fire.

You can see Baldyr unclipping a grenade and motioning for those of you who can to follow suit. Alrik, Tyr, Virgil, Iorek, and Rath; you are all out. The wolf guards intention is clear, throw the grenades and charge the gunline. Should be fun.

Obviously you all should know what your going to do; twenty-ish enemy soldiers with half as many heavy bolters, should be enough for each of you to get a kill or two. Make your way to the line and take them, though none of you will manage to make it completely unscathed. You’ll all get hit by something, heavy weapon round, las-bolt, or some sort of solid slug projectile.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr was about to speak again to Kuzin but Baldyr had broken up their little group as he pushed towards the third level barking at them to follow. Tyr slapped Kuzin on his back before heading after Baldyr keeping up loosely behind him and to the right, they made the treck to the communications room relatively quick compared to their last time and were greated by Enkil and his Long Fangs.

Tyr saw the look on the others' faces at the amount of corpses that littered the floor and turned to nod at Alrik, it seemed that Enkil and his brothers had definately met resistance but not that much. Tyr's eyes narrowed as he saw the bodies of the Ogryns and the operative and he spit on the floor as they all waited for Baldyr and the others to decide what they were doing next, why they had to rescue this guilder was beyond Tyr but they had to do it and so he would and kill anyone in his way.

They were off again soon enough, leaving the Inquisitor behind but taking her colonel and three of his men with them to find this man. They entred a long high hall with a massive glass cieling that showed an observation tower not too far away with what looked to be only two ways up to it. One of these paths was gaurded by twenty PDF soldiers with ten heavey bolters, something that could definately take down a Blood Claw if these soldiers were any good at aiming.

Just as they could see the triggers being pulled Tyr lept into cover behind a statue and slammed his back up against it just in time to see rounds fly just by him. He activated his power fist and pulled out his bolt pistol and readied himself, peeking round his could see that Keris, Vermundr and Kuzin had all been hit, not too bad but definately hit. He knew that since his pistol was in his right hand, which was the side of his wound on his chest, that he was going to have to lift his arm eventually and expose himself. 

He watched Baldyr pull out a grenade and activate and it was clear what they were going to do, all who could would throw grenades and they would all charge the line. Tyr smiled menacingly at the thought, this was what he was made for, this is what Astartes were best at. He knew what looks the PDF soldiers would have on their faces as they realized what was charging them, just like what the soldiers setting up the heavy stubbers had looked, utter fear.

As the grenades were thrown and he and his brothers left their cover and charged he let out a deep howl as he ran with all his might towards the enemy. As he ran he aimed and fired his bolt pistol hitting one soldier right in the chest and blowing him backward into his comrades and showering them in blood. Yet as he made to fire again traces of heavy bolter rounds tore towards him and as he moved to dodge them his right hand was hit and torn apart leaving only a bloody stump and his pistol on the ground as he let his momentum and now pain carry him on. 

He hit the line just behind Baldyr and alongside some of his quicker brothers, the pain from not only his chest wound but now his bloody stump of a hand pushing him dangerously close to the edge. He reached out and grabbed the soldier who had shot him around his body with his powerfist and as he lifted the man up squeezed as hard as he could. Relishing in the feeling of the crushed bones and the pulping of his innards.


----------



## unxpekted22

A heavy bolter smashed into Vermundr's gut as he was taken by surprise of the several heavy weapons once again pointed at him.

Holding his stomach he straggled to get behind the statue by Baldyr. Once in cover he moved his hand and found that the armor had not been severely damaged and the round had not gone through. More heavy weapons? Baldyr's joke unfortunately didn't involve an extension of the truth. Still essentially his first mission off of Fenris, more heavy bolter rounds had ripped towards him today then all the ales he had consumed in his life as a space wolf. 

He heard baldyr unpin a grenade next to him and, back to the statue, looked right and saw Tyr and the others chucking grenades over as well. Vermundr took hold one at his waist, and threw it far ahead as he turned round the statue in a run. He felt like throwing up, right inside his helmet from the round that impacted his abdomen. Some of the rounds flashed in the light as they raced towards him in less than a second. Most of them he could not see, and could only hear them whizzing past. Perhaps they couldn't agree on which marines to aim for first.

Halfway there, a round struck his right shoulder guard hard enough to spin him around, fate causing a round that would have struck him in the chest to miss. He stayed on his feet and never stopped moving forward. He held his pistol forward now that he was in more of an effective range and emptied the clip. He saw a couple deep red splashes fly from one of the traitors, the gunner of the heavy bolter aimed at him.

"Thank the Emperor" he thought " For all that has happened, and that which has not happened to me on this world." realizing again how simply lucky he had seemed where as several other blood claws he had known had not. 

As the loader saw his gunner fall away, He looked up hastily, seeing Vermundr still approaching with the incredible speed of an astartes. He threw up his las gun and pulled the trigger as fats as he could. Vermundr saw him bring up the gun and slid low to the ground causing the red beams to fly over his form. for the twenty feet or so he needed, he slid fast enough due to his running speed, the edge of his boots sent up a few sparks from the friction against the ground.

He slid past the second traitor swinging the blade of his axe into his legs. Stopping himself he turned and pushed back toward the screaming traitor, flipped him over to face him for the finishing blow. 

His brothers and elders had taken the rest of the line. Still on his knees, his stomach felt extremely twisted after taking such a blow and moving so fast right after. He realized what was coming, threw off his helmet as fast as he could and vomited. Growling as he stood back up helmet and weapons back at his waist, "Think I'd rather take on an alpha legionnaire again than another one of these stupid things." He slammed his fist into the heavy bolter breaking it off its stand and causing it to crash on the ground. Putting his helmet on his waist only for a moment as he reloaded his bolt pistol and made sure no one else he was responsible for was dead. As far as he was concerned two was two too many, perhaps now that they were better linked up with the other packs, his blood claws would have better chances.


----------



## Euphrati

The Wolf Guard’s tones were harsh and biting, though Keris had a suspicion that he and his packmates were merely a indiscriminate target for Baldyr’s venting of his irritation. The wolf within Keris’s mind shifted slightly and he regarded the elder Space Wolf carefully as he pushed bodily past the three Blood Claws. There was tenacity in Baldyr’s movements that seemed to cast an even darker shadow in his brutal features. 

_Perhaps it was not for our sake alone that Blackmane placed our fates together, Iceslayer. _

Keris’s thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of the pdf and Inquisitor as they clamoured from the stairwell; casting a hooded glance at the Inquisitor as he fell into step behind the retreating back of the Wolf Guard. For a brief moment he studied the strange, exotic woman; noting how her bizarrely orange eyes darted between Baldyr and the man at her side, the glance partially hidden by a fridge of dark russet hair tipped in purple. Keris judged the slender female to barely come to his mid-chest, her lean form covered in a cream coloured bodyglove where the chocolate cloak thrown around her shoulders billowed open. Twinned pistols of exotic design hung in a tooled belt from her waist and Keris glimpsed the brief outline of a shoulder-harnessed blade slung across her back. 

Keris tasted the air, seeking her scent with curiosity and immediately regretted doing so as he swallowed down the urge to sneeze. The air currents about her were laced with enigmatic aromas that lingered on the back of Keris’s tongue in a most unpleasant fashion. He picked up his pace slightly, placing a wary distance between his keen senses and the Inquisitor, loping along in ground devouring strides and ignoring the ache in his thigh and shoulder with each jostling impact.

Even at the swift pace set by the Wolf Guard, the human pdf curtailed their speed and the rest of the pack caught up in short order. The group moved unchallenged through the desolate halls, the cooling corpses marking their previous passage like silent spectators to a bizarre parade. The long minutes of the journey counted by the heavy tread of the Wolves and the lighter slap of the guardsmen’s laboured pace upon the stone and paneled floors. The pdf struggled to keep up with the lengthy strides of the Wolves, though Keris noted that the Inquisitor seemed more than capable of maintaining the punishing pace. 

Slowly, Keris angled his path to keep an eye upon Iorek; the feral note had returned to his packbrother’s scent and blood painted his features, felting a nauseating sensation in the pit of his stomach when he noted the smearing at the corners of Iorek’s mouth as if he had licked at it. Guilt surged like a bitter stain through Keris’s veins followed by a bleak realization; he could offer what guidance he carried to his brother, but it was Iorek who must fight the battle with the beast within for his soul in the end. 

Keris could taste the carnage in the air before he ever laid eyes upon the body-strewn hallway that marked the killing ground before the communications hub. The number of dead was imposing, yet each body that lay cooling in the tangle of corpses represented a soul that had turn its back upon the AllFather, corrupted and twisted by the hand of the Enemy unto their own damnation. Keris regarded the dead with a bitter fury; _the wolf in his soul bared its fangs in a chilling growl that echoed his hate_.

Enkil emerged from within the room, a feral grin cutting across the Long Fang’s features as he made his way to Vermundr’s side, followed by the shadow of Morgun who spoke quickly to the Inquisitor. The Lady replied with equal haste, stopping only to issue curt orders to those under her command as well as to the colonel before darting through the hewn doors in the wake of the Scout.

It was only a matter of moments before the pack was off again, turning their path towards the observation tower where the guilder was supposed to be mewed within. Signs of struggle grew more frequent as they neared the tower, bodies clothed in what must be the guilder’s house colours lay as a mute testament to a fighting retreat.

Emerging into a long hall; an arching expanse of glass soaring overhead, the Wolves were greeted by a storm of fire from the renegades guarding one of the two paths up into the tower. The pack scattered, taking cover behind carved statuary and columns as the air filled with the shriek of battle. Keris snarled as an impact took him in the left pauldron; sending shards of the ablative ceramite in all directions. One razor-edged chip scoring a burning gash along his left cheek as Keris flinched his head aside and dove for shelter, joining both Vermundr and Kuzin whom had also taken hits from the opening salvo it seemed. The shot had done no significant damage to his body, though it had served to renew the pain of the healing wound in his arm and leave a ragged impact crater upon his armour.

Keris gave a short, growling laugh at the words of the Wolf Guard; recalling in painful detail his own words to Kjarl concerning suspicions of the true numbers of traitors given to him by the colonel as he echoed the actions of Baldyr by holstering his pistol and unclipping one of the few grenades left at his waist. A tap of the arming rune set the weapon live and a flick of Keris’s wrist sent it arching towards the cluster of traitors even as Keris retrieved his pistol again and bunched the muscles in his legs.

With a feral howl; Keris sprang from where he was crouched, charging at the side of Vermundr as the young pack leader smashed into the line of traitors. As his brother targeted the pair of renegades manning one of the heavy guns, Keris leapt at those to his right flank. Laz fire snapped in the air around him, burning bright ruby lines that stank of ozone and scoring glancing hits upon the curved surfaces of his armour. The pistol in his left hand bucked, the bolt taking a man in the shoulder and tearing away his arm in a spray of crimson. The traitor collapsed to the ground, his screams silenced by Keris’s armoured boot as it crushed his skull with a wet sound.

A second man threw himself at Keris’s side, a bayonet fixed to the end of his standard issue las-gun. Chainsword howling, Keris parried the desperate thrust with enough force to snap the blade. Twisting his wrist he sent the churning tip of his chainblade along the length of the gun and into the traitor’s shoulder. The man’s agonized screech ceased as Keris tore downwards with all his strength before yanking back and letting the twitching corpse fall in a tattered ruin.

The sharp stink of bile joined the copper of blood and Keris turned to see Vermundr hefting himself to his feet to slam his fist into the heavy bolter. Though he had taken a fair number of hits, Vermundr seemed to have escaped any grievous wounds and Keris stepped to his side as his brother vented his rage upon the gun.

Keris felt his hackles rise and a low growl of distaste curl from his chest as Vermundr mentioned the traitors by name. He glanced around, disquiet tugging at the back of his mind. _Something was not right here. The placement of these guns was incorrect for a force attempting to breach the tower._ Keris growled low in fenrisian to his packleader,

‘These guns are set to _defend_ the tower, not take it. They are no more than a diversion to wound us and slow us down.’ 

Keris narrowed his eyes in thought before throwing a glance to the Wolf Guard,

‘This tastes _foul_, like we are walking into a trap.’


----------



## deathbringer

His breath was coming hard and fast, his lips parted in an outright sneer of contempt as he looked down at the fallen corpses, his roaring blade, drooled flecks of ruby red spit upon the floor as the snarling teeth came to a halt.

“Don’t just stand there gawking, back up your packmates above and lets take down that communication!” 

A rumble of thunder followed by the clap of plate upon stone as a wolf guard, tall and menacing landed upon the ground next to them, his face a feral snarl , the buck of his storm bolter causing rioters to topple like sliced marionettes. 

“Vermundr gather your pack and move, we’ll keep whoever we can find busy, go after Tolau after the communications are done.” 

A second voice, softer and more mild the lilting growl of a younger wolf, yet still aged, experienced and commanding. A deep sniff told him rewarded him with a fleeting picture of the grey hunter Heimdal and his heard jerked around as he smelt the controlled rage of the wolf guard, its furious power sending tingling shivers up his spine. 

A third smell reached his lips and he paused, back straightening arms locking as the image of Enkil the long fang floated into his mind. The long fang was strong the power of his gaze more terrible than all but the wolf lord, his wrath more deadly to behold. He was a hero, the God of Iorek's dreams, all he wanted to emulate, all he wanted to be, a true wolf.

There was a small bark as the remainder of his pack turned away, there scents receding at a loping trot and iorek whirled round breaking into a run his mind buzzing. The long fangs were here.... the long fangs were here, his stride lengthened into a long loping run, an easy pace, a maintainable sprint and his head fell back into a silent howl of joy.

His chance, he had proven his prowess with a heavy bolter, he could show that to them, show them he was worthy. He felt a glimmer of hope in his mind, he could leave it all behind, move on to achieve his destiny.

His thoughts faded away leaving the vestiges of a tight smile over his albine features and he strode on a few strides behind the back, both together and apart. They caught up with the inquisitor atop the stairs and Iorek was surprised to find Tyr and Alrik within there midst.

Merely suprised, not pleased, no sense of relief, once again he gave taut nods, mind still upon the long fangs they seemed reassured by his vacant smile though they made no approach to embrace him. Together yet apart.

“Leave the explanations and banter for another time, we have enemies yet to kill, objectives to fulfill, and a head guilder to save if at all possible.”

Was Baldyr tense too, the wolf guards scent was the same mix of feral anger and frustrated rage as it always was, was there something in Baldyr's past that denied him sentiment, made him refute emotion and company, had he to lost a brother.

He broke the gaze, not daring to portray his curiosity to the wolf guard, he would never ask, not if he wished to survive. Such questions were not wise with someone so unstable and so deadly. Maybe if Keris asked, there seemed to be some sort of unspoken respect that Keris instilled in the eldars of the chapter. 

They moved as a group and Iorek kept quiet his mind curiously wondering over the wolf guard. Did the cold wolf guard have a story to tell, a story that would chill his soul, that would make the loss of his own brother shrivel in comparison?

A glance to his left and a quick flutter of heads followed by a large rise in keris's chest aroused Iorek's suspicions. Had his brother been watching him? A feral surge of anger rose as the wolf within him snapped its jaws, yet it died as he realised, if the roles were reversed, he would have done the same.

He let his thoughts flow back and the smile returned with his dreams. Was it odd that his dreams seemed to fade away when the wolf snarled

_Murder is the path to valour, valour the path to glory, I am your dreams_
chuckled the twisted wolf, its speech underlined with a feral growl.

The communications room was littered with a mass of corpses, the stench of death rising from the floor, a barrage against his nostrils, the decrepid wolf in his mind roaring, in approval at the carnage of split limbs. So many dead, so many killed, the bodies that once held there very being now lifeless husks.

The glorious scent caught him first, a wave of controlled emotion, of wolfish cunning and strength and Iorek stood straight a hand running through his hair, his chainsword sliding easily into is sheeth. Then the God appeared through the wreckage of the blast doors, heavy weapon suspened easily by a straining taut forearm.

He strode towards Iorek eye fixed upon the group and iorek stood straighter blessed to be in the presence of his hero. A golden light seemed to bathe him as their eyes met and Iorek saw his hopes and dreams within the black depths of his pupils. Then the eyes slid over him and the golden light became an icy bath of rejection and Iorek was left cold and empty as the long fang pushed him gently aside slipping through the gap and Iorek's empty crushed eyes followed his path.

His hand slapped down upon Vermundr's shoulder pad, almost in slow motion, the light cuff a resounding slap across Iorek's face and he staggered slightly, feeling his leg slump under the mental anguish.

Ignored... ignored by his hero, cast aside for another... it was his destiny to join the brethren not Vermudr's his dream. Old memories, his question of the long fang, his brief moment of glory crashed and burned, the burnt out husk of his heart a fallen thunderhawk, useless, charred and burned.

His mind was no longer in the room though his body was, they were together yet apart.

Everything was different

Njoror dead, Odin dead, the memory of them striding side by side, jostling and laughing, bathing in the glory of their brotherhood, a distant fantasy. He was the only one left, the last yet even he had changed, no longer the apple of the elders eye, no longer a promising talent, no longer recognized. Together, yet apart.

Keris had taken his place as the golden boy, the figure of respect, the rational one. The armour on his arse shone a golden sun from the kisses planted upon it. Could Iorek be called rational anymore....

_He stole it from you_ whispered the twisted wolf

Vermundr was the leader now, he had won Enkil's favour by casting Iorek down. He was unworthy of the position. 

The wolf was raging now his thoughts dominating Iorek's mind which began to darken as curtains of hatred were drawn across it. Then a shining light the noble white haired wolf leapt forward and they clashed, wolf upon wolf claw slashing at eachothers muzzles

"They stole your destiny from you with deceit and lies" the bitter wolf leered and a talon flashed and blood seeped upon the white fur, staining its purity as the talons bit deep.

"These thoughts of bitterness do not belong in your mind Iorek, you are strong"

Njoror's voice resounded calm and focused in his mind and the white wolfs jaws clacked down upon the paw tar like blood oozing onto the floor and the wolfs separated leaping apart. Circling they leered snarling at one another, then the blackened wolf leapt forward teeth lunging for the neck

"Your are stronger than ever with me, the power of Russ is in your veins and the alpha legion will tremble before our wrath."

The teeth bit deep and the long elegant neck was stained with red gashes as the fangs tore into the flesh and blood poured onto the floor yet suddenly the blackened wolf howled as Njoror's claw scythed upwards

'You are stronger than ever, you shoot better than ever, yet you must not surrender to the wolf inside you, use it, use its anger for the good of the Imperium, master it for good but not in bitterness deceit and lies"

Once again they seperated and again they clashed, red blood and blackened sludge building and melding as gashes were torn into blackened haunches and blood seeped from thick scratches upon a wize greying muzzle.

On and on they clashed, argument and counter and the attacks grew slower the circling more frequent the wolves, less graceful, now staggering with there wounds

"This is not you Iorek" roared Njoror a limp paw tearing a tiny gash into the others muzzle yet now the twisted blackened wolf did not fight back it merely laughed a high cruel laugh though its haunches tightened, preparing to spring

"I am you, I am your soul, this twisted pit is all that is left of you"

Iorek felt his whole body tremble as the yellow eyes bored into his.

"Listen to me" words laced with silver echoed in his mind and iorek took a step forward his hand half outstretched to the twisted wolf, eyes horrified. 

"Iorek, look at your pistol, this is not you, look at your pistol" the voice was desperate and it stood, upon shaking legs as it pleaded, the familair eyes, the eyes he loved imploring

The twisted wolf seemed to spring leaping foward and iorek felt its power, saw before his eyes the betrayal, the deceit Vermundr and Keris had employed to bring him down, to cast him out. He saw himself avenging Njoror, the alpha legion torn asunder and himself in Enkil's place guiding the Long Fangs. It was all possible if he would just surrender.

"Look at your pistol" came the faint cry yet suddenly the vestiges of good and evil were no more, a single grey wolf with red eyes sat in there place. It threw back its head and howled is scream reverberating around its mind, the urge to kill, to avenge. His mouth contorted into a snarl and his tongue flittered tasting blood and he lowered his hands as he felt life around him.

Ahead of him he saw Enkil his hand still upon Vermundr's shoulder and he felt a snarl of pained betrayal as he reached for his pistol and chainsword, his senses sharp the air almost metallic in his lungs. 

His left hand tightened around the hilt of his chainsword,his right gripped the holster of his pistol, weapons of death, none could stand before him.

Njoror's voice seemed to echo

"Look at your pistol.... pistol ....pistol"

The wolf snarled, the urge to kill surging within him, blood rushing into his mind and he felt his fangs clack upon his bottom teeth his face scrunching into a feral snarl of hatred.

Yet Njoror had been his friend, had always given him good advice. A second surge of hatred and he raised the chainsword teeth bared. He fought the urge away as curiosity surged. 

His eyes flittered down to see a glowing red rune and he stopped dead, emotion frozen horror upon his face.

Carefully he pointed the barrel at his chest and pulled the trigger hearing the resounding click.

A spent clip still in his pistol....

"Iorek, be prepared" the words of his father resounded in his mind, growing fainter as he fell away, arms reaching out as he toppled down, his eyes clouding.

He was unprepared, no he was no longer rational. The clip clattered to the floor,skittering away to lie amongst the mass of dismembered limbs and he slammed in a new one, watching the rune go green. 

"No" whispered Iorek "I am no longer me"

The wolf in his mind snarled yet Iorek forced the feral impulses away pushing the groping strands of anger back with new certainty, this was not him, the twisted wolf was not the person that Njoror had known and loved.

He reholstered the pistol sliding his chainsword from his sheeth, he bent to rub it, cleansing the blood from the chainsword and within seconds it shone, the teeth cleaned and he thumbed the activation rune and it hummed into life, gleaming in the strip lights.

The wolf roared growling frantically tearing at Iorek's resolve and he could feel the desperate blood thirst stronger than ever, powerful yet Iorek held once more. 

"I mastered you to become a blood claw, I will do so again to become a long fang. I will earn the respect of my eldars and betters, I will regain my place in the claw."

His armour was next and he tore are strip of clean cloth from the jerkin of a pdf trooper, his limps spread eagled, head lolling upon a single flap of skin. The blood slid easily off the ceramite as he rubbed it away his hand gliding over the aquilla upon his breast, till he reached his right shoulder and he gasped as he felt the missing pauldron. He had forgotten it in his haste and he made a note to have his armour repaired when he returned to the fist of Russ.


They moved on, a new objective a new mission, a new Iorek.

He walked amongst his brothers, feeling somehow light headed, as if clouds had been lifted from his eyes, a weight from his shoulders, yet still he felt apart from them. This was a different Iorek from the one that had sparred with the grey hunter side by side with his brother, he was stronger, mentally and in combat, more ferocious and more serious, the weight of Njoror's death still upon his shoulders.

Most of all, he was scared, terrified of the wolf that ravaged his very soul, that changed him, sent wild feral impulses running through his brain, desire, desire to taste flesh, to kill. His bloodthirst was unrelenting, he could see his brothers dead, dead by his hand, the wolf within him snarled in pleasure at the images, reaching to control his limbs.

Once again he fought it back tooing and frowing between savage and sanity and then it stopped and he felt the wolf stiffen as he stepped out of the corridor. Something was wrong.

There was a chatter of gunshots and Iorek threw himself to his left, a fraction earlier than his packmates a futile cry of warning spreading over his lips as h slammed behind cover feeling bolt shells whip past him.

He curled extracting his chainsword from his belt his snarl of annoyance half cut off by the warning of the wolf. It had helped him, no it was a trick... a lure... a ploy to deceive him into surrendering his soul. Yet it had helped him.

Less than five percent my ass; did the most heavily armed five percent of this world turn traitor.”

Iorek let out a high laugh startlingly bark like yet his eyes narrowed and his mind turned inwards. What were they facing, if the enemy has soldiers at the bottom of the tower it was likely they had placed people within it, his brow furrowed with concern yet it was disrupted by an abrupt singal from Baldyr.

Iorek nodded pulling out a grenade setting the timer and skimming it along the floor towards the feet of the heavy bolters, leaping to his feet he charged after his brothers, feeling the wolf roar in desire as his speed increased, sensing its agression a restless desire to hunt to slay.

He drew his bolt pistol as he ran and aimed at the lead gunner yet he staggered his bolt going harmlessly wide as a heavy bolter round caught him straight in the chest, rebounding harmlessly off his armour, yet still forcing him to stagger backwards a roar of frustration on his face. 

The wolf roared too and Iorek felt its anger rise as his brothers hit the line and Iorek felt its anger wash over him as he leapt forward raising his head in a startling howl. He met his first trooper 10 steps later as the man stepped back to avoid his brothers rush Iorek raised his chainsword and thrust skewering the man like a pig, he roared in approval as blood bubbled over the blade. The man stuttered slumping and toppling as iorek withdrew the blade and wolf was eager fangs bared, desperate for more for more blood.

A second man blasted lasgun bolts in all directions and Iorek advanced as the man backed towards the wall, a lasgun bolt flashing past his ear

The desire to decapitate, to take a life grew yet Iorek resisted as he heard Keris mutter somewhere to his right

‘This tastes foul, like we are walking into a trap.’

It was possible, would it be worth sparing this man, seeing what he knew, their knowledge so far as Baldyr has said was either false or wildly innacurate. Was it worth taking a prisoner?

The wolf howled its disapproval and iorek felt his blood rise. Resist, he had to resist, the lasgun raised and Iorek swiped knocking the barrel of the gun awry with a tremendous swipe and the gun toppled from the mans hands, he scrabbled for it yet Iorek plucked his bolt pistol from his belt aiming it at the mans head. He leapt forward pulling the mans wrists behind him encasing them in his grip, placing the pistol against his head muttering down the vox to Keris


"It smells rank to me too, brother. I'd rather not go up a tower without some idea of what is up there. Is it worth interrogating this traitor. Who knows what he might know, our information is woefully incomplete, we have encoutered far to much resistance for 5%."

The wolf in Iorek's head snarled and Iorek's finger quivered upon the trigger as he looked at Keris. Would his action be met with approval? He could only try and regain the respect of his brothers, whether he suceeded was another matter.


----------



## dark angel

((OOC: Sorry I have been late posting all, life has gotten slightly more busy than I originally wanted over the last two weeks or so.)

The Space Wolves moved back towards the communications room at a haste. It took them far less time in their return than it originally had, and they came back into the devastated room which Alrik and Tyr had only recently vacated. Alrik’s thoughts were distance, focused upon Fenris; Would the Firehawk ever return? It suddenly dawned upon him, that so many had been lost but somehow, for some reason, Alrik still lived. And how he loved living, the fury of battle included. 

He was thankful, however that the pungent stench of death was kept without of his helm as he advanced further into the room, cracking the ribs of a corpse as he passed, a dreadful kick sending it sliding away wetly. His weapons felt heavy in his hands, and he found himself staring down at clenched fingers, each one bathed in crimson. Murder rang through his mind, and he suddenly felt sick. However it was not a bad thing, his chest swelled with pride and a grin cracked his scarred visage. 

The Inquisitor was busy speaking, however the Firehawk was absent of her words as he pushed through the corpses until he came to where he had initially gone down. He holstered his Bolt Pistol for a moment, promising it would taste battle once again in all due time, and reached for the hammer which he had gladly used in the….Slaughter that had overcome the room. With his crimson sheen fingers, he yanked it free and stared at the pulped hammer, which had deformed through the sheer amount of bone cracking use it had undergone. 

Clearly, the metal was a cheap mixture of weak metals. However; Alrik felt almost sad in parting with it. He went down onto his haunches, the wound in his knee feeling awkward and heavy as he did so. Persevering, he placed the hammer on the ragged flaps of someone’s chest and stood, nodding to no one in particular and turning away too rejoin his fellow Astartes. When they began too move again, his eyes once again fell upon the Wolf Scouts. Morgun and Hymrik were not dissimilar, in fact the Firehawk, if he did not know better, may have been foolish to mistake one for another. 

Hymrik was going to accompany those who were leaving, and the Firehawk was thankful of him doing so. His expertise were bordering on perfection, and Alrik was graced enough for the Scout to step in beside him. While his Carapace Armour was far less protective than the Power Armour worn by the Blood Claws and Baldyr, it did allow the Scout a larger degree of maneuverability. They came into a expansive hall within minutes and the grandeur which formed it nearly made Alrik gasp. 

No lover of art, Alrik could only respect the architect of which’s mind the room had been formed from. A glass ceiling, long and wide spread the length of the hall and allowed the pillars of sunlight inwards. High above, an archaic looking tower punctured the sky and the Blood Claw believed this was the evident perch of the mining guilder…..Tolau? Yes, yes that was it. Tolau. Why the Inquisitor wanted him, Alrik did not know, nor would he be surprised if he had missed out some piece of information while idling in his thoughts.

Then the firing began. Alrik, being along the rear end of the trail of Astartes, threw himself into cover as Las-Rounds whizzed past, hissing and crackling the air around him. None struck home as he pulled himself backwards into the hallway which they had emerged from, drawing his Bolt Pistol and releasing a round along the hallway. Without peaking however, it went wild and proved to be no use as a series of grenades were unclipped and thrown. 

There was a series of abrupt whumps and Alrik, confident that it would have hazed his attackers pulled himself from cover with his fellows. The charge was glorious in the mind of the Firehawk as he drew nearer, motors in his Chainsword whirring loudly as he pressed down onto his activation stud. More Las-Rounds rained around him, each one rich red and deadly. One struck his pauldron, creating a minute impact crater. A pall of smoke flurried upwards, blowing wildly as the pauldron moved fluidly with each step that Alrik took. 

Another struck his chest, the armour there creaking as it did so. While it had been damaged previously, Alrik was sure as sure that it would hold against most. Several more struck him in various places, one even snapping his helm backwards, although the damage was spread out across the gleaming surface. He sighted a pair of treacherous bastards aiming at him with shaking hands, and leapt forth. 

His Chainsword threw the Las-Weapon from the hands of one man, sending it spinning into the air like a baton, and it came back clattering down almost immediately after. He scrambled onto the floor, fingernails crunching as he slipped and winded himself. Lungs shrunk for a moment and he wheezed as his fingers snaked outwards for his weapon. A quick flick of his hand brought off both hands at the ankle and black veins slipped forth, leaking arterial spray across the ground. 

The man cried, staring at the stumps and Alrik ended his suffering with a single Bolt through the skull. It was pulverized instantly, the ragged clumps of brain, meat and skull sliding across the ground behind it, trailing blood slicked hair. The second, a large brute had already begun to fire into Alrik’s flank. The Las-Rounds pinged and panged as he spun, the pale complexion of the Traitor turning red with fear and anger. 

A wet patch expanded from his crotch, and a quiet dripping could be heard. The Firehawk smiled. He punched out with his Bolt Pistol wielding hand, the clenched fingers striking the slab of muscle in his torso and sending him back into the wall with a crunch. His boot broke ribs and deflated a lung, sending him onto his side. However he recovered, and the Traitor’s hand steadied his fall as both legs slipped on the blood of his deceased comrade. 

Alrik brought his Chainsword down into his twisted side, ripping through flesh. Organs were chewed and bones cracked as the blade slid through the other side, the teethed tip puncturing the ground narrowly. The jerking body convulsed with a spasm, his nerves clenching around the trigger of his weapon and sending rounds crunching into the ground. For the first time in an age, Alrik laughed. A yank pulled the front of the mans torso apart, leaking intestines onto Alrik’s armoured toes. 

He turned, letting the blood drip from his dangling Chainsword and moved towards Keris sternly. If this was a trap as his Brothers were suggesting, he wanted to be near his closest Brother. If death was to claim him, Alrik would _not_ go down without making the Alpha Legion pay.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis growled as he snapped off a few shots, one went wide while the other two met their mark, punching into a traitor's chest and head, shredding both. A bolter shell rang past and clipped Sydornis on the side of his helmet sending him to the side.

The Blood Claw just caught his balance he lashed up and roared. No enemy attacked his head and got away with it. Firing his pistol a few more times he was able to kill at least three more traitors, their gory explosions satisfying the Wolf within. This was what battle was about supposedly. Rage. Sydornis forced himself back, this was not his way of war. He remained calm and logical. Rage had a place in war but not in a situation like this, when he knew so little and had no advantage besides his genetic traits.

Siding his pistol into its holster he did a quick sweep. His brothers were fine, all handling their own. He could see no other targets that somebody else was not dealing with, and none needed his help. He began going over information in his head, what little he knew about this operation to try and gain some more tactical knowledge. He would need it for later, when the new orders came.


----------



## Euphrati

It wasn’t the voice of the Wolf Guard, nor his packleader, that reached Keris’s ears first; but that of Iorek. His clawbrother’s tones were clear and measured, something that had been absent in the Space Wolf since the moment he had learned of Njoror’s death, though there was still a faintly feral twinge to Iorek’s scent. Keris felt the wolf in his soul stir in hope as he turned to regard his clawbrother carefully. 

The question hung in the air, lingering with the copper of fresh blood as Keris fought down the shock that threatened to overwhelm him when the realization dawned that Iorek was looking neither at Vermundr nor Baldyr, but at _him_. 

Emotions flitted through Keris’s mind as he noted with growing disquiet that Alrik was also moving purposefully to his side. His brothers trusted him; looked to him for answers and guidance, respected his keen senses. 

_Had he unintentionally challenged Vermundr’s leadership of the pack?_

The thought startled him as it ghosted through his mind, ice-blue eyes darting between his clawbrothers’ blood-spattered forms. Keris searched Iorek’s features carefully; there was an underlying sense of need to the Wolf’s pale eyes. Aware of the faint note of bitter anger emanating from Baldyr that rolled across the back of his tongue, Keris took a slow breath before responding,

‘An interesting suggestion, brother, however that question is not mine to answer,’

Keris gave a slight nod of his head towards Vermundr in encouragement to Iorek before continuing, his tone hardening as his eyes fell upon the trembling man,

‘Take heed that the words of a traitor are spoken with a poisoned tongue, one must take care in the use of such things. There is no forgiveness for the sin of treachery, only death may place his soul before the judgment of the Allfather.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr threw the gaurdsman's crumpled body to the ground as his brothers began to gather round Iorek and Keris. He turned his head towards them to see what was happening and squinted through the pain of his missing right hand, that was still somewhat bleeding, and saw that Iorek had taken a prisoner. For information perhaps? He asked himself to take his mind off of the pain that was shooting through his right arm. He looked down at the bloody stump of his wrist and grimaced at the sight, he was an idiot, his first engagement and he had already lost a limb even if it was just a hand. 

He decided to cauterize it to fully stop the bleeding and to close it up in case the Alphas showed up again and decided to toss poison or something along those lines into his wound, they most certainly were not beneath that task. He moved his powerfist slowly over his stump so that the palm was right above it and gently gripped his arm, the smell of burning flesh floating up to his nostrils. He grunted in pain and gritted his teeth before finally lifting his hand back up and checking to see if he did it right, or as right as he thought it could be done.

Satisfied he made his way over to where his brothers were standing just in time to hear Keris say, _‘Take heed that the words of a traitor are spoken with a poisoned tongue, one must take care in the use of such things. There is no forgiveness for the sin of treachery, only death may place his soul before the judgment of the Allfather.’_ Tyr stared down at the man that Iorek was holding from behind Keris, his eyes squinting as he fought down the urge to roar out in pain. 

*"Give him to me,"* Tyr said, *"I'll make the little bastard talk."*


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was just about to place his helmet back over his head but stopped mid-way as he realized his brothers' attention was towards Keris.

He lifted it back up and looked at it. The enemies knew the Wolves were here, they knew whose attention they had gained. They knew their sins were being punished. The eyes of the space marines had been realized, but his own eyes had not. His brown eye brows furrowed and his mouth open just enough for his short fangs to show.

How would his brothers, both current and future, remember who he was if he hid his face. What kind of leader hid his face, and how could he expect his elder brothers to recognize him for who _he_ was as an independent wolf instead of just one of the pack? He placed his helmet back on his waist.

He said aloud, "Its time the enemy knows my face as well."

Without saying anything else to anyone, he turned on his heel a 90 degree angle towards Iorek who held the traitor still, before Tyr could take hold of him. He hunched over the traitor and gripped him from the back of the neck like a helpless animal. He lifted him off the ground as he stood again, turning the traitor around to face him. Vermundr looked deep into the man's eyes, blackened by the lies of chaos.

Without a word, Vermundr brought his bolt pistol to the traitor's chin and blew his brains out the top of his skull with one pull of the trigger, and an echo down the glass roofed tunnel. He then dropped the lifeless corpse and began to speak.

"Posion was all he was, not as scared as we would have liked to believe. Anything this traitor said, as Keris suggested, would have been filled with lies and treachery. We are smart enough to see this trap for ourselves, we are Wolves after all, and wasting our time questioning this filth wont help us solve our problems. If we need the help of a traitor to get through the next obstacle, then we likely wouldn't be able to get passed it anyway."

"These traitor pdf forces clearly set these up to keep us out, and more enemies await us further. We go if Baldyr tells us to go, and if we do, keep your heads straight and senses wary. We are blood claws and as such will meet our foes head on no matter what they bring to the table, is this understood?"

After his last words he took a big whiff of the air around him; the first he had done so all day. A whispered snarl came with his exhale, his breath heavy with preparation.


----------



## deathbringer

The traitor's flesh was close, a burning acrid taste niggling at the back of his throat. It irked him, a roaring raging desire to slash with his blade, to cull the life from this wayward human.

He regarded Keris calmly feeling a careful gaze pierce him. A hateful gaze, the wolf snarled restless, blood thirsty, bilious hatred rising at the sudden fearful mistrust that seemed to rise in Keris.

‘An interesting suggestion, brother, however that question is not mine to answer,’


_He dismisses you once more, the pompous prick_... the wolf growled and iorek felt his fingers tighten upon the cultists wrists as Keris gazed at Vermundr. Control Iorek, he thought to himself yet he allowed an icy chill to grip his emotions as he returned the blood claws gaze.

_Something has swelled his head, its amazing he deigns to answer you at all,_ a snarling chuckle of approval eminated from the wolf's hoarse guttaral throat

‘Take heed that the words of a traitor are spoken with a poisoned tongue, one must take care in the use of such things. There is no forgiveness for the sin of treachery, only death may place his soul before the judgment of the Allfather.’ 

_Obvious words in a grandious tone make pleasant listening do they not_.. chucked the wolf once more and Iorek felt a flicker of amusement within his mind. 

Maybe keris was not so wise, for to tell the traitor that he must be killed removed their greatest weapon, the fear of death, the innate terror that mortality brought within a soul. This was the alpha legion, that worked on subtlety and deception, deceit and lies. These men may be uncorrupt sons of the emperor beffudled and confused by operatives in there midst, overawed by treachery and deceit.

_"Give him to me," Tyr said, "I'll make the little bastard talk."_

The wolf snarled and iorek took a step back as the desperate surge of blood lust came once more. The kill was his, his and only his, his work his effort and would be his valour that the allfather reognized.

He opened his mouth, his voice icy and suddenly compassionless as the wolfs hatred overtook him, the bloodlust a slight tremor and twitch of his hand

*"You had doubts Keris, if it is a crime to attempt to assuage them ..."*

It was sudden, a flash of movement and the traitors weight was ripped from his hand and Iorek let out a pure snarl of hatred.... he wanted to kill, none would take it from him he would have his prize, he would spill the blood.

The wolf roared straining at the cage of its mind and he embraced its rage stepping forward hand reaching for his chainsword.

A shower of blood and brains hit him full in the face and he recoiled as they blinded him and he blinked them away wiping his eyes clean to come upon the form of Vermundr as he dropped iorek's prize, flung it aside, casually without regard for Iorek's feelings

_"Posion was all he was, not as scared as we would have liked to believe. Anything this traitor said, as Keris suggested, would have been filled with lies and treachery. We are smart enough to see this trap for ourselves, we are Wolves after all, and wasting our time questioning this filth wont help us solve our problems. If we need the help of a traitor to get through the next obstacle, then we likely wouldn't be able to get passed it anyway."

"These traitor pdf forces clearly set these up to keep us out, and more enemies await us further. We go if Baldyr tells us to go, and if we do, keep your heads straight and senses wary. We are blood claws and as such will meet our foes head on no matter what they bring to the table, is this understood?"_

Iorek's voice was a rage filled thunder clap his force contorted with the loss, the wulfens cry to be sated.

*"I have followed your orders to the letter since you became the leader of this pack, put aside your lack of trust in me, and been the dutiful, maybe not as useful in council as brother keris or as loyal as brother alrik or a strong as brother tyr, but dutiful all the same. If you say shoot i shoot, if you say take cover I take cover despite. If you had told me to kill the warrior... I subdued in an attempt to sate my doubt.... I would have without a pause"*


_Because you wanted to_

*"You are wise brother vermundr but are you wise enough to judge a man's soul, are any of us save the allfather himself? I was closest to him and though I smelt the taint of the alpha legion upon him, I did not smell corruption within him. The alpha legion make there business in infiltration, secrets and lies. How do you know he could not be brought back, how do you know he was not still loyal to the emperor, merely duped by an operative he was too ignorant to visualise. We may be blood claws, but we are wolves as well, and a wolf hunts by scent,"wise" brother Keris and I sensed something foul ahead, yet it is a waste of time to find out more." * 

Iorek thought he felt baldyr's anger spike, he was sure the wolf guard loathed him, hated his disloyalty but damn it he should go for broke, he was fed up of bottling his rage, storing his emotions, being second best in there eyes. They should see the true Iorek, see the emotion that left his very soul in turmoil.

*"In my ignorance..." he allowed the ire to drip off his tongue " I attempted to save the lives of this pack by discerning a little more about what lay ahead, for that heinous crime, and my own naive faith in the human race, I apologise. However, I believe if Keris had suggested such a thing, you would not have dismissed the idea so quickly."

*
Iorek allowed his gaze to fix upon Vermundr, allowing the challenge in his eyes to fade as he looked into the icy pale eyes ofKeris and he added in a hoarse whisper, as the emotion drained from him

*"Yet maybe keris is more worthy of his place in the pack than I am"*

He felt drained, emotionally devoid, forcing away sudden tears that burned the back of his eye lids.

His throat seized, tightening, constricting his breathing and he looked down at the shattered corpse of his prize upon the floor, which seemed suddenly worthless.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr barked a curt suggestion to his confronting packmate.

"If you're going to rise up to me in such a manner, keep your eyes _here!_" His pointed toward his own two eyes, saying these words after watching Iorek's eyes trail from his to Keris and back.

"I was going to wait until we got back to the ship to discuss such matters with you. You take everything far too personally Iorek! Get over yourself! "

"I looked into that man's soul, and it was nothing but a dark void. He fired on sons of the All-father, what further proof do you need! If he was still loyal to us he would have laid his gun down and knelt, yelling his praise to the All-father and trying desperately to explain himself and would have _willingly_ told us of more enemy positions."

"How can I put away my lack in trust in someone who is governed by emotion? The fact you have gone into such an outrage over such a 'prize' is outstanding evidence of this. That is why I had to lie to you in the first place! You have proven yourself essential to the squad's success on the battlefield every time we have faced opposition on this world but you also consistently prove to be a thorn in the spine of _my_ pack!"

"I took the consideration of questioning that traitor from the pack as a whole and made my own decision based on what my instincts told me. I can say for certain that I am in more a position than you are to judge that man's soul, for my own soul is not being judged unlike yours. How could you determine the purity of a man's soul when you can barely keep a grip on your own? You have killed countless traitors today, so vengeance through killing is obviously not what you need to stay away from the wolven curse. So what is it Iorek!? My leadership?! If you need to challenge me then do it now!"

with this, Vermundr took hold of his axe,

"Because we are not going _any_ further, until this matter in my pack is solved once and for all. Especially now with the words you have spoken, I cannot allow my pack to go further only to be compromised by your current state of mind. If you wish to fight me and win then so be it, you can have your leadership. If you lose and learn to control your wolf side through it, then so be it, but if you feel you cannot control the wolf within you any longer, then please Iorek, ask me to kill you. As this pack's leader, I would rather be the one to end your life on _any day_ and on _any world_ then to let one of these traitorous chaos marines add your head to their belt of trophies.


----------



## deathbringer

A thorn in his side.... indignance flared, he had done nothing... nothing to undermine Vermundr's leadership, yet he was the thorn in the pack. 

His eyes snapped back to vermundr's and he felt no rage though the wolf barred its teeth and snarled. If it came to blows he would unleash that anger use it to fire his limbs to new heights. Yet could he stop the raging wolf?

"A thorn when have I undermined you, ever since you have been leader I have stayed silent and followed you to the letter? When have I been the thorn in your paw, give me one previous example,of how I have undermined you." 

"I want trust, that is all I desire, i wish to be valued as a member of the pack once more, yet evidently you do not believe I deserve such an honour. The lies drip from your tongue, my leader. One moment you praise me, act as if you do trust me yet it is evident you do not. You have never trusted me even though you never knew me. Even when my soul was not riddled with pain, you did not make an attempt to befriend me, to know my soul. Yet now you believe you have the right to judge a pack brother you do not even know."


"My soul judged, who is the judge? Who is my judge, jury and executioner, for I will plead my case to them and no longer be the thorn within you." 

"If you believe it is your right to judge me then your head is too big to fit through the door my leader. If leadership swells your ego so much, and hardens your heart so much then I definitely do not want it. You believe that you can not only judge those that you assume to be traitors. I still maintain that a human may be innately loyal to the all father, yet not throw themselves down in the face of onrushing space wolves. What if the alpha legionnaires told this poor wretch that the space wolves had revolted and that he must protect his guilder from the assault, what if those lies had spread? Maybe his hatred, was hatred of us, not a hatred of the allfather."

"However now you believe you know what goes on within my head? You believe you can see the turmoil of my emotions brought on by the loss of my brother. Are you so wise Vermundr, or have others enlightened you to this? For if so I would wish they had the guts to come speak to me directly, to aid my struggle with comfort and solace rather than whispering in dark cornors."

"Killing petty traitors and misguided wretches gives me nothing, nothing but a damning indictment to the failings of humanity. To avenge Njoror's death, I have sworn many times and only in avenging his murder can I find peace. You have lost packmates, yet you show now you care not about any of them, you only care about yourself."

"I will not squabble like a child with you now, but upon the fist of russ we will duel, not for leadership of this pack, for keris is a far worthier candidate for leadership than you or I. My emotions are rife with turmoil and I would be goaded into chasing the smallest scent of an alpha legionnaire. We will duel for the dishonour you continually show me. How am I not meant to take your insults personally, you stain my honour, and I cannot allow such insults to go unavenged. I am not worthy of leadership yet Vermundr I deam you selfish and callous, your own ego bigger than your love for your brothers."

Hand on the hilt of his chainsword he knelt exposing his neck to Vermundr's axe. Tossing the bolt pistol in front of him, he would not mar his honour further by using such a weapon, even though he knew at this range he could end it all in a heartbeat

"This is me talking, this me telling you what your actions show me. Yet if you believe yourself wise enough to judge me , then strike me down. I expose my neck to you, strike at me unguarded if you cannot face the truth." 

He preempted the strike, if Vermundr came he would push forwards of his back feet roll forwards out of harms way and then the fight would begin.


----------



## CommissarHorn

Shards of stone splashed all over Kuzin and squatting, the young Blood Claw rolled to the side. Crashing into the ruins, a huge new scar across his torso, Kuzin sat up coughing. “Bastards.” Some of his ribs were broken from the sudden heavy bolt impact. “Thought rolling around wasn’t gonna get me shot!” The wound was minor as the Blood Claw’s bones healed rapidly, but it still hurt.

Unclipping two of his grenades, Kuzin tossed one in time with Baldyr and the others before Keris jumped up from beside him and charged the attackers. Coughing, Kuzin hefted himself up and throwing the second grenade, sprinted into its range leaping through the shrapnel seconds after its explosion. 

Surprised, the gunners fired too quickly, missing Kuzin’s face by inches. Landing ontop a heavy weapon, Kuzin swept his chainsword through a gunner and shot another in the face, spraying his pistol and arm with blood. “Close.” Sighing, the Blood Claw looked over to his brothers. They were still alive.

Sitting atop a heavy weapon, Kuzin listened to his packmates. Keris was right, the placement did seem strange but more importantly was the eerie gut feeling he was getting. The two blokes that followed the Inquisitor were absent and Kuzin wondered where they had gone.

Suddenly Vermundr and the Blood Claw Iorek were arguing. Kuzin could feel the tension between the other Blood Claws aswell. These Blood Claws already had a history together and he didn’t know them well enough to say anything. Kuzin only knew a couple of other Marines, Romka being one, who was also absent.

Moving beside Tyr, Kuzin smiled and knocked on his own helmet. “Servant of Russ and hopeless romantic, the Poet Blood Claw Kuzin, nice to meet you. You are Tyr, I’ve heard about your fist, its an honour. Anything you can tell me about those two?” Kuzin nodded towards Vermundr and Iorek.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr looked down at Iorek's insulting bowed head. He could smell now without his helmet on, and Iorek's scent was anything but obeying. He brought his left hand up fast from under Iorek, gripping his throat and bringing his head up to meet his eyes once more and scowling, talking fast.

"How are you questioning the fact you're a thorn in our spine? I made one simple decision and look what its done to you. If you would open the ears that Russ gave you, You would have heard me say you have been nothing short of essential in our battles. It is outside of the battles that you make me distrust you. I can never tell if during the next battle you will be as level headed as the last or if the next one will be the one where you go completely insane, and GET US ALL KILLED!!"

he pushed Iorek back letting go of him and asked further pointing, "You would also realize that _everything_ I have said or done has been for the pack as whole _you insolent Pup!_ I lied to you about Njoror because if our heads werent straight facing those Legionnaires you _know_ we'd all be dead. I have put myself in danger before putting any of you in danger since I have been leader of this pack. I charged the heavy guns straight as we made our way to the Inquisitor allowing _you_ to do what you're best at, and allowing Keris's wounds some time to heal! Once the pack was heading up the stairs, I was willing to single handedly stand before whatever possibilities would come through that whole in the wall next, with only _you_ by my side to help me, and I trusted you. I have tried to trust you, and this is why I asked _YOU_ to judge yourself! You have not yet asked yourself if you can continue on. It is overtly clear your emotionally troubled, so I, caring for my pack mind you, asked if you feel the need to end your participation in this mission now instead of waiting for the Alpha legion to do it for you."

"You want to see some ego!?" Vermundr punched Iorek across the face, before gripping his neck armor and pulling him in close once more, "If Lord Ragnar wanted to make Keris leader instead of me, then he would have, but he didn't did he?! But you cant even trust the opinion of our great company's leader!" he pushed Iorek away again, 

"So judge _yourself_ right now, and tell me if I am truly wrong."

(OOC: im not going to go any further with physical stuff, as in if it escalates to a full dual I feel like Darkreever should be the one to determine what happens, unless you all feel otherwise? If what I have already posted is too close to god modding then I will change it)


----------



## dark angel

Alrik was watching the confrontation with a sly grin across his lips. The Pack was coming apart from within, Iorek and Vermundr were crazed. He checked how many rounds were left in his magazine. He counted five, give or take one, however Alrik was never the most intelligent of the Firehawks. He was sure the fall he had took in the Ornithopter didn’t help to strengthen his brain either. Then again; the Space Wolves were not exactly the brightest of Astartes when it came to intelligence. That role would probably go to the Ultramarines or Imperial Fists.

It was when Vermundr lunged out at Iorek that Alrik cursed his Brothers. Idiots, the pair of them. He calmly Voxed Baldyr and Hymrik privately, due to them being his superiors and said “Forgive my next actions, Brothers”. He honestly, however did not know what his next actions would be. And then it dawned upon him. His Bolt Pistol was raised upwards suddenly so that it was vertical pointing. His finger wrapped around the trigger and he snorted, pulling it past its first pressure point. 

Before he reached the second however, he nearly faltered. Would the glass roof crush them if it was to shatter? Would Alrik cause the deaths of so many? He shook his head hard and cleared his mind of such thoughts. He yanked it harder again, and a single round was sent upwards. It echoed and a wither of smoke snaked upwards after the round, wrapping it in a grey-black shroud. He lowered it calmly, expecting that each of his Brothers were staring at him. 

Commanding he hissed “Tyr, I want you ready with that Power Fist, when, no if I say; restrain one of them. Keris, watch my back Brother, I will need you to quell the situation if this does not work in our favour” he advanced forwards, his finger not leaving his trigger and continued “How dare you strike him Vermundr! As Pack-Leader I would have thought that you would have known better! Can you not see that Iorek wished for you to strike him? Perhaps our Brother is right, you are not fit for duty as Pack-Leader”. 

He let his words linger in the air for several moments before he continued once more “You are a pair of oafs! Iorek; you should never have challenged Vermundr. You lost Njoror, I understand what turmoil you have befallen, do you not understand we are Brothers for a reason? You can confine in your troubles while with us! We are far from the closest, yet I would gladly listen to your troubles! We have all lost Brothers here, and we will loose more to our own weapons unless you pair stop!”.

The index finger upon his other hand pressed down upon the activation rune of his Chainsword and it revved, cutting through the air with a throaty growl. Closing his eyes for a moment, Alrik intoned “I suggest you both holster your weapons. If you wish to deal with such a thing, there is a place and a time. This is neither; if you want revenge so bad I would advice you that the Alpha Legionnaires, curse their name, should be the target of your hates.”

His fingers went limp around his Bolt Pistol, and it dangled ponderously for a moment “No Brother within this Pack is worth more than another. We are equals, I am sure that Baldyr and Hymrik understand that! I am far from the meaning of perfection, in fact I am the complete opposite! Yet I still value our Brotherhood, something which you two have seemingly lost while upon this world. Repent, Sons of Fenris. Lament in your sins and apologize to one another!”


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been silent for the rest of the confrontation, letting Iorek's challenge go straight to Vermundr and allowing the two idiots to duke it out, yet they did not. Instead they stood there insulting each other and goading the other until finally Vermundr punched Iorek straight in the face. This was pathetic, thought Tyr, he might not be the smartest of Space Wovles but he knew when his brothers were being idiots and now was one of those times.

Alrik told him to ready himself if he needed to restrain either Iorek or Vermundr and he did, he may only have one hand but he still had both arms, both of which would be able to keep one of his brothers in check if need be. He decided to step forward and see if he could aid Alrik in quelling this situation before it got out of hand, stepping forward he stood between Iorek and Vermundr, his arms outstretched. 

His powerfist facing Vermundr and his cauterized stump of a hand facing Iorek he spoke up, *"Enough brothers....."* he fought the pain down in his chest from him speaking and continued, *"Can you not see what you two are doing to the pack? It is being torn apart because of the vendetta between you.....none of us are able to judge each other for none of us are older and have more experience then the others beside us, but you two are being idiots. I may not be the smartest wolf out here but apparently I was the only one here who bothered to listen to the tutoring engines and the Wolf Priests when they taught us about our fallen brothers."*

He stopped and made eye contact with both of his brothers, *"The Alpha Legion specializes in treachery, lies and deciet. Can you not see that by you two doing this right here and now that you are doing exactly what they want us to do? They want us torn apart, lone wolves, for we will be easier to pick off then if we were one mighty pack. As Alrik said there is a time and a place for this sort of thing and this is most certainly not either of them....."* he took a deep breath and let out a sigh, *"Not long have I known either of you, or any of the pack for that matter, but this battle has caused us all to grow close."*
His deep blue eyes squinted as he regarded both Iorek and Vermundr as he stepped back so both could see him, *"You two believe you are so fit to judge, then judge me." *He lifted his right arm to show them the massive chest wound he had and then the stump that was his hand, *"Vermundr just because you cannot see Iorek's wounds like you can mine does not mean that he has not suffered for this pack."* He looked at Iorek, *"And Iorek, brother, do not think that none of us see how much you suffer. I can smell it on you every time we are close and it pains me to know that you think you are alone. You are not, just as I was not when I was injured and Alrik was at my side."*

He nodded at Alrik, *"Let us turn our weapons not on ourselves but towards those who deserve to have the business ends of them, our enemy, the Alpha Legion."* He lowered his arms to show that he would not lay a hand on his brothers unless they pushed him to and stared long and hard at both of them.


----------



## Euphrati

_For once, words failed him._

The edges of Keris’s vision tinted scarlet with rage and the bitter taste of shame burned the back of his throat like the ozone-tang before a violent storm. _How had it come to this? _

In the abrupt silence that fell after Tyr’s words; Keris slowly paced forwards, his black crest of hair bristled and flecked with blood, to tread heavily around his brothers. Cold, blue eyes danced from face to face as Keris stepped purposely and unflinchingly to the side of his packleader, meeting each member of the pack’s eyes in turn before speaking,

‘Lord Blackmane appointed Vermundr to lead this Claw; to question his merit is to question the Wolf Lord himself,’

Keris nearly bit the words off, each hard edged with his anger,

‘We have a duty left unfinished! Have you truly forgotten _who and what_ you are?’


----------



## deathbringer

His head was forced up to look into vermundr's feral eyes and he met the wild gaze supressing a smirk of mirth as his questions bounced off the walls. Vermundr had no answers, he had been a thorn once, this one time in Vermundr's leadership and it had been deserved. 

His gaze slid away as he stopped listening to vermundr's words and began analysing his own thoughts, his body vibrating with the shakes.... judge himself, judge himself indeed, had he over reacted

None of his brothers would have taken the insult lying down, to be cast aside without even voicing his defense, his efforts to aid his brothers spat upon and dismissed. That was Vermundr's attritude, to dismiss his brothers emotions and feelings, to treat them almost like servitors. Since he had become pack leader had vermundr talked to one of them, unless to bark a command? Iorek did not think so, leadership and Blackmanes approval had moulded Vermundr into something new. Someone cold and callous, arrogant and above the pack.

He had spoken his mind, had more grievances and more emotion than the others, and he had voiced them. He felt calmer than ever before, his soul more peaceful, the wolf in his head snarls less insistent and urgent.

It was good to have his own mind again, to be free to think, to be free of grievances. Vengeance still burned a festering boil within him, his desire to avenge njoror unabating, and the green twinges of jealousy racked his soul. He desired his old niche within the pack once more, yet at the same time, desired solitude, felt that no one truly understood him,felt out of place amongst other wolves.

Maybe the loss of njoror had melded a new Iorek, one with new emotions, emotions that had once been love and brotherhood flooded around running into new channels, self pity, jealousy, hatred and now pity, hope and the feral rage of the wolf within him.

It was true he had been instrumental in battle recently, a key component of the pack, his aim unparalleled, his sword strokes improving as the new burning anger fuelled his limbs, yet emotionally amongst the pack, he felt out of place, a cog turning the wrong way.

He had tried to rectify it, but his attempts had been dismissed, maybe he should not try any more, just float along in his own little bubble.

Maybe.....

The blow landed square upon Iorek's face and blood cascaded from his already broken nose, yet Iorek held fast, rocking backwards slightly then pushing up, a hand smearing the blood across his lips as the wolf inside raged.

Then suddenly Alrik was there and Tyr, weapons ready, a bolt pistol in Alrik's hand the power fist crackling with energy 

_"So judge yourself right now, and tell me if I am truly wrong."_

He had judged and found something he had never expected, a new person in his own skin.

Alrik and Tyr spoke and Iorek felt a new togetherness between them, bonds and ties holding them together and he felt a twinge of his soul at there words, maybe there was still hope, maybe there was still positive emotion within the pack towards him.

Then Keris spoke and he stood aside,circling his brothers like a judgemental hawk and his gaze fell upon them. Iorek could feel his anger, his rage, smell it in waves yet the words were short and they criticised him, burned shame within him, yet they did not even scorch Vermundr, did not touch him, focused upon him, crashed down upon him.

There was wisdom in keris's words but they seemed forced, choosen with infinitesimal care as if something bound his tongue from expressing the sorrow in his heart.

Iorek's gaze became shrewd and he studied keris for a moment, interested in what held his brother, was it the wolf guard or the wolf scout, Iorek had forgotten them for a moment stunned by the strike.

He knew retribution would be coming down on him but he saw very little wrong in what he had done.

He had merely spoken the truth, maybe the timing was wrong but he had held his emotions too long. Releasing his emotions was a transgression but Vermundr had risen, struck him, oh so many faults in the pack leaders actions, so many stains upon his honour.

Iorek stood now, the bonds between him and Vermundr were fractured beyond repair, he could feel the leaders hatred rolling towards him as he glowered. Keris, who knew, the blood claw had grown so much in a short time, whilst Iorek had regressed to little more than a pup playing in his shadow. However he looked at it resentment was still there, best to start bonds, fresh bonds.

Alrik, old iorek had loathed the firehawk, yet this was new Iorek, Alrik was always there and had offered the bonds of friendship to iorek, offered to support him. It was a start indeed. Tyr, huge and loveable, easily dismissed the stump of his hand causing Iorek to wince, yet he too seemed to understand It was with those two he would start.

He moved forward to retrieve his bolt pistol, changing the clip quickly he stood, holstering it at his side, he looked up into Tyr's face and embraced his brother reaching up to whisper into his ear

"Thank you brother, your kindness moves me, it has been a difficult time, yet I believe i am on the mend. I look forward to getting to know you brother"

He clapped his huge shoulder plate before moving on to Alrik.

He looked into the wild eyes and held out a hand to clasp Alrik's shoulder guard

"Thank you" he whispered to Alrik. He hoped his eyes would convey his gratitude, he was certain Alrik was not the type for grandious speeches. As he moved forward he threw a glance back at keris who stood next to the packleader, together yet apart.

His red eyes questioningly met those pools of fenrisian ice, yet he received no response. 

What bound his brothers tongue?

The question nagged at him but no answer came


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr stood and waited for someone in the pack to answer him, someone to react, and soon both Keris and Iorek both did. As Keris paced back and forth and met every pack member's eyes Tyr saw something in them that he would not have expected from Keris, his brother was holding something back, what he did not know but it was clear that he was. As Keris spoke his last words Tyr felt the wolf inside him let out a deep growl, the wolf that had only come out once in a blue moon but when it did it took every ounce of his will to keep it in check.

Was Keris insulting the rest of them as a pack? His words were most certainly not only directed at Iorek but who else was he speaking to? Tyr could feel his ire rising at his brother's comment, now was not the time to insult or reprimand but to try and mend what could be mended so that they could move on with this mission. As Keris finished Tyr's deep blue eyes met Keris's icy crystals and he did not let his gaze wonder, instead he held his brother's gaze, his eyes showing his dislike for Keris's words and his mouth in an almost indistinct snarl.

His eyes did not move and the wolf inside him did not stop pacing until Iorek reached to embrace him. _"Thank you brother, your kindness moves me, it has been a difficult time, yet I believe i am on the mend. I look forward to getting to know you brother"_ Tyr nodded at Iorek, *"As I said before brother, your pain and suffering is not lost on me..."* he smacked Iorek on the back, *"I too look forward to fighting alongside you more often and getting to know you better." *he smiled at Iorek before his brother went to address Alrik. 

They were most certainly in for it once they got this guilder off his fat arse, for that Tyr was certain.


----------



## darkreever

All; _"Enough you damned children!"_ Baldyr roared and all of the pack were silenced; not a single one of you having the courage to stare him in the eye for more than a second. _"Hymrik, move forward while I deal with this lot, we shall join you shortly."_ Baldyr said through clenched teeth, looking to each of you, daring someone to speak now; without a word, the wolf scout moves past you all and through the pair of wooden doors the line had been guarding.

_"This pack is not for each of you to do and act as you please; it is a family led by one and only one amongst you. If any of you are fool enough to think that you are better suited to lead over one that was chosen by your lord, then you do not break the laws of this company in doing so. Oathbreakers are not something to be tolerated by the company, and you will face the wrath of the chapter for it."_ Baldyr goes on, fixing Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr looks as he mentions the word oathbreakers.

_"Lord Ragnar Blackmane himself chose Vermundr to lead your claw; your liege-lord who you swore an oath of fealty to when you became a member of this company. You do yourself and your lord dishonour by acting as such cowardly serpeants. Trying to undermine and slight the leader of your pack over nothing! Vermundr leads this claw when no other of the company does so, accept it here and now or you have no place in this company and no other. Keris, Sydornis, Kuzin, press on after Hymrik and see if you cannot locate that woman's lackies."_ Baldyr finished, motioning for Vermundr to come close to him before he dealt with Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr.

Vermundr; As you approach the wolf guard, his ice blue eyes bore into you and you can still see the barely controlled rage warring within them. _"This pack is yours to lead, there is no question of that; but you have not one, but three mongrel pups attempting to undermine your authority. Until our return to the Fist of Russ, I will lead the pack; what is to come after that will not be your concern."_ He said, filling you with a mixture of regret and relief; the wolf guard did not find any fault to you, and command was still yours for now. 

[If you have anything to say to Baldyr, do so; otherwise follow after the others.]

Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr; as Vermundr leaves after the others, it is only you and Baldyr now. _"This is not your pack to lead, to undermine its leader, or to voice your opinion on who is right or wrong. You do not slight the lead of your pack leader in the open and you do not challenge him on the battlefield. You all swore oaths to the wolf lord on such a matter, when we return to the Fist; you will not be members of this pack until the wolf lord and Sigurd say otherwise. Now though, I will hear your answer: if you are made part of this pack again, will you accept who commands your pack or should you be cast from the company to find a place elsewhere?"_ At the end of these words, Baldyr keeps his gaze on Iorek.

[Baldyr wants no explanation, nothing long, simply answer the question.]

Keris, Sydornis, Kuzin, Vermundr; you leave the others to their respective fate at the hands of Baldyr as you race through the double doors and up a set of winding stone stairs. At the top, you are greeted by the sight of corpses, the wolf scout and the pair of inquisitorial agents stand in the middle of the dead, the psyker looking particularly exhausted and you can see why. Half the dead are charred ruins from some sort of witch fire or lightning. Surveying the carnage wrought by a combination of solid slug rounds and psychic assault, you almost miss the arrival of Vermundr.

The four of you approach the trio, the soldier turning to regard you, blood flecks dotting a smiling face with wild green eyes. _"There was a second way up, was lightly guarded; once those up here heard you lot making noise they were easy pickings from the rear. We looked on, no one on the third level so that just leaves the fourth. With you five, no point in us going on alone; we waitin' for the rest or gettin' this over with?"_ The last he asks of Vermundr, who is the only one aware of Baldyr taking over the pack at this time.

[Your call Vermundr, do you press on and lead your pack until Baldyr catches up or do you wait? This room is a large circle, with the stairs you came up leading down from one side, with others from the opposite end. To either side of you there is another pair, the floor above designed much the same.

The level your on is littered with corpses, twenty in total. The scent of blood and death is strong here, as well as psychic backwash which makes the hairs on your neck stand on end.

Should you go to the fourth level, there are another set of double wooden doors blocking entry; might be in your best interest to blow them open and surprise whoever may be up there, guilder or not.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Oathbreaker......the word was spit at him as if he had betrayed the Emperor himself. Tyr winced at Baldyr's words towards him, Alrik and Iorek, and felt nothing but shame and utter confusion at what was going on right now. He cast his eyes downward and dared not to look into Baldyr's, knowing for sure that the Wolf Gaurd would tear him apart, most likely physically and verbally. Tyr had always obeyed Vermundr's commands, he had never sought to undermine his brother in any way shape or form, he would die for anyone in this pack.

Yet now here he was being called an oathbreaker because he had sought to keep his brothers from tearing each other's necks out. He had not undermined Vermundr, nor Iorek for that matter, he had simply tried to make them stop thier squabble before it had gone to bloodshed. He knew that Baldyr expected them all to be ashamed of themselves, and he most definately was, not because of what he had said, but because he was unable to keep the pack's situation from getting worse.

He had given, sweat, blood, and even part of a limb for his pack and his wolf lord and now here he was no longer a part of that pack threatened with being thrown out. The wolf inside him was anxious now, what would Lord Blackmane say? Would he be as angered as Baldyr was with him? Or would he act differently? Tyr did not know which was most likely but he figured that the Wolf Lord would definately not be happy at all with how eveything had turned out. 

He silently told himself in his head that he would just have to follow orders as he had always done, fight like he was born to do, and kill as many as he could and hope that he could redeem himself in the eyes of his betters. When he next got the chance he would apologize to Vermundr for staining his brother's honor even though he did not mean to, and they would drink to having many more battles and then eat. 

Tyr looked up as Badlyr asked them if they were made a part of the pack again if they would follow whoever was in charge. Tyr took a deep breath before answering, *"I will Lord." *


----------



## deathbringer

oathbreaker.... the words stung Iorek's tongue burning at his mind. He had broken his oaths to his lord, cast from the company. The stinging intensity of Baldyr's gaze meant that the question was directed at Iorek.

He had not challenged Vermundr in the physical sense, had been hit by the former, been challenged to a duel by the former. No repercussions for the break of Ragnar's law, for the blood that stained Iorek's upper lip. No once again Vermundr had got away scott free. Iorek couldn't understand how, in all honesty Iorek could hardly understand space wolves, even after the information planted within his brain.

He was angry, angry with himself for rising, angry at the shame he had brought on Alrik and Tyr, people who had only aided him and showed him comfort in his time of need. Unlike baldyr, who had not deigned to notice him, unlike the rest of the pack and the company who had not deigned to check his emotional state, merely shamed him.

Whoever would lead? Could he truly except Vermundr, he knew he could accept Alrik, Keris, Tyr, every other member of the pack but could he truly accept a pack leader who showed him no respect. Yet to be cast from the company, cast from Lord Blackmane's the most honourable wolf Lord. His honour was stained in this company, his soundness of mind in question, his fate in the hand of two that doubted him.

Yet would it be different elsewhere, to be cast from a company the ultimate shame... he could never rise from such shame, only in death could it be absolved and even then he would be dissaproved off by those wolves that sat valorously at Russ's side.

He must accept Vermundr, yet Baldyr had not been specific, whoever leads this company... it could be Keris, Iorek knew the honour would not be his, especially not with the wrath of Baldyr hanging above him, a heavy weight held aloft by microfilm, desperate to crush him, nor did he want it. Power lead to death and a swelled head, he could see that now.

He could not leave this company, the wolf guard had given him one choice

He echoed Tyr's words simply stating "I will" 

Unlike Tyr he met the wolf guards gaze, felt himself wilt under its piercing rage, steeled himself and matched the feral anger with his own cold intensity., His timing had been wrong, but the words he had spoken the words were honest.


----------



## dark angel

Oathbreaker. That was a new one. Alrik Firehawk; Oathbreaker. He could tell by his Brothers stances that they had taken it as a shame and he noted that Tyr winced at the word. A seeping smile slipped across the scarred visage of Alrik however, and for the first time since he had been upon the world, he wished that Baldyr was a Blood Claw. He had broken the oaths which had been placed upon him. He had broken his oaths to Vermundr, who had struck Iorek? 

And now Alrik was amongst his two Brothers, paying for doing the right thing? He had intervened when his so called Pack Leader had struck a Brother! Was it not the duty of Vermundr to be a barrier against such things? Inter-Pack fighting was not unheard of, but Alrik could not recall a occasion where a higher had struck a lesser. At least not in this case; then again Alrik never did pay much attention to tales. 

It did have a nice ring to it however. But could Alrik ignore his stubbornness long enough to take the orders of his Brother? He and Vermundr had got along well but how could they converse when Alrik had a black spot of rage upon his chest? His lips curled in distaste when both his Brothers muttered that they would listen. He had not expected Iorek to agree, although he had known that Tyr would do so as soon as the words had left the lips of Baldyr. 

Alrik found it ironic that he had actually got himself and Tyr into this situation. All the blame could be traced back to the shoulders of Iorek. Alrik would have never have interrupted like he had previously done so if the rift between him and his Brother had not been healed. No one had ever said that he would have to accept Vermundr as master; yet it was not his choice? Did the Astartes not stand for freedom and virtue? 

His hand tightened around the grip of his Bolt Pistol. If he would not accept the rule of Vermundr, he would become dead to his Brothers. A exile. Lone Wolf. He would no longer be welcomed within the feasting halls of the Wolves. His armour would fall into destruction, and no Iron Priest would repair it for him. What right did Baldyr have to say what happened with Alrik anyway……He was a mere Wolf Guard, and while famed surely it was only the choice of Blackmane?

Blackmane himself had once been an outcast. At least he had been a member of the Wolfblade. It could not have been so terrible, if such an esteemed Wolf Lord himself had bore such a title. Vermundr had pranced off without even a word of malice, but each which was directed at the trio of Claws was filled with it. He had never felt such hatred since he had become a Space Wolf. Not even Iorek could have brought it about in him, but the Wolf Guard did so with relative ease.

The title of outcast dawned upon him as he spoke “I…..” it hung in the air as he contemplated his next words. This was either the salvation or reckoning of Alrik. Had he doomed himself? He drew breath and finished “….Will”. His tone was as cold as the ice of Fenris, and his grip upon his pistol lessened until it was hanging in half closed fingers. His honour was forever stained, however Alrik would take that into his stride.

There was a wound within the Pack now, one which would only fester while they remained under the command of Vermundr. Oathbreaker. Oh, it _did _have a nice ring to it.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr was a bit taken aback by his own actions, but he believed himself in the right as well as Iorek did. However, since Lord Ragnar had chosen _him_ to lead the pack, then it was what _he_ felt was right that should be accepted. He was still anew leader and the wolf in him gave him no other options on how to possibly correct the situation. 

Alrik and Tyr's words had him worried to say the least. He was not so much worried that he would lose his leadership. After all, he had not been trying to become pack leader in the first place; he had merely done what he felt was the right choice and that resulted in him being the best candidate in Ragnar's eyes. Following his instinct had got him this far...so he figured he might as well continue following it.

What he was worried about though, was that even if he may have been in the right his pack was still potentially a failure, and then so would his legacy all the same. He also seemed to have lost the respect of Alrik and Tyr, and most likely Keris as well. He didnt want to be an arrogant block headed blood claw pack leader and say things like, "deal with it this is my pack, respect me you have no choice." but he felt as though they might give _him_ no choice. He knew he could not be weak and overly talkative about his decisions as leader. The wolf packs were not democracies of any kind like his battle brothers apparently wished to believe.

Whatever was going on, and what was to come, Vermundr was nonetheless relieved at Baldyr's words. He expected the frost blade to cut through his midsection at any moment like the rest of his pack probably had. Such an angry soul....did he still disapprove of him as he did when they first departed from the Fist of Russ for this mission? Vermundr could not tell, but hoped Baldyr could forgive him for his young mistakes in due time. 

He could not find anything to say to Baldyr before he stepped through the large wooden doors, so he left his pack mates to whatever Baldyr had to say to them. He came up behind Keris, Sydornis, and Kuzin, and took in the scene. He got an uncomfortable chill from these men speaking to him. Perhaps he was just not all that experienced fighting around psykers. He suddenly realized the mistrust he had developed in the past few days for the 'normal' human mind in general; look how easily they turned...

Was this soldier's story really true? There must have been another way here obviously, since they certainly had not passed them by through the heavy bolter defense line.

_"With you five, no point in us going on alone; we waitin' for the rest or gettin' this over with?"_

He was not wishing to run off without Baldyr's consent, especially after he just took over the pack for the time being. It would be rather reckless and he didn't need another Njoror situation on his hands.

Vermundr's eyes narrowed, helmet still at his hip now. He stepped forward and said simply, "_We wait for the rest."_


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis bit back his retort as Baldyr, the Wolf Guard, began his tirade against the pack. Sydornis had no place in this, he had done nothing wrong. Had Baldyr not dismissed him there Sydornis probably would have said something that he would not regret.. but most others would. Glad for this brief respite Sydornis left the room and headed through the double-doors, grateful that he wasn't being left behind in there.

Sydornis followed his pack brothers Keris and Kuzin up the twin stairs, he could smell Vermundr coming after them. It was good that he wasn't being chewed out, although the Blood Claw allowed a moment of pity for Iorek, Tyr and Alrik. Whatever was going on down there, and judging from the scents he could detect it wasn't something good, they didn't deserve it.

As the Space Wolves reached the top of the staircase they were greeted by the dead, corpses covered the room and the only survivors were the Wolf Scout and the Inquisitors who, despite wounds, were alive. The butchery around them made Sydornis's hairs stand on edge and the wolf within him growl, slug rounds littered the floor and were all over the walls but something else was here. Witchcraft. Sydornis could smell it, and he did not want to.

The Blood Claw loped over to the Inquisitors and the Wolf Scouts, 'Allow me to check your injuries, we may need to move quickly and we can't afford for you to slow us down,' he said. He could smell that everyone else in the room was quite dead and as well they should be, half the bodies in here were charred beyond recognition and gave off a horrific scent. Pushing his discomfort aside Sydornis continued his examination of the survivors, making sure that they were okay and fit to travel.

Vermundr gave the order that they would wait, Sydornis was fine with that. The Son of Russ was not in favour of leaving brothers behind, be it on the battlefield or with a tough superior.


----------



## Euphrati

_How does one measure a warrior’s righteousness? _

Regardless of anticipating Baldyr’s ire; Keris could not help but flinch as the cold, biting tone of the Wolf Guard’s voice as it seemed to knife through the very air. For a brief moment, Keris met the elder Wolf’s steely gaze before bowing his head in respect and shame for the actions of his brothers as Hymrick moved silently past the pack of Blood Claws to disappear up the stairs. Baldyr’s voice held naught but condemnation as he continued, fixing Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr with a vicious gaze. Keris inclined his head a fraction to both the Wolf Guard and his packleader before turning to follow after the Wolf Scout at Baldyr’s orders.

_Oathbreakers._ The mere thought chilled Keris to his very marrow as he climbed the winding stairs to the next level, his thoughts turned inwards in the echoing silence. Keris examined his own actions and found them without lapse; true to the oaths he had sworn to Blackmane, the Chapter, and the Allfather. He would sooner carve his primary heart from within his chest than betray those sacred oaths. Keris’s mind turned the thoughts over as he considered them carefully, a cold anger stirring from the wolf in his soul.

_What truly made him a Son of Russ? His gene-enhanced form? His armour and weapons? No, that was mere flesh and bone, blood and sinew, ceramite and steel. That could be ripped and broken, severed and torn. Those could be destroyed and yet who he was would remain unchanged. 

Was it faith? Some might willingly call it that. Devotion beyond one’s self; loyalty untainted by narcissistic desires. 

Was that not the very thing that set them apart from those that they hunted even now? Those who had placed themselves over their oaths ten thousand years before and set the galaxy aflame with their betrayal?_
The thought drew a low growl from the wolf within his soul that lingered with the echoes of his brothers’ footfalls upon the stairs.

As Keris crested the last tread a new scent assailed him, forcing the introspective thoughts aside in a wave of carnal stench. Blood and death greeted him, stained by the hair-raising scent of warpcraft. Keris paced forward carefully, wary of the corpses that bore signs of being slain by eldritch means, to study the two agents of the Inquisitor. The star-cunning one seemed almost fragile, gripping his staff as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the spot. The other, flecked with blood and wild eyed, had the scent of death to him.

_Murderer._

Keris knew a killer when he smelt one; heartless and cold, willing to use anyone to achieve the goals of his task. Keris narrowed his eyes as he regarded the sprawl of corpses, noting that Vermundr had joined them only when his packleader was nearly at his side. As they made their way to the two men, Keris’s eyes danced around the room, unconsciously checking every shadow.

The wild eyed man spoke, addressing Vermundr in almost joyful tones. Keris gave a soft nod at his brother’s decision before speaking,

‘Where are the Colonel and her men? I can smell nothing beyond this… stench,’

Keris gestured to one of the charred corpses with his stilled chainsword, a look of disgust written plainly on his features.


----------



## darkreever

Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr; For moments that feel like separate eternities, Baldyr glares at you until something behind the wolf guard breaks the relative silence and he turns. Behind him, colonel Ktalen and two of her troopers slowly move up, one of the others with her had not been as fortunate, taking a round in the chest that blew away the upper portion of her body and splattered the others in gore. Something clicks in your head at the sight of the colonel and her remaining squad, this whole time what had transpired had been in Fenrisian, your home tongue, rather than gothic; but it could easily have been the other way around and outsiders would have been privy to what had gone on. You hadn’t realized it before, but you all had come that close to allowing others to not only see, but hear what had happened; Russ and the Emperor alone know what Baldyr would have done had that been the case.

_“My lord, we must press on after the others; we should not stop regardless of the reason.”_ The colonel said as her remaining troopers passed you quickly and made their way up. The air about Baldyr instantly turned cold, as if at any moment he would strike the woman for hinting that whatever he had been saying to you was less important than making your way up to guilder Tonlau. But, instead he simply nodded to the woman, inclining his head for her to proceed and that you four would be behind her. As she passes you, the look in her eyes indicates that she has no idea what was said, but hoped it was for the best for you.

With her now gone, Baldyr once again glared at you, but this time rather than standing still, he advanced as well. _“Lets go, you will be dealt with when we return.”_ Was all he said before shoving past you and proceeding up the stairs to the others.

All; Vermundr, Keris, Kuzin, and Sydornis; Despite wanting to proceed onward, the blooded agent is content with waiting a few more minutes for the others to join you. Both shrug off any attempts of aid from Sydornis, mostly due to neither being injured in any way. You do not have to wait for long though, the colonel and her troopers soon join you from below, one fewer than before, and shortly after them comes Baldyr and the others, the air about them a mix of anger and shame and something else, something that eludes you.

_“Good, all here, now we can move.”_ The warrior says before moving to the next set of stairs and the others follow without another word. Vermundr, you catch Baldyr’s eye and briefly think you see something that feels of disappointment. Could it be that he would have wanted you to move on without him and the others?

Reaching the third level you see that it is empty, those who had been up here would likely have gone below during the fighting or above to warn those on the final level, or worse do away with the guilder. _“Colonel, you and the inquisitors men will stay here, keep anyone who tries to follow us at bay should there be any and wait for the inquisitor. We will handle what is to come.”_ Baldyr says, his voice clear that what he said is not up for discussion. The warrior moves to argue, but a firm hand from Hymrik stops him in his place. _“I shall remain as well, you and this claw will be enough.”_ The scout says and Baldyr simply nods to this. Only a select few have the authority to order Hymrik and his kind, and Baldyr is not amongst those few.

Quickly making your way up the final flight, you come to the landing of the top floor, large blast doors seal the way. With a gesture from Baldyr, you plant the last of your breaching charges and line up to either side of the doorway. Once again Baldyr to one side, Alrik, Tyr, and Iorek with him, and Vermundr with Keris, Kuzin, and Sydornis with him.

Without a word, the charges blow a hole and you eight charge before the dust and debris settle. Your augmented eyes, though irritated by the dust in the air, are otherwise unaffected and the sight before you instantly puts a snarl on your face. All about is a scene of death, what look to be loyal compound soldiers lay dead from solid rounds. Ahead of you are three figures, or rather two as one last soldier falls to the ground, his head blown open and the gun still smoking in the hand of guilder Tonlau. The final figure however, that one alone is where your unbridled hatred stems from; clad in the purple and green of the Alpha Legion.

He looks at you with a wide, tooth bearing, smile; his eyes are a bright silver and his head is covered in shoulder length jet black hair, the marines mouth is a mess, lips crudely removed and teeth replaced with a row of jagged serrated metal spikes. The majority of his face though, that is what truly draws your attention more than anything; it is covered in a single purple and green tattoo of the Aquila, or at least it looks like that at first glance. In truth it is a writhing mass of serpeant heads, like a variation of the hydra sported on the traitor marines shoulder; unlike the legion symbol though, this tattoo is moving.

Baldyr is the first to react, and the rest of you follow a second later as he charges the traitor marine. Even as you all race to engage with the traitor marine, he is gone with a mighty boom; like with the chapel this one was transported away by some sort of teleporter; leaving eight Space Wolves and the guilder. That very same guilder who was now pointing his gun, a fairly ornate bolt pistol, at Vermundr’s head; before he could pull the trigger though, Iorek was on him, smashing his own pistol into Tonlau’s side and throwing him across the room to crash into the wall with a wet crunch.

[Not much individual action, just a lot of reaction stuff. Then again, a fair amount has happened, so lets see what your all thinking, and what you all do. Let this be said though, the final action and who did it, that has not gone beyond the notice of Baldyr (though who did it was chosen randomly) and may come as a shock to others, and even the one who did it.]


----------



## deathbringer

“My lord, we must press on after the others; we should not stop regardless of the reason.”

The cool lilting tone, the round enunciation of the syllables, the lack of harsh curt growls awakened Iorek to the curling feral tones dripping from his tongue. The shock hit has brain, a hammerblow of relieved terror and he choked at the horror of what could have occured if he had not relapsed in his rage. The thought was in Baldyr's mind too and the wolf guard's glare seemed to thicken ,the air around him solidifying intoice, the sudden aching cold in his lungs a knife of frosted steel between his ribs. A rough hand pushed him carelessly aside and he span head down, breathing deeply as he followed the wolf guard up the stairs.

Bodies littered the floor as they rejoined the group and Iorek gave a small feral snarl as he tasted the scents of battle, weapon release, the shells of destroyed lives. His eyes were locked upon the ground fixed upon a face, that seemed misted in his thoughts yet it snapped upwards as he was dragged back to reality by the feral snarl of Hymrik

"I shall remain as well, you and this claw will be enough.” 

He looked deeply at the wolf scout,eyes widening slightly as Baldyr merely nodded, the wolf scout answerable to none but a few. That was a life, a life of solitude, a life of freedom to pursue your own goals, a life of skill and art. He would like that, a life where you only answered tothe barest few. He smiled gently at the thought, yet it was torn away from him in a sudden flurry of activity.

Soon they were moving up the stairs once more, quietly sprinting towards the chamber, blast charges were hurridly placed upon the doors by eager hands and iorek was hurried to the left behind Baldyr, shuffling into linewith the others in disgrace, indeed it seemed Baldyr would keep a close eye on them.

He thrust the thought away, slipping his bolt pistol into his hand he reloaded subconciously. A snowstorm of shrapnel, a downpour of dry powder as the doors burst open and Baldyr darted inside, he tracked his pistol two handed across the room eyes fixing upon a pdf soldier as the taste of acrid fumes and gunpowder burnt his throat. The stiff neck jerked as something impacted upon his body and the pdf soldier dropped backwards, arms pin-wheeling in futile motion as he fell towards them and Iorek scanned across.

His eyes locked a roar of rage bursting from him echoed by the wolf guard's bellowing war cry. A figure, tall, his armour a poisonous purple mixed seamlessly with a serpents green. Jet black hair framed a horrific face, a distorted mass of metal and ink, living and breathing, writhing with the glories of chaos, the delights of deception, a serpent's tongue laced with a serpent's lies, spat from a mouth of metal scales that flashed and danced in the light.

The pistol swung up as a serpents head ducked aside and he focused upon the very centre of that mass of deceit, here is the hydra, slice his throat. The pistol was locked, the fingers taut yet the wolf screamed, howled for blood by his blade, its limbs his limbs... he hesitated, held immobile in a wrestling match of desires. Then Baldyr ducked in the way the broad back of his armour covering the shot and Iorek howled as the moment was gone, a mass of frustrated anguish rolling over him and he felt the wolf propell him foward. Two venemous strides taking him onto Baldyr's heels, and now he was racing the wolf guard desperate for the stroke

"Mine" he roared a soundless roar as the wolf thrashed in his mind devouring his senses, kill the bastard.... kill the bastard. It's jaws snapped.

His chainsword was in his hand his feet moving, as the blade revved, spinning a catherine wheel of spikes. The pistol hung limp in his hand useless as he ran, straining to exceed the wolf guards giant strides, held a fraction behind. 

The tatoo danced in his vision, hypnpotic coils snaking, the dance of a charmer, beautiful and elegant, fuck the beauty, kill the bastard, roared the wolf and he bared his fangs, the albino red meeting the pure silver as the eyes bored into him. 

"I'm going to kill," you he mouthed, his lips soundless above the roar of wolves. the lipless mouth seemed to leer as there was a booming roar and the alpha legionnaire was gone, and Iorek roared a long howl of frustration, the wolf too howled in agony. Blood... blood ...blood it cried, yet Iorek cared not.... loss seeped him once more and he turned to find the guilder an ornate bolt pistol raising, drawing a bead

Snake in the grass, lying bastard he would die. He lashed out his bolt pistol and shoulder catching the guilder and he flew away from him, hitting the wall with a sickening crack, yet Iorek's attention was gone from his frail bodies descent to earth. That was gravities problem, the loss in his heart was his.

He was back to the loss, the sickening failure and he howled long and hard throwing his head back in sickening rage. He turned and with a sharp roar of anguish, flung the limp pistol across the room his now empty hand raking across his short hair as he tried to pull it out, desperately trying to rip the loss from him

Anger reared and he threw his head back and let out another howl,a feral snarl melding into a howl of words of defiance and frustration, mingled with foul curses in his native tongue he balled them to the walls, screamed them at the space where the alpha legionnaire had been

His breath was heavy, his eyes bloodshot yet now his mouth was set and his voice a long soft growl, a raging whisper of certain knowledge yet still loud enough to reverberate round the room, his mouth twisted and his teeth clenched

"I know you can hear me, whoersons, for there is no way you would not watch our frustations, but know this traitors. I was but a millisecond away from ending your life, and next time we meet I will be prepared, quicker than ever before. Remember this face, sons of snakes, it will be the last thing you ever see."

His hands ran through his hair and his sharp eyes glared straight at Keris, the union of the pain of vengeance linking their gaze. His memories flitted back to there talk, the oath they had made

_The ice blue eyes stared at him with such love and emotion, beauty in the youthful wisdom that lined his face

"We shall see vengeance for those they have taken from us, of that you have my oath. There is such strength within you, my brother; it is an honour to fight by your side, yet if you ever find yourself in need… know that I am here, un-judging, no matter what may come to pass.’
_

The oath between them, unknown to others the bond of vengeance that held them together, the one oath he had not broken. His smile broke a grim smile, yet a spark of happiness, through gritted teeth he smiled. His head nodded meaninglessly but his eyes gleamed and he whispered to keris

"I had the shot, brother, next time we meet them they will not survive. We are so close, oh so close."

He was glowing the strength of his sudden belief flaring within him and he threw back his head and laughed a wild hollow laugh.

His head fell forward and his eyes locked with keris's

"Next time" he whispered "Next time"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had kept quiet after Baldyr's question, there was no need for them to talk so he did not and kept his thoughts, objections, and questions to himself no matter how much he wanted to give them voice. He watched as the Colonel and two of her soldiers came up behind them and told them that they needed to move, he could feel the wolf inside of him baring its fangs at such a comment, who was she to order them around? He could feel his anger, something that he usually always had in check, coming to the fore but he beat it down before he couldnt hold it in anymore. 

He blinked his eyes as he followed Badlyr, trying to understand what was happening to him. He knew that this was a trial, something that had been put in front of him to test him and see how he acted, at least that is what he believed it was now, something that the All-Father and Russ were using to test him. Well he would not fail them, of that he was certain, even if it did mean he was to loose another limb while he was at it. They reached the others soon enough and Tyr could smell the scents of his brothers keenly, he could tell that they were apprehensive now around him, Iorek and Alrik, who wouldn't be.

Yet he knew he had done nothing wrong, or at least believed he did, and was not about to think that he had anything to prove to the rest of the pack that was up here. He cared for his brothers, yet for now he would be seen as an outcast most likely, one to be avoided if it could be helped. His eyes narrowed as they met Keris's, his brother had sought to pass judgement on him and the rest of the pack with his words, and that was something that had hit Tyr to the core. Who was Keris to judge? He was not a better of Tyr's, nor any of the others in the pack, he was not one of Baldyr's or Hymrik's stature, and so he did not have the right.

Being among Keris now had Tyr on edge, even though he tried to hide it he knew his scent was giving him away and chose to ignore Keris, putting Vermundr and the others between them as Baldyr ordered the Inquisitor's men to stay behind and wait. Tyr watched as Hymrik said he would stay behind, to be one that was not roped in, one that, while still an outcast, was still a hero must have been a strange feeling. He could not tell if he was attracted to that feeling or wanted something else, he did always consider himself good pack material but then again what would he know.

As they began to move his mind began to focus, his anger towards Keris, his confusion at his predicament within the pack, all but forgotten now that they were about to kill again. They reached a set of thick blast doors, and as his brothers placed the charges his looked down at his powerfist, the only weapon he had now other then his bulk and smiled. Looking up the charges blew and they all rushed in, before his sight was able to discern what was in the room his nose did it for him, and the death that hung about this place reeked. 

He snorted from the smell but immediately caught something else, something he had smelled back at the chapel, something sick and old, something both evil yet laden with experience, Alpha Legion. As they broke through the smoke Tyr took in the sights instantly, guild gaurds lay dead throughout the room, Tonlau blowing the head off of the last one with the Alpha Legionaire standing next to him smiling. The smell now coupled with the sight of the traitor caused Tyr to be filled with a haze of rage and hatred and he followed his brothers, not really recognizing them now other then their shapes, a snarl on his lips. 

Yet the traitor disappeared, teleported like the last one to safety somewhere far away from the grip of Tyr's powerfist. Still filled with anger and hate Tyr barely noticed Iorek slamming himself into Tonlau who had his pistol aimed at Vermundr's head, instead making his way to where the Alpha Legionaire had stood only moments before. He sniffed the air, the stench of the recent teleport smelling like electrified ozone, yet it was still permeated by the disgusting smell of the traitor. With every breath Tyr's anger grew, once again he had been denied his vengeance on the traitors who had taken so many of his brothers, once again it had been within his grasp yet taken away. With a roar of anger he slammed his powerfist into the ground as hard as he could throwing up dust and pieces of the flooring, creating a tiny crater.

He stood there, his shoulders heaving with each breath as he fought to control himself, to control the wolf inside of him that fought so very hard now to be let free. 

---------------------

He was suddenly in a forest, or rather in a clearing in a forest, and it was snowing. In front of him a large wolf, its body grey save for its face and paws that were a beautiful white, paced back and forth its teeth bared. Tyr lifted his arms and looked at himself, he was still him, just nothing on and no weapons to use, his right hand still missing. He let his arms down and looked up at the wolf, he could see pain in its eyes, anger and hatred and a little bit of confusion. He felt kindred to it, felt as though it should be alongside him, not fighting him, yet here it was the obviousness of its challenge clear to him.

Despite himself Tyr smiled and got into a fighting stance, he would show this beast who was master and it would obey him in the times to come. Almost instantly after that thought formed in his head it lept at him teeth bared and aimed right at his neck, he moved towards the wolf, his one fist powering into its ribcage as his head ducked beneath its maw. It fell and rolled only to get back up and leap at him again, this time biting his left fore arm as he brought it up to defend himself, he roared in pain as he fought to get the beast off of him but it did not budge and they fell to the ground.

They rolled around, Tyr eventually getting the wolf to let go by slamming his body down on top of it. His arm bled generously but he ignored it, his skills were being pushed to the limit here and he wanted to best this beast, prove himself amongst his brothers not only within his pack but also within his chapter. Once again they were facing each other, each one battered and bloodied but not ready to give up the fight, and this time it was Tyr who made the first move. 

He rushed the beast, his right arm swinging in as if to punch it square in the side of the head, but as he suspected the wolf snapped its head to the side and bit down on where his hand should have been but got nothing but air, the end of his arm smashing into its nose. It yelped and lept back only to be tackled to the ground by Tyr who wrestled it into submission, his meaty arms holding its head from moving and its mouth from opening, the rest of his body keeping it on the snow covered ground. 

It struggled viciously for awhile and Tyr almost considered killing it altogether, after all it would be easier, yet he knew that the sense of pride and honor that came from taming one of these beasts was the greatest one could achieve and so he held strong until finally the wolf's body went limp. Its breathing was labored and ragged and it did not move anymore in his arms, just to be sure it wasn't faking he squeezed tighter and it did nothing, so slowly he began to let go of it. 

He got up and stood in front of the beast in the clearing itself, waiting for it to come to him. He checked over himself and realized how much hurt it had actually laid on him, huge cuts were across his chest, both of his arms were still bleeding a bit and covered in blood, and one of his legs was aching from a pulled muscle. 

Eventually the wolf got up and made its way over to him, sitting down on its rump, and waited for him to move or speak. Tyr cocked his head and smiled before starting to laugh, he nodded at the wolf before turning and walking back into the forest, the wolf at his side.

----------------------

Tyr snapped back to reality, taking in a deep startled breath at what he had just seen. He gulped, what was that that he had just seen? Was that his inner wolf? Or had it been a vision of some kind? His back was still somewhat facing the others in the pack and for once he was greatful for it because he did not want them to see the look on his face. If he had been confused before he was most certainly confused now, yet one thing was for certain he was not shaking with anger now.

He stared down at the crater he had created in his anger, he had control now, of that he was certain, control of his anger and he would exercise that to create a poweful yet precise tool. Instead of showing physically as it had moments ago, it now flowed just beneath his surface, and while he was still struggling it was certainly easier now. He looked up at the cieling directly above him and muttered, *"I will kill you...."*


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr didn't know what to think of Baldyr's hint of dissatisfaction. He felt he had made the right decision to wait for the rest of the pack. Although he strongly admired Baldyr, he felt his decision would do enough to benefit the pack, outweighing the negative of Baldyr's discontent. As soon as the large double doors were blown open, he knew that his feeling had been correct. 

This Legionnaire was beyond the years and experience of his wretched brethren whom they had encountered earlier. His face was wildly twisted by the warp, he was operating solo, and he was with the apparently traitorous guilder as well. Put simply...this legionnaire was one of the main schemers here. 

Just as the blood flew out the top of the soldier's head, the young pack charged towards him with ferocity like never before, side by side with the Wolf Guard. But still, their blades met with nothing but the smoke of the sly traitor's unforeseen escape, driving some of his pack into a wild state. He remained relatively calm but had completely forgotten about the guilder during the rush. He only relearned of the guilder's presence from a whiff in the air moved by the guilder raising up his arm.

Vermundr's hair spiked up in surprise as he spun around and met the cold stare of the bolt pistol's pupil. It was too late.

By some kind of intervention, during the same milliseconds the guilder's finger was squeezing the trigger, Iorek bashed into him sending his body crashing into one of the walls. 

...was it an accident? Had Iorek actually realized he was saving him in such a way? Vermundr could not yet tell if it was an act of Iorek's crazy wrath from missing the opportunity to kill the traitor marine, or if it had been a premeditated thought executed moments after he had caused Baldyr to scrutinize him. 

Seeing Iorek turn to stare at Keris instead of him made Vermundr realize... it was the former reason.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik clenched his teeth, the ale-meat enamel there flaking away as he did so. He still did not understand why he was to be punished when it was Vermundr who had wronged, not Alrik. The female Colonel who they had first met back at the governors palace was suddenly speaking, although the Firehawk cared little as to what she said. Baldyr was clearly miffed by her; his stature growing stiff. But yet he simply complied, as if under the thumb. She moved off and Baldyr turned back, Alrik stared at his eyes with his own half closed, from beneath his helm. 

The Space Wolf took the rearmost position as they advanced up the stairs, his vision dwelling upon the ground below. The second level was dotted with red-running corpses, and Alrik simply stepped over any which got in his way. Their fellow Wolves were all nearby but Alrik would keep his distance for the moment; something boiled within Alrik. Rage, pure, painful rage. He had no quarrel with any of his fellows, yet Baldyr had dealt him a injustice, one which would surely gain him disdain in the eyes of Blackmane. 

Fingers clenched around the hilt of his Chainsword, and the riveted grip of his Bolt Pistol. He wished for no conflict within the Pack, had he only attempted to halt such a thing? He knew Baldyr was far more valuable to the Chapter than himself, but yet Alrik could only feel a niggling sense of angst and hatred. But it was not Baldyr’s fault. Was it? Had he caused the problems which Alrik had experienced? No certainly not, at least that was until now.

Now was a different matter. He had shamed Alrik. Perhaps the Firehawk could regain his honour through redemption but what was the point? He was damned in black, to be lost in the annals of the Chapter history. They were moving once again and Alrik kept to himself, nibbling on his lip in anticipation. He tasted copper. A horrible tang, seeping from a minute gash along his broken lips. His eyes bulged when it struck his nostrils for a single moment, before he shook his head like a wet dog, warding off dark thoughts. 

They came onto the third level, were a pair of large blast doors rested in a tight embrace of metal. Baldyr tipped his head and those with detonation tools placed them against the sealed doors, and Alrik took his position. Behind Baldyr and his two Brothers. His fingers wrapped further along his Chainsword as the doors were blasted inwards. A maelstrom of sharp shards and dust billowed, but the Space Wolves were already charging. _Bloodlust_.

Each felt it as they danced forwards, weapons held at the ready. The eyes of any normal Imperial servant would have been painful now, but the enhanced vision offered them a better sight than the majority of the Imperium. He saw a trio of figures, one of which was quivering headless and gushing blood over fatigues before keeling over onto the blood moist ground below. The second figure was that of the Guilder, holding an baroque looking pistol in his hand. The third was which halted Alrik’s charge completely. 

He knew the name well. Alpha Legion. A wide smile cracked his tattoo clad face, which was that of the Imperial Aquila. At least that is what first thoughts came into the mind of the Space Wolf, even if it was not true. In reality it was a series of small serpentine heads twisting and twirling together. No lips were present, and instead revealed a series of jagged spikes that could rip flesh from bone. But that did not stop Alrik charging, he simply revved his Chainsword harder and put more pressure on the trigger of his Bolt Pistol. It was the silver clad eyes which caused him to fail.

They appeared to stare directly into those of Alrik, piercing his soul like a adamantine blade. Alrik tumbled onto his knees, letting his weaponry fall from his fingers as the Legionnaire disappeared in a bright flash of prosperous light. He watched Iorek crush the side of the guilder, a wet crunch sounding before tossing him away into a nearby wall. The wet breaking noise sounded again. The Marine had been alone, much like the feelings which Alrik currently swelled with. Solitude and darkness.

Alrik’s mind still rested upon the eyes of the Alpha Legionnaire however in a painful afterimage. The silver, like untouched metal. Those of a slaughterer. Those of a Traitor. Those of a _brother_. While he was corrupt and changed, there was no point in denying the fact that the Alpha Legion had once stood shoulder against shoulder with the Wolves of Fenris. Was Alrik any better than this breaker of oaths, was he nothing more than a chaotic deviant in the eyes of his fellow Blood Claws? Was Alrik the sole Wolf who knew the meaning of brotherhood? Did these Astartes not have the right to redemption in the Eyes of the Emperor? 

_No_....Were the Space Wolves any different to those erstwhile Sons of Alpharius? The XX Legion deserved some form of chance, did they not? Or was he now babbling upon heretical thoughts? A single grouping of words rang throughout his thick skull. _Am I to be doomed like those of the Serpent?....._


----------



## Euphrati

Keris stood restlessly, shifting his weight from his injured leg as the moments drew on. Vermundr’s decision to wait gnawed at his senses, _the wolf within his soul paced in annoyance of having to pause so close to their goal_. Its feral hunger pressed at the back of his mind. Keris ground his teeth in frustration, the desire to question such inaction tinted his thoughts yet his oaths kept his tongue stilled.

Footsteps sounded from behind them; too light to be the tread of a Son of Russ, heralding the answer to Keris’ question as the colonel and her remaining troopers moved into view from the darkened stairwell followed shortly by the heavy tones of ceramite shod boots on stone. The Wolf Guard’s brutal features were as cold as the breath of Morkai himself. Anger and the bitter scent of shame ghosted about Baldyr as the rest of the pack sulked up the stairs behind him. Something else rode the air currents around the Wolves, a faint scent that slipped away before Keris could place it.

The killer seemed pleased to be able to continue on, turning upon his heel and cutting a path towards the stairway without a backwards glance. The rest of the group fell in step behind, the silence of the stair broken only by the passage of their feet and the low hum of power armour. Keris could taste the tension on the air, sharp and biting as it intermingled with the scents of his packbrothers. He cast a wary glance at the three in Baldyr’s shadow as he rolled the familiar scents across his tongue. 

The jagged scent anger focused at him drew his attention and Keris felt a sense of shock even as the hair at the nape of his neck rose in unconscious response. The ire in Tyr’s scent was a bitter note, and a flash of confusion slipped through Keris’ mind as to why his brother’s wrath would be directed at him of all those present. The larger Blood Claw’s words had been truthful yet neutral, and thus ill-chosen for the circumstances. He had been tarred by the same brush as those who had openly voiced their thoughts against Vermundr. Keris watched the Wolf purposefully avoid his gaze and sighed. Such conflict would have to be dealt with later upon the Fist of Russ.

The third level was devoid of life, the hard sounds of boots on stone echoing back strangely in the weighty silence. Keris felt a low growl rumble from deep within his chest at the wrongness that lingered like a bad taste in his throat. Baldyr’s deep voice resonated in the stilled air, his scent still smoldering with the barely contained rage from before. Before the killer could protest, Hymirk’s gloved hand closed around his shoulder as the Wolf Scout spoke.

Even amongst the brotherhood of the Wolves, those who stalked the path of the Wolf Scouts were behest to but a few and Keris watched as the Wolf Guard simply nodded in acknowledgement of Hymirk’s decision before pushing onwards.

The final flight of stairs disappeared under hungry strides; the aching numbness in Keris’ left thigh plagued him still, the muscles flexing under each powerful step as he fought past his discomfort. At the apex the pack was greeted with the blunt face of sealed blast doors baring their passage and the last of the charges were quickly placed under the keen eye of Baldyr. Keris noted the Wolf Guard ensured that Iorek, Alrik, and Tyr stayed within his shadow as he slipped into place beside Vermundr on the opposing side of the portal.

With a deafening report the charges detonated, sending a choking cloud of debris and mortar into the chamber. Keris bounded forward with his brothers; his augmented eyes watering in response to the irritants for a brief moment before he blinked them clear again. The sight before him drew a snarl of utter hate from the depth of his soul.

The room into which they charged was octagonal, an arching roof of glass soaring overhead like the dome of the sky itself. Bodies lay scattered amid crystalline shards of glass from a few of the walls apparently shattered by the detonation, their dress denoting them to be the last of the guilder’s house guards. A single shot sounded over the echoing din of the explosion. Keris watched as the last soldier crumpled, a spray of blood and brain matter arching away from the corpse as it collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor.

Blue smoke coiled from the pistol gripped in the hand of the taller man Keris had seen in the governor’s palace. _Guilder Tonlau_. The same man who had call for the aid of the Wolves in his supposed salvation. Yet, for all the rage that boiled in Keris’ heart for the treachery of the guild leader, it was but a pale shadow to the aching tempest fury that the creature towering beside the deceitful guilder.

_*Traitor. Oathbreaker. Kinslayer.*_

Purple and sea green plates of archaic design were picked out in silver trimwork, serpent scales glinted as if alive from the intricately detailed shoulder guards. The ragged vestiges of lips peeled back in a mockery of a human smile, jagged fangs of metal slick with saliva where teeth should have been. The traitor’s face was tattooed in a mass of purple and green serpents which, for a brief and sickening moment, echoed the holy Aquila. The shapes were fluid, twisting and writhing under the skin of the fallen defender of humanity.

Keris tasted the sharp acid of bile at the back of his throat and the wolf in Keris’ soul howled its anger down the ten thousand years of gene legacy that pounded in his very veins. Crimson tinted his vision as he surged forward, his reactions slowed by the numbing injuries he had taken and the vileness of the mark of Chaos before him. The powerful shape of the Wolf Guard reacted before any of them, closing the distance in thundering strides.

The traitor simply grinned at the Wolves and, with a bone shaking clap of displaced air, was gone from the room leaving the guilder to face the fury of the Sons of Russ. Time seemed to slow down as Keris pulled up short and, with painstaking clarity, noted the guilder’s weapon take a bead on Vermundr’s head. A flash of blue-grey armour collided with the guilder before he could pull the trigger, sending him into the wall with a sickening wet snap of bone. Iorek screamed his rage at the empty air where the Legionnaire had stood just moments before.

Wild, red eyes met icy blue as Iorek’s gaze sought him out. Keris could see the truth in his brother’s face; Iorek had not acted out of desire to protect his packleader but merely out of feral need to lash out when faced with the object of his haterd. His brother’s grip on sanity still hung in the balance, yet he fought the beast within still. The need in those eyes called to him and Keris let a soft prayer cool his thoughts. Keris slipped his pistol back into the holster at his hip as he spoke; his voice low and even and his eyes never leaving Iorek’s tormented features. The strength of his conviction giving his honest, yet piercing, blue eyes an intensity of purpose,

‘It is through the fulfillment of our oaths, not the words themselves, which we prove ourselves worthy, my brother,’

Keris held his packmate’s gaze for a moment longer before turning to stalk over where the guilder lay, broken but still breathing. A flick of his stilled chainsword sent the ornate pistol skidding away from the man’s hand before Keris placed the tip of the blade by the man’s right ear, adamantium teeth resting coldly against the skin. His eyes flicked to the face of the Wolf Guard and to Vermundr in turn as Keris spoke, his voice thick with hatred making his fenrisian a low growl,

‘This was all planed from the start. The serpent _wanted _us here,’ 

Keris nearly spat the words out, his teeth bared in utter loathing as he fought the desire to plunge the blade through yielding flesh,

‘_*Wanted *_us to see him. To _know _his face,’

His eyes stopped on Vermundr’s face for a moment. His packleader stood silent and Keris swallowed back his mounting frustration at having to ever prod his brother and leader into action. Keris tempered his tone carefully,

‘It would be wise for the Storm-borne to be made aware of this, brother. They might have some… _questions _to ask of this traitor.’


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis's attempts at help were shrugged off, nobody was hurt. At least not physically, the young Blood Claw nodded and did a quick assessment. Nobody should be an impairment to the mission. He looked to the side and saw the rest of the pack arriving, they looked troubled and Sydornis could smell the shame and anger in the air, whatever had happened had not been pleasant, but now was not the time to probe about such things.

Picking himself up he followed the rest of the pack up the stairs until everybody stopped, ahead was something that made Sydornis seethe with anger. A Chaos Space Marine, a traitor to the Astartes and a waste of mankind's promise. He was Alpha Legion there was no mistaking that, the lessons Sydornis had learned from the engines back at The Fang had taught him the Alpha Legion favoured subtlety and subterfuge, why would one of them choose to reveal himself here?. Maybe to create discord and to agitate the Space Wolves, perhaps make them slip up and exploit a weakness. Sydornis's mind raced with questions but he was already in motion, his chainsword revving as he dashed forward. The traitor was too quick and disappeared with a bang and discharge of oxygen, the room smelt like it had been alight only moments ago. As Sydornis surveyed the room he saw the guilder raise his Bolt Pistol, Sydornis tried to warn Vermundr but was too late as Iorek pounced and smashed the guilder to the ground. Sydornis grinned, they had a traitor hostage, and soon they would know more. Fighting tricksters like the Alpha Legion required information as much as force, and with this the pack may have more of the former that they needed.


----------



## deathbringer

Words were funny things, so confusing, so easy to loose meaning in there delicate dance, in the translation between thought, vocalisation and interpretation. A melee of subtext whirled within Keris's words short though they be, the whirling wafting spirals of scents and smells that accompanied them sent his head reeling as he struggled to untangle the web of confusion. 

Other smells assailed him as a flurry of dust exploded upwards from the ceiling and Iorek felt hatred, rage and fury emerging from the placid Tyr. His powerfist smote the stone with a mighty crack his frustration evident in his violent expression, and like Iorek his gaze found Keris.

There was a new venom in that gaze that Iorek did not like and he allowed his eyebrows to furrow as he turned to the other side to Alrik. Indeed both brothers stood with him in scorn and anger flooded from the other brother, yet there was a subtle twist to his scent, as he knelt face bowed, eyes closed, deep in a reverie of some sort. No, no something was wrong indeed, there was no anger, no rage in the firehawk, the phoenix did not rise from the flames its burning gaze sweeping high and mighty.

Indeed something was wrong here. Something was most definitely wrong.

Vermundr stood quiet and folorn his gaze upon Iorek before moving to the wolf guard and iorek shook his head slightly as he returned to keris the words echoing around him as he tasted keris's scents blocking those of his brothers from his mind.

‘It is through the fulfillment of our oaths, not the words themselves, which we prove ourselves worthy, my brother,’

Indignation rushed through Iorek and he stiffened his back eyes fixed with a sudden steely glare. Did he care nothing for the feeling of brotherhood, for the fact that Iorek needed belief, needed someone to trust in him, someone to believe him. A scent the wafting taste upon his throat drifted towards him, a relentless tide coursing from his brother, and he closed his eyes slightly as it, soothed him, the emotions a balm upon his heart

Sadness, oh such folorn sadness, a melancholic stream flowed with keris's voice, the growl low and hushed by a veil of hopelessness, but at what. The loss of the legionnaire? No there was more to it than that the anger seemed directed more focused, more poignant, the scent sharp, rage and frustration directed inwards.

Indeed the anger and frustration, was self inflicted, rage at himself but for what? Keris had not broken his oaths, not disgraced himself, or had he. This entanglement of subtle warnings had another meaning, there was something more. So much more. 

The glacial eyes, fragments of Fenrisian ice bored into his soul and he stared hungrily back, trying to taste there meaning. Such pain ,such torment lay within those icy circles, such love and care, such devotion. The tormented comradery lay upon Iorek and he instinctively ran his hands over his armour, was he wounded? was he dying? 

He felt no pain, no agony, no deadly wound and he stared once more as the blue eyes seemed to bore within him. It was not his physical well being that keris cared for no, this was internal, mental, sorrow at his mental state.

Nay, Iorek felt fine, never better since Njoror left, the closeness, the possiblity was a shard of clarity within his mind. He tasted Keris's scent once more, shuddering slightly at the frustration, was it sorrow he could not help Iorek, help him in his quest, help him become whole once more. Yet he could, surely keris could see iorek needed support, brotherhood, unless.... something held keris back. This talk of oaths... his refusal to budge from vermundr's side despite the horror of his crimes, the breaking of Ragnar's law, the mention of the wulfen, the attack of a pack brother.

Indeed something was afoot here, something bound this tongue, the tongue that guided the claw, the moral compass was bound to silence, bound by something more than the normal oaths, but what?

This was all planed from the start. The serpent wanted us here. Wanted us to see him. To know his face,’


The words floated over, him, indeed Iorek had already said as much, did no one listen to his rants. He was lost on a melee of thought a train of ideas that flittered through his brain


Was this the reason the pack was falling apart around them, that Vermundr was quiet, Tyr spiteful and Alrik passive, had they lost there guide, their compass in their time of woe. Iorek had lost his way, yet that was not his brothers fault, that was his own, his emotions had run wild, his pride overthrowing his sense, vermundr's insults obsessing his mind.

No Keris was bound, their guide incapacitated as Iorek's blundering grief had broken the claw in his wake, maybe they did not need him, but they needed a guide. He was not Keris, but he would do his best to restitch the damage he had created in the meantime.

He may have broken an oath, an important oath to his Lord, yet he had oaths to his brothers and they were not yet shattered.

He broke keris's gaze moving close as he stooped low to pick up his bolt pistol he muttered in the young wolf's ear

"i know not what holds you back keris, but the pack needs your honest, unhindered" he chose the word delicately, stressing it with a low hiss, his hand picking up the fallen pistol 
"...wisdom to hold it together. Aloof words will only get you so far no matter their wisdom before they become pompous and judging. I, now, see the pain in your eyes, the hurt in your words, yet others may not taste it as i do."

He straightened eyes fixing upon Alrik and he reached over to clasp his shoulder guard

"Come Alrik. There will be time for reflections upon the Fist of Russ yet now every moments delay is a second wasted, and we will not cut through our enemies so quickly if our Firehawk flies hampered by thoughts"

He swept onwards towards Tyr reaching up to whisper in his brothers ear

"Nor if our gentle giant, the mighty fist of our claw does not hold the claw together in peace and war as he always does"

He strode to the prisoner, the guilder who lay slumped against the wall and turned staring in vermundr and baldyr's general direction, unsure of who to address. He chose to stare between them staring at both their faces in turn, placing as much conviction into his words as possible

"What does the packleader command, what shall we do with the prisoner?"


----------



## dark angel

There was a lacuna in the Pack. All coherency had died during the initial attack. Tyr had raged, casting a small indent upon the ground. Alrik had turned morose, his hatred towards the Alpha Legion momentarily quelled. Keris and Iorek were conversing, the barbed Chainsword of the former resting against the head of the squirming, pain enthralled guilder. If Alrik had dealt the blow, the guilder would not have lived. That he was sure. Iorek’s attentions turned towards Alrik and he filtered over slowly and deliberately. 

One hand was placed on his pauldron and it felt as though the pinnacle of the Pack was suddenly upon his shoulders. When Iorek spoke, Alrik twisted his head upwards from the ground below, and stared into the eyes of Iorek. Those dangerous, animalistic eyes. Fury boiled within them, calmed for now however. Both his hearts felt strong in his chest as Brotherhood was restored, yet there was still the quench for no more bloodshed. For the redemption of the Serpents. Of course the Wolves would never allow such a thing, and thus Alrik was dabbling in the wrong. Or was he?

‘My wings were plucked long ago, Red-Eyed’ was all Alrik managed as Iorek moved off. Reclaiming his weapons, he stood and the hairs on his back stood up on end. Iorek was actually asking Vermundr what they were to do with the broken guilder. He pushed forwards, taking up a position next to Iorek and stared at the form beneath the blade of Keris. _Wise, changed Keris_. His Brother had changed considerably as of late, questioning all and constantly siding with Vermundr. Even if the latter was in the wrong.

A low muffled growl emitted from his helm, although it was meant for none in particular. They were under the thumb of Vermundr. _Atrocious_, thought Alrik. He was their equal after all, simply favoured by Blackmane above all. Alrik felt rage build within but it was silenced when he realised what he had become. Everything he had stood for now meant all but nothing too him. He felt like those Wolves who sat alone, those who had lost everything. Yet Alrik had not.

‘It does not matter what our Pack Leader wants, Iorek. The guilder has committed Heresy in taking up arms against the Imperium and consolidating with our erstwhile Brothers.’ his voice arose ‘I say the guilder dies here and now. He will have been fed false information, no doubt. Suckled to him by that bastard Legionnaire. If we are too follow what he states it will surely lead us into your deaths. The Serpent awaits, and the foolish Wolf will charge into its lair. Surely you can see that, Baldyr, Vermundr?’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

The hair on the back of Tyr's neck stood on end as Iorek spoke to the others and then to him, he wasn't angry at his brother so he nodded at Iorek almost imperceptibly and said, *"Aye brother, your words are true"* as his brother made his way to the guilder and spoke to Vermundr asking what their orders were. While his anger still seethed just beneath the surface of his skin Tyr could think a lot clearer then before, he pushed his anger at Keris back and told himself that they would settle that once they were on the Fist of Russ, for he knew that his brother could easily tell that Tyr's anger was stemming from him....yet for what reason he was sure Keris did not know.

Tyr walked over to the guilder who was still breathing, and as far as he could tell, barely conscious. He stood over him, Keris's chainblade at his throat and Iorek to his right staring at Vermundr and Baldyr waiting for their answer, his every breath that had been hurting his massive chest wound not bugging him now, his anger masking the worst of the pain. 

He cocked his head to the side and stared at the guilder, *"If he is to be interrogated I am sure that the information that he would divulge would have been given to him on purpose by the Alpha Legion to bait us into playing their little game as Alrik has said. We would be wise to take everything he says lightly, for while he may believe it to be true, the Alpha Legion speaks nothing but lies."* He crouched and deactivated his powerfist so that he could touch Tonlau. He put one massive finger unerneath the man's chin and brought his head up so that he could fully see the man's face, his eyes narrowed, *"Traitor."* he said before standing up and staring at Vermundr, *"What are your orders brother?"*


----------



## darkreever

All; As you turn to Vermundr for his orders, it is Baldyr who acts first. Crossing the distance of the chamber, the wolf guard snatches guilder Tonlau up by his neck, arm hanging uselessly at his side while the others tried to tear free from the power armoured fist. _"No, his fate is not for us to determine."_ Baldyr growled as he stared into Tonlau's eyes; they were bloodshot and filled with a mixture of pain and rage. _"Isn't that right inquisitor?"_ These last words the wolf guard all but spat out as he dropped Tonlau to the ground in a heap.

Thats when the scent in the room changes and you all turn to see the lady inquisitor, her pair of agents, Hymrik, and the colonel and her squad fanning out the room; the colonel's troopers moving to the bodies of the fallen to see if any are alive, though you already know that they are checking in vain. _"Yes, if there is any information gathering to be done with this man,"_ She calmly says, prodding Tonlau's side with her boot, a wet growl of pain returning to her, _"we shall obtain it. Colonel, if you and your men would escort the guilder to the landing pad, he shall be dealt with shortly."_ With those words she turned on her heel and made to leave with her pair in tow, the killer bearing a wide smile at the prospect of things to come.

Jerking her head forward, a pair of the pdf troopers made way past Baldyr to pick up Tonlau, making sure to be careful with his shattered arm before hauling him to the colonel. _"You brought this upon yourself Tonlau; I only hope the pain you endure is enough for your victims."_ She whispered to the guilder, but your hearing allowed you to catch every word. _"Gonna be one more before this is done little bitch."_ Tonlau rasped out between painful gulps of air. Without any evidence that the man was still capable of doing so, Tonlau threw one of the troopers off his good arm and slammed it into the face of the other; then with only Ktalen before him, he spat at the colonel's face. In the time it took for Tonlau to do all this though, Alrik had shot forward and put himself between the guilder and colonel. The wad of spittle splashed into his chest-plate and began to burn into the hardened plating, to which Alrik landed his elbow into the Guilders good shoulder, sending him to the ground once again.

_"Thought they were just rumours, can't believe someone actually had acid grafts built into his mouth."_ One of Ktalen's men said before smashing the stock of his lasgun into Tonlau's head, knocking him out before the entire squad removed him.


With the communications of the rioters and traitors cut off, the guilder and traitor marine gone, and the fighting at the compound over, the remaining traitor forces were quickly routed or began to fall apart. The work of the Space Wolves was over, and so they returned to the _Fist of Russ_, for recuperation or judgment. Aboard the thunderhawk, nothing was spoken as the transport burned its way through the atmosphere and still nothing was said during the three hours spent making way to the _Fist of Russ_ and docking. Upon touchdown, Baldyr growled for Alrik, Tyr, and Iorek off the thunderhawk first, the rest would remain with their fallen pack-mates as they were tended to and removed from the transport.


--------
Three days later
--------

Vermundr; Three days had come and gone since your return to the _Fist of Russ_, and not a single moment had sat well with you. Since then you had remained distant from the others in the pack, what was left of it, and had set about wandering the ships corridors, lost in your thoughts. Until you were found by Baldyr, once again summoned to speak with the wolf lord. However, you were not taken to his personal chamber like before, this time you were taken deep within the heart of the ship, to a dueling pit only rarely used by the company. To the side of the pit sat Ragnar Blackmane, his eyes on the shackled form across from you: Iorek.

Iorek: Since your return to the ship, pain had been your only companion, in one form or another. You had been stripped of your armour and brought before *Sigurd* as he questioned you at times, or simply just stared into your eyes. On the third day, you had been bound and taken to the dueling pit at the heart of the ship, where you waited for hours in the presence of the wolf lord, until Vermundr was led to the opposite end of the pit.

_"Vermundr, you were chosen to lead this pack after the loss of Kjarl; it is something you accepted before your time. There is more for you to learn before you are like your former pack leader, and I am sorry to say that this is but one of those lessons. A member of your pack openly challenged your authority, and others willingly sided with him or presumed to know what should be done for the pack before its leader. The right to lead is not a privalage, it is earned; something you have earned before but something you must earn once again. Iorek, I am told that despite everything, you cling to what has happened as slights and it has only worked to lead you to this."_ The wolf lord said, his voice level but reaching throughout the entire chamber.

_"Vermundr your right to lead has been challenged and you must either stand down or accept this challenge. The decision is yours, the fate of Iorek and Alrik hangs in the balance."
_
[Vermundr, obviously the choice is yours; your decision will spark a mini-update for you. Iorek, obviously not much for you to say at the end, however I do leave what you went through in the three day period to your discretion. What questions were asked I leave to you to decide. You were, however, separated from Iorek and Alrik.]

Alrik and Tyr; Like Iorek you were stripped of your armour and left to *Sigurd*. Upon the third day though, you were brought before *Sigurd* and another, this one Keris. _"Tyr, by the order of the wolf lord, your place in this company is to be decided by one on one combat, judged by me, against the leader of your pack. However, pack leader Vermundr cannot deal with you, so in his place you shall fight Keris."_ Sigurd informed you before standing back and motioning for Alrik to do the same. _"Alrik, like me you are to bear witness to this; your fate is to be determined by the pack leader, no proxy."_

Keris; The return had left you with much to thing about, much to be done. You had attempted to seek council from *Njal Stormcaller*, one of the legendary rune priests of the chapter who often favoured fighting alongside lord Blackmane. Time had gone by, and the rune priest left you with cryptic messages that made little sense at this time, but might in the future. He did offer you this though: in a days time you would be approached to act on Vermundr's behalf, do so without question.

On the third day, you were found by the wolf priest *Sigurd* and informed that Vermundr and Tyr were to fight to determine the fate of Tyr within the pack. However, the wolf lord required Vermundr for something more, and the judgment of Tyr was to be determined this day; and so by the behest of the wolf lord, you are to stand in for Vermundr.

[Alrik, At the end not much for you to do but watch; then again this isn't exactly a small update or anything so I'm sure you can find a way to post something good as you tend to do. Keris, like Tyr you are without your armour and neither of your are armed; feel free to make the first move or see what Tyr will do. Tyr, since your return to the Fist of Russ, Sigurd was kind enough to allow your injuries to be looked after; your missing hand has not been replaced by a graft or augmatic, just a cap at the end.]

Sydornis; Upon your return you sought out the remnants of your pack, but Vermundr seemed to make himself scarce and Keris found his way to the rune priest. That left you with Kuzin and several others these last few days. With much of the pack gone, all that has been left for you is to train in the cages or firing pits, or to feast in the hall with others of the company.

[Sydornis, obviously a small update for you, but depending on what you decide to be doing on the ship will let me expand things in a mini-update for you.]


----------



## dark angel

The Firehawk clenched and unclenched his fists, quelling the numbing feeling slowly radiating from the centre of each. They tingled ecstatically as Alrik believed he would have the chance to bring death upon the head of the heretical guilder, the solemn dog of the Alpha Legion. Baldyr however moved forwards, taking up the whelp in one of his mighty fists. Bloodshot eyes scanned the Marine, and the injured man scratched effortlessly at the hand with his own functional fingers, although they mostly slipped away from the cold, curled ceramite surfaces. He dropped him with the word Inquisitor, and Alrik felt stifling rage well within. 

Alrik disliked the Inquisition. They reminded him of the Alpha Legion, sneaky dogs who pranced around in the shadows, only striking when the situation was in their favour. These did not share the blood of the Emperor which was pumped through their veins like the Alpha Legion however. These were not his kinsmen. The Inquisitor shared words, but soon left along with her pair of attendants. The pair of PDF Soldiers each moved past Baldyr, taking up the injured man from beneath his arms. 

As they moved off, the Lady-Colonel barred their way. She whispered a series of words, Alrik could pick them out clearly due to the enhanced hearing gifted to him by both his helm and physiology, however he did not care. It was when the guilder was thrown into a sudden outburst, throwing his one arm back and sending one of the two Troopers tumbling onto the ground hard. He spun, punching out into the nose of the other and the man staggered.

His scarred visage ruptured into a snarl. Alrik was already charging forth, Chainsword cutting a small lacuna in the ground as he slid between the guilder and the Lady-Colonel. A goblet of vile phlegm struck him square in the chest and small tendrils of smoke lifted upwards. Alrik pulled his blade back for a killing blow when it hit him that he could not lay harm to the guilder. Curling his arm; the Wolf brought his armour covered elbow down into the shoulder of the guilder. There was a horrible crunch as it hit hard, and he fell onto his knees. 

‘Bloody bastard turned me into a roasted Wolf!’ growled Alrik and stepped away, making sure no damage was dealt to the Lady-Colonel. One of the PDF Troopers, that which had took the blow to the face, struck the guilder hard in the skull with the butt of his rifle. There was a enjoyable crack and Alrik grinned. 

At that the Wolves of Fenris, each clad in armour and as mighty as the ancient Gods which the Firehawks had once indulged themselves in their worship, moved out. Alrik kept towards the centre, knowing Baldyr would be scowling at him if he was to fall behind. They passed the corpse strewn hallways, following the path they had undertook in their entry. The grey-clad Thunderhawk met them upon a oval landing platform and briskly Alrik marched up the ramp, making sure he took a seat towards the rear. 

There was a tranquil veil of silence cast over the Space Marines. None dared to break the silence in the long travel between the planet and the venerable Strike Cruiser, only the harsh clanks and roars of the engines sounded. That soon melded into the humming which ruled Alrik’s mind, repetitive after the first few minutes but for some reason it refused to be swatted away, like some resilient bug. He had began to grow tired, fidgeting in his seat, tapping the tip of his Chainsword into the deck beneath his feet. Annoyance rippled throughout him, radiating in each vein and his twin hearts pumped as if on a warpath. 

Not even boredom could be expelled from the minds of Astartes. It could be ground down until it was nothing more than a minor factor, but never truly would it leave Alrik. 

_Tap…Tap…Tap… _

Several glares spun towards Alrik, focusing on the Space Wolf, who was now resting his helm on his lap. Alrik didn’t care for this; nor did he take notice of the Marines who did so. Instead out of respect for the dead rather than caring of what his fellow Astartes wanted, he placed his Chainsword on the ground so that it faced the seat and its occupant opposite him directly. It brought Alrik a great discomfort to think that where he once felt at home and welcome, now he was snarled at and warded off. 

The _Fist of Russ_ was a mountain of steel, ceramite and iron in the stars. A pinnacle of war, it hanged drunkenly in the void, the odd flashes of lights ceasing along the length was the only indication of life upon her. The Shipmaster was perhaps one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. It was beautiful in its cobbled appearance, the mighty cannons protruding like metallic fins. Alrik looked at his palms, flecks of blood dotting their soft black surfaces. For a moment he remembered something from his days as a Firehawk. A simple name…

_Asaen_. The War-God of the Firehawks, Alrik’s long dead father had beat the word into his son with a metal baton laced with leather. A crude tool, but one which certainly had left Alrik battered and blackened. Asaen was said to have walked amongst men during times of war, that he could crush skulls by simply clenching his hand. The Crimson-Palmed was another name. Now Alrik, embellished in his suit of grey armour was a true image of Asaen. Had the War-Bringer been a Wolf? A errant Brother who had stumbled upon the founding members of the Firehawk bloodline, and forever immortalized in their history and religion?

There was a crackling sound as the Thunderhawk slipped through the protective shield of the Strike Cruisers hanger, the armour of the Thunderhawk sizzling silently. It landed with a resounding bone jarring thud, and the hanger fell open like a jaw of some primordial monstrosity. Baldyr made sure that the three so called Oath Breakers were out first, and Alrik stooped down to reclaim his weapon, while holding his helm in the crook of his arm. He knew that his armour would be took from him, before the team of attendants had even arrived and began to take away each plate section by section.

His minds dwelt upon the tales of the Firehawks for several hours while he stood still, his armour slowly coming apart with clicks and hisses. He struggled to penetrate the haze of memories, each clambered together into one incoherent mess. Traces of names could be pulled from the mess, Asaen remained at the top however. Ludicrous beliefs had ruled his families lands, few of which could bear any grasp on reality. After his armour came free, he was lead towards a bare quarters, cold and dark and bound in nothing more than a simple overcoat. 

Propping himself in the corner, he stared at the doors with intent. Over the next pair of days he met with Sigurd along side his oaf of a Brother, Tyr. He questioned them and each time Alrik answered, although he felt like the majority of questions were rhetorical. Other times he simply watched the pair as they stood half naked. Shivering. Alrik cared little, he bit on his tongue or nibbled on his gums until they bled freely and bathed his teeth in sanguine. It felt glorious, the powerful and bitter taste was swallowed each time, his metabolism healing the gashes. He would open new ones or toggle with the healed ones until they bled again, and he would repeat the same thing over and over.

On the third day it was different. Sigurd was not the only Astartes which stood before him and Tyr. There, ice-blue eyes forever scanning, was Keris. He was different to the original Astartes which Alrik had grown to love and cherish like a blood-born sibling, changed internally and externally. Although the latter was probably Alrik’s idiotic nature getting the better of him, the face of Keris appeared haggard and paler to him than usual. _What was wrong with his Wolfkin?_

When Sigurd announced that Keris was to duel with Tyr, Alrik felt his twin hearts stop. Both were beloved to him, closer than he would ever have imagined they would be. Now both were to lay damage on one another? What good could such a thing possible achieve? How would this redeem Tyr, was he supposed to beat his Brother or simply be occupied until Vermundr could be present? Pursed of lip and shallow of eye, Alrik moved with Sigurd off towards the side. Both his Wolf-Brothers engaged in a flurry of blows, and Alrik found himself wondering would he be forced against his loved ones?


----------



## unxpekted22

Since stating that they would wait for the rest of the pack to join them, Vermundr had not said another word. 

Besides being asked what to do with the Guilder he had not even been prodded to speak, as he hadn't even seen any of his packmates until now laying eyes upon the shameful form of Iorek. For three days he expected a hassle of his own. He expected Baldyr to bump into him around a corner and once again tell him of his disapproval. But it never came. No one came to retrieve him, no words from Blackmane, and his title of pack leader had not been taken from him, yet.

On the first day, his head throbbed as he stood in the training arena alone, staring at empty cages and silent gun ranges. Echoes from a past that would never return. 

He had walked the long halls and corridors of the ship in deep thought. He passed by the various chambers once again. He had stopped just outside of each doorway, looking in with one eye so as to go unnoticed by the Grey Hunters, the Long Fangs, or the Wolf Guard. He took note of their leaders who all seemed so confident in their positions. He picked up on something he had not noticed until now. Even these pack leaders had something slightly different in their facial expression from the rest of their packs. Their faces were rougher, more stern, and solemn. But this was all background they kept behind their eyes; behind their belligerent laughs among their battle-brothers.

He had made his way to Baldyr's quarters, and was met with a cold metal door that was sealed shut, the frost from within seemingly flowing from the edges. Probably for the better, the Ice Slayer would have caught his scent anyway...

Toward the end of the first day, a roaring echo bounced off the corridors of the Fist of Russ. The evening feasting. Vermundr still wandered, and so made his way toward the large mess hall. With a fist gripping the edge of one of the large door's, he peered inside. All in front of him his burden struck his hearts. The mess hall was full of them....normal packs. Blood claw packs sat with each other, laughing, and feasting. He heard random strands of stories from the planet below, how one had saved another's ass, or a boast about a particular kill. Had any of them seen the Alpha Legion...? It had been a full 24 hours and still he had not seen any of his packmates since their return to the ship. 

On the Second day he spent his own hours locked away in sleeping quarters, though not sleeping of course. It was hard enough for a marine to sleep the few hours they were required to at most times. In the reflection of a now freshly cleaned and polished axe blade, he noticed how long his hair had gotten since they arrived over this world. With a few quick pulls and motions with a blade followed by clean up shavings it was as it should be once more. Shaved around the ears and back of the head, though his crest was still wider than that of Keris. His thick brown hair now naturally stood on end, flowing upwards from not being weighed down as much. His scruff remained dark around his face.

And like a good son of Russ, he spent hours of the second day in prayer and meditation, for guidance in leadership, for broken bonds to be healed, for better fortunes upon the sick world they had come to. He spent hours more reviewing both codex and Space Wolf Doctrine on battling their heretical brethren. He reviewed and studied everything he could find that was known about the Alpha legion.

At the end of the Third day he was finally called upon. Blackmane's words caused relief, as well as stress from further uncertainty. He was relieved to hear the acknowledgment of his time as leader coming sooner than normal coupled by the fact that his pack was a troubled one. It was not his fault. However, his troubles were far from over. As Blackmane said, this was only one lesson. 

Vermundr looked to Baldyr, only to get the same angry rime as usual. He knew what he had to do, but the uncertainty came from knowing who Iorek was. All the steps he had taken to try and help Iorek in the long run only made his brother hate him more. Iorek also seemed to hate him because he was chosen to be leader; but that choice had been out of Vermundr's hands. From a vile blend of wulven and heresy, came this form in front of him. The forces of grief and the powers of chaos abundant during their travels here gripping Iorek's mind worse than any of the others.

His pale body opposite of him, some wounds still showing. But where were his other pack brothers? Shouldn't this be something they witness? Vermundr exhaled and shrugged with a slight shake of his head, again this was something his Lord had obviously taken into consideration already.

what was left to do or think about?

"I accept, my Lord."


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been allowed to heal once he had come aboard the Fist of Russ with the rest of the pack. He had been questioned alongside Alrik, and sometimes Iorek, multiple times and it was beginning to take a toll on his mind, how many questions were they going to ask before they were satisfied with who he was? After each questioning session he had hit the training cages harder then ever and, even though his right hand was still missing and hadn't had a bionic grafted onto it yet, he had fought like never before.

He had chosen to stay away from the rest of the brothers once they had returned, knowing the he would not be able to spend much time with them anyways, although he had wanted to speak with Keris yet his brother always seemed to never be around when Tyr got the chance to go look for him.

It just so happened that this day he was called with Alrik, both stripped of their armor, to speak with Sigurd. Yet when they got there they were not alone, the one wolf he had been looking for these past few days stood right next to Sigurd, Keris. Tyr's eyes narrowed as he saw his brother and his body tensed up, were they to speak before the others, as if it was to be some kind of show for them? 

Sigurd spoke *"Tyr, by the order of the wolf lord, your place in this company is to be decided by one on one combat, judged by me, against the leader of your pack. However, pack leader Vermundr cannot deal with you, so in his place you shall fight Keris."* The old warrior's words hit Tyr to his core, he was to defend his honor against a brother, even though that brother had angered him, Tyr felt a small paing of sadness. *"Alrik, like me you are to bear witness to this; your fate is to be determined by the pack leader, no proxy."* The two of them stepped back leaving Tyr and Keris to fight in hand to hand combat.

Tyr backed away a bit, giving him some room to work with before saying something to Keris, *"If I must defend my honor in combat then so be it, but let it be known, I do not agree with the how you judged the pack down on the surface brother. The words you spoke to us as a whole did not aide the situation that the pack was in, and while I have learned that it was not my place to stand up and try and keep our brothers from killing each other, I can and will tell one of my brothers when he has done something that angers me. You have no right to judge any of us, we are all equals in rank, other then Vermundr, and I do not take kindly when someone who is supposed to be my brother passes judgement on my abilities.....especially after Alrik and Morgun and I had defended that blasted control room against so many traitors and I had recieved these." *

He pointed with his left hand to the huge scar that ran down the right side of his chest and then to the stump where his hand used to be, *"I have never questioned your abilities brother and I never will, but I have said what I needed to say, let us fight."* He went from his standing position into a wrestling crouch and waited, his muscles relaxing, and he flexed them a few times to make sure all was well before the fight started.


----------



## deathbringer

He was naked, bare, translucent, white flesh marred by the blue river of veins that snaked under his skin. The room was dark around him; a single light shone directly into his face, glaring at him, harsh and accusatory, keeping him from falling into the hazy mist of sleep that lulled at his senses. Long iron chains ran round his wrists and held him tight, his arms, rigid, his pectorals tight, legs splayed like a grotesquely disfigured figurine.

The wolf within snarled and growled, desperate to be free of the chains, desperate to be released, to howl once more under the moon, to resume the hunt that consumed it bloodthirsty soul. He could see nothing else, except a pair of blue eyes. Piercing, judgemental eyes, eyes that had not blinked for what seemed like days.

Iorek met the gaze with his own red albino eyes, the watery blood red occasionally blacked out by the flicker of an eye lid, yet he met the gaze all the same. He held it allowed his clear calm to press upon the wolf priest who reflected it with an intensity that made iorek blanch. Silence, there eyes met yet there was no noise within the room, pure unfettered silence.

The minutes ticked by, the hours dragged onwards and now within Iorek's brain alarm bells were ringing as the silence pressed down upon him, tore at his eardrums and he desired nothing more than to speak, yet he could not, could not bring his dry mouth to form words.

His ear drums were shredding themselves, and he was certain he was deaf, certain he could no longer hear, surely something must have made a noise, someone, somewhere no the silence should not be dragging on this long. Needles seemed to be digging into his skull and he desperately desired to run his hands through his hair, to move, to feel to hear, to sense more than his constriction and the fixated power of those two eyes.


Eyes that had become twisted to daemonic circles of darkness that would haunt his nightmares. Then Sigurd leaned forward and his lips moved a tongue flitting out to wet them slightly and he spoke in a voice that was soft yet hard as an icicle, harsh as a winter wind

"Are you already lost? Is the beast within you so great that you will let it tear your brothers apart?"

Iorek responded instantaneously the words springing eagerly to his lips

"I admit i tore my brothers apart. Yet it was grief that tore me and the claw apart, grief and lies!" He spat the final word before continuing

_"As for my soul, if it was lost one of us would be dead, probably me, or else one of us would be dead, one worse than dead, wolves dont not like to be chained, we both know that, Lord"_

The wolf priest stopped and sat back his lips melding back into the darkness, his eyes still hauntingly clear in Iorek's mind. The silence pressed in and he cringed internally at the thought of the deafening silence.

Yet the wolf priest moved forwards once more and now his tone was biting

"Does honour mean so little to you?" 

Iorek's eyebrow raised and he opened his mouth yet the wolf priest overrode him easily

"You cast it aside so readily, allowing the monster within to lead you like a whipped dog. Is that what you desire for yourself? To truly become one of the wulfen and be lost to your pack for the rest of your life?"

"_Who says the monster leads me?" he retorted "I have felt its presence more of late yet grief brings changes in a person. I fought the wolf and battered it down, it never lead my actions, nor will it"_

The wolf priest continued ignoring Iorek's words

"It led you to break the most sacred of oaths to the commander of your company"

_"I was challenged, told to speak my mind, if it is wrong to speak the truth then I am indeed guilty"_

"It led you to disobey your packleader"

_"A pack leader that trusts me little more than a stray child, feels he has to nurture me and test me at every opportunity. He told me to tell him what i felt and so I did and then strikes me when i rise to his challenge."_

"To break apart your brothers. Do you hate your pack so much that you cannot accept death?"

Then he was gone, the eyes dissappeared and iorek was alone, alone as stray tears ran down his face, tears of anguish frustration and irritation, tears of pain, sobs of grief racked his body.

He fell asleep hours later, tears still running down his legs to form a small puddle of woe at his feet
______________________________________________

The questions seemed to last for days, sleep came fitfully, often disturbed, never peaceful and always preceeded by tears and despair. He had been broken, emotionally battered, his defiance receeding, his shamed silences increasing as he found his answers to be fruitless, consistently ignored.

Through the despair he clung to the fact that Vermundr was not fit to lead, clung to the realisation that the wolf within his had was being beaten back, that he was indeed strong enough to hold it. That if he could continue to hold it he would get to seek vengeance, yet the vengeance was now a numb memory, a fading force.He desired it, yet it no longer seemed as imperative as repairing the damage he had done to the claw.

There could be no reparations while vermundr still lead, someone had to restore order, to heal the cracks the lies and the grief had broken. Thus as Vermundr's ,mouth moved, predictably mouthing his acceptance. He met the hatred in vermundr's eyes, the detestation and loathing, the pity with a souless gaze, his eyes cool and calm, his jaw firm his mouth a fixed line. 

He had to win this duel, for the good of the pack, he had to be victorious. Vermundr had to be deposed, the pack placed under new leadership, yet was it worth the ultimate price?


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis turned to Vermundr, unsure of what to do next. However Baldyr acted quickest, moving across the chamber and grabbing the traitor by his throat. Sydornis was about to voice his approval before Baldyr spoke, "No, his fate is not for us to determine. Isn't that right inquisitor?", Sydornis grimaced, he had turned the traitor over to the Inquisition. Sydornis didn't care for Inquisitors, they were too arrogant in their own authority, and cared nothing for the people of the Imperium. And the worst, they assumed they could control the Adeptus Astartes, maybe some lesser chapters like the Crimson Fists were happy being at the Inquisition's beck and call, but the Sons of Russ would not be summoned like dogs, they were wolves. And the only two men that Sydornis swore fealty to above all others were Leman Russ and Logan Grimnar, the Primarch and the Great Wolf.

As the Inquisitor arrived Sydornis suppressed a growl and moved back over to the Space Wolves pack where he felt more at home, in the company of wolves rather then serpents, the Inquisitor and the Alpha Legion traitor weren't that much different. Suddenly he heard something and turned to see the traitor guilder throwing a PDF soldier about like a Fenris Wolf throwing a marsh hare. How could the treacherous worm still be that strong?, he looked like he'd been crushed and was most likely about to be. Suddenly though Alrik stepped in and ended the fight, Sydornis felt relieved but a bit cheated, he had wanted to put the traitor down. Next time he thought.

After that the current mission had ended and the pack returned, most went to face some kind of judgement. However Sydornis had placed no part in this and wasn't included, which was good but he didn't appreciate not knowing what exactly had happened. He sought out the pack but Vermundr wasn't around, Keris had gone to the Rune Priests and he had no idea where the rest were, and looking around aimlessly for them had failure written all over it. The _Fist of Russ_ was a huge ship, finding a few battle-brothers would be next to impossible unless Sydornis knew where they were, and he did not.

Deciding to learn what he could about what had happened Sydornis returned to his chambers, a spartan room with one thing separating it from others. Another chest, filled with tomes and texts. Sydornis had collected them on Fenris, some were old and had been written centuries ago and some were his own writings, he had written out what he had learned from the engines at The Fang into his own texts so that he could always recall them, less his memory become even worse. Digging through them he scanned their pages, trying to gleam something of the Alpha Legion. However precious little had ever been recorded about those traitors, and how much of it was true was speculation.. at best.

After several hours of reading Sydornis had only gathered a few things about the Alpha Legion, and all of it was no help. It was mainly just declarations of heresy, the occasional world destruction by the traitors or battle involving them that they seemed to win most of the time, and some of them were decrees that the Alpha Legion was extinct, only for it to reappear shortly afterwards. These traitors truly were a serpent, experts at hiding and only appearing when they moved to strike. Putting his texts back meticulously Sydornis picked himself up, left the room and began exploring the ship, he had never had a chance before since his training had kept him from doing so and he had been sent down to the planet immediately on arrival. Finally having a chance he decided to look around and walked off in a random direction, trusting his instincts to guide him.


----------



## CommissarHorn

“Why aren’t you meditating?” Kuzin lazily lay on his back in the fighting cage, scratching his bare stomach and watching the ceiling. “If your not fighting, you should be meditating!” The heavily coarse and booming voice of his uncle echoed through his mind. “You sound like a smoker, uncle.” he replied aloud. “This is the voice of a man, idiot.” he remembered his uncle would say. Kuzin sat up and rubbed his head. “A man that smokes a lot.”

What had actually happened during the mission apart from his new found interest in big guns? Kuzin had been lazing about since the pack’s return (not that he didn’t usually laze about anyway) yet not a lot was on his mind. Was his head supposed to be this empty after a mission? Sure there were some heated arguments and clashes but none of it bothered Kuzin, and that made him worry. “I wouldn’t call it worrying.” Waving his hand through his naturally messy hair, Kuzin desperately tried thinking about the mission. “Hey! There was that bastard!” Images of the Alpha Legion traitor marine’s horrific form flashed through his mind. 

Standing up, the young Blood Claw made his way to the dining hall “If I lie here any longer I‘ll starve.” As he reached the heavy doors, a massive arm wrapped itself around his neck. “Oi oi oi! Lazin, you never told me you where back! Its been three days since your return?!”
Kuzin turned to find his friend Svolech standing beside him, a smile deformed by a gruesome scar etched onto his face. “I was busy training.” Kuzin replied and his friend burst into laughter. “Hahaha, I thought the mission would’ve changed you, turns out you where lying around somewhere again! Come on, lets drink up, you can tell me about the mission!”

Sitting down at a massive long table, the two friends ate and drank. “I heard something went wrong with the Blood Claws in your new pack. Haha, now I don’t wanna gossip but what the hell happened?”
Finishing his jug of mead, Kuzin set it on the table and wiped his lips. “That IS gossiping, you dumb bastard.” Svolech was badly pretending offence, “Come on Lazin, you poetic types know everything, just spit it out. Where’s Romka by the way? Has he been kicked out yet or is he out fighting someone?” A grin was forming on Kuzin and banging his jug on the table he began laughing. “Ha ha ha, Romka’s wish was fulfilled!” Svolech was confused. “Wish? He’s fighting someone?” Rising abruptly, Kuzin lifted his mug and roared with laughter. “Ha! Yes brother, Romka is standing beside the martyrs and saints of this Imperium, swinging his fists and offending them all! Hahaha!”

Finishing his mug, Kuzin strode out from the hall laughing. “Kuzin, why aren’t you meditating?” His uncle’s voice returned. “You sound like a smoker, uncle.”


----------



## Euphrati

Keris stepped back as the Wolf Guard hauled the traitor from his feet, his chainsword held in a ready grip at his side as Baldyr all but snarled out his words into the face of the guilder before unceremoniously returning him to the floor in an agonizing heap. Keris tasted the air currents, a familiar scent chasing across his soft pallet as the Inquisitor strolled unhurriedly into the room.

That cloying scent stuck in the back of his throat and her manner set him on edge; the hair on the nape of Keris’ neck bristled in response to his unease around the woman as the guardsmen hauled the traitor back to his feet at her nod. Despite his wounds, the guilder seemed to have some fight still left in him as he shrugged off his handlers and spat at the colonel. Keris snarled and leapt forward, yet not before the powerful form of Alrik intercepted the venom-laced stream. The acid left a smoking scar upon the pale blue-grey ceramite of his brother’s chest as Alrik brought a crushing blow down on the traitor’s shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground only to be rendered unconscious by the backend of a lasgun and hauled off in the hands of the colonel’s men.

---

Keris sat solemnly in the embrace of the grav-couch, gauntlets clasp loosely together before him, as the rumble of the thunderhawk’s engines traveled up his spine. The restlessness of the beast in his mind had calmed since they had slipped from the clawing pull of gravity and into the cold void of space, replaced by a growing disquiet as the memories of events on the planet replayed piecemeal in his mind.

The scents of his packbrothers were heavy in the silent hold; each a distinct flavour on the back of Keris’ senses, the bitter notes of shame and anger holding sway where brotherhood once ruled. Keris forced his body to relax; shutting his eyes and focused his mind inwards as his head dipping forward in meditative prayer as the thunderhawk powered through the darkness towards the growing form of the Fist of Russ. _What fates awaited his packmates there?_

_The wolf in his soul gave a haunting cry of sorrow that echoed through the silence of his thoughts._

---

Keris padded slowly down a shadow laced corridor deep within the belly of the Fist of Russ; his calf-high, elk hide boots making only the faintest of sounds upon the cold iron plating that chased the floor. His gait was smooth and powerful, a pale knot of scar tissue under the storm grey breeches he wore the only evidence of the hellgun wound that had plagued his movements in action.

The faint scent of incense lingered about his form as he prowled the length of the ship lost in thought. The scent was not unpleasant, calling forth longing memories of the biting spray of a dragonboat’s prow carried on the breath of a storm. A fleeting smile tugged at his lips at his mind’s choice of allusions for indeed he had only an hour before spoken to one whose very soul was touched by the fiercest of Fenris’ elements.

Upon returning to the Fist; Keris had sought out the wisdom of the Storm-borne, the Rune Priests that fought beneath the banner of the young and cunning Wolf Lord Blackmane. He had not expected the honour of the legendary figure who had answered his inquires. There was a tone of understanding to the powerful scent of the elder Wolf, his patience with the young Blood Claw that of a wise teacher. Keris had understood immediately the significance of the moment, listening with the rapt hunger of a novice; Njal Stormcaller’s deep voice still seemed to echo within his mind, his words cryptic and weighted with a ken beyond measure. 

The elder’s parting words had been simple; he was to be called upon in a day’s time to act on his packleader’s behalf and to do so without question. Keris had allowed his steps to wander as he traced a path back through the great vessel, a sense of duty shadowing his every stride. He had also sought the wisdom of Sigurd the day of their return, but the Wolf Priest was busy tending to matter of his duty and Keris was wise enough to know the Wolf Priest would find him when it was time.

Keris had kept his distance from the rest of the pack since their return and subsequent separations, taking his meals cold within his chambers and seeking the guidance of the elder Wolves, the absence of Vermundr pressing on his thoughts with heavy implication.

Rounding a corner; Keris slipped through the threshold of the arming chambers, pausing to acknowledge a pair of Grey Hunters who were working within before stepping into the alcove allocated to him. For a long moment he stood before the rack holding his battle plate, each piece carefully cleaned and tended. The dull grey of unfinished ceramite on his left leg plating stood out from the lacquered plates and Keris reached up to run his fingers along the surface before lifting the section reverently off the rack. 

Fishing a scrap of cloth and a tin out of a small supply chest, Keris dropped lightly down into a corner of the nearby bench. Soon, the soft scent of lapping powder mingled with the lingering incense as the ever present thrum of the ships enormous engines played counterpoint to the beating of his own hearts as Keris lost himself in the rhythmic motions of attending his wargear.

---

The cut stone of the floor was a numbing cold through the soft fabric of his breaches as Keris sat crossed-legged in meditation, his head bowed and hands resting lightly upon the bulge of his muscled thighs. He had spent the entire night preparing himself in the wake of the Stormcaller’s words; a pale grey tunic sat comfortably across his shoulders, belted loosely by a woven band of leather strips, and the unruly crest of his raven-black hair had been trimmed tightly on the sides of his scalp.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor, pausing at the threshold, accompanied by a familiar yet not wholly unexpected scent upon the air currents. Keris rose fluidly to his feet to push passed the heavy canvas hanging that served as a screen to the door. The ivory of Sigurd’s lupine skull-mask shone with an almost ethereal light in the lumin strips of the hallway, standing starkly against the lacquered ebony of his sacred battleplate.

The powerful presence of the Wolf Priest held naught but a calm devotion and Keris bowed his head solemnly in respect and acceptance of the duty that was place upon him. Sigurd turned and Keris fell into step behind the warrior of Russ, their path leading to an empty dueling arena where they stood in silence until Tyr and Alrik were escorted in.

Keris studied his packmates as Sigurd explained what was to happen before stepping back and motioning Alrik to do the same; a sensation of cold anger tugged at his thought for the circumstances that had led to this trial tinted by sorrow that he had failed his wolfbrothers when they needed him most.

Tyr turned to face him, speaking as he backed away before falling into a ready stance, and Keris’ carefully tempered calm nearly shattered with his brother’s words. The hair at the nape of his neck rose as the wolf in his soul frothed in exasperation as Keris fought to quell the choler that drew a low growl from deep within his chest. After a moment of silence he spoke, voice hard edged as the shale covered flanks of Asaheim,

‘If it is a crime to remind one’s brothers of their duty and the oaths that they swore then yes, Tyr, I am indeed guilty of such, though to have to do so begets a sorrow upon my soul that I cannot begin to describe. There are times when the words that _need _to be spoken are not the ones we wish most to hear. Our oaths are not transient, to be cast aside when they do not suit our personal desires, and I will not stand idly by while those whom I call brother do so!’

Keris took a deep breath, forcing the anger down through sheer will and letting his mind drop into the focus of combat,

‘Never once did I question your abilities, brother. _*Never once*_.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr could not believe how blind Keris was being, was he so ignorant that he did not see how his words were taken and what kind of an impact they had? At the mention of breaking oaths Tyr slammed his fist into the wall next to him denting it slightly, *"I am no oathbreaker!"* his voice was loud and booming, the conviction in his tone showing the belief that he had in the words that he spoke. He was circling Keris now, his anger boiling just beneath the surface of his skin, the wolf inside him snarling menacingly.

*"I have never forsaken the oaths that I took! Never! I never questioned Vermundr and his capabilities as a leader! I have always held true to the oaths! All I did was seek to keep brothers from spilling each others' blood! And now where am I?! I am treated as an oathbreaker!"* his circling sped up a bit, his chest heaving with the effort of keeping his anger in check, *"You have been blind brother if you cannot see how your words affect others after you say them, you have always been careful in choosing how you speak to us and to others, yet that time you let your anger get a hold of you. Do you really think that I, Iorek, and Alrik needed reminding of our oaths? NO! I am certain that I did not and that my brothers have and always will perform their duties admirably no matter what. You did not take stock of the situation the pack was in before you spoke, and now here we are the two of us dueling for my honor. Look into my eyes Keris, look into them and see what a few misplaced words can do to someone when he recieves them at the worst of moments...."* 

He paused in his motions and stared long and hard at Keris's ice blue eyes, his own deep blue ones matching the anger inside them. They mirrored two of the warring elements on Fenris itself, Keris's the blazing snowstorms and cold that would freeze anyone into ice and shatter them moments after, Tyr's the booming power of the deep oceans, mighty waves that could break anything in two. He went back to his crouching stance and said, *"Now that you know my pain brother I hope you can understand what goes on inside me. We have and hopefully always will be brothers, now, fight me!"*within a second of those words leaving his mouth Tyr was charging Keris, a howl on his lips, his massive form powering towards his brother with all of its might.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris gave a half-snarl of frustration at the misunderstanding churning in his brother’s deep blue eyes; Tyr’s anger clouded his judgment until he heard only accusations and reproach in every word spoken. As his packmate circled him, Keris kept his eyes locked on the enraged strides of taller Wolf. Tyr was powerfully built, taller and broader than Keris with shoulders massively muscled as an ice bear. Yet, Keris’ true strength lay in his ferocity and cunning, coupled with unwavering faith in his duty. It was that devotion that he called upon now; though in his heart a single, burning thought crested through the cold focus of battle. 

_It should not have come to this._

Tyr finally stopped, his muscles bunching and Keris could taste the change in his brother’s scent as he prepared to charge. With a howl, Tyr powered forward and Keris leapt to meet his brother’s attack, the distance between them disappearing in a heartbeat. 

At the last possible moment; Keris dropped to a knee, his fist smashing upwards towards his brother’s solar plexus in a strike designed to use Tyr’s anger and momentum against him.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; Closing his eyes, lord Blackmane merely nods, however it is the motion from Baldyr that truly catches your attention. The movements of his head, as if he did not agree with your decision, was disappointed by it; but that was impossible, you are answering the challenge to your right to lead, what more could be expected of you?

That is when the others emerge; a handful of veterans, each a legend within the company, true heroes of the Space Wolves: the entirety of lord Blackmane's wolf guard, all of who would be present for this duel. The shackles restraining Iorek are removed, it is up to one of you to make the first move.

Iorek; The shackles restraining your limbs are quickly removed after Vermundr accepts to fight you, like him you notice the presence of the wolf guard, all of them. Though most eyes are on Vermundr, you do notice four eyes on you, those of the wolf lord and of the other Space Wolf present at his side, the rune priest Njal Stormcaller. With the shackles removed, it is merely up to you, or Vermundr, to make the first move.

[I believe things cannot be much clearer for you two; I do have these words: and so it begins.]

Keris; You attempt to drop down at the last moment, but by doing so you take on the risk of being to late if you misjudge your opponents speed even for a second. You start to drop, bringing your fist up, but Tyr is on top of you before you have the chance to cause any damage. The two of you fall to the ground, a mass of flesh hitting the cold stone and metal; and though you manage to roll away from Tyr, it was not before he had the chance to ram an elbow into the side of your face and you a knee to his side.

Tyr; Everything begins to move slowly for you in the final moment before you connect with Keris, and that's when you see his move as he begins to drop down. Adrenaline and chemicals flowing through your blood, your body pushes itself to move that much faster, allowing you to barrel into Keris before he has a chance to completely drop down. You both hit the ground, you crashing your elbow into the side of his face while a kick to the side robs you of your breath; giving Keris the chance to roll away from you.

[Yeah I think things speak for themselves.]

Alrik; As you watch the duel between Keris and Tyr begin, something in the air catches your attention. You turn your head to see Sigurd's cold eyes staring at you, his look unreadable and scent controlled such that only an experienced wolf would be capable of. _"I have spoken with Baldyr, I know your words Alrik Firehawk. 'You are not fit for duty as pack leader', that is not something for you to even voice in the presence of your brothers on the battlefield. Your intentions, however noble they may have been in your head, only served to weaken the pack who's leader was decided by the wolf lord you swore fealty to; who's very word is law outside of the Fang as far as we are concerned."_ He said after some time, his voice low enough that only you could hear him, it did not pick up to the dueling pair before you.

_"Vermundr, though your brother claw, is not your equal. Lord Blackmane has deemed this such by making him the one to lead you, just as *Kjarl* was not your equal. Whatever your fate is to be, lord Blackmane has already decided that it shall be Vermundr alone who shall decide."_ He said, as though he had read your thoughts, or more likely your scent.

[Once again this update comes to a part struck by not needing to much explanation; the decision of how to respond is left entirely to you.]

Kuzin; As you make to leave the feasting hall, your way is blocked by newcomers, one of the other packs of Blood Claws with the company. So far they had fared better than your pack, numbering a dozen, every one of them eying you. As you make to go around them, you are pushed back by one with orange hair, cut just as most other Blood Claws with a feather at the end of the tail of hair permitted. _"Broken and cursed thats what you are, whole pack wiped out and nearly ending another one."_ He says with a grin, the other Blood Claws slowly surrounding you. _"Maybe we should help get this little curse out of you before helping the rest of your pack, unless of course they have decided to flee to the far corners of the ship like whipped dogs."_

[What do you do Kuzin? This one is right in front of you, in your face, but there are eleven others around you. No way you alone can take these dozen, regardless of what experience you may have from the past few days. Do you try and speak? Maybe buy some time until something happens that can change things to your favour?]

Sydornis; Your wanderings lead you to the ships feasting hall, largely empty at this time save for a crowd of similar youths much like yourself. It is what they gather around, or more likely who they are gathered around that you take true notice of, one of your pack: Kuzin.

[One surrounded by a dozen, surely this cannot be good. Do you go to your brothers side and face with him whatever may be coming or do you leave him? It is possible that nothing will happen, for you have not heard anything that may have been said.]


----------



## Euphrati

As he committed to the attack, Keris realized he had misjudged his timing; Tyr’s anger lent him a speed and reactions greater than Keris had surmised. The massive bulk of the burly Wolf barreled into him with the force of an avalanche before he could alter his attack act in response, sending them both crashing to the cold stone floor in a tangle of limbs.

Pain, sharp and vital, sang through Keris’ veins as the iron hard strike of Tyr’s elbow slammed into the side of his jaw and flooded his mouth with the metallic bite of his own blood. Keris twisted with the blow, bringing a knee up into the exposed ribs of Tyr’s side with a solid impact before rolling away from the larger Wolf. Leaping back to his feet; Keris bared blood-pinked teeth, 

‘I am not ignorant to the fact that the pack looks to me for counsel, brother. I can offer what guidance I possess to our clawbrothers, but I _cannot _walk the path of honour and duty for them. Their choices are their own, and they must face the consequences their words and actions have placed upon them,’

Keris shook his head in frustration, a private, veiled pain passing like a shadow through his crystal blue eyes as he adopted a defensive stance,

‘I sought to aid him, but the insult lingered on like poison in his heart… I will bear that failure for the rest of my days brother. A pack must stand and fight as one in the field, Tyr; least we do the Enemy’s job for him. We have fought side by side, but have not been truly one…’

Slowly, Keris straightened to a wary stance and regarded his brother with a calm heart before extending a hand.


----------



## unxpekted22

(keep in mind this is from Vermundr's point of view even though it is in third person, as I have always intended to be the case.)

It was not hard to notice all but a few eyes were looking at him once the shackles were removed from Iorek. His Lord's and Njal stormcaller's. Did Lord Blackmane look to Iorek first to see if he would accept his place in the pack before any attacks were thrown?

It was not, and had never been, a question in Vermundr's mind of whether or not he would win a fight with Iorek in hand to hand combat. Iorek was skilled in ranged weaponry, and Vermundr had always excelled in close combat. On top of this, Iorek's mind was weak. However, anger always created its own form of ferocity and it would likely feel as if he wasnt dueling Iorek at all, but someone totally new to him.

Still, though the wolf guard entered, where was the rest of the pack? Ugh, no matter, now was the time to be focused on one single thing: His leadership. 

Vermundr's wolf growled first before his own throat did the same as he bent his knees and prepared himself. His mind was thrown for another loop realizing now that Baldyr had scowled when he announced he would fight Iorek. What did that mean? It kept flipping. Take action, don't take action, obey the laws, dont obey the laws, lead no matter what, only lead in certain situations, 'your orders are foolish' but then backed by Blackmane or other elders. Vermundr found his own fury, he would be a new opponent for Iorek as well, as if they had never fought each other before. 

The disease in your pack must be dealt with was all that ran through his mind. He did not speak a word, but moved first. He ran straight towards Iorek's front, taking a wide step to the right at the last moment bringing his left first to Iorek's knee. His right hand would go for whichever limb was closest and attempt to pull him off balance by using Iorek's weight to pull himself left while throwing Iorek down to the right.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's anger at not only Keris, but also everything that had happened to him, gave him the extra power his limbs needed to cause Keris's attack to falter. He charged into his brother with all of his might, the world seeming to slow down as their two bodies collided and they fell to the floor. 

Immediately Tyr sent his elbow flying in a vicious arc and it connected with Keris's face, right on his jaw. Yet before he could press his advantage he felt a knee fly up and hit him in the stomach just to the right of the massive scar on his chest. Keris rolled away as Tyr got on his hand and knees and fought to regain his breath, he listened to Keris as he pulled himself up, _‘I am not ignorant to the fact that the pack looks to me for counsel, brother. I can offer what guidance I possess to our clawbrothers, but I cannot walk the path of honour and duty for them. Their choices are their own, and they must face the consequences their words and actions have placed upon them,’_

Tyr could feel the anger inside him, the need to attack and finish the fight so that he could regain his honor, yet he wrestle it into submission and listened to his brother as he continued, _‘I sought to aid him, but the insult lingered on like poison in his heart… I will bear that failure for the rest of my days brother. A pack must stand and fight as one in the field, Tyr; least we do the Enemy’s job for him. We have fought side by side, but have not been truly one…’_

Keris held his hand out towards Tyr, a gesture of brotherhood, yet he hesitated before acting on Keris's words. *"I will always accept the consequences of what I do brother, I have and always will fight for Lord Blackmane, our chapter, our home, Russ and the All-Father. Our pack needs to be mended before we can be sent into the fires of battle again,"* he took Keris's hand in the only one he had left, *"I am sorry for my anger brother, I should have spoken to you immediately upon our return to the Fist of Russ. Even if I am not put back into our pack I hope that we can still fight sie by side and be brothers."*

For the first time in awhile Tyr's face broke into a smile and he pulled Keris close and embraced his brother before letting him go.


----------



## Euphrati

Tyr’s scent was a mixture of frustration, pain, anger, and the faint tinge of battle hunger that Keris’ could feel coursing through his own veins as the taller Wolf climbed back to his feet after regaining his breath. There was a moment of hesitation, silence broken only by the low rumble of the ship around them, before Tyr reached out to take his arm with his remaining hand and Keris felt a weight lift from his shoulders at his wolfbrother’s words.

After Tyr released him from the crushing grip, Keris returned the smile with a heartfelt devotion,

‘We will always be brothers, Tyr. No matter what duty calls to us; we are first, and eternally, brothers.’

Keris reached up to wipe the blood from his mouth onto his fingers, holding them up for both Sigurd and Alrik to see in a gesture that was more symbolic than required for the heightened senses of the Sons of Russ. Keris’ wintery eyes came to rest upon the lupine countenance of the Wolf Priest as he raised his voice,

‘Blood has been spilled for the sake of honour, do you desire the trial to continue Wolf Priest?’


----------



## CommissarHorn

“He he.” Kuzin laughed while exiting the feast hall. He was promising himself that he’d find one of the Long Fangs squads and hang out with them a bit and see if they can inspire him somehow, although he knew that his search would end up with him either drinking in the hall, shouting the ancient Space Wolf ballads or sleeping somewhere, reciting poems depicting the heroic deeds of Russ.
“…the darkness receded, gathering its unholy force. 
The warrior saddled his horse and rode, aided by the stars.
Barren and defiled, the land itself retreated, afraid.
Alone, the warrior, fought with his will.
Beating it down with his fists of prayer.

Before him, stood, the corrupt and unjust, numbering thousands.
Steeling his heart, he stepped forward…”

“Broken and cursed that’s what you are…” Kuzin was singing and didn’t notice the Blood Claws surrounding him. “Maybe we should help get this little curse out of you before helping the rest of your pack, unless of course they have decided to flee to the far corners of the ship like whipped dogs.”

Standing still, Kuzin finished his poem.
“…It will be hell, it will be hell three times over.
Not one step back.” Finished, he focused his attention on the speaker. He was another Blood Claw, just like Kuzin, with orange hair. Around him, there stood another eleven Blood Claws and they looked ready to jump him at any second. ‘Sons of Russ shouldn’t fight each other.’ Thought Kuzin. ‘Its just us, against the horrors of Chaos, Alien and Heretic. Why would we fight each other?’

Kuzin laughed. “Looks like you saved your skins and hid during the mission. So your out trying to increase your low self-esteem, you bastard? Cursed? Hahaha, you’re just plain idiots, and I’ll be the one helping you instead. They say there’s no cure for stupidity, but I reckon my fists can pull it off.”


----------



## Lord of the Night

The tales of the _Fist of Russ_ had always spoke of a mighty vessel of war, all in the name of the Wolf King and his sons. So far Sydornis had not been disappointed, entire packs of valiant Space Wolves training and preparing for the coming battles in the cages, the machines of war being repaired and readied by the Iron Priests, they were impressive but Sydornis's real admiration was for the Wolf Priests. The Chaplains of the Space Wolves who led them into battle with inspirational litanies and feats of bravery and heroism, and the Apothecaries who healed their brothers and kept death from claiming them too early. The Wolf Priests were both of these roles into one and Sydornis had admired them ever since his recruitment by a Wolf Priest, the legendary Ulrik the Slayer although he hadn't learned that until many years later.

For a moment Sydornis felt something of curiosity at the past. His earliest memory was lying in the snow, bloodied and broken with the corpse of a huge Fenrisian Wolf, its pelt as white as the snow it lay dead in, with a Wolf Priest standing over him. The simple sentence that at the time had seemed madness to the youth were in reality one of the most pivotal hearings of his life. *'You are worthy.'* With that Sydornis had been given a chance, once he had been brought back around he didn't remember his name so the Wolf Priest gave him the name Sydornis, who was a Space Wolf in the aftermath of the Horus Heresy who was very famous. Sydornis had learned that his namesake was one of the Space Wolves who fought in the First War for Armageddon alongside the Great Wolf Logan Grimnar. Old Sydornis had single-handedly wiped out an entire horde of World Eaters before finally expiring from his wounds, his saga told that even the Berzerkers of the Blood God fell and ran from the ancient Wolf Priest.

Allowing himself a moment of pride for being named after such a hero, who had been recruited with no memories of his past either save his own name, Sydornis forced himself back to the present as he entered the feasting hall. He must have wandered here in his reverie. The scene ahead of him did not raise his mood however, a pack of Blood Claws were picking a fight with Kuzin. who appeared to be in trouble, despite his willingness to fight. Sydornis heard the other Claws talking of Kuzin being cursed, snarling he strode forward and spoke. *'Curses should be the least of your concerns, although your belief in such things isn't a good boon for the Chapter's future.'* Sydornis laughed quickly, almost like a barking sound before turning serious and stepping next to Kuzin. *'Whoever here is frayed enough to fight Kuzin, one of my pack, fights me as well.'*


----------



## dark angel

Sigurd was no longer Sigurd. In his stead stood a pair of Wolves, both slim towards the rear and heavily muscled towards the fore. One was clad in black fur, a shadowed menace with glowing golden oval eyes behind a furrowed snout. Strands of pink spittle, a brutal collaboration of phlegm and scarlet blood, dangled from ivory fangs which slipped past the fat lips of its mouth. The triangular ears were erect and the hackles stood upon end, a low growling, utterly deafening emitting from its rippling features. 

The metallic features of the vessel was replaced with a gentle forestry, a clearing amongst well rooted coniferous trees that had cast a brown blanket of pines across the ground. Well muscled limbs brought the Wolf forwards and it circled Alrik twice, sniffing and tugging at his simple robes with an ethereal maw. Wherever its claw tipped paws fell, the pines blackened and twisted, rotting into nothingness. The ground let out a waft of burning akin to that of melting flesh. Alrik felt his features twist into a scowl. The Wolf sat down on its rump between a pair of trees which had fallen ponderously into one another, and tilted its head. A scanning gesture, one of curiosity. 

Only now did the second of the creatures reveal itself. Unlike the brooding stature of the other, this one was far more warming. Its black and grey speckled was bathed in rich gold from the gigantic waning orb above, and a strange majesty accompanied this being. Its eyes were the colour of the raw ice of Fenris, and no slobbering painted this ones face in pink. The head was far more broad than the other, and its snout was long and uncurled. Both ears were pulled back and the eyes suddenly narrowed, slanting upwards sharply. 

This too curled around Alrik’s legs, and he noticed it was far larger than the first, its bristling fur slipping across his upper back with ease. Like the first of the beings it took a seat, although on the opposite side of the other so that both were locked in a tight gaze. Alrik let his arms fall limp at his side and stiffened his back as he felt both venerable stares slip from their embrace and roll over him. The muscles which bulged in his legs trembled like they had never done so before. Alrik fell onto his knees and dug his fingers into the ground, steadying his fall and looking back up into the golden eyes of the black furred being. 

‘I am Wulfen’ it growled. Utterly lurid and powerful, Alrik felt himself strangely transfixed by its gaze. He felt a maddened rage well within his chest, he felt his hearts pump faster. Stifling sanguine slipped down his nostrils and his canines elongated. Furs slipped from his flesh, twisting into reality.

‘And I am the Stalker Between The Stars’ the other Wolf exclaimed and all the previous enticements were suddenly weaved into nothingness. He was now adorned in the armour of a Space Wolf, grey and half-obscured beneath pelts of brown fur. At his side rested a long shimmering silver-blue blade, slipped within a hide scabbard. He looked at his gauntlets, turning his wrists to face the black palms. Upon each was the sigil of a howling hound, a bust of bright light piercing the sky from its opened mouth. 

Alrik was in a state of confusion. He knew both names, yet at the same time he could not claim both names from the depths of his mind which was hidden in a state of insanity and bounty. The two Wolves were now circling his kneeling form, snapping off monstrously efficient snarls at each other. Fear ran rife in his system, and Alrik licked the roof of his mouth. It felt sharp and he pealed his tongue away, worried of the strange effects which it could have upon him. Am I dead?….

‘You do not die when under my watch, Alrik Firehawk’ intoned the Stalker Between The Stars, its voice flowing forth like a gentle, eloquent harp playing. 

He felt surprisingly reassured. This creature was clearly caring, and Alrik felt his veins pulse with vigorous happiness. The Stalker had now stopped, sniffing the back of Alrik’s newly grown mane with its fat nostrils. 

‘Why am I here? Why am I placed in this land of madness and unanswered questions?’ enquired Alrik, his voice nothing more than a quiet mumbling. 

‘You are here due to the inner turmoil’s which pry your Pack apart, Son of Fenris.’ both Wulfen and the Stalker spoke this as one, their voice melding into a ugly, guttural whistling. Alrik didn’t know whether he was supposed to scream in enjoyment or pain.

Both took a position in front of him, standing side by side like long lost brothers, awkward in their stances. The drooling Wulfen appeared to spin from reality, disappearing for a fraction of a second. When it returned, it was dripping rich crimson from strands of fur, its eyes bulging with madness. Now Alrik screamed in agony as Wulfen tilted its head forwards so that the flat of the snout was parallel with the scarred face of Alrik. Between his screams he heard a dark mirth accompanying each of his words. 

‘You see, Firehawk, I bring you pain. Yet I offer the uttermost absolution. You have been abandoned by those that you would give the mocking title of “brother” to, left to wallow in your own pain’ the Wulfen laughed, licking its sanguine dotted lips clean. The tongue was forked. 

Alrik did not know how to react. He felt the need to comply, but knew that he could not do such a thing. His oaths, mere words in reality, actually felt strong to him in the presence of the Stalker Between The Stars. The environment flickered and transformed into something else. 

_A narrow ravine carved from the side of a metal tower. A monstrosity stood over the leaking form of Vermundr. It bore a single Mohawk of hair, and ragged clumps of armour were still pinned onto its stiff hair. Crisscrossing red scars covered its face, each one prominent and glowing with blood. 

Vermundr himself had no head left. It was a crushed red-white mass, slipped across the cold steel ground. Nor did he have a left arm or lower right leg, instead simple strings of muscle and ligaments dangled, entwined with black veins. Haughtily, the beast trudged over and flipped the body with one claw tipped hand, sending it onto its back. In one blood drenched gauntlet rested a alabaster rune, snapped from the armour of the creature. Another form lay nearby, his armour torn along the centre so that thick strands of sausage like intestines dangled free. This Marine was still alive.

Red eyes followed every the pacing movements of the beast, however the Marine could not react. Both of his wrists were bent invert and small strings of torn white meat dangled from the ruptured armour. The legs were dangling by sinews, and each ragged breath brought the Astartes closer to death. Fangs and claws bared, the tainted Wolf of Fenris pounced forwards but he recognized the face. Iorek…._

‘You see, Alrik Firehawk, I offer you the easy path. You can have what you want if you allow me to take your soul, you will have revenge upon those who have wronged you. My path brings death and destruction, but it only leads you into peace. Your brethren have cast you out. Abandone-’

‘Enough of this foul lingering!’ growled the Stalker Between The Stars, leaping forth and taking hold of Wulfen by the throat. The much larger Wolf shook the black clad creature, ripping its flesh and oozing golden blood across the ground. 

Alrik watched in awe, stepping back with bunched fists as the Stalker Between The Stars turned its noble eyes upon him. It went down onto its rump, the form of Wulfen dissipating completely and casting a rotted outline across the ground where it had fallen, each detail perfectly carved. The Stalker Between The Stars leapt forth suddenly, paws striking Alrik in his shoulders and sending him onto his back. Spittle dripped into his mouth, intoxicating like some form of rank drug. Its breath was rife with the stench of burnt flesh, and Alrik found himself wincing at it. 

‘I offer you no such eased path, Firehawk. Regain your honour and pride, hold your black tongue or I shall pluck it from your mouth myself. Hardships line my path, and you will certainly have to compromise if you accept. Yet I offer you the greatest of gifts, that of fame and leading. Do you join me, or the twisted mongrel?’ the Stalker Between The Stars was unforgiving but Alrik knew what he had to do.

He simply nodded, and the figure of the Wolf was replaced by that of ancient Sigurd. Alrik stared at him with half closed eyes, scanning his form. An array of questions ran through his head but one dawned. 

‘Why do I not have the chance to fight? Why must I be bequeathed with the word of Vermundr solely?’


----------



## deathbringer

The chains bound him still, long and curling metal icicles binding him, keeping his limbs locked and cramped in position. There was a sad finality in Blackmane's nod the way his eyes closed. Then he was released, the chains pulled away and he dropped falling to his knees, running his hand over the smooth contours of his muscles, feeling the cramps in his legs, the aching of his arms.

He was to fight at a disadvantage even now, he was tired, the wolf roared in his ears, calling for vengeance, calling for blood, blood for his pain, murder for the insults suffered. Vermundr was a stronger close combat fighter, shot for shot he was not a patch on Iorek, yet he could handle himself in a fight that was true.

They had never dueled but this was a different Iorek to the one that had once laughed in the training cages. He was stronger, more expereinced, had fought a far stronger opponent than Vermundr would ever be. The alpha legionnaire that had slipped a knife between his ribs, the alpha legionnaire he would one day kill.

He heard others enter yet his eyes were closed as he pushed himself to his feet, feeling the tremors of agony from his legs he shook them out, his mind was calm and he looked around.

Legends were to view this duel, warriors, heroes, men of a thousand tales. Another reason not to fail, another reason to fight and emerge with his tarnished honour undented. 

He had to win now, not ony for the good of the pack but now to prove himself infront of legends.

He looked up at Vermundr, he fought for the lies, he fought for his honour yet there was such determined angst in the packleaders gaze.

Indeed he despised Iorek and he stretched to his full height looking at the hair that now stood on end, like a enraged wolf, a wolf on edge. There truly was a madness in the packleaders soul, a madness that iorek met with calm focus.

He had to win, it was simple as that, yet he knew not what he fought for... did this bout have any effect upon the leadership and he spoke alloud his concern as Vermundr came upon him a beast from hell bearing down upon him.

"Hold" he roared, his voice hoarse growing stronger as he stood tall his gaze meeting Vermundr's, not backing away from the bull like charge willing to take the hit but refusing to raise a hand against his brother

"You would attack me without establishing rules, does your hate for me consume you so totally?

"Without rules and conditions we are merely two savages fighting in the dirt and there is no honour in such a fight."

"I call my demands for this duel. If I win vermundr will be removed from his position as packleader, that is all I wish. I dishonoured myself, my oaths and my pack, by voicing my concerns when I did I have failed my Lord. Yet I maintain what i said was correct even if the timing was wrong, for i know it still in my heart. Thus I duel for my pack, for I know Vermundr is not the right one to lead, he may be a strong warrior, yet he knows not how to manage brothers, he is a harsh emotional void that sees his packs as dogs to which he can throw his scraps." 

He turned to Blackmane and met the piercing gaze hoping he had not spoken out of turn, hoping that he had not endangered his place in his Lord's eyes

"Thus I demand that if I win Vermundr surrenders his right to lead." 

He held the Lords gaze trying to read those impenetrable eyes


----------



## darkreever

Iorek and Vermundr; Vermundr's attacks land and Iorek is thrown to the ground reeling in pain. A voice rings out in both your heads, the voice of Njal bursting forth as no one makes a sound. *"This is a challenge of leadership blood claw Iorek, the right to lead goes to the one who wins it. The terms of your fight have already been decided, you and your pack leader fight unarmed or armoured until one of you is the victor."* These words do halt you from furthering any actions, but the tendrils lingering in your mind swiftly go away as the rune priest withdraws his presence from each of you.

[I leave the next moves of what is to go on to you, though maybe take note as to what was just 'said' and what has been said to you in the past, something recent.]

Alrik; _"Perhaps you will fight, it is for Vermundr alone to decide. The offense committed by you is far greater than that of Tyr__, and so this is all he faces."_ Sigurd answers your question without even looking at you this time. You then notice that Tyr and Keris have stopped fighting and instead Tyr is embracing Keris in a massive bear hug before the two look to you and Sigurd.

[Its over already, looks like you may have missed all the fighting while lost in your thoughts; as you look at your brothers do you get anything from them, any impression or hint of something? Whats written for them applies to you as well as far as what to post and things you know/hear.]

Tyr and Keris; As you conclude, you turn to Sigurd and Alrik; the wolf priest seemingly ignores Tyr as his cold eyes stare into Keris. _"You are here as proxy for your pack leader, if you believe this to be his choice then that is enough."_ He answers you before looking to Tyr. _"Blood Claw, your intentions may have been for good but your words only served to weaken the word of your pack leader; that is what this has been about for you. It did not matter if you took sides against your pack leader or no side, you allowed others to know that the pack leader was not supported during a time that you should not have."_

_"Blood Claw Tyr, as proxy for your pack leader Keris has chosen to accept you back into your pack. Do not betray this for there is little worse that can be done; now all of you with me, we are to find the rest of your pack and meet at the heart of the ship where Vermundr himself will be deciding the fate of Alrik."_ Sigurd announced before storming out of the chamber with you in tow.

[As far as what happened here, think your more than capable of coming up with something. When it comes to finding the rest of the pack, I am speaking of Kuzin and Sverik; let them post before you find them, you can post up to that point if you post before they do though.]

Kuzin; The blood claws look at you in confusion. _"There any brains in this fools skull Garjik?"_ One of the claws says to the one confronting you. _"Doubt it; but unlike your mob of whipped dogs we managed to perform out mission without losing any brothers, least of all to the likes of fleeing rioters."_ He says while taking a step closer.

Sydornis; You push your way past the blood claws to Kuzin's side, but as you do one of them pushes you back or clips you on the side of the head and instead you fall to the ground, stars in your eyes.

[Sydornis, interesting that you heard what was said after being told you heard nothing; please pay attention next time. 

Kuzin and Sydornis; Did someone hit Sydornis? Your already surrounded and someone may have already thrown the first blow, you going to let them get away with this?]


----------



## CommissarHorn

Kuzin’s heart was deeply saddened that his brothers could turn against each other so easily and talking his way out of this situation was no longer an option because his gut was ordering him to beat the cowardice out of them. ‘I’m not so good with calculations and strategy, but I don’t care any more. I’m just gonna fight till I drop, these bullshit coward bastards are…’ Suddenly Sydornis burst into the circle but before Kuzin could say anything, Sydornis was already on the floor.

“Bastards.” Punching the closest Blood Claw in the face, Kuzin grabbed Sydornis’s collar and swinging his free fist at any incoming foes, tried breaking through the circle, dragging his comrade. He was kicking at anyone getting too close and tried shoving one of the Wolves away but there were too many of them. “Bastards!” Shouting, he head-butted his way out for a few seconds, putting his and Sydornis’s backs to the ship’s wall. Sydornis was lifted off the ground. ‘Its easy fighting to the death when your mates aren’t involved.’ Kuzin laughed in his head. “Haha, hahaha! Sydornis, glad you could make the party! Guess where we’ll be sleeping tonight! Haha! A warm recovery tank, clean tubes! Everything a working man could ask for!”


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr stood over Iorek about to make another strike when his brother spoke out, making his demands for the dual as he brought himself back to his feet. Vermundr listened intently to the voice of Njal, and when that voice went away he spoke to Iorek without altering his gaze.

"You keep demanding that those around and above you adhere to _your_ needs and demands Iorek. You seem to think I am power hungry, but you were one in this pack who sought leadership before this mission had barely begun and you have gone crazy with others in command of your actions particularly me believing I am not fit for this role. I never once asked or even expected to be placed in the position of pack leader. I followed my instincts, kept this pack alive, and was rewarded. Your right in that I have made some mistakes, but do you think any of us wouldn't have? Even our wise brother Keris, he would have made mistakes as packleader. All of us would have because we have no experience." 

"The fact you scowled at me for even a single decision I made was enough a reason to strike you brother. I can not trust someone on the battlefield when he looks at me with such distaste. You have claimed several times that you cannot trust me either, because I lied to you about Njoror's death, but the fact is he was already dead... and I am convinced you would have changed either way. How could you think I hate you? We've saved eachother's lives! Why did one brother mean so much more to you than the rest of us?! You've put yourself in this situation by losing your self control. It was not my choice Iorek, it was Lord Blackmane's, and you must comply with my command or you will be banished forever, led to leave a miserable existence, even more miserable than this one if thats how yous see it! I don't want to hurt you anymore if I don't have to!"

With this Vermundr goes to put Iorek in a choke hold. If he is successful he will be waiting for Iorek to give into his leadership over the pack, If Iorek does no such thing then Vermudnr will continue on, and continue fighting if the hold is broken.


----------



## deathbringer

Anguish, anguish as Vermundr's strikes landed and iorek reeled rolling away clutching his leg. Oh this had to be a sucker blow now, he was wounded and tired, now a voice unbidden, unwanted was ringing in his mind and the wolf snarled shaking its head. It did not like the voice and neither did Iorek. He did not like voices not his own in his mind at the best of times, it stunk of sorcery of a hate he did not like.

"This is a challenge of leadership blood claw Iorek, the right to lead goes to the one who wins it. The terms of your fight have already been decided, you and your pack leader fight unarmed or armoured until one of you is the victor."

he felt the tendrils of his mind removed themselves from his mind

"Well it would be nice to be told" he growled.

Vermundr was looming over him as he pushed himself up, the pack leaders words spat towards him, the hatred and spite evident in his eyes.

Yet his words were false, warped and so untrue,a tirade of misguided emotions, he had rarely snarled, only when Vermundr had been a pompous prick, then he had bared his fangs as any wolf would do.

Yet Vermundr thought the battle was already won, the confidence, oh yes he was not as careful, thinking iorek was wounded, not seeing the mental stability, the need for victory buried in Iorek's mind. The necessity that meant he would fight until he could not stand, until his body was broken.

Vermundr would not be pack leader, he had to win, he had to prevent the pack leaders self righteous command from splitting the pack further.

He opened his mouth to spit words back, to fire back a retort to explain his love for Njoror, to tell Vermundr of the hurt of his lies, of how he was a deceitful bastard, untrustable and unable to comprehend emotions.

Indeed Baldyr had said a pack was a family, the leader earning the right to lead, to become father of the family. Yet Vermundr did not treat them as brothers more as surfs, as slaves to his will.

Then the attack came... Iorek was on edge his righteous anger meaning the lunge did not surprise him as much as it would have and he dropped down trying to evade the groping fingers that reached towards him feeling the muscles in his legs bunch and he pushed upwards forcing himself skywards, fist rising to uppercut Vermundr.

If Vermundr gets him in the choke hold, he will attempt to batter Vermundr with gut punches until he lets go or Iorek sufficates

Overall Iorek's tactics will be to attempt to sucker punch Vermundr, to knock him out as quickly as possible. To finish it quickly, overall whatever vermundr does he wont give in until Vermundr breaks him limb from limb.


----------



## dark angel

Unfathomably the vision had faded into the ether, disappearing from his eyes but leaving a flashing afterimage laced with pain. Alrik had gritted his teeth when Sigurd had spoke, his voice akin to the sound of colliding glaciers. That was something Alrik missed, the roiling lands of Fenris. The multi-hued lands teeming with ferocious beasts that howled and bayed in the tightly closed hills, was surprisingly a pleasant memory. Evidently Alrik had missed it more than he would detail in his posture and words, and still he refused to allow these thoughts to be anything more than that. Simple, with kept thoughts.

Memories of Fenris and lost brethren suffused his thoughts as he solemnly stared into the eyes of Sigurd blankly, accepting the words which he spoke yet not truly paying attention. Alrik looked down upon the simple robes which he bore, rubbing his palms across the slabs of flesh which formed a tough gut and slowly the clothe furrowed. He moved them away and his fingers traced the scars across his face, the skin of which felt rough beneath his relatively gentle touch. His twin hearts pumped loudly and he snapped from his partial daze, looking across at Tyr and Keris.

Both had ended their duel. Both were beaded with glistening blobs of perspiration and the telltale sign of healed wounds were spread across them in several places. Tyr’s lost hand was replaced by a simple augment, one of which bore no limbs nor did it appear capable of providing much damage. Alrik had all but missed the bout that did not matter to him, his thoughts far too marred to take notice of such a thing. Alrik stared into their eyes with no serious intent, his voice but a thin rasping as he muttered something below his breath before looking back at Sigurd; although he addressed any who could give an answer within the room when he spoke. 

‘Why has Keris come in the stead of Vermundr? Who not one of our other Brothers?’

((OOC: Sorry for the weak post, I couldn't really think of anything))


----------



## Euphrati

Two pairs of ice-blue eyes locked as the Wolf Priest’s attention was focused upon him; there was a calm depth to Sigurd’s gaze and Keris could taste the potent conviction within the low growl of the Chooser’s voice, bowing his head a hairsbreadth in acknowledgement before Sigurd’s gaze shifted to Tyr. The words spoken to him not a day before by the Stormcaller whispered through his memories; portents of shadows and darkness, seven wolves and eyes of burning purple. Of the need to re-forge what has been shattered or all would fall. Keris felt a kindling of hope as the Wolf Priest spoke to Tyr.

Sigurd’s words were heavy with admonition to the young Blood Claw, and Keris nodded in somber silence to the counsel though his eyes were on the brother standing beside the dark form of Sigurd. Alrik seemed lost in thought, his eyes glazed in a distant look of inner turmoil. The wolf in his soul gave a low whine, a pang of regret resonating through Keris’ mind looking over the brutal features of the burly Wolf. The words that had passed between them back at the governor’s palace coiled, sharp edged, from his memories.

The Firehawk’s manners had always been brash, his thoughts passing through his teeth seemingly before being filtered by his wits. Yet, for his stubborn refusal to guard his tongue and uncouth nature, Keris had always thought Alrik steadfast in his heart. It was discomforting to see his brother in such a state, yet Alrik’s own actions were solely to blame for his circumstances. 

As the heightened state of battle readiness cooled from Keris’ veins; his muscles twitched ever so slightly with desire for use and the combat’s briefness, it was in many ways a hollow feeling compared to the hyper-awareness of combat and the wolf in his mind echoed the desire of the hunt. Its need was a banked ember upon the edge of his thoughts, always burning with the promise of violence. Not for the first time since their return, Keris’ thoughts were tinted with a pall of sorrow.

_It never should have come to this, I have failed you my brothers._

Sigurd turned in a smooth growl of ancient armour, his stride ground devouring and forceful. There was a change in his scent, subtle but enough for Keris’ keen senses to catch. Alrik’s question lingered in the air and Keris cast a sidelong glance at his brother as he lengthened his own step to keep pace with the Wolf Priest before returning his gaze to the back of Sigurd’s hallowed battleplate. His voice was soft and low,

‘This duty is an honour for me, brother.’

_...and also a test._

The thought finished in the silence of Keris' mind as they threaded their way through the ship's vast belly. Keris' crystal eyes flicked from the Wolf Priest back to his wayward brother after a moment,

'Speak freely of your thoughts, why do you think Lord Blackmane has asked this of _me _and not another of our pack?'


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis pushed his way through the crowd of rowdy Blood Claws, almost embarrassed that he was in the same category as them, in title only thank Russ. But any slights against his pack and any connections were over, it was a matter of honour. No insult or blow would go unanswered, especially not from Sydornis. It was the logical course after all, allowing their honour to be slighted would not end well both short and long term.

As Sydornis knocked a Blood Claw out of the way he suddenly felt air rushing against his face and pain, someone had slammed him back hard. Crashing onto the floor with an audible grunt Sydornis rolled over onto his back to look up, Kuzin had sprung to his defence after he had been knocked down. Kuzin grabbed Sydornis by the collar and dragged him through the crowd as his pack brother hammered at the other Space Wolves, until Kuzin and Sydornis were against the wall, Sydornis was lifted up and his back slammed into the hard metal and surrounded by enraged younglings. Sydornis felt age-old compared to them, and as Kuzin spoke he could not have agreed more. *'Aye Kuzin, I would not miss it, but I can think of one more thing to ask for,'* Sydornis replied. Standing up straight and readying himself. *'Alright, which one of you pups struck me?!. Step forward and ill repay that blow tenfold!'*


----------



## dark angel

The Firehawk bunched his fists, thick chord like veins bulging along his bare forearm. Nothing that Keris had said was insulting nor was it intended to bet, yet Alrik could not help but to grow agitated. He breathed through gritted teeth, long plumes of condensation that touched the warm air perfectly until it roiled and twisted into a grey-white cloud. His trio of lungs felt tight beneath his strengthened chest and he laid one hand on his chest, the fingers furrowing his overalls in a tight grip. And then it was all gone, the stifling rage within replaced with a sensation of peace and brotherly love.

‘An honour? Bah, I never saw such things as an honour’ Alrik declared this loudly, albeit not in a threatening nor unpleasant tone. 

Alrik sighed. He utterly loathed himself, at least what he had become. Once he was, too a degree, a loving Wolf who cared for his Pack-mates. Now he could barely keep himself restrained with the tones of their voices. Of course none of it was his fault but rather that of Vermundr’s, he was the one who had sown a seed of discord into his heart. He was the polluter of the Pack, the niggling canker that refused to leave. The one who had destroyed Alrik Firehawk’s comprehension on the Wolves, the one who made him feel isolated and alone.

That was Alrik’s idiotic mind though, twisting things around and turning him into a paranoid sniveling prig. He managed a smile at Keris, although a forced one through his locked jaw. He had no qualm with Keris, but he could not help but to think that he held some form of part in this entire thing. He was withholding information, his stance tight and uneasy while amongst Alrik and Tyr. The latter had remained all but silent thus far, but he did not matter. This was between Keris and Alrik, Ice-Eyed and Firehawk.

‘You would not like my thoughts Keris’ Alrik added a chuckle at this, but the warm mirth died when he continued ‘Not at all….And this is neither the time nor place to discuss such things. I do not understand why you were chosen, why you appear favoured over so many. Perhaps it is because of your wise nature, your capabilities of solving even the most troubled of situations. Nay, perhaps it is your neutrality in this petty feud. You know what it is, Keris, tell us. Speak freely.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr listened silently as the wolf priest spoke to Keris and them to him, he nodded yet said nothing. He understood what he had done wrong, and while he did not agree with his punishment he had taken and would take it in stride in the future, he was young still and still had a lot to learn about the galaxy. Yet for now there was one hole in the pack that had been mended, Tyr reflected on all of his brothers as they made their way through the ship's vast belly.

He found his mind wondering towards Iorek's fate and how he was being handled, he dearly hoped his brother was ok and that no ill fate would befall him. Iorek was a supreme marksman and it pained Tyr to think such great potential possibly being executed because he was confused and lost. He could feel his ghost hand flexing, it still unnerved him every time he felt it, yet the Apothecary had told him that it was simply his nerves making him think he still had a hand. Would he get a new one now? Possibly a bionic? Or maybe he could request another power fist, that would most definately be to his liking, but with the touchy position he was in now he was sure he would not get one.

Alrik and Keris were exchanging a few words, Alrik obviously still pained at his position and what his fate was to be. Tyr understood him completely, yet he now realized that if what he had said was seen as undermining Vermundr and bad then Alrik's own words were most likely considered worse. Yet this confrontation was between the two of them and Tyr would let it play out, they had to get over their differences if the pack was to mend and move on. 

As they rounded a corner he caught the scent of wolves about to strike, he sped up a bit and came into the dining hall. Sure enough a pack of Blood Claws stood around two who he could not see well, a fight was about to happen, and as Tyr got a bit closer he could smell Sydornis and Kuzin's scents, they were the two being cornered. Tyr stood behind one of the other Blood Claws and looked down at the back of his head before smiling, *"Surely you do not wish to fight my packmates brothers? I suggest you walk out of here now and go back to your quarters before something happens."* he knew that egging the Blood Claws on would be bad which is why his comment was not as bad as it could have been. He just needed to stall them a bit before Sigurd turned the corner and saw what was happening, but then again he would enjoy a good bout seeing as how he still had all of his pent up energy from not finishing his duel with Keris.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr, Iorek; Ducking below the choke hold, Iorek barely manages to spring back up and smash an uppercut into Vermundr's jaw and snapping his head up. Without missing a beat, Iorek sidesteps to avoid a swat to keep the distance and then rams a fist into the pack leaders head and sending him to the ground.

[Not much for me to say, keep on keeping on, I will get you two a mini-update as soon as you post.]

Keris, Tyr, Alrik; Following Sigurd, you catch the scent and sounds of a fight ahead, before Keris or Alrik could react Tyr ran forward, trying to stop the fight as he realizes that it is another pack against Kuzin and Sydornis. Tyr, as you speak, half the pack turn to face you, anger in their eyes until they see what, or rather who, is behind you.

_"No blood claw, the fighting here is over. Those responsible, you will await my judgment in solitude; go now."_ The wolf priests words all but freeze the feasting hall, so chilling are they and the other blood claws quickly make their leave. _"Now let us go, your pack leader should be finishing his own current deed."_ Sigurd says to you all before turning to head further into the ship.

[Sorry not to much for you guys in the update, but then there is the matter of Alrik's question to Keris and possibly helping your packmates to play catch up over whats been going on. Keris, why were you chosen? Does it have something to do with your oath? If it does, will you reveal or admit it to the others?]


Sydornis and Kuzin; As Kuzin tries to haul Sydornis towards the nearest wall, his endevour proves to be far harder. The other claws are all around the pair, shoving and punching you away from the wall until one particular punch catches Kuzin across the eye. Stars explode from the pain and Kuzin is forced to let go of Sydornis as he staggers, an arm going out to keep the attacking blood claws at bay. Sydornis manages to get up, only to take a blow of his own to the gut and be sent back to the ground, but not before a punch of his own takes a claw in the throat.

_"Surely you do not wish to fight my packmates brothers? I suggest you walk out of here now and go back to your quarters before something happens."_ A familiar voice calls out and the hits stop, the anger in the air rapidly changing to something akin to a tinge of fear. Getting back to your feet, you see the forms of Tyr, Keris, Alrik and Sigurd before the wolf priest speaks.

_"No blood claw, the fighting here is over. Those responsible, you will await my judgment in solitude; go now."_ The wolf priests words all but freeze the feasting hall, so chilling are they and the other blood claws quickly make their leave. _"Now let us go, your pack leader should be finishing his own current deed."_ Sigurd says to you all before turning to head further into the ship.

[Kuzin and Sydornis; go on a little about the fight, but its over really. Might be a good idea to catch up in regards to whats been going on with the others as well as follow Sigurd.]


----------



## deathbringer

Sparks of triumph danced through him as he evaded the groping fingers ducking below the, his legs bunching, the muscles contracting as he pushed upwards, yet the fatigue in his limbs meant the uppercut was less powerful than intend and he rose graceful, the pack leaders head snapping backwards with the metallic clack of teeth.

A grim smile flickered across Iorek's face as the packleader swatted at him, desperate to keep him away, to regain his composure yet Iorek sidestepped him easily closing in to crash his fist towards Vermundr. He laced the blow with his need, his desire, his anger felt it flood up his arm as the blow landed and Vermundr toppled away.

The wolf howled in triumph roaring baying for blood

Finish him, the thought compelled him ,forced at his limbs, made his jaws ache with the desire to tear out the throat of his fallen foe, end the duel once and for all. 

The thought was crushed by a sudden surge of emotion. Pity...

The wolf upon the floor was stunned, wild and unkempt its hair upon end. Vermundr had shown he had nothing left, he had no honour for he would lie to his pack brothers and would do so again, he had no compassion, the lives they killed like leaves upon a tree crushed beneath his mighty feet and now even his brothers had turned against him.

Only Keris openly supported his leadership, he had lost brotherhood, honour and compassion.

The pity flooded him, washed over him as he looked down upon his form. There could be no victor in this duel, for he who bested the other would only serve to snap the bond between them, break it irreparably. The packleader was indeed the head of the family yet Iorek's actions had shown that one member out of place could break it, snap it into fragments.

Would anything truly change if he became packleader, nay, it would just be a reversal of roles and he could not deny that Vermundr had led them well in battle, from the front headstrong and proud. Did Iorek truly have what it took to lead? By Lord Blackmane's ruling evidentally not, he could not be merciless and ruthless, he could not deceive his brothers, nay he was not destined to lead, for he thought with his heart and not his head.

He stepped back from Vermundr, allowing him to rise, his fists unclenching and spoke aloud 

"While we fight there can be no victor. Baldyr told us that the pack is a family, the pack leader the head of that family, by such logic a family cannot be truly whole, cannot be a unit if two parts are estranged, thus without our brotherhood the pack cannot be truly effective, the pack leader cannot truly lead."

He paused taking a deep breath allowing the tension to dissapate from his body

"I have cast you down, laced my blows with anger, my honour is satisfied. I forgive you Vermundr and i will not raise a hand against one I am honoured to call a brother."

He braced himself mentally for the attack, for the possible retaliation, for Vermudr's insane rage but he was determined only to defend himself. For Iorek, this duel was over, to his mind he had won.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr messed himself by talking, and had also not caught the height of rage that was burning in Iorek until his fist smashed into his jaw. Stupid mistake trying to end it with a hold instead of just striking. But, through the release of pent up anger Iorek seemed to finally regain himself. He was right in that no matter how much the two of them may fight it would never truly repair the pack. Vermundr had known that, but he did not know how else to deal with the situation. If putting them in a place where Iorek could properly release his frustrations upon him and become resolved then it had been worth it.

He was surprised though that Iorek was suddenly no longer interested in becoming pack leader. Who would have thought with the landing of a few blows, Iorek would understand that he was no more fit to lead than he (Vermundr) was?

He stood up, pushing his jaw a bit to make sure it was still in place before speaking,

"Thank you Iorek, I have tried my best to lead this pack form the front, and I have tried my best to lead it well. Like I said, I did not choose to become pack leader it was a role bestowed upon me. I am sorry that I have made some decisions that have hurt you. I just want you to understand that I am trying my best here, and honestly it has been made even more difficult by our elders sending me mixed messages all the time on how a pack-leader is supposed to act. I know it may have seemed like it, but I never wanted you out of the pack brother."


----------



## Euphrati

Keris gave his brother a measuring gaze as the older Wolf presented him a forced smile. A shadow clung to the rugged features of the once brazen Firehawk. _How you have changed, my brother, how we have all changed._ The mechanical heartbeat of the Fist of Russ thrummed at the edge of Keris’ senses as he gathered and weighted his thoughts before speaking, his measured strides a rhythmic counterpoint to the ancient heart of the ship. Heroes and legends of the chapter had walked these very same halls, their deeds etched across the bones of history. _The wolf in his soul stirred in reverence to the sacrifices of those departed warriors._

Alrik’s dark eyes held a pain of uncertainty that Keris met with calm resolve,

‘Wisdom comes in many forms, Alrik. The greatest of which is the knowledge that there is much I have yet to learn. Not all rewards may be held in the hand or worn pinned to one’s armour, brother. Trust is as much of an honour as any accolade and that is what our Lord has placed in me with this charge.’

‘I do not presume to have knowledge of Lord Blackmane’s inner thoughts; I can only speak of my own endeavors to remain steadfast to the teachings of Russ and the AllFather, as well as the oaths I have sworn for our Claw. That this task would be placed before me was foretold by the Stormcaller himself when I sought out guidance for the events of the pass days.’

Scents rode the air around the striding Wolves, Tyr had pushed ahead as Keris’ attention was focused upon his wayward brother. The hot bite of anger brought his head around in a snap as they stepped through the entryway to a common eating area only to be confronted by the sight of their packmates facing off against another Claw. Threat hovered within the eyes of the other pack until they came to rest upon the Wolf Priest. Sigurd’s anger was akin to a driving blizzard upon unguarded skin and the wrath of the Wolf Priest bowed many a head in the room. 

Keris felt the wolf in his soul give a low growl of shame; the desire to face the Claw that dared challenge its packmates was a keen hunger in the back of his mind. _The task to regain the respect of the company for the dishonor of his brothers would be a long trial indeed._ Keris locked gazes with Alrik as he turned to follow in Sigurd’s wake once more, conviction written in every fiber of his whipcord fast body,

‘We are all borne with a purpose, Alrik; it is up to us to find it. I ask you now, my brother, what is yours?’


----------



## dark angel

Alrik grinned when he entered the feasting hall. The cavernous anterior stretched off in all directions, Alrik however was more focused upon the Blood Claws brawling with a pair of his Brothers. He felt his pectoral muscles flinch beneath his chest and the biceps brachii in his arms grow tight and bulge against the narrow, flimsy clothe which was wound around his body. One Wolf, a fiery redhead locked eyes with Alrik. The Firehawk curled his lips in distaste and winked, causing the other one to step back and look ashamed. Did Alrik command a veil of shame that none would dare touch? He looked around, the scars which ran along his face glowing in the ethereal light of the ship. 

Sigurd growled a warning and they were moving again, as soon as they had stopped they were once again advancing through the labyrinth of tightly wound hallways. Keris was speaking towards him, questioning him in one yet many ways. Alrik could not resist but to think that Keris had an ulterior motive. Did the Silver-Eyed Brother want control of the Pack for himself? Did he desire the ruling of the Pack for himself? No, Keris was not some conniving, greedy prig. He was virtuous, the lover of all within the Pack. He was the shield against the blade, the break wall against the tide.

‘I feel that there is no longer a purpose for me, Keris. I have lost my way in this battle, I am simply the brute. The murderer, the happy slaughterer who is to be utilized by the Pack. Nothing more, nothing less. If you speak words of truth, perhaps I do have a purpose. Perhaps it is simply obscured from me, lost to my cur-minded nature.’


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis felt Kuzin's grip as he was hauled to the wall as the other Claws kicked and shoved at them. Sydornis growled as he saw a punch catch Kuzin across the eye, he let go of the younger Claw and attempted to keep them at bay. Sydornis rose up and lashed out, knocking another Claw out of the way, only to take a blow in the gut. He could feel his legs give way as he fell but was able to repay the blow with a punch to the throat of the Claw that hit him. As the Blood Claw lay on the floor he was about to rise up fast and counter-attack when he heard a familiar voice. It was Brother Tyr, and Brothers Keris and Alrik were with him.. and Sigurd the Wolf Priest. Sydornis felt awe at seeing a Wolf Priest again, be it the legendary Ulrik that saved his life and brought him to the Space Wolves, or Sigurd the resident Wolf Priest whose stern voice spoke out.

Sigurd had made it clear the fight was over, Sydornis was fine with that. He had no interest in prolonging this, just ending it. The other Claws had left in shame at their actions, at least Sydornis hoped they were ashamed, and the other Pack members were here now. Sydornis rose up on his own and stretched his arms, making sure they were ok. *'I thank you for your intervention brothers. This fight was going nowhere good, if it had gone on longer I fear weapons may have been used,'* he said, he didn't care for scraps amongst brothers but weapons being drawn could have become a risk, and Sydornis would not partake in that, that was left for the battlefield, not the strongholds of the Sons of Russ. Sydornis looked at each of his packmates but noticed some missing, he turned to Tyr and voiced his concern, *'Where are brothers Iorek and Vermundr?.'*


----------



## Euphrati

A twitch of muscle along Keris’ jaw-line was the only warning before his open palm impacted precisely with the back of Alrik’s skull,

‘*I have had enough of this sulking behavior!* _*Alrik Firehawk*_ you are a son of Russ and, by the darkest storms of the Helwinter, you will start acting like one or I shall see to it that you are served naught but milk upon the next great feast!’

Keris let out an exasperated sigh that emerged more than half as a deep-throated growl and flexed his hand slightly, his tone softening to one of brotherly vexation,

‘I can see why our honoured teacher favoured a more direct approach to your instruction; your skull is as thick as the flanks of the Fang itself! You would not be here now if the priests had not seen some glimmer of greatness within you Alrik, for you can be sure that it was not your natural charisma and _stunning _looks that won them over,’

A fleeting lupine smirk tugged at the corner of Keris’ mouth for an instant before the calm focus returned to his gaze,

‘The might of a pack is greater than any one member, yet without the strength of the individual there is no pack. Your fate is in the hands of the packleader, brother, but how your meet his judgment is up to *you*. For everything that you are _not _brother, your heart is that of a fenrisian and no truer warriors are borne in the Imperium than those under the Eye of Russ. Now Firehawk, start acting like you actually belong in this Great Company for we have a pack to re-forge and the blood of traitors yet to spill in the name of vengeance for the fallen.’

As Alrik chewed over his words, Keris cast a glance over his shoulder to where Sydornis spoke to Tyr and shook his head,

‘Impetuous as Blood Claw Cojun may be, even he is not fool enough to draw steel upon a brother Wolf within the halls of the Fist. The other Claws know we are wounded in soul, yet covet the attention of Lord Blackmane that we have received. Until we stand together, there will always be a shadow over us in their eyes. As for our _packleader_, he casts judgment over Iorek’s fate as we speak. For good or ill, we shall soon know his choice.’


----------



## dark angel

Alrik slipped his tongue along the serrated edges of his incisors, feeling a cutting pressure slowly push against the pink, drool dripping clump of meat. he could feel the cold decking stinging his bare feet and each step which he took sent a jolt of ache along his legs. He ignored these as best he could until it became nothing more than a jarring annoyance. To keep it away from him he sped up considerably, with Keris keeping in pace with him. Of course his Brother neither asked nor expected a reason as to why the Firehawk’s pace had quickened, and simply continued to walk alongside him.

When the blow struck, Alrik felt a calamitous rage bubble within every artery and vein. His lips curled, strands of interloping, sickly spittle dangling from his teeth. A roar accompanied him as he pivoted on the ball of his foot, his right hand curled into a fist towards his side. His muscles bunched tightly, showing from beneath his shambled robes. He met the eyes of Keris and shied away, his fist collapsing into a open palm and falling down to his hip. His eyes were saucers of rage, shining in the dim light of the hallway. 

His Brother….Had struck him. Sure, it was neither a powerful nor a damaging hit but the fact that he had laid an hand upon him caused every fibre in Alrik’s form to tingle with tremendous anger. Alrik took his inimicality out upon the nearest thing. The panel which he struck sideward’s, both of his hands balled creaked when his blow hit home. A series of interlocking abrasions formed along the lengths of both of his hands, small droplets of crimson oozing from between the split skin. His enhanced body pumped cells into the wounds. They sealed over, yet Alrik still felt jabs of pain throughout his form.

Now, and only now did Alrik remember the planet. Did he remember the Palace, where he had laid hand upon Keris. Had his Brother felt such longing to harm? He had once sworn to protect his younger Brother, to deliver him from death. Now Alrik was near handing it to him, his stifling madness causing animosity between the Pack and the Firehawk. He felt afar, isolated. Keris had reached out to him, to try and quell such thoughts, and Alrik had bit back. Was it truly his fault that he was in such a predicament, that he was feeling invisible amongst the Wolves.

‘Please! I would rather have a thick skull than a thick tongue Brother!’ Alrik growled this, however he added a quick smile at the end, to show he was not entirely adamant on rage.

‘Do I really belong to this Company? Was I not removed upon the planet until my judgment has passed? When I am allowed to be a member of our glorious Company, then and _only _then will I act as though I am one. Our Pack was never truly shattered though, it was the foolishness of Iorek and Vermundr which caused this entire thing. Oh, and I do promise I will shed their blood Brother, but will _you_?’


----------



## darkreever

Iorek and Vermundr; You see movement along with edge of your vision, turning to give it your full attention you see the Wolf Lord at his feet with the faintest of smiles on his lips. _"This fight is over, Iorek has conceded, withdrawn his desire for the right to lead. Vermundr, leadership of the pack is yours, but the troubles of your pack are not yet over. You must still deal with another of your pack, Alrik; he made it his decision to stand against your word on the field of battle, and it falls to you to choose what is to become of him."_

Allowing his words to linger, the wolf lord began to leave the chamber, the wolf guard following him except for Baldyr and Njal, who each remained for one reason or another. Before leaving completely, lord Blackmane stopped and turned his head. _"If you would care for some advice, your packmate did what he did for noble reasons however misguided and foolish they may have been. He wanted what was best, though that is a matter for you to deal with; whatever you choose be lenient."_ With that Blackmane leaves, look to both Njal and Baldyr, neither give any hint to their own thoughts of what should be done.


Iorek; As the wolf lord leaves, Njal beckons you to him; he had been eying you before the fight so perhaps there is something he wishes to impart on you. 

[When Njal projected his words into your mind, he got a good feel of the darkness within you. What he has to say is in regards to that, probing you to get a feel for how much the darker wolf within has over you. I leave the conversation with Njal to you, though if you would like prompting as to what the storm caller might say, feel free to PM me.]


Vermundr; While Iorek's attention is grabbed by the rune priest Njal, you look to Baldyr. He is watching Iorek intently, but is keeping his distance from the pair as whatever is to be said between them is not for him to hear.

[Is there anything you might wish to speak with him about? You still must decide the fate of Alrik, perhaps that? Or maybe even thoughts of what went on here? Like Iorek, I am leaving the conversation itself up to you, though if you would like any prompting of what the cold wolf guard might have to say feel free to PM me.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

[i want to apologize for not posting sooner, i had computer problems]

Tyr had secretly been relieved that Sigurd had broken up the fight before it had really even started, he did not relish having to fight brothers again even if they did deserve a good thrashing, especially when he only had one hand to use. As they gathered Sydornis and Kuzin and began making their way to where Vermundr would decide the fate of Alrik and was already deciding what would happen with Iorek, Tyr silently listened to Alrik and Keris's conversation.

When Sydornis asked where Iorek and Vermundr were he said, *"Vermudr is deciding what to do with Iorek. This is my guess."* Keris soon answered too and solidified Tyr's thoughts. At the moment he was thinking about the traitors, the Alpha Legionaires, their fallen bretheren who were so adept at secrecy and subterfuge and how they had managed to tear this pack apart without even really trying. First the death of Kjarl, their pack leader, they had known that in the interim one of the Blood Claws would be chosen, someone not as adept at leading young and headstrong warriors of Russ.

From there it was simple, he was certain that the Alphas had seen the connection between Njoror and Iorek, to underestimate thier enemies would be the worst thing he could do and he was certain that they had made note of the connection. Seeing Njoror's ability at close combat they would draw him out and pick him off, which they did, from there it was a toss up whether or not the rest of the pack told Iorek. Which, grudgingly, Tyr realized none of them would have done in the heat of combat, hence leading them all to this situation, all it took was one seed to be planted, and he knew that the Legion was the best at that.

As Alrik finished his statement Tyr spoke up, *"We will all shed their blood brother, but we must not underestimate them again, even if we did not do it intentionally this time we have and that is why we are here where we are now and our pack is in this situation. We must steel ourselves and become tighter and stronger then we ever were if we are to hope to vanquish our fallen brothers."*


----------



## darkreever

Keris, Alrik, Tyr, and Sydornis; Falling in step behind Sigurd, you look back to see Tyr trying to grab some scraps, only to have Keris stop him ala Kjarl style. What is waiting for you all elsewhere is a tad more important than that.

Keeping up with Sigurd, you pass through what feels like the core of the ship, half lit corridors of stone and metal plating eventually giving way to a dueling pit. Before you can enter though, you are treated to a sight of sight as the wolf lord and his wolf guard file out in full armour. Sigurd motions for you to continue onward while he stops, the wolf lord doing the same with the company elite. Tyr and Sydornis hang back slightly, able to make out some of what is said between the lord of the company and the priest while Keris made sure to direct Alrik onward, not wanting to anger the wolf priest for disobeying him. _"The outcome was as you predicted lord, I assume you were also correct about what transpired here as well. Why do you waste time like this, you know how it will turn out."_ Sigurd said to lord Blackmane as the two moved in close to each other. _"Yes I do old friend, but this is something that they must do; it will lead to strength."_ _"But lord, we are needed; strength returning or not you should have made the judgments and be done with it."_ _"Careful Sigurd, I still lead this company and I know what I am doing. We will make our move soon, the other packs are readying as we speak."_ The wolf lord said before he noticed the lingering forms of Tyr and Sydornis. _"I take it you will be able to give them the news they do not want to hear priest?"_ _"Yes my lord."_ Sigurd responded, bowing his head while lord Blackmane motioned for you both to move before Sigurd joined you in the dueling pit.

In the pit itself are the armoured forms of Baldyr and the rune priest Njal, each speaking with another Space Wolf: Iorek with Njal and Vermundr with Baldyr. _"Keris, Sydornis, Tyr, remain here; you are witnesses to what is to come. Alrik with me."_ Sigurd says before making his way over to the four in the pit.

[That was the wolf lord and his entire wolf guard, what has gone on here? Better yet, what of Iorek? Might be a good idea to clue Keris in on what was heard, who might the wolf lord have been talking about at the end and what might he mean?]

Alrik; Not much you can do, follow the priest to what is likely your fate. Despite this you are rather awestruck at what you had just seen; whatever had happened here before, Iorek and Vemrundr had been in the wolf lord's presence along with the entirety of his wolf guard.

[Mini-update for you, have a lot of these lately don't I? However between the feasting hall and here, I'm sure you can come up with something.]


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek merely nodded, waves of exhaustion, fatigue, the need to rest to recover, to reheal filled him, his leg ached from Vermundr's strike, his knuckle bruised he swayed, as his eyes flittered to a shape in the shadows.

A flash of fanged teeth betrayed a hint of the wolf lord's grin as he shifted, moving to stand and he pronounced in his deep booming voice

"This fight is over, Iorek has conceded," 

The wolf snarled at the concession yet Iorek felt the wolf lords solemn approval and nodded his head in deference fighting away the desire to lash out that rose within his stomach. It had been the right thing to do

".... withdrawn his desire for the right to lead. Vermundr, leadership of the pack is yours, but the troubles of your pack are not yet over. You must still deal with another of your pack, Alrik; he made it his decision to stand against your word on the field of battle, and it falls to you to choose what is to become of him."

Iorek watched his Lord through tired eyes, watched the whole of the wolf guard stride away, hardly glancing back at him. Had he made an impression or would he slip from the mind of these legends with ease. He did not know but the possiblilities excited and terrified him, to find favour a blessing to find fault a curse. 

His attention was caught by a beckoning finger and he realised two amongst the legends had remained, Baldyr stood staring at his form, the elder wolf guard's eyes narrowed, the icy peaks hardened yet still unreadable, the smell of relentless anger still wafting from him.

The iron gauntleted finger belonged to the rune priest, the famed Njarl Stormcaller and Iorek felt heat rise to his face to talk to such a legend. The stories of his name, of the foe he had vanquished to earn his title rippled round the youngsters of the fang and they echoed in his mind now.


A man of mystery his ice blue armour coated with runes that caught Iorek's eye, spirals and shapes that he wished to trace. He found his eyes locked, unable to break from the mass of firey sigilss upon the staff in the elder's hand, and he felt himself reaching out as he moved forward to join this God amongst astartes.

He stopped himself, forced his hand to fall limp at his side, to touch the rune priest would not be a good idea.

He forced his eyes away from them, and they feel upon the great wolf pelt that ran, a furry river up his back, to a pair of huge yellow eyes framing a cascading mass of fiery hair. The second pair of eyes were far more terrifying.

Within them rolled the massing storms of fenris and the winds seemed to whip around in there iron grey depths. They chilled him to the bone cut his naked flesh and seered him with there energy. Such powerful eyes, the very heart of fenris seemed to linger in those chilling eyes.

He broke the gaze his red eyes fixing upon the legends mouth and he spoke tremulously, humbled by the presence of a legend, entranced by the possibility of this conversation. Had this warriors seen something within him... the wolf growled and iorek's heart clenched, what had he seen.

He still remembered his hatred of the tendrils within his mind and he barely suppressed a quiver, he did not want to feel the icy presence within him once more.

The wolf snapped, jaws clacking together with a sound like snapping bone

"You summoned me, Honoured steer"

The wolf lords lips moved and a vice like the rolling storms echoed within his mind, powerful yet calming, a voice of such age, the honour made him quiver again.

"Your aura is clouded young one, you are not all as you seem"

Iorek opened his mouth yet the elder raised his hand and he halted but now the red eyes were fixed upon the blue, he couldn't pull away, his soul was naked in the vortex of those eyes.

"I see you as your are now, yet a wolf gnaws at your bones, will two become one?"

"You mean the wolf inside me, Is it more, is it taking over me"

"I think you know"

"Is it winning? I thought i had vanquished it, had the measure of it"

"There is always a quiet before the storm"

"So it will take over me?"

"You are still Iorek?"

"Of course,"

"Are you though, are you the same Iorek you used to be, would Iorek have fought and raged at his brother"

"But..."

"There are times to speak and explain, now is not one of them, open your ears, young wolf"

"Scatters of the future flit before my eyes, a white wolf lies chained, others stand around him but they do not help. A man covered in blood his features monstrous and distorted stands above a pile of corpses clad in purple and green, they are mangled beyond recognition. Others stand around him faces cast in shadow,they bear the slightest traits of beasts. These portents i read in your path blood claw..."

Iorek was staring now his mouth hanging slightly as he listened to these divinations, these possibilites.

The second image spoke to him, a monster amongst the corpses,green and purple the colours of the alpha legion, indeed revenge would come. Yet the price, his soul for vengeance. He had no doubts that monster was him ,the monster the object of his surrender to the wolf within his soul.

The white wolf tasked him more, did the white stand for purity or the whiteness of his own skin. Was it Njoror, nay he was dead, feasting in the halls of Russ with his brothers, bathed in honour. Yet Njoror had been the white wolf that saved him from the darkness, what could it mean...

Was it more literal Iorek's own skin a translucent ghostly white could give him such a title, was this the wolf that would be chained, chained by what, by whom. Indeed the strand of time made his mind writhe

Yet Njal was not finished and the wolf continued his voice becoming hushed as he looked into Iorek's eyes

"Red may indeed become yellow if the burning orange flames of a bestial rage are added."

Iorek shut his mouth his face scrunching in concentration as he stared deep into the storm eyes.

"Are they things that will be or can i change them?"

"Think carefully boy, think of the future. I crush an ant upon the floor of the fang, and i change the future forever."

"Do you have any advice for me"

"The realm of the stormborne is the future and the past, the realm of the present is anothers calling."

His gaze became stealy and Iorek felt as if the rune priest was staring directly at him, or was it past him, he spun around, to find Sigurd walking straight towards him Alrik at his side.

Had the Stormcaller been talking of the wolf priest.

He was indeed the expert on these matters and had Iorek gone for his advice in the first perhaps this could indeed have been avoided.

His eyes met the stormcallers whose brows were furrowed and he bowed his head, his mind still working frantically

"Thank you Rune Priest"

"Beware Blood Claw Iorek, if you stare too intently at the path ahead you may miss the pit under your very feet"


----------



## unxpekted22

The fight was short, as Vermundr had intended...though he had not intended on taking such a blow. He really wasn't sure why the entire wolf guard had been present for this event, a couple of blood claws wrestling for pack leader. Packs were a big deal for the Space Wolves though, and the entire company was one giant pack. If one of its pieces was messing it up for the rest it would all fall apart just as Iorek had stated for the good of their own group.

Two remained in the room, Njal and Baldyr. Apparently Njal was calling Iorek over to him, for he left the ring and went to the stormcaller without a word. Naturally, Vermundr made his own way out fo the ring and walked slowly over to Baldyr, still a much taller astartes than himself. Vermudnr thought back on Baldyr's dissenting expression when he had announced he accepted the challenge and dual, and pushed down the pocket of air in his gut in order to let the words out, 
_
"I noticed your dissatisfaction in my decision once again Baldyr, and I dont understand why. How should I have handled such a situation?"_

The Ice slayer responded with his normal frostbitten tone, _"You heard what was said but you did not think, you took what was given to you and let it be. There is always another option, the wolf lord wanted to see if you would find it. You did not have to accept the fight, Iorek was no longer of your pack, he no longer had a right to challenge you. By accepting or by stepping down, you acknowledge taking him back.

You accepted without thinking, you must do more than act without thought."_

Vermundr went back to his recognition of leading by instinct alone. He would not be able to rely on that in every situation. In situations where there was no time to think, it is what one should do, but not so while there is time to think and look at all the possibilities. 

Vermundr then noticed the rest of the pack coming into the chamber, escorted by the rune priest and caught sight of Alrik right away. _"I will follow Lord Blackmane's advice about handling Alrik as best I can, though I would like to hear your opinion on that as well."_

_"He opposed you, he wanted what was best for the pack. Such a thing is not for him, make sure that Alrik knows that much."_ was Baldyr's curt response.

The rune prist seperated from the group with only Alrik at his side, approaching them further. Vermundr took a deep breath, and nearly whispered, still looking at Alrik, "_Has your opinion of me changed brother? Am I still as worthless of a blood claw and packleader as you said before?"_

The strong breaths came again, "_What is there to you? You are still young and untested. The wolf lord see's something in you and that is enough. Your young, headstrong, and want to do whats right to prove yourself; it will pass."_ 

Vermundr turned slightly but did not look up, Baldyr's chest armor at his eye level, "_Thank you for all of your help Baldyr...If it had just been me out there, there likely wouldn't even be a pack leader position for us to be fighting over. I know you were following orders, i know it customary, and I know I should not have such negative thoughts but thank you anyway._

and when he looked forward again, Sigurd and Alrik were amongst them.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

After Tyr had spoken his piece to Alrik something of the most tantalizing and enticing nature slid past him going on its own way out of the dining hall. His nostrils opened wide to take it in and his chest expanded to its full extent as he measured its greatness with his nose. He closed his eyes as he smelled, his mind focusing only on what called to him, its beautiful unheard siren song so wondrous that it could not be ignored. Of everyone in the pack Tyr was the biggest, this they all knew, he was destined to be a great warrior, his single minded ferocity in combat would make him a very deadly wolf in the many years to come and if he was lucky enough to survive the inevitable attention that the enemy would give him then he would hopefully achieve a position of some importance within Lord Blackmane's company. 

When fighting he was like a mighty avalanche, only the strongest opponents would be able to slow him down, but of all the Imperium's enemies Tyr's one weakness came from within, not from within the Imperium but within himself. Tyr's appetite for food was already well known throughout the packs of Blood Claws despite the short period he had been a Space Wolf, he was always hungry no matter where he was but usually he was able to keep a grip on it.....usually. Unfortunately for him, and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way, once he smelled mead and meat his nose would take him on his merry way until he found it and devoured all that he could within arm's reach, and then some.

This is what his mighty sense of smell detected as they were all about to follow Sigurd out of the dining hall. As he stood and sniffed silently his defences fell one by one until his stomach's need to fill itself took him over, and so with his eyes still closed he strode over to one of the long tables where some scraps of meat and a half full cup of mead still sat untouched. He opened his eyes as he reached the edge of the table and he took in the glory that lay in front of him, he had yet to eat a full meal since they had returned, instead he had chosen to punish himself for his actions until his position in the pack could be figured out. 

But now, now he could eat to his heart's content, all thoughts were banished as he took a huge leg and brought it up to his mouth only to have it smacked out of it right before it touched his lips. He let out a low menacing growl and turned to see Keris, his brother spoke to him and motioned for him to follow, he was right his pack brothers' fates were more important then the succulent meat and mead in front of him. He mumbled something that sounded like an agreement and then nodded at Keris who turned, but before Tyr followed he downed the mead in one gulp and quickly stuffed his mouth with some meat before chasing after Keris.

His brother turned to look at him just as he swallowed and Tyr smiled and shrugged silently. They quietly made their way to where Alrik's fate would be decided and eventually made it to a duelling pit, but before they entered Lord Blackmane and his entire Wolf Guard strode out, the Wolf Lord stopping and speaking with Sigurd. Keris and Alrik continued on but Tyr hung back a bit with Sydornis and listened, it would seem that his Lord had already known what conclusion he and Keris would come to and what would happen with Iorek and Vermundr. Tyr smiled as he silently agreed with Lord Blackmane that it would bring them all strength, but stopped as his eyes met those of his lord who had apparently just noticed him and Sydornis. 

What information was the pack going to recieve that they would all not like? A new member perhaps? A new pack leader? Tyr's gut tightened and he looked at his missing hand, maybe they were not going to be allowed to fight with the rest of the company? He hoped above all things that this was not it, he knew that thier pack needed some more time to come together but the heat of battle would be the perfect place for ties to be renewed and strengthened. The Wolf Lord motioned for him and Sydornis to move before Sigurd noticed them standing there and Tyr obeyed, he did not relish a thrashing from the wolf priest, even if it was just going to be with words.

He, Keris and Sydornis were told to stop and watch, they were to be witnesses to what was to happen, and as Alrik entered the pit he met his brother's eyes and nodded at him hoping that his brother knew he had his silent support. Alrik was headstrong, very much so actually, but what he did he did for the pack whether it was the right thing to say or not, his brother was no traitor by any means and Tyr hoped that he would be accepted back into the pack so that they could remedy this problem and get back into the fight. 

As they stood there Tyr leaned his head to the side towards Keris and whispered, *"Lord Blackmane knew what the outcome would be between you and I brother, and apparently the one between Iorek and Vermundr........he mentioned to Sigurd that we would recieve information that we would not like......I hope we will still be able to enter combat with the rest of the company...."* The worry in Tyr's tone was genuine, he was made for battle plain and simple and he loved it, even though he knew that if his pack stayed behind so that their ties could be strengthened he would still be hurt by the fact that they were missing out on a good fight and the chance to aid their brothers and kill traitors.


----------



## dark angel

_What was to become of him?_ 

Alrik felt the muscles of his back bunch tightly as he entered the dueling pit, scanning the half-darkness for familiar figures. The passing by of Blackmane and his entourage, each legends in their own rights, had made Alrik feel like a whelp amongst his betters. That was not the thing which had made him stiffen although, they had simply been foreboding sight. Had something truly gone down, where such warriors were needed to quell it. Alrik certainly hoped not as he crossed his arms over his wide chest, locking his fingers together momentarily before allowing them to collapse back down at his side.

The thing which had made him tense was what stood with the white-fleshed Iorek. Njal, perhaps the greatest of Psykers within the Chapter. His eyes narrowed at the sight of this and Alrik was quick to banish any ill thoughts, knowing that Njal could possibly hear them as clear as though said with the tongue. Sigurd spoke and they moved off, Alrik shared a quick glance over his shoulder to the others, Tyr nodded towards him but Alrik gave no reply. Vermundr was standing with Baldyr and Alrik wondered why Baldyr was so important and not another Wolf had remained, perhaps it was because of his presence upon the world?

He caught the ending of a whisper in his strong ears, spoken by Vermundr. It all but escaped him however as Alrik dwelt upon Njal, transfixed by the sheer aura of the Rune Priest. He followed each step of Sigurd carefully, not wanting to falter in the company of such great figures. He did not feel any particular emotion when he saw Vermundr. Rather, it came as a collaboration of rage, companionship and simple wonder. What exactly had gone on here? 

‘What will you have of me then?’ Whispered Alrik through gritted teeth as he drew nearer, his hearts pumping with anticipation. For the first time that Alrik Firehawk could remember, he was actually wracked with nervousness.


----------



## Lord of the Night

As the young Sons of Russ followed the Wolf Priest Sigurd through the corridors of the _Fist of Russ_ Sydornis could not help wondering where they were bound for, he knew they were in the core of the vessel or had passed through it by now. Eventually the pack were greeted by a duelling arena, a mix of metal and stone all around them. Sydornis looked up and his eyes widened, Ragnar Blackmane was there ahead of them with his Wolf Guard, the elite of the Great Company. Sigurd motioned for them to go ahead, Lord Blackmane echoing the motion, Sydornis obeyed but lingered a moment so that he could hear what he could of this conversation, a smirk crossed his face as he saw he was not the only one who had this thought, Tyr had done the same.

The Wolf Lord and Wolf Priest talked but Sydornis was confounded by their meaning. They talked of an outcome and that the other packs were readying for something, but did not specify on either. Sydornis turned away for a second to ponder it and was surprised when he noticed Lord Blackmane had noticed them, the Blood Claw expected a harsh order but merely motioned them on towards the duelling pit. Sydornis obeyed as did Tyr, neither wanted to be there for another verbal lashing by the Wolf Priest, let alone the Wolf Lord himself.

Both Space Marines joined in the arena, the armoured forms of Baldyr and the legendary Rune Priest Njal Stormcaller were both there conversing with brothers Vermundr and Iorek respectively. Sigurd told them to remain, they would bear witness to what would happen. Sydornis wondered what was happening here, why was the witch-kin present?, and what were they to witness that required. And what was to come that would bring strength?, whatever it was Lord Blackmane had confidence in it.. and that either meant good things or very dangerous things to come. Sydornis chuckled as he realized he cared not which one came, both were equally good in the young Blood Claw's eyes.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris stalked on in silence for a time after Tyr voiced a response to Alrik’s inquire; keeping his eyes upon the broad back of Sigurd as the Wolf Priest led them deeper into the heart of the ship and letting out a faint sigh as he caught the earthy notes of ale Tyr had flinched even after Keris had admonished his wolfbrother about higher priorities than his empty stomach. The burly Wolf was known for his ferocious appetite, as well as his lack of self-discipline when it came to matters of food and drink. Keris’ voice was low and cold when he finally responded to Alrik’s question,

‘_*They are not our brothers*_,’

Keris practically spat the words out as if the mere thought of classifying the chaos-tainted astartes they had encountered as kindred was the most vile thing that had ever crossed his lips, his hackles rising with the burning hate that coursed through his veins,

‘And I would caution you against ever referring to them as such, fallen or otherwise, in my presence again. They ceased to be brothers the moment that they chose the path of darkness. They are traitors, without honour or purity; serpents that hide in the shadows of the humans they have twisted and poisoned with their forked tongues. Vengeance _will _be slated with their lifeblood; I have made a warrior’s oath on the matter and that is all that needs to be said.’

Keris made the rest of the journey in smoldering silence; his mood darkened by the memories that had been called forth by his brother’s impulsive question. The corridors they trod were clad in dressed stone and steel, the colours muted and befitting his soured state of mind. Within a few minutes, the entrance of a seldom-used dueling arena loomed ahead of the small procession and Keris felt his choler recede at the sight of the mighty warriors being led from within by the Wolf Lord himself. The presence of such champions of the company served to stress the severity of the circumstances surrounding the young Claw and Keris tested the air currents in humble reverence, concern for the events that had unfolded upon the sands of the arena worrying at his thoughts like a wolf upon a shard of bone.

The scents of the Wolf Guard were heavy, laden with potency and wisdom won through the blood of a hundred battlefields. Yet, under the comforting scents of lapping powder and bone totems, was the warm scent of approval. Whatever had played out between Vermundr and Iorek had been met with the satisfaction of these warriors, the chosen personal guard to Blackmane, and Keris felt muscles in his neck and back relax that he had not even realized were tight with apprehension. 

The Wolf Priest motioned for them to continue into the arena when Blackmane stepped forward to speak, the Wolf Lord making a similar gesture to his guard to maintain their pace. Keris gave a solemn nod of respect before ensuring that Alrik continued on with a stern glance in his brother’s direction. Tyr and Sydornis lingered behind, curiosity undoubtedly clouding their prudent judgment where eves dropping upon the Wolf Lord was concerned. Keris snorted to himself; _Blackmane was known for his astute senses, if there was anything that he wished for two wayward Blood Claws not to overhear he would ensure that they did not._

Past the arched doorway, the dueling arena opened up to a sunken pit ringed by tiered benches. The floor was sanded to provide better traction when blood was spilled and showed scuff marks from the recent clash across its surface. The bones of the ship soared overhead, swathed in shadows that attributed to the feeling of somber honour to this place. This was not an arena of casual contests, but one where grave judgments would be met. Four figures stood upon the floor and Keris found himself surprisingly comforted by the presence of the two elder Wolves that were speaking quietly, but firmly, to his packmates. 

Strength and contained intensity radiated off of Baldyr as he conversed with Vermundr, yet there was a wariness to the Wolf Guard’s stance that had nothing to do with the young Blood Claw packleader. Keris did not miss the fact the Iceslayer, though his gruff attention seemed focused upon Vermundr, had positioned himself to keep account of the two other figures nearby where the StormCaller leveled his wintry gaze upon the pale-skinned Iorek.

Keris halted as the heavy tread of Sigurd approached from the entrance, his words with the Wolf Lord concluded, and nodded his acknowledgement of the Wolf Priest’s instructions to bear witness. Tyr and Sydornis followed in the wake of the priest, trailed by the silent form of Kuzin. Keris adopted a relaxed posture, his arms crossed loosely over his muscled chest and ice-blue eyes unwavering from the events before him even when Tyr spoke in low tones of what he had overheard in the hall between their Lord and the Priest. Keris turned his brother’s words over in his mind, weighing their implications for a long moment before replying in low tones, his attention remaining fixed forwards upon the judgment of Alrik. Keris’ voice, though soft, as firm and unwavering, 

‘Even Lord Blackmane’s wisdom is not infallible, brother, though he comprehends the hearts of his warriors with a shrewd clarity and has confidence that we will choose the path of righteousness under his guidance, to say that he _unequivocally knew _the outcomes before they fell is unwise. For even the Stormborne take caution in their foretelling of the runes when perceiving what is to be,’

Keris shifted his weight slightly; his tone carrying the weight of devotion to his beliefs,

‘I do not relish the prospect of further ill news, though our pack seems to attract it like kraken to a storm-battered dragonboat. The last report I am aware of indicated the routing of the remaining riots by the local defense forces, though it is conceivable that the Inquisitor’s men have extracted something of worth from the mind of the traitorous guilder. I have had an ill feeling that these events were but the calm before the storm that will engulf this world in flame; _that _is why it is crucial that we stand as one, unbowed and with the fury of Russ and the Allfather in our hearts, against the taint of darkness.’


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; Speaking with Baldyr, you fail to notice the coming of the rest of the pack, but a shifting of the wolf guard's eyes alerts you to the approach of others, the wolf priest *Sigurd* and Alrik. Without another word Baldyr leaves you, and the arena for that matter; likely to meet up with the rest of the wolf guard. Turning around, you see Njal and Iorek leaving the arena and joining up with the rest of the pack, it appears they are to be present to this unlike before.

Alrik and Vermundr; As the others watch, the wolf priest wastes no time in getting the ball rolling. *"Blood claw Alrik, you have spoken out of turn, regardless of the intention for it. Your words lent strength to dissention and it has fallen to your pack leader to decide your fate. Pack leader, the choice is yours." Sigurd* finished, his eyes locking onto Vermundr's as he awaited his response.

[Should be pretty obvious; depending which one of you decides to post first, Alrik whats running through your mind? When the decision is made, how do you react?]


Iorek; You and Njal both turn at the approach of the wolf priest and Alrik, Njal putting a hand on your shoulder and indicating that you both should join with the others.

Iorek, Keris, Sydornis, and Tyr; You watch the departure of Baldyr, he does not even glance in your direction though the cold anger that always permeates from him pierces through the air like a cold wind from Fenris. *"Blood claw Alrik, you have spoken out of turn, regardless of the intention for it. Your words lent strength to dissension and it has fallen to your pack leader to decide your fate. Pack leader, the choice is yours."* You hear wolf priest *Sigurd* speak. Though it is the shaking of the rune priests head that truly steals your attention, you notice a smirk on his lips, as if he is finding what is going on to be funny.

[Not to much for you guys; Iorek you obviously don't know what went on with any of the others so you might want to be clued in, and they don't know what went on here. Any of you awed by the fact that your in the presence of Njal Stormcaller, maybe able to find the courage (or what have you) to ask him what he finds so funny?]


[Apologies on this one being a tad bit short; you know the last bit of things before a larger update.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Before having anymore time to think, the large form of Alrik was in front of him, and sigurd's eyes were locked with his own. If he had managed to keep Iorek in the pack then he felt Alrik would be easier to bring back, but he felt he shouldn't assume. 

Then again, Iorek had managed to bring _himself_ back into the mind-set of the pack, Vermundr hadn't really done anything. Maybe that was it though, a leader could force no one to follow him, there was always an option out even if it was suicide or violent treachery. His pack mates had to accept the pack for it what it was, a system, and they had to recognize and accept he was the final decision maker of the system for it to work. 

he supposed he should make his final decisions a little differently from now on though, seeing as how things had gone so far. He thought of his mistakes with Iorek and asked the firehawk, _"How do you feel about this? Do you wish to remain part of this pack?"_


----------



## dark angel

Alrik could not shake away the sickening veil of anticipation which had wrapped around him. He stood taller and broader than Vermundr, his scarred face twitching as he scanned every inch of his fellows form, looking for some sign of previous injury or weakness. He doubted the Pack Leader greatly, he could not see the potential that Blackmane obviously had. Instead he saw a sniveling runt, cowering behind a canvas of false integrity. Alrik was both older and more capable than his fellow, but he held some respect for Vermundr.

He did not hate his Brother. No, he had some form of hindering friendship with him. It had boomed initially, festering like an infection upon splintered skin. Now it was collapsing away, seeping through the clenched and strained Brotherhood that now clung to the Pack. His obsidian eyes twinkled in the light as he tilted his head, clashing against the dim light above. He rubbed his dried lips together, adding a shimmering layer of moisture to their parted surfaces. When Sigurd spoke, each word sounded akin to the smashing of glaciers or the thrumming of a ships engines. 

The Firehawk did not pay heed to these, knowing that they meant little to him. Those of Vermundr were the ones which mattered. Of course, when his fellow finally spoke, his tones wavering slightly, Alrik found himself disappointed. He did not speak with the voice of a commander, rather than declaring what would become of Alrik, he was bargaining with him. The Firehawk allowed his muscles to grow terse, his forearms twitched as the flesh stiffened and lifted. His chest puffed out considerably as he drew breath, his robes contorting.

When he spoke his voice was but a hushed whisper, although one razor edged and powerful. 

‘You _cannot _shirk away from this Vermundr. You have dragged me through the ship half-bloody-naked so that I could make the damned decision? Of course I want to return, I never said that I wished to leave! Your foolishness is what had landed me in this mess, the first thing I should have heard from you is an apology! You are hiding from your choices, giving them to others to decide. How I do wonder if you are a coward sometimes, _Brother_. Even I have my idiotic moments Pack Leader, but you…..You are something else entirely. I will return to the Pack, and I will be damned if I let you fail it again.’


----------



## deathbringer

Iorek felt the rune priests gentle fingers bite into his bare shoulders, guiding him back to his brethren. The irony bit deep, the rune priest guided everyone the gnarled hands another reminder that his words should not be taken lightly. 3 of his brothers stoodtogether and he tasted there scents, for the first time in days, his eyes sliding shut as he felt peace and tranquility roll over him, he was delighted to be amongst brothers once more.

He opened his eyes as a cool breeze of rage whipped past him as the wolf guard made for the doors and he was surprised to find the rune priest still amongst there number, standing almost casually in there midst his eyes fixed upon the Wolf Priest.

Iorek turned away, turning back to his brothers. His gaze slid over Sydornis something of a non entity amongst the claw yet still, every day he survived brought him closer to the brotherhood. His eyes passed over Tyr's massive form, his hand painfully absent, a hunger seemed to eminate from the wolf, perhaps physical or perhaps a hunger to prove himself once more, Iorek could not tell. A nagging worry underlined his scent, something nagged at his brothers mind.

Was he accepted back into the pack? He had heard nothing of Tyr's fate, Iorek hoped indeed Tyr had not paid too dearly for his own folly.

His eyes sliped on to the sage of keris and he tasted the simmering heat of dieing rage in his brothers scent, the smell eminating from him becoming calmer. The ice blue eyes met his own and he felt warmth in the gaze, the serene head tilting gently in acknowledgement before fixing back upon the trio in the middle with a new intensity.

He saw a smear of dried blood upon Keris's form and his own curiosity boiled, something had indeed happened, yet Keris was in no mood to engage in idle chatter and thus he turned back to Tyr, always more relaxed and the focus of his own worry. Clasping his brothers uninjured arm he gave a wan smile, the force of fatigue suddenly weighing upon him

"What has happened to you brother, I hope your place within the company is no longer in jeopardy? It would null my own joy to no longer fight alongside you once more."

His smile faded and he muttered almost to himself as he basked within the familiar scents

"It is good to be amongst the pack again"


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr felt so insulted by his brother's rash words. His brows furrowed deeply and his face contorted to a snarl. He could have cared less how much bigger Alrik was, he stepped closer to him,

"God dammit Alrik! Did I say I was letting you make the decision for me?!! No! I wanted to know how you felt about it before I made the decision, since every time I have made a decision without asking each and every one of you someone disagrees with me and hates me for it! Iorek and I just had to pummel each other in front of our Lord and his entire Guard for Russ's sake! And you're going to try and embarrass me further?! This is ridiculous! I need to _man_ up and act like a leader? Who do you think you are to tell me that? I've led this pack the best I bloody know how to, and though I've made some mistakes as any new leader would, I have not backed away from my responsibilities at all. And you're wrong, the moment you sided with Iorek in his dissent you declared to me that you did not want to be in MY pack. Keris, Tyr, Iorek, Sydnoris, and the others have all agreed to be in MY pack. Fighting you would prove nothing, and obviously trying to talk to you about it will do nothing. I have no problem with you re-joining the pack scratch free Alrik, but you better start showing some respect that a space wolf is taught throughout his entire training as an astartes! I am tired of these insults and sass! I have been chosen to be this pack's leader by the Lord of our entire great company and I will direct this pack as I see fit! If you show respect to me I will give it back to you! Now get back over there with the rest of us or leave this pack forever," he said pointing his finger toward the door.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik allowed Vermundr to stop, shaking his head. A seeping grin had spread across his face, allowing the alabaster sheen of his teeth to show from between the narrowly parted lips. He couldn’t help but to erupt into mirth, holding his hips with slowly tightening fingers. His eyes never left those of his Pack Leaders, staring intently into them. There was some primal urge to scream out and pummel his Brother, to rebel against the laws which Vermundr laid down. Yet what would be the point? 

‘Oh, you and Iorek finally got at it eh? Good lads, I take it you won. Who do I think I am? Well Vermundr where shall I start? I am Blood Claw Alrik Firehawk, Space Wolf and Son of Fenris. I am also a member of the Blackmane’s Great Company and can lay claim to the most handsome bastard out of us all, not even the Lord himself can dwarf me in such awe inspiring looks.’ He twisted his neck slightly and added a warmth devoid mirth to the end, clipping it quickly.

He allowed a quick breath between his clenched teeth before continuing ‘I am wrong? Maybe. Perhaps I did do the wrong thing in siding with Iorek, but was I about to allow you to harm our Brother? I was _not _Vermundr. You _were _wrong in laying hand upon him! This is not your Pack, Brother. This is none of ours, this Pack is Blackmane’s and his alone. He commands you, you are a mere pawn. Do not forget that I was a member of this Pack before you Vermundr, I will always know which is the better route for us. _Always_.'

With a flex of his shoulder blades he waved his arms in a circular motion, his pawed fists whipping the air loudly ‘Respect you say? Ha! How can I show you respect when I get none in turn? You claim you will give me it in return, yet I do not believe you. You would have given us more respect in the first place, you would never have ordered us around like Russ himself! Remember Vermundr, you invited me to speak when you asked me of my opinions, but you cannot handle my words? If you have anything else to say to me, I suggest you come and find me in your own time.’

With a flick of his heel, Alrik spun around and the open hatchway loomed suddenly. It was almost welcoming to him, a large portal in the wall of the ship that reached forth with shadowy tendrils. To the side stood the Pack and the mighty form of Njal Stormcaller, perhaps the greatest of Rune Priests. He felt almost bad by what he had said at the sight of such a giant, the hairs upon the back of his neck stiffening in their pores. He began to march towards the Pack, his movements jittery and almost robotic.

‘My heart weeps for you…’ Alrik said over his shoulder at Vermundr, sniffing the air as he did so ‘Oh, and Brother. Your scent, is pungent.’


----------



## Euphrati

As Sigurd entered the arena with a hesitant Alrik in tow, Keris gave a fleeting smile to Iorek as the Rune Priest led the pale-skinned Wolf to join them in baring witness. Wolf Guard Baldyr turned and stalked from Vermundr at the approach of Sigurd and his charge, storming from the arena in a glacial humor and without even a sidelong glance to the young Blood Claws. _Keris felt the wolf in his soul stir in wary respect and veiled shame_; though the Iceslayer was not known for being of a sociable nature, he was a prominent warrior and it saddened Keris to think that the ignominy of his packmates could cast a stain upon the second in command of the Wolf Guard.

From the periphery of his vision, Keris caught a faint shake of Njal’s head and the slightest twitch at the corner of the elder’s lips as the Wolf Priest’s cold voice announced Alrik’s transgression and placed his judgment before Vermundr. Keris gave a soft sigh as Vermundr turned to the Firehawk, 

‘All for the want of a nail…’

Keris shook his head, his icy gaze flicked to the Rune Priest before settling back upon his packleader,

‘I have been already honoured with your wisdom once, Stormcaller, may I be so bold to inquire upon your thoughts?’

The words had barely left his lips when Alrik’s response to their packleader caused Keris’ spine to stiffen and his arms to fall to his sides, fists clenched. *Had nothing he said to Alrik gotten through the Wolf’s reinforced skull?* _The wolf in his mind gave a low growl _and Keris forced down the urge to echo his inner beast through clenched teeth as Vermundr closed the distance between him and Alrik, rage clear upon his features. 

There was a momentary hush upon the arena and Keris could hear the beating of his own heart as he awaited the answer of the Firehawk.

---

*ooc*- It seems that even though I refreshed the page it did not catch the latest post before my reply! More will be forthcoming in reaction.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's face broke into a smile as Iorek approached them, it soon showed his teeth as his brother spoke to him, and although Iorek's scent was laden with exhaustion and the hesitancy of one who has just been shown the error of his ways, he could smell the relief to be allowed back into the pack. Tyr nodded at Iorek as he finished, *"Aye brother, I am also back in the pack. It would seem that Keris is a better speaker then he believes, he was able to stop me before I could give him a good thrashing."* he nudged Keris a bit before continuing, *"I will feel much safer now knowing that I have Iorek the eagle eyed watching my back as I charge into the midst of our enemies."*

He chuckled a bit before turning back as Vermundr spoke, he wants to know how Alrik feels, Tyr's train of thought was soon interrupted though. The stormcaller was....laughing? Could it have been at Sigurd? Or at the pups themselves? Who knew, but just as Tyr was about to inquire why the stormcaller thought this was funny he was almost knocked back by Alrik's words.

Was his brother an idiot? Was his pride truly so great that he could take off his blinders and see that what he did was wrong and simply admit it? He had to admit he had known that what he had done was wrong but it was still hard to admit it, but he had felt a lot better once he did and had saved both he and Keris from a possibly deadly bout. Vermundr spoke again and Alrik riposted with an even dumber statement and then turned to walk out. 

The whole room was silent but it was pierced by the sound of Tyr's only hand hitting his face as he shook it in disappointment, if his brother wanted to be alone so badly then so be it, he would chase him down and try and make him think otherwise.


----------



## unxpekted22

(ooc: sorry about having Vermundr assume Tyr was in fact back in the pack. Seeing him amongst the others and the wolf priest still, I guess was enough for him to figure as much.)

Vermundr was pretty sure the firehawk simply didnt listen to anything but his own thoughts. He had completely misjudged Vermundr yet again. Vermundr's head only hurt from confusion as to why his brothers thought he was some gut wrenching tyrant. Like Baldyr had said to him, the pack was not a democracy, he was the leader and dissent or argument was not to be taken lightly. He was glad Alrik turned away when he did because all he wanted to say was " You were in this pack before I was, but you still weren't the one chosen to lead this pack."

completely casting aside the nonsense about weeping for his detrimental soul or something along those lines, Vermundr called out to him saying only, "Neither of us won the duel Alrik, Iorek stood down and accepted me as the pack's leader. I am sure he has anything but great opinions of me, but he has cast his opinions of me aside and has done what is best for all of us. Since you wont take the time to focus on anything that _I_ say, perhaps you should speak with _him_."


----------



## Euphrati

Tyr’s gentle nudge was lost to the scalding rage that coursed through his veins as Keris stepped forward to bar Alrik’s path back to the group, his crest of midnight-black hair bristling with barely checked fury and teeth gleaming in a silent snarl. His muscles tensed as incandescent wrath and bitter disappointment warred for supremacy within his thoughts, _what madness had gripped his wolfbrother to speak thusly?_ Keris’ crystal-blue eyes were as cold as the heart of a glacier as he spoke; his voice a dangerous growl,

‘_*YOU*_ will show proper respect when speaking of our Lord, Alrik Firehawk! *Wolf Lord* Blackmane the Allslayer appointed Vermundr, and Vermundr alone, as leader of this Claw with me as his witness. The packleader’s word carries the weight of our Lord as if they were his own; to claim you know better merely by age is not only foolish, it is _blasphemy_.’

-


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis averted his eyes as Baldyr passed him by, the older marine's gaze was colder then the Fenris tundras. Sigurd spoke loudly of Alrik's words, misplaced and out of turn. Sydornis could not help noticing that the witch-kin was smirking, did he find their Pack's troubles amusing?!. Sydornis cursed under his breath at the Rune Priest's intent. He turned back and saw Vermundr offering Alrik his place in the Pack again, allowing himself a smirk he turned aside to look around when Alrik's reply turned his head.

Was his fellow Wolf mad in the head?, he had been offered his place back and he chose to further slight Vermundr. Muttering a curse Sydornis was about to speak out when Vermundr did it for him, verbally beating Alrik down and saying that each brother here, Tyr, Keris, Iorek and Sydornis were all brothers of the Pack and agreed to follow Vermundr. Sydornis nodded his agreement, Alrik was not only insulting Vermundr, he was insulting the entire pack with his words and actions.

The Blood Claw's hope that Firehawk would let it drop were dashed when he furthered the pointless argument, pulling seniority on Vermundr and that it was their pack, not just his. Sydornis felt annoyance for agreeing with Alrik on that, it wasn't just Vermundr's Pack. The Pack was theirs, Vermundr led but he did not own the Pack, only King Russ and the Allfather could claim that. As Alrik turned and started towards the Pack the lack of silence was perhaps the second deadliest thing in the room, broken only by Brother Tyr placing his hand upon his face in shame for Brother Firehawk. As Brother Keris stood forward to bar Alrik's path and spoke against him, backing Vermundr and admonishing the older Space Wolf. Sydornis stepped forward and voiced his own approval.

'Brother Keris is correct Firehawk. You shame yourself and the Pack by extension with this pointless display!. Age means nothing when compared to martial prowess and the warrior spirit, show respect for Brother Vermundr, he is our packleader and he shall be honoured as such.'


----------



## darkreever

All; Without warning, the wolf priest grabs Alrik by the throat, kicking out his legs and slamming him onto the ground. Hands grasping to pry the armoured fingers loose prove useless, and through the pain Alrik alone is able to see the true anger in Sigurd's eyes. _"The choice has been made, your pack leader has given it to you and you have elected to return. But listen to these words and listen well you mongrel child, listen all of you!"_ The priest allows his normally even growl to become more savage than many are used to, on top of making sure it has everyone's attention, the effect of knowing wrong has been done is clear in the air. _"Vermundr is your pack leader, he is not a leader by proxy who needs wonder how long until he is replaced. He leads this pack by the authority of wolf lord Ragnar Blackmane, and is free to lead this pack as he alone see's fit just as any other Space Wolf who commands a pack. To question his loyalty, to claim he is a fool or a coward, is to make such remarks on your lord to which I will flay your hide before you are brought before him to duel for your life, the All-Father and Russ be your witness as you are tossed to Morkai."_

With those words, Sigurd finally released Alrik, each finger leaving a dark bruise, and then turned to Vermundr himself. _"Pack leader, by order of the wolf lord you and your pack are to remain here aboard the Fist of Russ. The rest of the company is to make planet-fall within the hour to finish what has been started here."_ The priests words returning to their normal growl, before he nodded his head to Vermundr and left the pit, with only the pack and Njal remaining.


As you stand there, shocked by the priests words and more so by the news of not joining the company on another mission to the planet, the rune priest bangs his arm against the stone railing of the pit ring to gather your attention. _"There is more to why you are not going." _He says with a slight smile, winking to Keris as he makes due with the blood claws request._ "I bade the wolf lord to keep you here, there has been a pattern to these attacks or rather the responses to them. The enemy is a fog concealing a deadly serpent, a trap has been laid for all three companies in this system and you are the target of that trap."_ He said, all manner of play, of hidden meaning, even of mystery gone from his voice. _"Russ be praised the sons of Fenris do not give up without taking much with them, but think now. When you first landed you were led into a trap, the same is true for the other packs and those who have joined you in these last few days know it to be true. You are not being left on board as a punishment, you are the future of the chapter and the risk of losing such potential cannot be taken."_ Njal finishes with a shake of his head, closing his eyes he imparts one last thing before making leave as the wolf priest had done.

_"Vermundr is the leader of your pack, if any of you should have issue with that then I tell you now make peace with it. If he seeks your council, your thoughts, then so be it, but his orders bear the authority of the wolf lord just as any order you would receive from a grey hunter or member of the wolf guard leading you.Do not presume that you know any better; many a mighty warrior have done this in the past, like the arch-traitor himself did."_


Long minutes go by after the departing of the rune priest before Vermundr speaks to the rest of you. His words are simple, to armour up and meet in the feasting hall, some things still need to be said and they can be done in a warm feasting hall rather than a cold dueling pit clad in nothing more than simply chitons.


It takes two hours for you all to assemble, by now the company has departed to finish dealing with the Alpha Legion and their forces. The feasting hall, though warn and welcoming, is devoid of life beyond your own. There are other blood claws aboard the ship, but they are off elsewhere, all the better really. Gathering, you all stare intently at Vermundr before he makes it clear his desire to hear the word of each of the pack. If they will follow him or aim to overthrow him, if they can be trusted or need be watched as a risk. If the pack can finally accept that he leads as *Kjarl* once did, and if the pack can ever truly move forward.


As if perfectly timed, with the last of your answers comes a change in lighting, red warning klaxons begin to blare before a distant rumble rocks the hall. Shortly after, two more impacts do the same, followed by half a dozen more. You run out of the hall, only for something to come crashing in through the armoured bulkhead, throwing a few of you from your feet and forcing the rest to take cover. Before the dust and smoke has time to clear, the armoured prow of the breaching charge blows open and twenty armed men and women storm out, clad in light armour and wielding a motley assortment of shotguns, lasguns, and autoguns while a particularly well armoured man wielding a bolter pushes people out and into the ship.


Keris, Sydornis, and Iorek; you were thrown from your feet but gather yourselves quickly. You are to the left of the breaching vessel, a stanchion and stone obscuring you from the onrushing people. 

Kuzin, Vermundr, Tyr, and Alrik; you were more fortunate in that you remained upright but are forced to duck behind cover as these people spread out and start taking shots at you. Tyr, you are still missing your one hand, there has simply not been enough time to fit you with a replacement let alone have you get used to manipulating an augmatic limb. Your powerfist has been removed for now, sorry but looks like its a chainsword and bolt pistol for you, good thing space marines are proficient in using both hands. 

[There are about twenty (21) enemies total and about seven of you, with the exception of the bolter toting enemy you should be able to deal with these guys without to much problem though a las round to the face tends to hurt (though Alrik feel free to take one anyway, burned flesh might make you look that much prettier.) However I don't want to see one of you offing half of them in one go, they are spread out a bit so you will not be seeing a gaggle of them within arms reach of each other, though they are behind cover.

Now I don't want to see anyone jumping to the end of this update; you lot know the drill by now. The update moved things along for you, but stuff happened between your last posts and the end of this one.:biggrin:]


----------



## unxpekted22

The last words Vermundr had spoken seemed to pretty much be masked over with all the rage that boiled in the room towards Alrik. It was likely fortunate that Alrik did not get another chance to respond...probably why Sigurd grabbed him by the throat...

The wolf priest had backed up everything Vermundr had backed up everything Vermudnr had tried to say, and it was extremely unlikely his packmates would question _his_ authority.

As soon as Njal was done speaking Vermudnr thought to himself, "Wait, this pack specifically? why? Or perhaps the alpha legion was targeting all of the blood claw packs, the future of the chapter as Njal had said. It still hurt to not be going back to the planet's surface with his brethren, and even though it was not punishment it was something greatly needed. A break, a timeout, a short period without battle cutting off their thoughts and words and forcing him to make quick decisions that the others might not like. He shook his head to clear his mind and ordered his packmates to armor up and meet in the feasting hall.

two hours later ---

Vermundr's heavy armored boots were clanking along the floor of the quiet hallways devoid of the loud nature that is space wolf activity. He placed his wolf tailed battle-helm on its mag-lock as he turned into the feasting hall. All his packmates were there first as he planned. He took his sat amongst them. Iorek looked better, calmer, but still troubled. The bruised marks on Alrik's throat looking worse than they did upon the wolf priest's release having time to swell some. He looked at Tyr and remembered of his lesser form of dissent as well, he couldnt even be sure that his relationship with Tyr had been restored either. Looking at Keris, bah, who knew. Keris may have hated him as well, but his love for Lord Blackmane came before all other emotions and opinions; something that this pack quite frankly was lacking in greatly. Sydornis and Kuzin still remained amongst them as well. They were likely simply astounded by the brothers they had been placed with but did they find it a curse or blessing. Their pack certainly was getting more attention than the rest of the Blood claws but it couldn't really be called good attention. 

he made his intentions clear and straightforward, "I trust you all heard and remember what I said to Alrik, and most of what I said applies to the pack as a whole. I will not stand for insults, arguments, or disapproval anymore. I will lead this pack as I see fit for I have the right to do so. I feel this has been made clear by our elders. However, I would much rather lead a team, a cooperating system on the battlefield than a group of blood claws acting independently while hating each other. Obviously this cannot be done if some of you refuse to follow my orders. As I have said over and over again, I could not be more of a novice in the field of leadership and I need you all to help me rather than act like I have led for centuries and bash me on my mistakes as if I were a cruel and foolish imbecile. I wont be able to lead this pack any better until I know where each of you now stands in terms of me leading, so I bid you all to speak freely."


(ooc: this will be my only post until everyone has given me an answer. but no rush, might be neat if some of you talk to each other during the two hour period between the dueling pit and feasting hall.)


----------



## deathbringer

Sigurd's words where as icy as the winds of fenris: his eyes burning like winter snow flakes. The message was simple and effective. No more bullshit, no more insults. They were to become mindless automatons and just obey, only giving council when asked for. It suited him, for the longer he spent within his own mind, the more attention he could divert to fighting off the evil that was capturing his soul. 

"Pack leader, by order of the wolf lord you and your pack are to remain here aboard the Fist of Russ. The rest of the company is to make planet-fall within the hour to finish what has been started here."

Shock and scandal filled other faces yet Iorek was relieved. He needed time, moments to gather himself, to reassemble the fragments of his strength. Days with the wolf priest, the duel, the rising emotions left him weak and he was greatful for the respite. A day would do him good, a couple of hours sleep, a few mindless hours of training, food, water. A small one day trip to paradise.

Yet he needed advice, he had attempted to guide his own way and failed, he would take advice this time, and the wolf priest was the place to get it from. He must have seen countless cases, new how to deal with them and thus iorek tried to meet his gaze, to place some import into the questions that burned in his mind.

Yet the wolf priest stormed away and though iorek made to call after him yet his rising voice was drowned by the ringing rythm of a fist upon railings.

The rune priest spoke yet his words told Iorek little he cared for. His soul was in jeopardy and Sigurd was getting away... maybe he would return to his quarters before making planetfall he prayed so.

Finally he was released, released with the order to meet once again in two hours in the feasting hall, armoured and battle ready. He sprinted down the paths to the wolf priests quarters, gaining astonished looks from the odd ship serf as his pale naked form flashed by. He knocked rapidly on the door, no answer. He cursed his luck, pressing his fist into his palm before striding away. 

There was no one else, they would be the only ones on board the ship. Slowly he returned to his quarters, happy to find his battle plate restored, his bolt pistol cleaned and chainsword sheathed. 

He had two hours.... greatfully he climbed upon his bunk and allowed himself to fall into an uneasy sleep.

Dreamless and empty... his mind came awake, pulled slowly from the deep clinging warmth. Without comment he moved slowly from his bunk and cleansed his body in water, rubbing slowly to remove the blood that stained his knuckles and face. The water washed away his weariness yet it could not cleanse his fears. They rattled round his brain, squirming and writhing as he pulled on his battle plate, reloaded his bolt pistol and left his quarters once more.

The feasting hall was deserted par there group and iorek sat amidst his fellow claws yet he lay his eyes upon the stout wood of the table and kept his own council. He was still thinking, what to do? what to do? 

He would fight the wolf to the very end, but how did one fight it, how did you fight your own mind, fight your own instincts. Was it safe to use the rage of the wolf, or would that only give it a stronger grip.

Questions so many questions...

Vermundr had begun to speak, his voice given new power by the support of the top tiers of the company and Iorek turned a lazy eye upon him. He half listened over the whirring cogs of his brain and he had no qualms in letting his opinion resound

"Lead on." he muttered his voiceimpassive for he was tired of this affair, furstrated by the questions buzzing through his brain

"You will not hear anything from me unless you ask for it. Ask my opinion and you will get it, dissaproving or not."

He shrugged his shoulders
"That is all I have to say"


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had never really known fear, from what he could remember before he had been taken by the wolf priests to when he had recieved the holy geneseed and gone into training with his other brothers up to the current time period, it had been an emotion he had never truly met head on before because he had never really truly feared something. His own self confidence in his abilities, and simply put, his massive size meant that, in his mind, there wasn't much that he had to fear because he knew that Russ and the All Father had a plan for him and that he was going to follow it and kill any enemies that got in his way.

The ice in the wolf priest's voice was enough to bring this unknown emotion into Tyr, not ice cold fear, but an apprehensive fear of what this great warrior was capable if any of them crossed the line again. They had their warning and if they were smart then they would take it and obey, but Tyr was worried about Alrik, his brother had proved to be more headstrong and stubborn then he had previously believed. He knew how hard it was to suck up your pride and admit that you were wrong but that was something that his brother would have to do in order for the pack to fully heal.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Stormcaller who informed them that they would not be following the rest of the company into battle. Tyr's heart sank as his biggest worry came into reality, he would not be allowed his vengeance on the damned Legionaire who always mananged to evade him and escape at the last possible moment. No more rebels would be smashed by his fists, or rather fist, he looked down remembering that he still had been given a replacement for his missing limb.

As the Stormcaller left Vermundr gave them all orders to meet in the dining hall armored and ready in two hours. There was a lot he still had to do before he could meet his brothers and as they all left Tyr made his way to his quarters where he armored himself up and made his way to the armorey on the ship. Once there he gathered a bolt pistol, the one he had used previously had been lost once his hand had been blown off and their pack had had their meltdown, but his powerfist had been taken from him and he needed a new weapon.

He was given a chainsword and made his way to the training cages so that he could get the weight of it and get used to weilding it one handed. By the time he was done he was sweating and satisfied with his progress and sheathed it before leaving the training cages, the silence hitting home the fact that the rest of the company was planetside. He made his way to the dining hall, the closer he got the more his stomach decided to voice how hungry it still was, and by the time he had reached it he saw he was the last brother to arrive.

Sitting down on the end of a bench next to his brothers he wasted no time digging into the food and mead in front of him. Vermundr spoke, he wanted to hear their opinions and what was on their minds, now was the time to speak what they felt, Iorek was the first to speak and his words were simple, he would follow Vermundr. Tyr nudged Iorek a bit and pointed to the pitcher of mead and held up his cup indicating that he needed a refill. 

He downed his cup and belched before speaking, *"I will follow you Vermundr, you are the pack leader and Lord Blackmane has appointed you to that position, therefore I have no right to question your leadership. BUT hear me when I say that we have all played into the Alpha Legion's plans, they played us well knowing that we are all young and relatively inexperienced, this makes us in their eyes predictable. Yet we are Sons of Russ and Blood Claws at that, we are very dangerous foes and I believe that our pack has the potential to become great in the many battles to come, but we cannot play to the beat of the Alpha's drums again. We must be strong together, our hatred for our most hated foe must bind us together during this time and bring us closer together, I for one do not relish having to sit out of battle....even if we do get to eat and drink. I have faith that we will get through this brothers and that we will be given the chance to rain down death on our foes."*


----------



## dark angel

The grip, was, astoundingly strong. It completely encompassed his neck, the ceramite encased fingers strangely warm against his throat. His legs either collapsed or were kicked away from beneath him and he tumbled onto the ground, staring into the eyes of Sigurd with a sense of calamity and rage. Alrik’s hands shot up, wrapping around the wrist which gripped him and with a seeping breath of air he attempted to yank it free. After several seconds of that his hands moved towards the fingers, clenching around each and yanking until they came to futile endings.

When he spoke Alrik was forced to listen, his eyes widening with exasperation. Each barbaric growl which he muttered, the epitome of Fenrisian rage, caused Alrik to feel more miniscule in the Priest’s gaze. When he had finished, the Wolf Priest strongly pushed away, leaving Alrik sprawled out across the floor. He prodded the achingly painful marks across his neck, five in total, and winced in pain with each movement. A look of distaste flashed across his mangled visage as Sigurd moved away, allowing his head to sink back into the decking, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

His blackened eyes fell upon each member of the Pack. Each looked the same. Disappointed, enraged. Yet Alrik didn’t care. Had Vermundr not allowed him to speak? Could the whelp not realise that he was in the wrong? He allowed himself time to ponder when Njal spoke and thus caught mere fragments, thus he felt unaffected by whatever strings were being struck. When he had finished Alrik remained upon the ground, breathing rapidly. The great Psyker left and Vermundr ordered what he wanted and slowly the arena became devoid of life save for the floored Wolf.

The silence was soothing. Only the dull thrum of the ships monstrous heartbeat sounded, quivering the metal decking which Alrik was sprawled across, his arms now spread eagled. He remembered everything from his experiences upon the planet. He remembered his helm being crushed, when he had sparked a foolish moment and failed to hold down a Alpha Legionnaires arms. He remembered ripping the muscle from the leg of a rebel with his bare hand. 

Was there anything but bloodshed?

Finally he stood, gingerly walking from the arena. When he came back into the tunnel outside of the room he balled his right hand into a fist and with all his might slammed it into a wall panel, accompanied by a shrill howl that echoed throughout. The metal crumpled towards the apex and his fist left a crimson smear across the surface, his skin badly lacerated. Droplets of scarlet raced along his fingers before collapsing onto the ground and he slammed his fist again, further ripping the flesh.

He awaited for the Larraman’s Organ to compensate and add a rough mesh of tissue across the rents before he pounded it again, three times repeatedly. The pearl white of his knuckles became visible slowly and with each flex of his numbing fingers a lash of pain speared along the length of his arm. He growled and moved further along, randomly bursting out in flurries of punches against the surrounding walls; denting them and skinning his knuckles. 

With each footfall his hands ached more, bled more. The dimly lit halls of the Strike Cruiser were stalked through by Alrik in search of something, just the smallest of things, which he could destroy for his own compensation. Of course such things came to no heeding and he simply wandered, leaving a trail of rich-red droplets and gibbering obscenities. The silence which shrouded him, was dark yet welcoming.

Never before had he felt such rage that he would injure himself to a degree where his arms burned with pain and his chest rasped in ragged heaves. The giant portcullis of the armoury beckoned to him eventually. It was gloriously enriched with symbols of the Space Wolves and runes, of which Alrik could only begin to pretend to understand. Yet the great entrance was half open and allowed Alrik to slip inwards, the acidic stench of lubricants and oils striking him harder than any being could ever do so.

The armoury was shrouded in a mysterious red glow and was all but abandoned bar the few dead-fleshed Servitors that still trundled along. He ignored these as he moved past them, allowing distasteful looks upon the beings as he did so. The next moments went in a rapid blur as he collected his weaponry and ordered the presence of Huscarls to aid him in the fitting of his armour. None enquired about the raw flesh upon his hands, still pink with dots of blood. Painstakingly, each individual part of his armour was blessed and placed upon him.

When his gauntlets were slipped into place he felt their soft insides touch against his upper fingers and knuckles, of which stung rather annoyingly. After his chest plate had been clasped, he ordered his helm placed on by the Huscarls and grew angry when the shaking hands of the grey-haired fellow caused the inner faceplate to strike against the rough flesh of his face. He stood, yanking the helm from the hands of the fellow and spun on his heel with his hand raised above his head, ready to strike.

‘Insolent mutt!’ He growled and the man cowered, giving Alrik the satisfaction which he needed. He left the quivering figure there and moved for the halls, silently drawing blood upon his lips.

He knew what Vermundr would ask him before he had even arrived, he knew what he would be forced to do. He took a seat rather late, sitting down upon the wooden bench, his blank faceplate remarking the Pack Leader viciously. When Vermundr spoke, Alrik felt his face cringing. His voice came in a monotone, almost mocking tone. The Chainsword fastened at his hip roared in his mind and the Bolt Pistol barked violently, pulling Alrik’s attentions to himself.

_What has become of me? _He pondered, wondering if his good intentions had turned him into a slavering oaf.

‘I wish not to speak freely if it will gain me enemies.’ Alrik began eventually, his voice hushed ‘And thus I will abide to you, Vermundr.’


----------



## Lord of the Night

Sydornis's next words died before he could even think of them, in an instant Sigrud had grabbed Alrik and hoisted him up like he were a mere mortal rather then a Son of Russ. The Wolf Priest's voice was grim, and his eyes as cold as a Fenris Wolf moving in for the kill, which was actually Sydornis's earliest memory making it all the more unnerving. The young Space Wolf slowly backed up, as quiet as possible so as not to draw Sigurd's attention. And yet while he was intimidated he was still in awe of the Wolf Priest's power, his authority that he could make the entire room silent with a gesture and his anger enough to split glaciers.

When he finally released Alrik after affirming Vermundr's leadership, a leadership which Sydornis heartily agreed with, Sydornis decided to stay quiet for once. Any remarks now and he would be repeating them before Russ and the Emperor in explanation afterwards. Sigurd's next words nearly broke the wisdom of Sydornis's silence, they were to remain on the_ Fist of Russ_ for the final battle. Only the tapping of metal on stone silenced Sydornis before he could voice a query, it was the witch-kin Njal Stormcaller. His explanation was confusing at minimal, why would the Alpha Legion target Sydornis and the Pack. He had his pride but still he was not important to the Chapter, he was just another Blood Claw that may become a Grey Hunter in the future, perhaps a prospective Wolf Priest but that was wishful thinking and if at all possible decades away. Why go to all this trouble to kill them?. Sydornis sneered, this may not be a punishment but it felt like one. The witch-kin had to be lying to prevent unrest, the Alpha Legion would not go to the effort of all this just to get at the Pack, much less an amnesiac Blood Claw.

The following minutes were silent and cold, and long, very long. Sydornis didn't dare speak, convinced that if he did the entire room would shatter. Fortunately Vermundr spoke for them, his orders were to don their wargear and meet in the feasting hall, more words would be spoken but in a better setting less reminiscent of an execution ground. Sydornis departed with a curt nod and hurriedly went back to his quarters. Donning his armour a piece at a time, starting with the legs and moving up to the chestplate and arms, Sydornis had plenty of time to think, though he used none of it. He had thought enough for now, words were required. A hiss of air and his helmet was connected, he always wore one to protect his head, it may stifle his sense of smell but Sydornis had always worn a helmet to protect his already damaged head ever since he had earned the right to wear Power Armour.

His Chainsword and Bolt Pistol secured to his sides Sydornis left his quarters, making sure the door was sealed, and headed to the feasting hall. He caught glances of Blood Claws making themselves ready for the coming battle. Uttering a curse under his breath Sydornis quickened his pace, eager to avoid seeing more. When he arrived the entire pack was at the feasting hall, he had taken the longer route and was the last to arrive. He could feel Vermundr scrutinizing all of them with his gaze, yet he could not tell what the pack leader thought of him. When he spoke his intentions were clear, he would lead as he had been granted that right but he would rather lead them as a team then as opposing individuals. He asked for the Blood Claws to speak their minds, Sydornis smiled under his helmet. Finally the time for words.

'Lord Vermundr I have no issue with your leadership. And I care little about this debate over it, lead and I will follow. The only thing I take issue with are the words of the witch-kin. He is lying to us. This is a punishment, we are being made to watch as our brethren end the battle while we are left behind. The Alpha Legion is not after us, there is no grand plan that we are the centre of, for we are mere Blood Claws. No Wolf Lord, no Wolf Priest, not even Long Fangs. What possible reason could the Alpha Legion have to target us specifically, nothing. This is our punishment, and the witch-kin insults us by trying to fool us into believing that it is something else.'

Sydornis sighed and took a seat on an unoccupied bench, 'I am done, for now.'


----------



## deathbringer

"The only thing I take issue with are the words of the witch-kin. He is lying to us."

The words caused Iorek to boil with rage, the legendary Njal Stormcaller lying. Sydornis was not just harmless he was a bloody fool and his nails dug into the wood as he gripped the table.

Njal had helped him, been the first to approach and advise rather than chasten and rebuke. Indeed he was in inner turmoil, his soul writhing with the agony of his thoughts.

Yet why, why were they targetted.

His mind ceased upon the puzzle eager to be distracted from the other words in his ear.
The question had not occured to him. what was the purpose of the rune priests wisdom.

You...Sydornis had taken the words too personally, to mean them as a pack. Nay the rune priest meant them as blood claws, blood claws as a whole. They had been trapped, lead into ambushes, taken the full brunt of the alpha legions cunning.

'I am done, for now.'

Iorek snarled back his riposte quick and callous

"Good for if you talk anymore shit i will faint from the smell"

he gave a low growl his tone derisive

"Think of your words brother. If the rune priest, a legend amongst gods, a close ally of our Lord would lie to us then who can we trust? Who wouldn't lie to us?"

'The rune priests words may be too complex to penetrate your thick skull, they may seem beffudled in mystery, to be twisting words. Yet they are the truth, and nothing but the truth."

"May i add that the rune priest spoke words in my ear. Words i do not like, words that i will not render upon you all. They were mine to hear, and there implications are mine to bear. What he spoke was nothing but the truth. May i also add that though Lord Vermundr" 

His lips twitched in a barely contained smile and he flashed a grin at Vermundr

"may be your elder and better. The honoured rune priest is too. You are wise to give him the respect he deserves. One more talk of witch kin and i will rend your head from your shoulders, whether our packleader permits it or not. The rune priest divines his power from the storms of fenris and to associate it with the filth" he spat the word distaste tearing his features apart

" of witchcraft is nothing short of heresy."

He shot a deep glare at the young wolf , his features bared in a snarl before turning back to the group with a contemptuous sniff.

"If i may address the brothers possessing something between their ears. I believe the rune priest meant his you for bloodclaws as a whole. We are the future of the chapter, to eradicate us would stunt the chapters growth immeasurably. Hence we are here, I believe the other bloodclaw packs remain here alongside us, though i must admit i saw no one upon my way here."


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr went to open his mouth in response to Sydornis, but Iorek beat him to the punch. He happened to be looking right at Iorek when his pale skinned brother turned and grinned at him putting the word Lord before his name. Vermudnr chuckled silently in his throat and put a hand to his head while Iorek finished. He did this because he knew it was forced and likely sarcastic in a way. He thought to himself, "By Russ this is going to be difficult." At the moment, the only thing he had left that may dilute the anger towards him, was time.

Through his words Alrik told the pack he was lying when he said he accepted him as packleader, but what was he going to do, call him out on the lie and just get into another fight? All of their superior brethren were on their way back to the planet. The best thing to do right now was just let Alrik's opinion lay while his temper was at a new height. If Alrik disobeyed his orders too significantly or for too long in the future, he would simply have no choice but to address the issue with their elders once again.

Vermundr spoke up after Iorek finished, "I would not doubt the storm caller's words. Who are we to question what he says to us? We are not at all in a position to do so. We will never overcome the Alpha Legion if we cannot think two steps ahead. As Iorek pointed out, though we may be the least threat to them now we are the ones who replace those above us when they die and we still live. We are the future Grey hunters and Long fangs, Wold guard and rune priests....if we live long enough....and the apparently the Alpha Legion's plan is to make sure that we don't."

"And though I appreciate you being the only one here who _actually_ has no problem with following my orders without the hint of a question whatsoever, I advise you to learn from our mistakes, do not speak ill of our superiors or the decisions they make."

He realized Keris still hadn't spoken, likely in a state of deep observation and letting the others finish first so he knew what he was up against before speaking himself.

so, he addressed him directly, "Keris. Anything to say?"


----------



## Euphrati

Keris had not even flinched when the Wolf Priest‘s gauntlet closed like the jaws of Morkai around Alrik’s neck, his own fists clenched in white-knuckled anger. The speed and fierce strength of Sigurd was incredible; yet it was the pure, zealous rage that cascaded from the priest that resonated deep within Keris’ very soul. _The wolf in his mind surged against his will, its fury a feral echo of his own at the insolence of his packbrother’s actions. _

The Wolf Priest’s words were razor edged and cold as the breath of the Wolftime itself as he held the writhing form of Alrik pinned to the sanded floor. Keris felt no pity for the pain that laced his wolfbrother’s scent as the priest finally released his grip upon Alrik and rose to his feet; however, Sigurd’s next words felt as if the Wolf Priest had turned and driven a dagger into Keris’ chest before he stalked off to be swallowed by the shadows of the great ship without a backwards glance. _Shock seized him in its icy fangs as the wolf in his soul cried out in anguish and defiance._

_They were to remain behind, denied the vengeance that howled in his thoughts._

Keris’ mind felt numb as his emotions tumbled through waves of anger, denial, and the pain of dishonour when the sharp sound of ceramite upon stone brought his thoughts into crystalline focus. The rune-etched form of Njal Stormcaller still stood amongst the shocked Blood Claws and the Rune Priest’s deep voice seemed to cut through the very air in the silence of Sigurd’s parting words. Keris swallowed his confusion, ignoring the sour bite of bile at the back of his throat from his churning stomach and narrowing is eyes in question, as the Stormcaller favoured him with a purposeful wink.

The Rune Priest’s words were blunt, the veil of mystery set aside for the gravity of the moment, and Keris let them roll through his mind as he shut his eyes briefly, desperately searching for any hint that would alleviate the cold torment within his heart. Reason warred with the feral thirst of revenge as Keris recalled the losses suffered by the young packs of Blood Claws; _if such was true across the other Great Companies then the Enemy had already struck a vicious blow against the future of the Space Wolves._ 

The wolf that shared Keris’ soul gave a low growl, its emotions bestial and pure. Blood was the only answer to blood and it cried out for every precious drop to be repaid a thousand fold. Scarlet tinted the corners of his vision as Njal’s final words to the pack were lost to the distant growl of the plasma drives while the Rune Priest’s footsteps faded in the wake of Sigurd. When Vermundr finally spoke Keris welcomed the chance to be away from his brothers and quickly stalked off in the direction of the arming chambers, taking a series of turns that ensured his journey there was made alone.

---

Keris stood clothed in only the skin-tight bodysuit that an astartes wore under his armour; before him, bathed in the soft glow of the lumin globes, hung the pale blue-grey sections of his battle plate. The path back through the bowels of the ship had seen heavy questions upon his soul that he could not fully answer. To be denied the fierce joy of battle was nothing compared to the nagging doubt that sank talons of ice into his gut. Grief tugged at Keris’ thoughts as he reached out to trace the proud, fanged countenance of black upon a field of golden-yellow that graced his left shoulder guard. 

Keris’ fingers closed around the lip of the plate, his muscles flexing as he lifted it clear of the stand and held it before him, full in the light. The scent of lapping powder followed his movements and Keris took a deep breath as he closed his eyes for a long moment.

_Would you renounce the oath you swore upon your last breath to me, my Lord?_

When the dark lashes parted again, the absolute devotion within the crystal-blue depths that had been hidden by the dark shadow of doubt since the words of Sigurd within the arena burned with a renewed flame. 

*No.*

_No, I will not give in to doubt! My oath is unbroken and my faith in you, my Lord, is unconditional. That is all that matters, Russ and the Allfather forgive me my weakness. May my actions prove to be payment enough for my sins._

With renewed purpose; Keris quickly donned his armour, feeling his clarity return as each section of the heavy plate interfaced with his own flesh. Mag-locking his helm to his waist beside his sheathed chainsword and pistol, Keris felt the last vestiges of misgiving lift from his being yet there was still a sense of something just beyond his grasp as he turned his stride in the direction of the feasting hall. Like a scent just too faint to pin down, something about the events felt off and Keris let his gaze track every shadowed corner that he pasted as he thought of the impact what he was going to say could have upon his brothers.

---

They had gathered quietly, the silence of the ship affecting the Blood Claws left onboard and casting a wariness to their movements. None save their pack was present in the feasting hall and Keris took up a position to the left of Vermundr, his arms crossed over his powerful chest and cold eyes watching every movement of his brothers carefully as he listened in silence to their words.

After all the others had spoken, the packleader’s attention finally came to rest upon him and Keris took a slow step forward as seven sets of eyes turned his direction. He met each in turn, a calm surety in his thoughts, his gaze ending upon a pair of dark brown eyes. Those eyes had aged since they had first come to this world and Keris studied them for a long moment before taking a slow breath, his voice was low and sure as he broke the silence,

‘It is not adversity itself that makes one great, Vermundr. It is our actions when faced with hardship that define us. Those were my first words I shared with you after Lord Blackmane announced your appointment as packleader to our Claw, my brother, and they are no less true now than they were when I first uttered them,’

A soft smile touched the corners of Keris’ mouth for the briefest moments as an aching pain welled up from deep within as his mind called up the memory of Kjarl and Lord Blackmane’s words to him of the truth about the Grey Hunter before Keris continued,

‘Grey Hunter Kjarl’s pack was destroyed years ago by the forces of the great Enemy. It was through a personal oath to our Lord that he agreed to lend his wisdom to a pack of chosen Blood Claws. Upon his death, and your appointment in his stead Vermundr, a similar oath was asked of me by our Lord,’

Keris took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Vermundr and raising his hand to forestall any words until he was finished,

‘*Asked of me*, not ordered from Lord to mere Blood Claw but asked from warrior to warrior. I took that oath _willingly_, brother, and I would do so again. Because I have faith. I have faith in the warrior I know you can be, in the warrior that stands before me even now,’

Keris paused, his crystalline eyes darting from face to face,

‘I have faith in all of you, my brothers; our fates are tied together at this moment in time. These events will not only define us, but the very future of this world,’

Keris turned his gaze back to Vermundr’s face even as his thoughts lingered on the words he had received from the Stormcaller,

‘My brother, my packleader, know that I speak without fetters on my heart when I say this… _our Lord made the right choice._’


----------



## unxpekted22

The first genuine smile that had come across Vermundr's lips since arriving in this system, was taken away by the sudden flash of red lights and alarm systems. clanking power armor shot up from the feasting hall's table, dust and smoke quickly filled the hallways before them. As multiple objects were slamming into the ships hull, so did realizations of his inner self. Keris had faith in his abilities this whole time? He hadn't just been grudgingly baring his leadership like the others? He hadn't even faith in himself. How many times had he said to himself and others since becoming pack-leader that he didnt know how to lead, that he just kept relying on instinct. Every time he had made a mistake he half expected the nearest superior to take his leadership away from him like it wasn't something he really had. No wonder Iorek and Alrik disliked him so much, he had only been acting a leader instead of actually being one. 

The bulkhead in front of them blew apart with a breaching charge sending a few of his brothers to the ground. His voice wouldnt be heard over the explosions and gun fire, but yelled for everyone to take cover at any rate. He threw on his helmet, and feeling it lock in place, he turned and grabbed the nearest table and hefted it into the hallway as fast as he could, ducking behind it while taking hold of his bolt pistol.

While shots from various types of weaponry flew over head, he saw Tyr get into cover as well and was reminded of his one hand, _"Tyr, I don't want you trying to switch between your weapons! Use up the mag you have while your in cover, then its the chainsword, I dont want you trying to reload right now. Some of them have shotguns so they're likely to move in close," _ addressing alrik, Tyr and Kuzin, _"You three cover each other from this angle."_

_"Keris, Sydnornis and Iorek, I saw you three fall so to make sure you're aware the one leading this raiding party wields a bolter so don't be too hasty in charging at him, and find the thickest cover you can. Iorek once again this is just your type of situation, if you three can clear the enemies closer to you and get the heavy armored man in view, then a bullet right through that bugger's head would be magnificent. Let us know when you're going to take the shot so we can provide cover fire form this angle. The faster we kill our immediate enemies the faster we can move on, there's no telling how many traitors have boarded our ship and as we all know most of our forces are planet side."_

_"I'd love to charge at these fools as much as any of you but being so few of us on the ship we have to fight smart. once we move on down the corridors it will be us getting the drop on them and we can charge like the Blood Claws Russ and the All-father intended us to be! Get these bastards off of Lord Blackmane's ship!!_


(I'm sure those tables are big but hopefully not attached to the floor)


----------



## deathbringer

As Keris moved forward to speak Iorek looked on with glazed eyes. His interest was over, his soul was more important than any idol words. He would keep quiet from now on, say nothing until he had a chance to talk to the wolf priest, to someone about his struggle, about the turmoil that wroguht his soul.

It was odd not to truly feel the doom, to know it was coming yet not sense it. Yet did those that died by his hand sense his bolt round coming before it exploded upon there cranium.

He yearned for the mind numbing repetitive actions of the prractice cages, longed for the blankness and surity it gave him. 

Yet twas not to be

Sirens shrieked, their insistant cries waking and waning, bringing him to the present with a tiny snarl of irritation. They stood the others rushing foward towards the hall., Vermundr at there head, yet Iorek sat halfway between motion and immobility.

His bolt pistol was in his hand and he checked the clip quickly, his hands on autopilot, independent of the sensation that had gripped him.

Fear

Icy terror spread across his soul, filling his limbs paralysing them, holding him like a marionette.

So soon,
So soon he would be forced to confront the rage that tore at his anger.

The wolf snarled now, it talons slashed at the paralysis, it longed for blood, for death. 

His limbs sprung to motion, the roaring flame of primal rage the antithesis of his paralysis. He tore after the others, bolt pistol raised. The floor shuddered, the hull of the ship reverberating sickeningly under an unknown impact. Haste left him unbalancedand a second impact left his balance in ruins and he toppled forwards landing on all fours. He pushed on,crawling forwards after the others, as the ship pitchd under the thumps of something, was it another ship, where they underfire.

He snarled, to die without raising a claw in anger was a humiliating prospect. Then the shuddering stopped and Iorek 's eyes narrowed confused. He took a step forward as the corridor was torn apart in a mass of stone and wrought metal. He was flying backwards, dust and smoke clouding his vision, he hit something.

The wolf cried out as his body juddered, momentarily jarred by the impact. Figures moved in the smoke and he heard other thumps as others were thrown from their feet. Lasfire lit up the smoe, a solid slug round, pinged off metal close to Iorek's head and the wolf roated in earnest.

Blood, he could taste it upon his tongue, he longed for it yearned for it, desired the scent of death in his nostrils, the ravening impulses pulling him to his feet, his chainsword sliding easily from its sheeth.

Kill time...
He started forward pushing towards the figures in the thinning fog yet a voice burst across the hall. 

Vermundr

The wolf insisted, adrenaline seeped into Iorek's blood, saturating him in a rush of new found energy.

"Iorek once again this is just your type of situation, if you three can clear the enemies closer to you and get the heavy armored man in view, then a bullet right through that bugger's head would be magnificent. Let us know when you're going to take the shot so we can provide cover fire form this angle."



To shoot now he wanted to charge, to immerse himself in blood, to fight at the front, not from the back, not to cower behind the rocks.

Charge charge....blood awaits

Why charge though, his brothers need him, he was the best shot

Oh sweet sweet blood, on my fangs, on my claws

But Vermundr said

The scent of death, around you surrounding you.... they will fall, all of them, the glory yours..... charge

Oh god how greatly he wanted to chrge, to cull, to swing his blade left and right. Yet he must no, he could not, the words of the stormcaller rang in his ears. He must resist,,, he must. Strength flooded from him, his willpower weakened by his own lust for blood.

The stormcaller... he could not fail him now... not so soon... he fought back his words strained

Leave me... fiend... The stormcaller warned me of you, but I will master you, you will not take my soul

Silence.... weakness

He dropped behind the stone and knelt there, his face pressed upon the smooth surface, hands gripping it, trying to pierce the stone. H.is chest heaved, the slightest catch in his throat as he breathed deeply.

He had to talk to the rune priest he had to get help... he needed help... this was so hard... too hard.. 

He shuddered

"Get these bastards off of Lord Blackmane's ship!!"

He opened hi eyes, feeling the bolt pistol in his hand, he felt weak ,feelbe, empty without the rage in his soul.

The man with the bolter... a quick glance around the stone, showed him no heavy armoured man. 

His eyes fell upon the barrel of a lasgun extending from behind cover and he flinched ducking backwards as it flashed sending chips of seered stone flittering past him. He moved to the other side of the fallen stone peering round, he saw the man, lasgun still aimed. 

His face was intent, the smallest smile of triumph upon his lips. Iorek's pistol bucked and he slumped, the lasgun clattering to the floor, blood seeping over the twisted grin, staining the pearly white teeth. 

Iorek's eyes darted

Other figures, bits of bulky armour, or the odd limb emerged and Iorek smiled, a leering twisted grin. This was indeed his situation.

A long leg protruded from behind cover, the figure crouched, his weight upon the exposed leg.

Carefully, unhurried Iorek aimed for the kneecap, carefully readjusting his aim. The shot had to be perfect. The pistol craced and the figure screamed as his standing leg was blown apart and he toppled out of cover, a second shot whistled over his fallen form. The third smashing through his broad chest silencing his screams. 

Yet Iorek was expsed, a third man popped out looking to end this new menace. His piggy eyes fixed upon iorek, his slender arms contacting as he raised his autogun, a rat a tat tat of solid slugs exploding from the barrel, yet Iorek held his ground setting his feet and aiming his pistol. The first slug chipped the stone to his right, the second slammed into his breast plate and he rocked slightly under the barrage. The mans eyes widened as the gun bucked, his weak arms struggling as the recoil carried the 3rd and 4th shots high above his head, He tried to duck back but it was no use. A double tap to the chest sent him sprawling and Iorek ducked back to cover as a hail of bullets whistled past.

6 shots 3 kills, one miss. Not bad. Still no sign of the bolter and he hissed into the vox as his eyes fell upon the stanchion to his left

" Cover me.... I need to move. I cant even see the bolter"

The clip clattered to the floor and he slammed a fresh one in, his next shot would be the bolter...


----------



## dark angel

The shrill howling of the klaxons agonizingly resounded within his helm. Crimson runes flashed across his face, warning and hostility ones to be precise. Alrik slammed his fists into the wooden table he was sitting at, shattering away a considerable chunk and leaking berries across his legs. A great fat-bodied plume of sickly smoke and miniscule dust particles spilled through the hall towards the Pack and Alrik threw himself up, drawing his Bolt-Pistol as he did so. His horrible face curled in disgust and his nostrils flared, the lubricants which he had bathed in allowing him a metallic tang. 

‘We have been attacked!’ He growled, slamming a magazine into his Bolt-Pistol, allowing a mangled smile as there was an audible click.

The hunt was on. Vermundr led from the front and Alrik grinned as he toyed with his Bolt-Pistol, swinging it up so that the muzzle was pointed blankly at the small of his back. One shot. He could do it all in one meagre shot. There was something within that longed to see Vermundr strewn across the deck, pale and freckled with scarlet. He banished all such thoughts with a roar within, his mouth opening and closing silently. Vermundr was his Pack-Brother, no matter what. Alrik could not bring himself to kill Vermundr. 

And then it happened. There was a loud whump and Alrik was sent stumbling back, his Bolt-Pistol scanning for targets. He could not see Iorek or Keris, nor could he locate the newcomer Sydnornis. Had they been crushed beneath the giant piece of metal, evidently a boarding vessel, which now protruded from the hull? The smog before him began to strobe. Ruby and azure flashes rippled through the miasma around him, crackling loudly as they did so. One struck his helm, snapping his head back. He collapsed back into cover behind a shattered stanchion, landing flat upon his back.

‘Those bastards!’ He roared so that all could hear, pulling himself back onto his haunches.

A haste glance around the support of the stanchion revealed a single figure in beige fatigues stumbling forth, a blood caked Las-Gun held in his hands. A pair of ocular goggles rested over his eyes and a steam venting respirator, probably looted, wrapped around the rest of his face like a festering tumour. The leather straps which he bore across his legs and torso held fetishes of bone and chunks of pickled flesh. Alrik stood from behind cover, a fickle layer of dusty materials collapsing from his pauldrons as he did so, and opened fire.

A trio of rounds whistled through the air towards the figure who quickly snapped towards the side, firing his Las-Gun at the hip. The returning fire crackled as they struck Alrik’s armour and damage runes illuminated his face in a sickening yellow, sending dancing patterns across every crag and laceration which he proudly wore. Down to five rounds, Alrik began to pace forwards. The Boarder continued to hail obscenities and rounds at Alrik, all of which slipped away from his armour, leaving burgundy scorch marks.

His fourth round completely missed the man and ricocheted off of the ground, bouncing up and clanging upon the arched ceiling. His fifth round hit the man in the heart. He screamed in agony for several seconds before the round destroyed the upper back of the man, shredding his insides with chards of bone. The body rag dolled away, bouncing wetly and leaving a stanching trail of insides. Alrik simply burst into a deep mirth and continued forwards, ignoring the orders of Vermundr to stay in cover. 

_The smoke will be my cover!_

Fluorescent azure hit his shoulder pauldron suddenly. He tumbled towards the side, hearing the symbol of the Wolves crackle suddenly as blasts eat into it. He ignorantly fired his Bolt-Pistol in return, each deep bark echoing throughout the hallway. His rounds were gone, the dull click which sounded causing Alrik to curse his insolence. He gripped the current magazine and yanked it free, tossing it into the smoke and slammed another one home. Yet he had no desire to play this shooting game. Cowardly Iorek did that, staying back so that he could hone his skills. He pushed it back into the leather holster at his hip and continued forwards.

_My hands are my weapons._

The enemy fire continued to strike him as he marched forwards, the odd solid rounds pinging from his armour audibly. He could see his target now, wrapped in a feathered shoal and firing at the shoulder, his mane of scraggy golden hair partially obscuring his face. He was weeping. From his sole revealed eye, Alrik could see a gentle trickle of silver tears slipping along his distorted cheek. The deformed smile which Alrik bore slowly turned into a wide grin, revealing his elongated fangs. 

‘Foolish hound.’ He boomed and threw himself forwards, both his hands held at the ready. 

His right one came in towards the side, the fingers curled. They struck the man in the ribs and dug into his flesh, deflating a lung and shattering bone. His left came upwards with a single finger raised, ripping through the chin and bursting into the nasal cavity. With a growl Alrik ripped free his right hand, bringing with him a chunk of meat which he errantly discarded across the deck. The man collapsed further and blood spurted across the Firehawk’s left gauntlet, turning it a glorious ruby. A muffled scream sounded and Alrik let the body collapse, staring down at his open hands.

He once again found himself remembering Asaen, the Firehawk’s great God of War. The crimson handed. He slumped onto his knees, the blood of the figure pooling around his legs. The Boarder was still squirming, the last vestiges of his life running throughout his mind. Alrik looked down at his pain ridden face, both of his eyes wide and glazed. Alrik simply smiled at him from beneath his blank faceplate and crushed his head with one palm, splattering brain matter and skull fragments. 

‘A hound does not go into a Wolf’s lair and live.’ He muttered and stood, drawing his Seax-formed combat blade. 

He brought his left hand up along the blade, turning it crimson. He exhaled deeply. He was a murderous thug. Yet he did it in the name of the Allfather and Russ. Vermundr was an extension of the Allfather’s mighty authority through Grimnar and then Blackmane. Alrik realised his mistakes now. He realised how he had helped in the downfall of the Pack. He knew that he would need to return to the others. He knew it. Alrik spun on one giant heel and began to trod back, keening all the while.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr had been in the middle of stuffing more food into his mouth when the enemy had decided to breach the ship's hull and almost cause him to choke as he dove into cover. Cursing in Fenrisian he poked his head round to see how many they had to deal with, a lot, but most of them were easy picking with the exception of the man with the boltgun that was leading them. 

Tyr licked his chops as his hand went for his chainsword but stopped as he heard Vermundr's orders. He nodded at his brother and pulled out his pistol, turning the corner quickly he fired a few shots at the advancing enemy, most of them scattering into cover but one of them was hit just above the knee blowing his leg off. He ducked back behind the table he had tossed over as fire peppered the other side where his head had been, how he wished he had his hand back, but now was not the time for wishes but a time for killing. 

He moved a bit behind the table so as to come out on the side instead of the top and took another couple of shots before ducking back, one more dead and another one injured. Poking his head above the table he saw Alrik crouching making his way back to them and yelled at his brother before firing his pistol, *"Run brother I will cover you!"* He emptied his pistol giving Alrik covering fire and holstered it before pulling out his chainsword, *"Let them come, they will find I am just as deadly with one hand as I was with two!"*


----------



## Euphrati

The brief smile that flashed across Vermundr’s dark eyes, honest and unguarded, served to only strengthen Keris’ resolve that his conviction in the young packleader was not misplaced. _The wolf in his soul gave a low rumble of content. This is my purpose; my faith to strengthen my brothers, my insight to guide their path_. 

Keris returned the smile only to have it erased as the hairs on the back of his neck stood suddenly on end. The harsh blare of klaxons screamed into life along the long halls of the great ship and a shiver ran through the very bones of the Fist of Russ. Less than a heartbeat later a second tremor followed the first, stronger and closer. Keris’s chainsword and pistol were already in his fists before the vibrations of second impact were swallowed by half a dozen more. Servos snarled as Keris spun on his heel, barreling out of the feasting hall and towards the unmistakable sounds of boarding pods. Before he had even taken a single stride past the threshold; the armoured might of the bulkhead shrieked as it buckled inwards, the meters thick stone and steel tearing like a sail of old sea-dragon hide in the fury of a winter tempest.

The plating under Keris’ feet bucked and rolled, sending him stumbling to a knee as shards of stone scattered all around. He let his own momentum carry him forward, tucking his shoulder and rolling behind a stanchion of hewn granite carved with interlacing knot-work. Anger screamed through his veins as his body pumped adrenaline into his bloodstream, every sense taking on the now familiar sharp-edged tone of heightened battle-awareness. Yet, the anger was tempered with a fierce joy as the realization of Lord Blackmane’s cunning tactic unfolded.

The Space Wolves were notorious for their rather blunt approach to warfare, and Blood Claws, though the youngest of Leman’s sons, were renowned for their ferocity that bordered upon insane battle-lust. No true son of Russ would voluntarily stand aside from the peril of death; for it was not the way of the noble, and somewhat stubborn, tribal honour that was bred into the fiber of every Fenrisian man-child from the moment he took his first breath. A belief that to die in the fires of battle against the Enemies of the Allfather was the greatest honour one could achieve was only renforced in the training received by those Chosen to stand in the ranks of the Sky Warriors. _Yet, how did one face an enemy that hid in the shadows?_

Blood Claws, some of the most enthusiastic warriors the Fang had to offer if a bit headless of their own mortality, had been the pivotal force in many battles and a wise Wolf Lord knew that the fires of battle were the true testing grounds for these young Pups. Lord Blackmane had seemingly denied them that, held them back at the shrewd word of the Stormcaller. Left the packs of Blood Claws, alone and outwardly unguarded, aboard the Fist of Russ.

_The facade of such vulnerability had proven to be too tempting of a target for the Enemy to resist._

Keris’ reverence for his Lord’s trust was compounded even as the traitors swarmed from their boarding pod and into the smoke-shrouded hallways of the mighty vessel. Blackmane had placed his personal honour, and the precious lives of his youngest warriors, upon the line to draw forth the serpents from their hiding. The lure had been taken and it was a mistake that would follow the betrayers of the Allfather into oblivion as they were met by the unrestrained ferocity of the Wolf-King’s gene-legacy.

These thoughts flashed through Keris’ mind in the time it took his twin hearts to beat twice and he thumbed the rune that brought the adamantium teeth of his chainblade to life with a hungry whine. His muscles tensed with anticipation as Keris prepared to surge forwards, a fierce hatred for the audacity of these traitors that dared to set foot aboard a vessel of the Space Wolves burning in the pit of his stomach. The voice of Vermundr cut across the Claw’s vox, stalling Keris’ charge and drawing a roar of fury from the beast within his soul.

Keris bared his fangs in a silent snarl behind the cover of the stanchion as he fought back the desire to give voice to his packleader for such irrational commands. _Take cover! It was not in his nature to hide!_ To allow these faithless servants of the Enemy even one handspan of undisputed ground upon the Fist of Russ was anathema to Keris’ core beliefs. Hatred and battle-lust warred within his mind with the very oath he had not moments before revealed to his wolfbrothers, tinted by the galling frustration that Vermundr’s orders appeared leveled at him in particular. 

The wolf in his soul frothed; a belligerent growl echoing through his thoughts as Keris risked a quick peek around the edge of the stone. Debris was strewn between him and the breach and Keris’ keen eyes burned slightly in the haze of the breaching charges. Lightly armoured bodies poured into the corridor from the open pod, armed with a mixture of laz and solid-shot weapons, many bore the uniform insignias of the traitorous planetary forces and Keris gave a low snarl of abhorrence. 

A Blood Claw’s strength lay not in his aim, though the teaching engines of the Fang and rigorous training ensured that the young warrior’s skill was far above the kin of the average mortal, but in the brutal and bloody hand to hand combat where the Sons of Russ excelled. The praeternatural speed and killing strength of his genenhanced body coupled with the devastating effectiveness of his chainsword and battleplate was an edge in battle that Keris was loathe to give up. By ordering the Claw to take cover and permitting such a lightly armoured foe to do the same; Vermundr risked allowing the traitors the chance to capitalize upon the precious first moments of engagement, seizing the momentum and forcing the Space Wolves into a drawn out defensive. Power armour was proof against many things but an enemy armed soley with a lazgun, given time and cover, could present a risk.

A traitor stumbled forward, gripping the stock of a combat shotgun to his chest and propelled from behind by two others brandishing lazguns. Keris howled with the wolf in his soul and leapt from cover, the pistol in his left gauntlet bucked once as he closed the short distance. The shotgun wielding man’s head dissolved in a plume of blood and bone, the gun in his hands peppering the ceiling as his body jerking spastically before falling. The second man, his armour that of the planetary defense, gave a cry that ceased abruptly as Keris’ chainsword chewed through his shoulder and into his spine. Keris spun around the body, yanking his blade free and dropping his stance to take the frantic flurry of laz bolts from the third man’s raised weapon upon his ablative shoulder-guard. Without slowing a step; Keris barreled into the traitor, lifting the man from his feet and smashing him into the cold stone of the corridor’s wall with a satisfying crunch of bone. 

A section of the steel plating had been dislodged from the ceiling by the impact of the boarding craft to now lay partially upon the floor, propped up by the trailing conduits along its length. Sparks cascaded from torn cables in the gap it had been, flickering in the smoke like falling stars. With an act of sheer willpower Keris forced himself to drop behind the plating in a low crouch, his breathing coming in fast pants of impatience as the bright lances of lazgun fire and the sharp crack of solid projectiles ricocheted throughout the hallway. He dropped out of cover to snap off a trio of shots, tearing the chest out of a female traitor in a bright spray of crimson and the leg from a sprinting man that crossed his line of fire before scrambling back into cover. The beast in his mind howled its fury at being so muzzled; this was no way for a Son of Russ to fight! 

Keris swallowed his resentment and listening to the voices of his packmates before a thought curled from within his mind; flexing his throat to shift the frequency of his vox-feed, Keris sought the ship-wide vox net. With a growled curse, he tried the channels dedicated to the other Blood Claw packs; the jagged hiss of static greeting his search like the taunting laugh of a hidden serpent. _The beast in his soul frothed and paced, pressing upon the back of his mind like the burning heat of a Thunderwolf’s breath._

Keris flipped back to the pack’s channel as he readied himself for another dash forward, his voice a powerful growl,

‘The vox-net is being jammed, for now we fight alone under the eyes of Russ and the Allfather! Give not a span to the oath-less serpents! Cast them from these halls and into the blackness of the void where the judgment of the Allfather awaits their faithless souls!’


----------



## darkreever

Alrik; As you move to return to the others, a hail of shotgun fire racks into you from the side, warning runes flashing red as your armour takes the impact but leaves you flat footed against the attack. Turning to face this threat, a las-round burns into the side of your knee and forces you to the ground. A wild shot from some bastard, as you cannot find the shooter; your to far up, even the shortest reaching weapons now have range on you.

[Can't really go back, might as well push forward right? Get over the pain and make someone pay for that.]


Vermundr and Tyr; You watch as Keris and Alrik both leap from cover, closing the distance to the enemy and hindering shots from you and others in the process. Alrik, for whatever reason, stops in his charge and slowly tries to make his way back, but now being in range of more of the enemy guns he is quickly blindsided and forced to a knee. Tyr's pistol clicks dry and he is forced, well maybe not _forced_, back to his chainsword. Put some fear in these bastards before you send them to their respective hells.

[Seems after everything has been said and done, you just can't keep some blood claws from staying back and shooting from cover. Might as well come in after Keris and Alrik and either save them or make sure to finish the job they started. Not that Tyr has much choice in this, what with no ammo in the pistol and all.]


Keris; You continue stalking forward, perhaps your warning of the vox having gone unheard or uncared for at this time. You crash through the cover of yet another enemy before disemboweling him with your chainsword, a bolt round to the head silencing him as he tries to keep his innards from spilling out. A flash of movement out of the corner of your eye and you turn to meet it, pistol ringing out again but this time missing its mark before sparks and stars rocket before your eyes and your on the ground; pain coursing through your jaw and neck.

[The damage is mostly superficial; someone with a shotgun was going for your head but aimed to low. Frag shot took a chunk from the side of your chin and peppered your neck, but otherwise the bulk of the hit was to the upper portion of your chest. Get up and kill this fool.]


Iorek; You play this game of wolf and prey despite Keris rushing off and robbing you of shots, alright so only a single shot; the others were way out of sight. Another enemy goes down to your pistol before it runs dry and you slam another clip into the gun, and thats when you see Keris go down. Something hit him with enough force to throw him backward to the ground, but before you can see who or what had done that, you notice something else; the leader of the group taking aim on Alrik from atop one of the fallen pieces of plating.

[I don't think you need any explanation or prompt from me on this one.]


[Just under a dozen left, more than enough for two or even three kills each if you wanna share.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr growled a bit beneath his helm, the wolf tail atop his helm turned swiftly with his neck as he looked back and forth from behind cover. Keris and Alrik couldnt help themselves but to charge and now they were getting hit. If these foes were of a higher threat then his brothers could be dead right now....most likely something he would just have to get used to. As much as holding back and playing it smart might save some wounds and deaths, it definitely took more time.

If his brothers couldn't control their wolf instincts and lust for charging, then he was better off utilizing that characteristic and making it a problem for their enemies instead of causing turmoil within his pack-mates' flustered heads. 

If he was unwilling to send them charging into the face of a single bolter then he could never hope to lead his pack against a true foe such as the _real_ traitors of the chaos legions. He knew this, but it would have been nice if his pack had been willing to cover each other and work as a team. Vermundr had given his orders with the idea of efficiency in mind. Though...efficiency while the Lord's personal ship was being breached...perhaps was not the best time. 

He looked over his cover to fire a few more rounds, and saw what surely Iorek saw at the same moment. The group's leader aiming for Alrik. As his foot lept off the top edge of his cover he yelled through the vox, "Now Iorek!" and trusting Tyr was already moving in closer with him, he did not feel the need to say anything further. 

Keris was on the left and Alrik was on the right. Iorek was on the far left hopefully taking aim for the shot, and Tyr would be able to cover Keris and Alrik. In front aiming at Alrik was the bolter wielding brute, and a handful of his minions amongst debris and cover filling the gap.

His next foot hit the floor, other knee still tucked, axe held wide so the silver edge gleamed in the hallway's standard lighting, while the red from the klaxons scanned over his form repeatedly. The blood from Keris's chin had barely hit the ground, bright red las-rounds added their spice to the flaring red lights, and the solid slug bullets carved their paths through the air around him, some ricocheting wildly to the sides from impacting upon the superiority of his god-given power-armor.

The narrow eyes of his battle-helm remained dead-locked with those of the nearest traitorous rat through the next couple of footsteps. No yell came from Vermundr's chest, only the frost laced air that escaped from the down curved form of his vox-projector. Vermundr was now one step away, all three men ahead of him still held their triggers down tight, but the closest still held his wide gaze to Vermundr's stare. Another thunderous landing of an armored leg wider than the man's chest, the crack of a bolt pistol into the man's firing arm, the raising of the battle-axe embroidered with symbols of the space wolves, and a single thought in Vermundr's head came all at once, _"Lord Blackmane has done so much for me."_

His axe crashed down through the man's left collar-bone sinking clear through the heart and not stopping its passage until almost the hip bone. The man behind the first watched as Vermundr appeared, moving through the splitting form of his mutilated comrade, the fellow traitor's blood meeting the cold gray power-armro as it made its way closer.

"_Get off of His vessel!"_ he said aloud as more close range .75 caliber rounds blew apart chunks of unfaithful body sending the next man flat-backed onto the floor. He looked up as his body began immediately going into shock just before Vermundr planted his axe's blade through the traitor's face, splitting the head in two and splattering fresh blood and brain onto the surrounding floor it lay on.

Vermundr lifted the axe and swung around backwards, hitting the third man near him in the chest with the pole side of the weapon as the man's shotgun went off one last time sending shrapnel across Vermundr's form while he looked towards where the traitor leader had been, hoping to see a gaping hole in the side of the brute's head.


----------



## dark angel

The madness of war was such an enjoyable thing. Alrik loved the feeling of his twin hearts pumping, the way that his skin felt warm and his muscles swelled. He could see his Brothers in cover now and he pushed faster, his bloody hands sending droplets of scarlet and crimson pattering against the decking beneath. And then, there was a deafening boom. A click. Another boom. A click. Another boom. Alrik was cast in maroon as runes flashed across his vision, warning him of the imminent threat towards his right. 

‘I can bloody see that!’ He growled to no-one in particular, spinning to face his enemy. 

The sizzle-pop of a Las weapon went off nearby. There was a burning sensation against his knee and he collapsed, landing on the deck with a metallic thump. The bastards had caught him in a vice of shotgun and Las, and now hew as paying for it. A staccato of rounds pounded against his prone form and he reached for his Chainsword, gripping the tough hilt enthusiastically. The shotgun wielding fellow, a broad shouldered form clad in hazel coloured scale-armour advanced slowly, grinning as he put pressure upon his trigger.

_This is it.._

‘Astartes scum..’ Growled the man, a lisp in his voice elongating the S’s. 

Alrik was moving before the round could hit him. He spun around onto his knees, drawing his Chainsword and lifting it behind his head in a reversed grip. The first round pinged where his head had been, sending shrapnel along the Firehawk’s side with audible crunches. The grin of the man turned into a scream of fear. Alrik laughed loudly, and plunged the blade deep. It eat through the flesh of the mans gut, the deactivated teeth shredding his innards with wet rips. The tip ripped through just above the mans buttocks and he fell silent, his hands clenching in rigor mortis.

‘No bastard calls me scum!’ He bellowed and yanked his weapon free, sending chunks of viscera across his front. 

He stumbled up, feeling the cauterized armour and scorched flesh of his knee rub together and gritted his incisors. That mutt would pay also, he decided. Yet he was alone currently, taking a hail of rounds from various positions. Something made him feel as though this had been staged. It was rather convenient that when the Company left, the ship was attacked. The Alpha Legion had been watching them, it was evident of that. Alrik wanted their blood. And he wanted it now.

Of course, he would have to settle for the nearest thing. That was a short and stout man, wielding a Las-Carbine in one hand, firing it wildly at the Wolves. Alrik activated the teeth of his weapon and they began to spin wildly, spitting off the blood and flesh of his previous target. Seven great strides brought him slamming home with his shoulder, breaking the shoulder of the man and causing him to shriek in agony, his weapon collapsing.

The Chainsword came in from the left, ripping up at the hip. Flesh was churned into a bloody pulp that drizzled crimson. Slowly it pushed towards the shoulder of the man and his upper torso began to keel over, strands of skin ripping as he did so. Organs slipped out at his side, and splattered upon his giant feet. The horrid look upon the face of the man was swiped away when Alrik gripped his face with one free hand and clenched, breaking the bones of his face and ripping away his skin. The Firehawk was laughing when he turned towards the enemy, a monster’s smile upon his lips.


----------



## Lord of the Night

Iorek's rebuke was near enough to make Sydornis snarl in rage. Why would he defend the witch-kin with such vigour?, he didn't deserve it. Nothing but a witch masquerading as a loyal Space Wolf, yet he had uses beyond being burnt at the stake for morale and Sydornis could understand keeping him around, but not trusting or liking them. Stifling his retort was aided by the blaring klaxons that raged around them, it had come on so fast that even Sydornis's auto-senses had been surprised. The hall rumbled and groaned, something was attacking them. Sydornis grinned, whatever it was would not last scant seconds.

As the Pack ran out of the hall more impacts caused the _Fist of Russ_ to shake, the suicidal enemy was nearby Sydornis was sure of it. He could vent his anger on them, rather then getting into an argument with Iorek that the Pack did not need right now. In an instant a bulkhead smashed open, Sydornis quickly spun on his hell and behind a wall, taking cover as best he could to avoid the shockwave. Quickly moving back out to see the situation a breaching charge detonated, knocking the Blood Claw from his footing and throwing him into the left of the battle. Keris and Iorek were with him, and their path was blocked off. What could only be described as a motley band of raiders, the term threat seemed too good for them, had emerged from the attack vector and immediately opened fire, their lasguns and autoguns blasting away. A stray around clipped Sydornis's leg, sparking as it failed to penetrate his power armour. His smile quickly faded as he felt the debris crushing him to the floor.

The Pack was fighting all around him and Sydornis snarled as he could not join them. Reminding himself to calm his anger, the inner wolf, Sydornis forced the debris off his chest. His armour systems reported no major damage and only a few minor cracks, nothing that would upset his ability to fight. He would have the armour repaired later, now it was time for killing. Grabbing his Bolt Pistol Sydornis loosed a few shots, taking a traitor in the arm and head, as his body exploded into gorey shards Sydornis rushed forward, thumbing the activation rune on his chainsword and grinning when it roared into life. Another traitor turned only to scream as Sydornis slashed the chainsword through his shoulder, taking his arm off, then quickly following it up with a sidewards slash that tore the traitor's chest open. Two dead, untold more to go. This day was getting better by the second.

(OOC: Very sorry for how late this is. Ive been reading a lot recently and have fallen behind in my RPs.)


----------



## Euphrati

Laz bolts spat through the corridor around him, tainting the very air with the bitter stink of ozone and Keris gave a snarl of rage as he sprang from behind the torn paneling after a long moment of silence greeted his words. Fangs bared, Keris rolled out from his cover and dashed across the distance to the nearest traitor; a man clutching a laz gun and crouching behind a section of buckled floor plating. Bracing his stride; Keris simply vaulted up the weakened metal, allowing his weight to crush the twisted plate flat and bringing his growling chainsword down upon the frantic traitor. The man’s light armour was shredded like old parchment under the chewing teeth, coils of pale intestine spilling across the floor between the grasping hands of the heretic. Keris’ bolt pistol put an end to the traitor’s anguished screams with a single round to the forehead. 

The sense of threat and movement out the corner of his vision foretold an attack and Keris spun to face the new foe at his flank. The raised barrel of a shotgun greeted him, the weapon cradled in the hands of a man wearing the colours of the planetary defense. Instinct took over and Keris twisted sideways even as the man squeezed the trigger, agony blooming upon his neck and face as the fragmentary shot peppered his upper torso. His sudden movement caused the already weakened plating to shift, sending Keris crashing to his back with a howl of fury and pain.

The skin along Keris’ lower left jaw was slashed by the razor-edged shards of shot and a handful of wounds stung along his neck as his blood clotted almost instantly with contact to air. The man racked another shot and stepped forward to shoulder his weapon again, he never got a chance to pull the trigger as Keris lashed out with a ceramite-shod kick that connected squarely with the barrel of the combat shotgun. The darkly polished wood of the stock shattered under the impact, the force of the blow driving the steel barrel through the man’s shoulder and out his back in a spray of crimson. The man stumbled backwards, too shocked to even scream.

Red washed over Keris’ vision as he rolled to his feet, his words partially lost in a feral roar as he drove his chainsword through the man’s opposite shoulder and deep into his chest, 

‘Learn now the price of your treachery to the Allfather!’

Keris yanked his blade free, shouldering the corpse aside as he turned on the remaining traitors with a burning hate etched in his own blood smeared across his features.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr' pistol clicked dry as he gave cover to Alrik, his brother for whatever reason had stopped his charge and was now taking heavey return fire from the enemy. Tyr holstered his pistol before drawing his chainsword and reving the motor, its teeth spinning rapidly, the whole weapon growling for enemy blood. He would not let these traitors overtake his brother, they had a misplaced courage in the foul gods of chaos, and he was going to show them what true fear was.

He poked his head around the corner of the table and waited until he heard a magazine run dry before rounding the corner and bounding towards the first traitor he saw. He was taking cover behind some rubble and currently had the misfortune of having to reload, something that he would pay dearly for. Tyr was there in a split second standing on top of the piece of rubble, his chainsword decapitating the bewildered soldier's head in one fell swipe, a roar coming from the Space Wolf's lips. 

Blood shot out of the stump of a neck and splattered his chest, but he took no notice of it, a brother was in need and there were enemies still yet to slay. He turned his head and found Alrik who had been forced to his knee, his eyes shooting towards the traitor who shot at him. Tyr's charge would draw thier fire away from his brother and thus give him time to cover him in return, he made a silent prayer to the All-Father before leaping off of the rubble and running towards the enemy. 

He charged past Alrik and sure enough the enemy's fire began coming at him, at least the enemies in front of him began shooting at him. A las round hit him square in the chest causing him to stumble, but he carried on and was on the fool instantly, his chainsword powering through his stomach and out his back. Before he had time to rip his weapon out another las round clipped his shoulder gaurd and he roared as he was forced behind a pillar. He looked at his useless arm and suddenly an idea popped into his meaty head, in one motion he tore his chainsword out of the man's body and shoved his arm through the gorey hole, a small meatshield.

He grinned at his idea but was caught off gaurd as another traitor poked around the corner of the pillar and aimed his lasgun straight at Tyr's face. Unfortunately for him the Blood Claws relfexes had not dulled in his slight mental lapse and he was crushed as the wolf's shoulder powered him into the pillar. The traitor's body still between him and the pillar, Tyr peered around to view the enemy movement, waiting to charge again at the next instant he heard a magazine reloading.


----------



## deathbringer

Keris loped forth, long loping strides covering the distance between him and his enemies, his fangs bared, gleaming in the flickering lights of the corridor. His chainsword flashed, blood spurted and Iorek's mouth contorted as fury and desperate lust battled.

An acrid taste filled his mouth, bitter rage filling his heart at the sheer hypocrisy of the situation.

He had fought not to charge, battled the rage inside him to stay his hand, followed Vermundr's orders to the letter. Yet "Brother Keris" had disobeyed and no word came from their pack leader. No word... in fact now Vermundr loped forward to join the respected brother.

It was despicable 

Had Iorek disobeyed orders, Vermundr would have criticized him, accused him of breaking oaths and making false promises. He knew he was being watched, tested at every turn, his loyalty despite his oaths under question, his actions scrutinized at every turn.

Yet because Brother Keris charged they should all charge.

Who truly lead this pack, not Vermundr by the looks of it. 

Fuck it, he'd just keep his head down and shut up, but if Vermundr ever criticized him, if he felt the need to use initiative, he'd just do it and hang the consequences.

Keris's broad back blocked his enemies from view and he gave another snarl. Typical.

He scanned the scattered rent metal of the dropship watching as a figure scattered from cover, rushing forward as he dropped into cover, his lasgun clutched between trembling fingers.

A suprisingly well aimed shot flashed over his head and he blinked in surprise as he ducked away a foul hiss on his lips. A second shot flashed above him and Iorek gave a childish smile. He ducked to the left of his cover and loosed a double tap and the lasgun warrior gave a cry as two shots slammed into the metal of his cover. The heretic screamed toppling backwards the lasgun spilling from cover into the open. There was a pause as Iorek fixed the barrel of his pistol upon the lasgun and the cultist quivered, hesitant, uncertain.

Patience.... the wolf snarled... it wanted blood now... now... NOW

He fought its endeavours
Patience, its coming.

A hand protruded, then a sinewy arm and a rat face, bloodshot eyes, frantic tears tracks staining his pale cheeks. The face turned, the eyes widened and then exploded in a hail of gore, a final scream of fear rending the air apart.

Iorek's eyes were already moving, his vision drawn to a figure in power armour toppling to the ground, helmless head rent apart by shotgun shrapnel. The icy blue eyes turned in his direction as he went down and he realised that the figure laid low was Keris.

A tiny smile, quickly stiffled flashed across his face and he hissed under his breath as a fresh clip slipped into his pistol

"What goes around comes around"

A second figure caught his gaze, his target temporarily forgotten now returned to the fore front of his mind.

The bolter wielder, his armour gleaming, the deadly weapon flashing upwards, a second glaived hand slipping to hold the weapon steady.Iorek was tracking towards him his pistol clamped in both hands.

The leader's eyes were narrowed, fixed upon another figure in grey armour.

Alrik..

He was instinctively aiming, his hatred of Alrik long forgotten, replaced by new events, by new hatreds, new problems.

He was aimed, locked and loaded, the pistol balanced his arms braced for the recoil, a single red eye looking straight down the barrel

"Iorek now"

Vermundrs yell came across the vox and iorek paused his finger upon the trigger. He wanted to shout back, to scream

"No shit. I was just gonna wait till he shot him"

Bastard... couldn't he leave him alone. Order someone that disobeyed orders for a change, let him be, have a little faith in him. Bitch at somebody else for a change.

His eyes were still fixed on the leader. He fired, one shot, the pistol bucked yet his arms were steady.

Bang

Fuck vermundr he was doing this for Alrik, who had overcome his loathing, who had given him a chance

Doubletap

Bang Bang

He willed the figure to fall over as the bullets tore through the air.

Please fall

The wolf snarled, it hoped for blood, reflexively he licked his lips, a blood red tongue flitting across icy white skin.

The metallic taste of blood... the tongue flittered again


----------



## darkreever

Iorek; You watch as the first of two rounds explodes against the stone the man was using for cover, alerting him to you. Before he had any time to react on this pressing information though, your second round caught him square in the head, obliterating it in a shower of blood, bone, and brain matter before the body crashed into the ground and right on the last of the intruders.

Tyr; Peering your head around you are just able to witness a body crash into your target, sending him sprawling to the ground, gun clattering away from his grip. With a smile you move to finish him, before a large armoured figure steps from behind him, plunging a cackling rune encrusted blade into the last enemies back, tearing it from the side with near explosive force.

All; You gather to the form of the rune priest Njal while he survey’s the damage done; a grim look on his face that upon reflection you all share. Looking beyond the priest, you see other Blood Claws; the others who had been left aboard the Fist of Russ. Punishment or not, it appears that Sigurd had not been false when he informed you that all of the Blood Claws were remaining on board. Once both packs were gathered around the rune priest, the older wolf wasted no more time with silence.

_“The enemy is a cunning serpent, striking at our sides when we are attuned elsewhere. No less than nine breaches have been reported, this one included, and already the voices of crew have gone silent within the generatorium. Our lord and the rest of the company are out of contact, the other vessels days from here at best. Invaders have attacked our home, it comes to us to protect it.”_ He says, his words filled with a measure of something more, like he is not entirely here. _“Vermundr, your pack must discover what has befallen the crew tasked to guard the generatorium. The runes cannot guide my sight to what shall happen, it can only be something terrible, but the will of something greater is to drive you and your brothers to it. Hunter *Loccin*,”_ Njal says, turning to the figure of a grey hunter, one of grey hunter Hogun’s brothers who’s leg had been shattered when their vessel crashed days ago. He still moved with a limp, and this had prevented him from being with his pack, but he could otherwise fight on. _“Take the others and bring aid to the crew of the engineerium. Something terrible lurks down there and your experience is needed. I shall go to the bridge and do what I can from there. By Russ and the All-father let us cast away these heathens!”_


Though many of you would rather Njal came, you part ways with the priest and dozen other Blood Claws in order to reach your own objective; markers super-imposing themselves to the corner of your vision as your bodies recall the layout of the ship and where you must go. The Fist of Russ is no battleship, but like any ship of the Imperium it is enormous and so it takes nearly three hours to reach your objective, having come across no less than five small groups of enemies and crushing them in your wake. Entering the cavernous expanse that is the generatorium you come out onto one of the numerous catwalks a level above the ground, with three or four more levels of catwalks above you. The sight before you though, it is enough to make your hackles rise and a snarl all but erupt from your lips. Dozens of enemies in adhoc purple armour with green fatigues beneath, carrying an array of las or auto-weapons and all shaved to appear relatively the same. Operatives, and in force, which should mean but one thing..

Keris and Sydornis; The familiar scent comes to Keris in an instant, but it is Sydornis who spots the figure first. Death, the death of one who was so close; the large armoured form of Kjarl’s killer comes into view, a heavy flamer gripped in his gauntlets as he kicks a rating into the generatorium, where he is quickly killed by the vast generator. The rest of the pack soon detect the scent or locate the form, but it is you who were first of this.

[Vermundr, there are at least three or four dozen operatives below, they are in groups working on various devices. Explosives to destroy the main generator and tax the ship maybe? Whatever their plan, they must be stopped, so what are your orders. More importantly though, how many of the pack will even listen? Do you even care to give orders at this point or do you want that traitor marine dead now? As for the rest of you, regardless of Vermundr’s orders, do you even listen? If it should come down to it which will you choose, duty or vengeance? Alrik, unlike the others, at the sight of the enemy a wave of red comes over your senses almost at once; for you the choice might not be as hard, you do have a bit of a score to settle with this one or at least should repay him for the near face crushing.]


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr's hopes were fulfilled as he turned to face the leader of the group. His head exploded into a shower of blood; Iorek's shot landing home. He had done his part in battle once again. Vermundr noted in his mind as they ran through the halls towards the generatorium that of his pack it was Keris and Alrik who had disobeyed orders. Iorek followed his word down to the letter. Unfortunately, Njal's appearance and information left no time for discussion of his brothers' actions. All that mattered right now was getting these traitors off of the Fist of Russ.

Under such circumstances the ship seemed larger than ever before. How long did it take to reach the generatorium? He kept his word and let the pack charge straight through any small forces they came across on there way, slaughtering all of the fools. So long as they were all together striking simultaneously in force he had no issue with charging the enemy. When the hull breached near the mess hall, he saw pack-mates fall to the ground and needed to establish a more secure position before rushing into an unknown threat. At the time, for all he knew, there were alpha legionnaires behind the man with the bolter waiting for the foolish blood claws to charge in blindly and take the bate. 

This common attitude amongst blood claws is likely why so many of the alpha legion's traps had been successful. Vermundr didn't wish to be the common fool-hearty blood claw. He would be different. Maybe his fellow brothers would always dislike him, even hate him, for being different. But, maybe one day some of them would view him as something better. Either way, he was a hard wolf to change and he had come to realize that. It seemed his pack-mates were as well. A big stubborn pack...but he felt they stood out because of it.

When they finally reached the generatorium, he quickly realized this stubbornness was nothing to be trifled with now. His head snapped to the movement of the large figure in power armor, throwing away what was likely the last life in the chamber who was loyal to the Emperor apart from their newly arrived pack. He knew Keris's oath, and it was clear on his expression, the particular hate for this chaos marine. He remembered also that this was the chaos marine Alrik had personally dueled with.

He would not hold hid brothers back now, and the chaos marine didnt seem to notice them just yet, he pointed his finger straight toward the Alpha legionnaire and his hearts beat heavy, blue-gray armor shining in the bright lights from high above. It was all or nothing once again. Another miserable loss would not only be an embarrassment but their deaths as well, all of the trouble these missions had brought to them would be for nothing if they could not kill this traitor here and now.

_"Haste brothers! Kill that son of a bitch!"_

Before moving far himself he voxed Iorek, "_Iorek, We all hate that marine with a dire passion. Keris and Alrik both have ultimate personal qualms with hims. With them, Tyr and Sydnornis charging straight for him I trust they will be able to take him down. This is your choice, entirely up to you, but with your aim and focus in battle I suggest you help allow our packmates to focus solely on the Traitor marine by shooting down any operatives that try to aid the legionnaire during the assault. Also, It would be good to have someone making sure another chaos marine doesn't flank our brothers. Whatever you choose to do I myself will be stopping whatever plan they have unfolding here._"

With this, He leapt from the catwalk onto the metal floor below. And charged towards the nearest group of operatives working on some device. There were about a dozen. He would have to be quick unless he wanted the many other operatives around to gun down his packmates.

The blood stirred within him. This battle's odds seemed so highly against them. Six blood claws against 40 or so fully armed operatives and at least one chaos marine. But they were six blood claws fighting one of their chapter's most hated enemies on their Lord's ship. The Lord who by some anomaly kept giving them more chances. As he ran at the soldiers clad in their phased purple, he saw Kjarl, he saw Baldyr the ice slayer, he saw his Lord, Blackmane.

It was as if the cup of wolfen had hit him for the first time, as a rage unlike any other he had ever felt drove him on. Helmet on, wolf tail talismans on his waist and helmet flailing from the speed, he charged through the incoming fire. He lopped the head clean off of the first operative, blowing apart some of the others with the small number of rounds the bolt pistol magazine holds. Having no time to reload he continued to use his pistol as a bludgeoning weapon in tandem with his battle-axe. Perhaps being a fool-hearty blood claw did have its moments. If not, he'd find out quickly.

(ooc: whether or not he figures out what the operatives were up to would be nice but I suppose that wouldn't really be of concern until all the traitors are dead, depending of course on how imminent of a threat their plan may be. Up to you though obviously. Also I assume Vermundr would take some damage, in case it seems like potential god-modding that I didn't feel right saying what specifically happens to him in that aspect.)


----------



## deathbringer

An ocean of calm, an aura of beautiful icy relief flooded him as the head exploded outwards in a mass of blood stained bone. The fleshy pink slapped with a dull thud against the chipped stone wall and slid morosely down as the bolter toppled away, clattering over the floor to rest feet away from a single limp hand. 

Iorek's expression was fixed, his eyes slanted almost in confusion as he watched the bloody smear upon the icy rock. His mind was blank, empty, a terrifying void.

Then there were others amongst them. The rune priest and other blood claws were amongst them, those cold eyes filled with rage as the priest surveyed the damage, his mouth twisted in a cold sneer of distaste. Did he look at Iorek, who knew? Iorek stared desperately at him, he needed council, comfort, yet there was no time.

Already there were being dispatched yet the rune priests voice was mystical, distant, the storms of fenris that rolled across his tongue coming from across and ocean of pensive thought.

It seemed as if he already knew what would happen on there journey, perhaps he did know, perhaps he was keeping there fates from them, if he had told them, would they have dared to go?

A shiver, racked Iorek's body, a desperate quiver of apprehension as the wolf snarled, discomforted by the bodies surrounding him.

Was this the moment?

A second rumbling growl, a second twitch of anxiety.

Then they were running, loping at there ease through the corridors downwards towards there objective, towards the fates that lingered ahead of them.

Minutes turned to death. Death turned to slaughter and slaughter to hours, repetitive ringing metallic footsteps, deep heavy breaths and the rumbling growls of a disquieted wolf echoing in his mind.

Did the others sense, fates realigning before them, sense a shift of destiny.

Or was it just his destiny?

Then the scum scurried infront of them, but the sight was overwhelmed by the scent.

A scent that made his hackles rise, made the wolf's fur stand upright, its body taught fangs bared.

Murderous waves, locked with the slightest tint of a warrior whose lessons were fading into memory.

His eyes were locked to Keris. Two bright red beams fixed upon the wolf whose icy blue were locked upon the power armoured figure ahead of them 

The very stiffness of his back, the arch of his gait told him all he needed to know. 

This was the one, not his..... Kjarl's murderer.

He was calm once again, a tint of frustration ebbing at the edge of his sea of tranquility.

Then vermundr was speaking, his voice cutting through the vox, and he was grateful, grateful for the reiteration of his own thoughts. 

Vermundr gave him the choice. The choice to sate his vengeance even though this was not his kill to take. Perhaps there was hope for them. Perhaps they could understand one another, just maybe the packleader understood. 

Then the packleader was springing away, into the melee of the cultists below. Iorek was slower, ascending the rail, he felt a breeze whip across his face and he paused eyes closed for a milli second.

He was empty, no words needed to be said, each brother would make his own choice, yet he hoped they would let Keris sate his vengeance.

He wanted to say something to keris, say something,something that meant something tell him to kill the fucker, tell him he was sorry, that he would not interfere, that it was his brother's kill to take.

A melee of emotions flooded through his body and he pushed them forth in a long loud howl. His own tribute to his brothers quest, to his brothers goal.

He hoped his brother would understand, hoped he would see his brother again.

He let himself fall forwards, toppling towards the ground below, his body twisted in mid air as the air rushed through his hair, streaming over his eyes and he smiled as he fell, soul and body both cool, powerless out of control. 

The metal below was rushing towards him as he felt his legs spiral over and he braced himself for impact landing feeling the tremor of his momentum thrust up threw his knees as he landed cat like, legs bent arms spread upon the metal sheeting.

Slowly he drew chainsword and pistol and followed his packleader, slower more considered, sending aimed round after round into the mass of operatives, he watched his brothers furious motions as he clubbed and slashed.

The madness had truly taken him, yet Iorek felt nothing but emptiness. He didn't know if the packleader would hear him yet he said it anyway his voice quiet and echoey down the vox

"I am with you brother. That marine was not mine to kill."


Slowly he raised the chainsword thumbing the activation rune and watching it whir into life

"for keris" he grunted as the blade bit down tearing into flesh, the roar and spatter resounding with distant screams.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr peered around the column to see a limp body impact on his chosen target causing him to fall, his gun sliding across the floor. A broad smile crossed his face as he saw the man's look of complete terror as Tyr came around the pillar only to see his enemy's eyes freeze as a rune encrusted blade powered through him. He let out a low growl but stopped as he saw it was Njal who had killed the soldier, he said nothing but kept his head down so that the runepriest could not see his disappointment at not getting the chance to kill the man.

He listened to the words of the old wolf carefully, indeed the enemy was cunning, but they would fall to the Wolves of Fenris this day. Tyr sniffed the air and caught the eyes of one of the other Blood Claws who had followed Njal, the Claw stared at him probably expecting him to look away, but he did not. He was not afraid of cowards who ganged up on thier own brothers, so he stared back and lifted his arm that still had the body on it and waved with a smile on his face, the Blood Claw scowled and looked away, Tyr chuckling as they made their way to the genetorium.

As they left the room he tossed the dead body off of his arm, the crunch of it hitting the wall giving him satisfaction. He thought on the traitors' plan of attacking the ship and what their goals were, obviously getting at the young ones of the chapter was the main one, but there had to be some other things that they were also trying to accomplish on the ship. 

Yet as he and the others entered the ship his nose caught the scent of something he had smelled before. The sickening smell pulled his head in the direction of the being it was eminating from, the Alpha Legionaire who had killed Kjarl and so wronged his pack. Tyr let out a deep growl of anger and hate, half ignoring Vermundr's orders, he looked over the railing and saw a few large groups in the same colors of the Legion working on small projects. 

His eyes narrowed as he looked back at the traitor marine, the urge to simply charge the bastard and slaughter him threatening to overcome his common sense. Yet two things stopped him, one was the fact that this traitor had a special place in the hearts of his two brothers Alrik and Keris, and that they would most certainly want to be the ones who killed him. The second was that this was not the traitor that had escaped him twice, that bastard was still MIA and needed to have his head removed, and Tyr knew that he would be the one to do it.

And so he stayed his hand and, letting out a deafening howl, he lept over the railing after his pack leader and Iorek and dove into the operatives who worked quickly. Charging into the first group he smashed one in the head with his stump and with a wide sweep of his chainsword cut another one's head off.


----------



## Euphrati

Keris’ crystal blue eyes scanned the remaining devastation; coming to rest upon the traitor-guard gripping the bolter just as the voice of Iorek’s bolt pistol cut across the last moments of battle and his skull dissolved in a shower of bone and brain matter. Out of the shadows stepped the Stormcaller, his runed blade ending the life of the last traitor and the scents of other Wolves riding the air currents behind him. 

Holstering his pistol and sheathing his chainsword after wiping the blade clean upon the torn corpse at his feet; Keris joined his packmates as they gathered around the powerful elder Wolf, sliding in beside Tyr and hooking the empty bolt pistol out of its tooled holster on his wolfbrother’s hip without a word. The empty clip clattered to the floor as Keris slotted a fresh one in place with a gentle click, chambering a round before slipping the weapon back into place with an almost imperceptible nod to his burly Clawmate. The act was instinctive and sincere for Keris; his brother’s need untainted by pride. The soft touch of gratitude in Tyr’s scent a quiet indication of newly re-forged bonds of trust and respect between the two Sons of Russ. 

The metallic taste of righteous fury coated the back of Keris’ tongue as Njal spoke, the coarse hair at the nape of his neck prickled slightly at the otherworldly tone of the Stormcaller’s voice. Keris had no doubts that the grim shadow clinging to the Rune Priest’s already rough features was echoed upon his own blood-stained expression, for he could see it in every present Wolf and taste the bitterness that marked their scents. _The wolf in his soul paced in anger_, a low growl colouring Keris’ thoughts at the desecration of Lord Blackmane’s noble vessel. 

There was a portentous manner to the words of the Rune Priest that lingered in the back of Keris’ mind even after they had parted ways, the press of destiny heavy upon his strides. Vermundr’s scent had been laced with irritation towards him and Keris found a surprising desire in the pit of his stomach for his packleader to admonish his actions, however the challenge never came as their echoing footfalls carried the Claw through the vast belly of the great ship. 

The healing wounds peppering his neck and jaw-line itched fiercely as Keris’ lips drew back into a silent snarl; the sour scent of the boarders tainted the very air throughout the length of the Fist of Russ. More than once they had encountered groups moving through the corridors, the renegade followers ill prepared for the fury of the young Blood Claws as they left naught but cooling corpses in their wake. 

---

The implanted knowledge of the ship’s twisting bowels rode the back of Keris’ thoughts, the distance seeming to creep by at a glaciers pace thought in truth they managed extraordinary speed with the tireless strides of a hunting pack. Then, as if the last moments raced by in the blink of an eye, the pack surged out into the generatorium upon a catwalk of forged steel. 

Keris’ nostrils flared as he caught a scent amid the dozens of treacherous men who labored bellow.

_Oathbreaker. Coward. *Murderer*._ 

A hatred, colder than the fathomless depths of Fenris’ untamed seas, surged through Keris’ veins as the world seemed to focus down upon a darkly familiar figure, a cry of feral vengeance tearing from the beast in his soul as the unmistakable scent of Grey Hunter Kjarl’s killer drowned out all others. A crimson haze threatened to swallow the edges of Keris’ vision, the hunger of the inner wolf sharp and oppressive. 

_Kill him! Lifeblood for lifeblood! _

Never before had the desire to give into the berserker lust that lurked within the genetic gift of Russ been so intense; causing his hands to clench and his shorn mane of hair to stiffen into a crest. And yet, Keris fought back the fog of feral rage with an unwavering will. The renegade was as devious as he was competent; the archaic flamer he carried was borne as though it weighted no more than a horn of ale and blackened with ten thousand years of vile use. It would take every ounce of Keris’ cunning and strength to fulfill the vengeance that his soul cried out for.

Keris’ voice was a low growl, as hard and unforgiving as the world of his birth and bound by a need for vengeance that carried unspoken pain, 

‘He dies by my hand.’

The body language and change in scents of his packbrothers indicated that they had also caught wind of the traitor’s odor and for a nanosecond a wave of agitation ghosted through Keris’ thoughts at their presence. Yet, for all the rage that hung in the air about the young Sons of Russ, there was also the warm strength of understanding that came from a shared pain and the agitation was swallowed by a torrent of unfettered pride in the brothers by his side. 

Howls echoed through the cavernous expanse as some of the Claw leapt from the walkway to smash headlong into the men bellow, death riding their every strike. Nearly half of the treacherous mortal operatives lay between the Wolves and the Legionnaire, thought it mattered not for Keris would willingly wade through the darkest corners of the Eye of Terror itself to bring justice to the vile Oathbreaker before him.

Keris paused at the edge of the rail, the light spilling from the beating heart of the ship casting his pale blue-grey armour in shades of blood and reflecting off his icy eyes like the burning gaze of Morkai himself. Hate gave his voice an edge over the growling generators,

*‘Serpent! You have hidden from the Allfather’s judgment for the last time Oathbreaker! Face me now and meet your death… There is nowhere for you to run this time, Coward!’*

With a howled prayer to Russ and the Allfather upon his lips, Keris launched himself into the air. The metal plating seemed to shutter under his impact, his leap turning into a furious charge that smashed into the first operative that stood between him and his goal. Bones shattered as the man was knocked to the cold floor, his skull crushed beneath Keris’ armour shod stride like a child’s toy dragonboat under the weight of a kraken. 

Keris’ bolt pistol barked at point blank range; the shot erupting from the back of one body to detonate in the gut of another, while a spray of ruby droplets cascaded from the churning teeth of his chainsword as it parted armour and flesh. Every move took him closer to his goal, every step haunted by the memory of a multi-melta’s draconian hiss.

_This is for you, my mentor. For the wisdom you gave us all._


----------



## dark angel

Strings of gore were wrapped around his fingers like incarnadine rings, dripping pink curls onto the floor beneath him. The blue-grey of his palms was all but hidden beneath the blanket of blood and fleshy parts, only leaving the odd clean speck to be seen. Alrik Firehawk could not bring his attentions away, simply staring at them, his mouth agape. Was all warfare such a brutal affair? Did it consist of only mindless slaughter, spurred on by past rage? Yet, the crimson carpeting was glorious. The ground squelched and crunched beneath his aggravated footfalls, bones splintering into a fine white powder as he made for the others.

His weapons were sheathed, warmly and protectively resting within arms reach at his hips. Chainsword, Bolt Pistol and the Seax-like Combat Blade. 

_The tools of my trade_, he mused with no ill intent.

He was an Astartes now. He was the bringer of death, the instiller of fear. He did not care for those he killed, nor would he ever do so, but did they truly deserve to go in such an ungodly manner? To be torn limb from broken limb by his gauntlets? Did it even matter anymore? Why was he pondering on his own murderous acts, on the tearing and ripping and renting, when he was one among many? His head swelled with such contagious thoughts, and with each attempt to send them routing, they came back, growing and festering. 

_Gnawing at his soul._

Njal Stormcaller, clad in pelts and with his fiery beard forked appeared. Alrik could not, would not, trust the mighty Priest. He dabbled with the Warp, willingly. Perhaps he did not wish to be the way he was, a witch. Perhaps he longed for the life of a normal Brother, to be like the others of his kind was a everlasting punishment. The Warp was fickly sickening, forever twisting with malign intent. He shuddered thinking about such horrible things, the hairs of his neck standing on end. The Warp was something he never wished to come into direct contact with, it literally scared him..

It did not incite fear in him more than the fact he was so far from home, however. There was a forever-present chance that he would never get to see the ice fields or the tremulous oceans, that he would never get to hunt his prizes and return to his Brothers, famed. He had no intention of falling on some distant world, he would grow old and his name would bring fear to those which dared mention it. He promised himself this, if it was the only thing he did so.

When the Stormcaller spoke, Alrik once again found himself shuddering beneath his protective plates. His words were spoken as though he was absent minded, almost as if he was prying through the Warp to find his bounty. The heads of the enemy, of the Alpha Legion. Of their Brethren. There was no point in Alrik denying that they were truly the Wolves’ fellows, albeit ones long since damned. He could not look at Keris, Iorek and so forth any differently than the cold blooded murderers who had slain Odin, Njoror….Kjarl…

He cast a quick glance across to Keris. His Brother looked tense, uneasy. Had something changed within the Ice-Eyed, or within the Firehawk? Their friendship was broken glass, scattered on the horizon. Was it best to leave it broken, rather than injure themselves in the mending? It mattered not now. Alrik would not go to Keris like some sniveling whelp, if his Brother wanted to reignite what had once been shared by the two, then he would make the move. 

‘This hatred, it is uncalled for..’ He whispered to himself beneath his reassuring solitude that was his helm as he watched Keris.

Now, they were moving. Alrik lagged slightly behind the others, his attentions once again dwelling upon his gore-drenched hands. During the travel, Alrik had snapped necks, crushed organs and powered bones. Still, most of the stringy section had fallen away in their frantic charging, left slimily across the deck. Now it appeared as though the incarnadine-coating shorn brighter, almost jewel-like. The way they contrasted against his arms was glorious. 

_They are beautiful…_

The tightly constricted hallway opened up into the vast generatorium. It was a crude masterpiece, consisting of various workstations and observation walkways. Beneath them, dozens of figures in ramshackle armour laboured about. Upon mockeries of pauldrons, many bore proudly the symbol of the Alpha Legion. Alrik felt something inside him lash out, and then his eyes fell upon the damned Legionnaire. He stood glaringly, with a archaic Flamer held in his gauntlets. It was the one who had crushed his helm, the bastard who had bested him. Made him look like an idiot.

_The gnawing at his soul grew tighter, lashing out._

Alrik leapt from the platform, his Chainsword and Combat Blade now drawn. There was an audible crunch as his bulk landed on the shoulders of one man, driving him into the deck. Blood flared, splattering across the closest of his fellows. Las-fire struck him hard from the side and Alrik spun effortlessly, plunging his blade to the hilt into the throat of his attacker, coursing a gurgle from her ruptured trachea.

His purring Chainsword struck another at the shoulder and he yanked it downwards, across the body. From shoulder-to-hip, the shrieking man burst in visceral glory. Alrik relished as his front was sprayed by twisting arteries, cladding him in what he longed for. 

_Blood..._

He reveled in the dripping rivets that parted the blue-grey of his chest, seeping over the Aquila which was proudly mounted upon his chest, slipping along the wing lines accordingly. It reminded him what the Imperium was. A tyrannical leadership, governed by madmen and murders. And ruled from the shadows, by the likes of him. The Astartes, true humans. True Gods. 

He was charging now. Each giant stride brought him closer to his depraved Brother, however Keris would get there before him, his fellow far more agile. 

Another bald figure collapsed beneath a punishing kick to the crotch, crushing the genitalia of the figure before his Combat Blade ripped away the nose and right cheek, sending the person into violent twists and turns on the floor, leaking gore. A spray of blood had obscured his view and he tore his helm free, clasping it at his side, taking in the Chaotic stench within the room.

_He will see my eyes.._

Now he was drawing near, ready to meet his quarry. He cared not for those who stood before his prize and hacked mercilessly, his weapons rising up and falling several times more before he got close enough so none dared tread near him.

_Warmonger, I am but a warmonger…_


----------



## Lord of the Night

As Sydornis peered around the corner again the shots of Iorek found their mark. Grinning at the fine shots Sydornis emerged from cover and gathered with the Pack to the form of the witch-kin Njal. Sydornis caught glimpses of other Blood Claws joining them, some fresh from the training cages and some who had been in battles of their own, it appeared that Sigurd had not been lying, the other claws were here as well. Just as well Sydornis thought, any aid that would make the witch-kin think they could operate without him present was welcome. A few Grey Hunters had even joined them, Sydornis had met a few Grey Hunters but had never had much of a conversation with one, or cared enough to try. But they were here and could definitely help them, and they could definitely use it.

As the warlock spoke Sydornis paid little attention to the words spewing from his warp-tainted mouth. He preferred to be inspired by men who deserved to inspire others like Lord Blackmane, Wolf Priest Sigurd and Ulrik the Slayer, not meaningless frauds like this pseudo-witch and all his ilk. The orders however he clearly listened to knowing their importance, they were to find the generatorium and salvage what they could of the crew down there, but if the heretics had made it down there it was unlikely that anyone would have survived, which meant it was just a search and destroy mission. Simple enough. Sydornis nodded his affirmation of the orders and re-linked his vox with the rest of the Pack to keep abreast of Vermundr's orders and directions. As they set off towards the objective Sydornis followed with all haste, and throughout the corridors and narrow passes of the _Fist of Russ_, blasting his way through any enemies that dared cross his path.

-Three hours later

As the Pack reached the generatorium Sydornis caught the sight of a large group of hostiles, all clad in purple and green armour like their treacherous masters. There was no doubt now who had sent them, the Alpha Legion. The few files Sydornis had drudged up on them showed they had a penchant for using mortals as agents and operatives, and it had worked so far. Sydornis nearly fired but for a single sight and scent. Death. It was like the end of life itself, and Sydornis recognized the distinct afterscent. It was the Warp, foul and in force. That could only mean one thing, these minor heretic filth were not alone. Something of more danger had come along with them to sabotage the ship.

A massive traitor Astartes, bearing the hateful purple/green of the Alpha Legion, carrying a huge flamer came into view, kicking an underling into the coursing energies of the generators. Sydornis had seen him first that he was sure of, but he was far from the first to react to the traitor's presence. In an instant Alrik and Keris leapt forward and charged towards him. Fools!, Sydornis thought to himself. Taking on a traitor like that required teamwork and unity, not bloody-minded heroism. And Sydornis was no fool. Raising his bolt pistol he fired into the traitor hordes, dropping three hostiles in brief showers of blood and bone chips. He ran across the catwalk with his bolt pistol in both hands, shooting any enemies that crossed his path. Tyr, Keris and Alrik could have the Chaos Marine if they wanted him, whatever grudge they had with him Sydornis did not know and did not care to ask, grudges rarely meant anything in the long run. And Sydornis was content dealing with these lesser heretics, it was after all very satisfying to shred their tainted bodies with a bolt round. Keeping his vox active he scanned for any orders from Vermundr while keeping the heretics as busy as he could.

Another two came into view and fired their autoguns in full-auto spray, the bullets chipping at Sydornis's armour paint. Two bolt rounds silenced their guns and prematurely silenced the guns of two more hostiles rounding the corner. There was so many of them, fortunately Sydornis had a bolt round for every single one of them.


----------



## darkreever

Keris and Alrik; You stalk forward, nothing between you and the bastard now, the enemy Keris had shot for which the round went through trying to lift up his gun, but Keris would have none of that and brought his heel down on the man's face. Senses prickling at the last moment, Keris dived away as flames arced out from the heavy flamer rig, lighting up the corpses in an instant. Alrik however would have none of it, and instead of avoiding the fire he leaps forward, head partially protected by his armoured limbs, and came crashing in front of the traitor marine.

For an instant he locked his eyes with the traitor's helm, and then he pounced forward, chainsword biting into cold metal with a shriek of sparks. A backhand sent Alrik to the ground, chainsword skittering away; one look put a smile on his partially burned features. The flamer rig was ruined, the chainsword having torn a gash within the body and making it useless. Shrugging off the heavy rig, the traitor advanced on Alrik with almost blinding speed, picking the young Blood Claw up by the neck and bringing him close as if to say something. Without pause, the traitor hurled Alrik into the opening of the generator and to his death.

Keris; Avoiding the flames, you have enough time to raise to a knee before watching Alrik jump through the flames and destroy the rig. To your horror though, the traitor throws him into the generator like the rating before. A single rage filled thought burns through your features, an howl of challenge bellowing from deep within: no!

[No! Not another one, not to this traitor! His flamer is gone, all he has left are a holstered bolt pistol and combat blade. Honour your brother, pick up his chainsword and make sure this one pays for all that he has done. He is a true veteran of war, so this shall not be easy, he will not go down in one post, but you will cause damage; have fun.]


Vermundr, Iorek, and Tyr; Between you, eleven operatives fall in seconds and at least nine more are killed before they can even react. Once they do though, you are forced into cover as fourteen operatives form a crude firing line while three others work on some device. Vermundr leaps from cover, tossing his axe into the chest of an operative trying to bear an oversized bolter, he topples to the ground, his death spasms pulling the trigger and blowing another operative in half.

[Have fun you three.]


Sydornis; As the two newcomers come up to the landing the last two were on, one of the two you had thought dead is hauled to his feet, lasgun clutched in one hand while the other ends in a bloody mess. The three begin to fire on you, one round slamming into your pouldron before solid rounds start to rain down from the landing above you. With a snarl you fire several shots upwards, taking one of four enemies out, but are forced to charge forward, weather the hail of rounds, and try to take out those before you and then try to deal with those above.

[Aren't you supposed to be of the pack since the start? Meaning you know about what happened and all that? Anyway, take out the three before you and try to get to the catwalks above. The four up their won't sit aorund idly, they will continue to shoot at you even while others are killed below, even risk shooting their own to try and get at you.]


Alrik; Stars filled your vision as the armoured backhand of the marine took you in the face and sent you to the ground. Before you could regain your senses, a set of armoured fingers grasped your neck and hauled you up, legs dangling, before you were brought in close to the traitor. _"And for daring to think you could stand up before Alpharius, I grant you passage to your corpse-god."_ He whispered to you before throwing you into the opening of the generator and out of sight. 

Acting on instinct, you flail out with your one arm and stab away with the blade in your other. By the grace of the All-father, your fingers find purchase on a stanchion within the generator and your fall into the plasma core is halted. Runes flash bright red on your sight, indicating extreme heat and radiation warnings, but you can ignore them for now; hanging thirty meters from impending doom, its more important for you to get back out there and kill the traitor before he managed to try this again on someone else.

[From within here there are some locations you can move to in order to get back out, the opening is five meters above you. Be careful, a drop now would likely mean your death.]


----------



## deathbringer

Corpses toppled to the four before they could even look round, suprise shock and agony mingled on there dismembered corpses. Cursed humans, rejects from the allfathers glory lay below him, yet still he merely walked.

His mind upon the marine. When would it be his turn, when would the marine finally come to him, when would the rage end. 

He was on autopilot, a kick sending an operative spinning the easy swing of his chainsword scything his head and sending it to the deck below where it landed with a sonorous squelch. 

Still nothing, no rage, no emotion, emptiness. Numbness, cold.

Two rounds clattered off his left pauldron and he turned, quickly, watching a rough liine form and he ducked backwards, his pistol dry, his reactions useless as he dived aside. Rounds spattered off his cover yet he slammed the new clip home, hearing Vermundr's roar of rage as he charged forward, sprinting forth in a desperate rage.

Iorek sprinted too, out of necessity not desire, he had to close the gap, to minimize the time they had to shoot at him. Ducking low, he sprinted, legs pounding, a round clipping off his chest plate, just under his nose, another, flashing of his knee cap he stumbled momentum carrying him forward he spread his arms like a great menacing bird of prey.

He crashed into the line, his bowed skull crashing into the face of one of the operatives, his long arms knocking two more to the ground. Weapons flew everywhere his own chainsword knocked to the ground by the impact and he landed knees first uponthe chest of the operative, feeling bones snap, splintering under his weight.

The young boy howled eyes closing to block out the horrifying sight of iorek's bolt pistol he screamed a wordless plea for redemption. A round silenced his plea and he stood, bolt pistol dropping. one of the cultists as he tried to rise. A second caused the last to crumple his fingers inches from the fallen lasgun. A third panicked as he saw Iorek rise, unfurling from the ruined remains of one of his brethren, sprinting away only to tumble as Iorek's snap shot caught him in the back.

Slowly Iorek advanced upon the three that worked frantically upon the machine. Pistol raised, his chainsword outstretched. He had 2 bullets in the pistol but didnt dare reload. 

He was numb, empty yet he didn't know what to do, what if the round hit the device, what was the device, what if they couldn't disable it, what if they needed these operatives.

Would they tell the truth?

He couldn't risk it. Vermundr could dispatch them later, that was his decision but for now, it was a risk Iorek didn't dare to take.

"Stop what your doing and lie face down on the ground, one sudden movement and i'll blow your brains out"


----------



## unxpekted22

He followed through his throw in order to retrieve his weapon from the chest of the corpse. Blasting apart two more that stood near it, his right hand gripped the familiar handle of his battle axe, ripped it out of the chest sending a spatter of blood backwards as it came straight down into another traitor's skull.

With the blade still sunk into the operative's face, Vermundr fired three rage filled rounds into the man's chest pushing his body off of the blade.

to his left Iorek took down several more, and pinned one to the ground with his gun pointed to the back of his head. Vermudnr took a minute to glance at where Keris and Alrik had been. They were nearly out of sight though. he saw a wave of flame dispersing, and beyond that he could make out sydnornis having a gunfight amongst and below the catwalks. He was glad sydnoris went a different direction so that not alll of the operatives were on heimself, Iorek, and Tyr.

Iorek must have thought there wasa good reason to keep one of these traitors alive. He looked back to his front and saw some of the operatives still working on some device. the device, they still didnt know what it was. Iorek had to keep that man pinned. 

Staying relatively still in such a manner wasnt the smartest idea. As he turned his head towards Tyr he toppled to the floor as something hit his chest and shoulders. he didnt see what kind of ammunition it was but when he looked back up one fo the operatives was int he air above him yelling wildly. Vermdunr flipped fully onto his back quickly, dropped his axe and reached up with his right hand, grabbing the traitors chest and holding him in the air. The man held a large blade and his arms were long enough to reach even as he was stopped in mid air.

A good hit to the side of his helm. It was enough to scar the the helmet and knock Vermudnr's head to the side a bit but the traitor was thrown backwards nonetheless.
Vermundr flipped back up to his feet, his axe dragged ont he floor for the slightest moment as he brought it back to bear. 

the traitor seemed to feeling the pain of crushed ribs now, stirred further by the throw and impact onto the hard floor. Vermudnr shot the arm off that held the blade then rested one foot on the man's chest while he screamed.

He looked to the device again, "_Tyr, Iorek's holding the operative in case that device is something we cant destroy without damaging the ship. Its up to us to take out the rest of these operatives but make sure no stray shots hit that device."_

With that he remembered Tyr only had one hand anyway, but it would be important to make sure no enemy shots hit what could be a giant bomb either.

He looked down, and realized his foot had sunk half way through the man's chest. somehow he was still alive. Vermundr stomped down smashing his foot through the rest of the traitor's chest so that his foot met the floor beneath.

He sprinted towards the nearest operative next to the device.


----------



## Euphrati

Nothing stood between him and the Serpent now as the last body crumpled to the ground under the growling of Keris’ chainsword. One of the bodies upon the floor twitched, catching his eye, the man who had taken Keris’ point blank shot coughed a froth of blood down his chin as he tried to raise his gun with shaking arms. The movement ceased abruptly as Keris’ heavy boot came down squarely upon the traitor’s face, ending his blasphemy in a wet crack of shattered bone. _The wolf in his soul snarled in warning_, senses keen with imminent threat, and Keris flung himself sideways into a roll as a wave of roaring flame erupted from the mouth of the Serpent’s raised flamer to engulf the space he had just been standing.

As he rose to a knee, Keris breathed a bitter oath of frustration as Alrik barreled through the flames to face the traitor first, sparks flying as he brought his chainsword down upon the flamer in the Serpent’s hands. The oath became a snarl of rage as his wolfbrother was sent to the ground by a sharp backhanded blow; his chainsword skidding across the decking to stop less than a meter away from where Keris surged to his feet, an echoing howl of anguish on his lips as Alrik was hauled upright by the traitor only to be tossed through the blazing mouth of the generatorium’s largest reactor.

_*NO!* Alrik. Brother… no._ 

Everything was washed in killing red. Greif and loss were swallowed by a fathomless rage that uncoiled from deep within Keris' heart as his spent pistol was shoved roughly into its holster and his fingers closed around the grip of Alrik’s chainsword, 

‘This ends *now*…’

The scent of his brother was strong upon the weapon as it screamed to life; mirroring his own blade, the twin sets of spinning teeth wailed like a pair of lost souls as Keris surged forwards with a blood curdling howl from between bared fangs. The traitor was hulking, easily rivaling Keris’ wolfbrother Tyr in stature, his skills honed over ten thousand years of unforgivable atrocities and Keris’ first attack met nothing but air as the oathbreaker swayed to the side implausibly fast for his bulk. Yet, even as the traitor’s hands went to his hip to draw his pistol and a serrated combat blade, he was forced to take the second chainsword in a deflected blow upon his pauldron. The fight that followed was all but lost in a blur of motion and the aching howl of a young Wolf's sworn vengeance. 

The wolf in his soul raged and Keris let its strength fill his movements, though more often than not any blow that he landed was glancing or outright blocked by the traitor. It was apparent that the young Blood Claw was terribly outclassed, the veteran’s skill curtailed solely by the fact he was facing a double pair of howling blades wielded by an enraged foe and having to spend much of his time in defense. The clash of blades upon armour and steel was near constant, neither allowing the other a moment’s respite as they spun a fatal tapestry in the churning heat of the ship’s heart. 

Keris arched a swift blow to the traitor’s neck, only to met the Serpent’s combat blade and be showered in sparks as he snarled in fury. But, instead of fighting the block, Keris let the traitor shove the churning blade away only to twist his grip and lash out with the pommel of his sword while sweeping a crossed block of his own. The sound of ceramite cracking was coupled by Keris’ throaty growl of bloodlust as his chainsword’s hilt impacted with a powerful punch to the traitor’s faceplate, the glowing red lenses shattering in a spray of ruby shards as the traitor shouldered bodily out of the way of Keris’ follow-up stroke.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's armor was currently spattered with gore, as was the case whenever he fought, it would seem that it was a habit now of his. He did not care though, in fact he liked it, he was built to kill and protect the children of the Emperor and so when an enemy's lifeblood spilled on him he saw it as a confirmation he was doing his job. He was a single minded creature while in battle, no other thoughts spilling into his head, just focusing on the enemies before him and how best to kill them. 

As of right now he, Iorek and Vermundr had been forced back into cover by a haphazard firing line, something that was going to end very soon. Vermundr suddenly threw his axe, the blade hitting a man in the chest causing his nerves to spasm and his finger to pull the trigger of the bolter he was holding and kill another traitor. Tyr smiled at this as all three of them charged from cover towards the enemy, he heard Vermundr's orders and saw Iorek moving for the device and so decided that he would have the fun of keeping the rest of the operatives busy. 

*"Do not worry about me shooting the bomb brother!"* he yelled to Vermundr and waved his nub at him, a smile on his face. Tyr then turned towards the enemy as he rounded a steel pole, a look of fear on the first man's face as he dropped his gun, the blade of the chainsword powering through his stomach and blowing out his spine. As he kicked the man off his weapon he let out a mighty roar before charging into their midst knowing his brothers would take care of the operatives around the device, he was going to "distract" the ones attempting to defend their comrades. As the first one fell, his head hitting the ground before his body, the majority of them realized how much danger they were in with three wolves bearing down on them from all sides. He kicked one away from him snapping his body before pinning one against a pole with his nub crushing ribs and pulping innards, Tyr leaned in close to speak to the traitor before he died, *"Such is the fate of all traitors."*


----------



## dark angel

(OOC: Sorry for the late/lacking post. Not the best, but hopefully it will be alright!)

Keris was still ahead of him, almost acrobatic in his great strides, armour-encased form advancing steadily on the purple-emerald clad Alpha Legionnaire. There was a tremendous sucking of air, followed by a horrible hiss. He knew what it was instantly. The heavy-flamer spewed forth a fluorescent tide of flame, rolling across the decking, turning it black in its’ wretched path. Alrik brought both purring Chainsword and menacing Combat-Blade upwards in an X across his face, partially protecting it. Still, flames seeped between his armour and danced vibrantly across his bare flesh. He felt his lips crisp, the burning snake sliding up along his cheek before hissing away at the ear.

_Gnawing, forever gnawing.._

Something within drove Alrik on. He needn’t care for Keris’ halt, simply staring at the neckline of the Traitor. He drove both of his heels into the ground, the thud dully echoing. His obsidian eyes met the emerald eye-pieces of a Traitor. Alrik was sure he saw within, at the flesh and the malicious eyes. His Chainsword swung up above his head, twisting in his immense grip. It came down amongst a rage ridden cry, striking the double-held flamer at the midsection. Screeches and sparks lit up Alrik’s twist of a face, his features chiseled and clenched.

A backhand struck him, sending Alrik onto his back. His Chainsword spun away, biting into the decking. Alrik glanced up at the Traitor and smiled victoriously as he saw the destroyed flamer, coughing black smoke in the Traitor’s grip, partially split in two. The braces of the flamer fell away from the Traitor’s monstrous pauldrons, clattering on the metal ground behind him, and he advanced forth. The blur of purple and emerald caught Alrik off guard. His smile fell away into a drooping growl, cold fingers wrapping around Alrik’s already bruised throat, sending five jabs of pain along his back.

His vision was dizzied, a twisting miasma of colour and roars. Smoke whirled around the pair, the echoes of weapons fire drumming into his mind. He was heaved into the air, legs flicking, his Combat-Blade braced. He whipped it across the enemies chest, doing little-to-no damage upon the ancient plate. His fingers flexed around the pommel again as the orphaned Firehawk prepared for another strike, another attempt at the Traitor’s wretched soul. Before he could do any such thing however, he was pulled in closer, a rasping whisper entering his mind suddenly.

"And for daring to think you could stand up before Alpharius, I grant you passage to your corpse-god." 

A flick of his wrist sent Alrik over the protective barrier, into the glowing abyss. His twined hearts seized, clenched in talons of impending doom. He arced one shoulder back, arm flailing in the forever-breeze of the ship, his other striking forwards, blade glinting. His flailing hand gripped something suddenly, his fingers closing into a strong grip. His arm jerked violently, nearly ripping from his shoulder pauldron. Once again, the Adeptus Mechanicus had proven their worth, providing a safe haven for himself. A mere stanchion, flimsily perched between generatorium and decking, had stopped the Firehawk’s rapid descent in an instant.

Runes danced across his vision. They warned him of the incredible heat below, the radiating waves touching his armour with horrible ease. His blade-bearing hand still dangled effortlessly, the Seax still held strongly. He pulled it back behind him, slamming it into the stanchion with a great exertion of air and struck it. The metal creaked loudly, denting inwards but standing strong. Again he stuck out. This time the Seax plunged to the hilt, allowing a knife-narrow smile upon his plighted features. Slowly he twisted it from left to right, opening the gap further, revealing vein-like wires. He slipped his Seax back into his armour and dipped his fingers in, gaining further purchase.

The pained howls of Keris reached him. His Brother did care…

_The gnawing continued, stronger, a staccato of growls and screeches._

‘I will flense the bastard!’ Alrik declared his oath and began to climb, licking his charred lips. The Traitor would die by his hand, now.


----------



## darkreever

Iorek; As you order the operatives to halt their actions, one of them looks up to you with something small held in both of his hands. You instantly recognize the trigger mechanism, which can only mean the device is an explosive of some kind. _“Glory to Alpharius!”_ He cries out, before you put a round in his chest and the trigger tears from his grasp. And then all hell breaks loose, the bomb explodes in a great explosion, and you are thrown back and black out upon impact with the bulkhead.


Vermundr; Before you even have a chance to take more than a step towards the second device and the operatives, an explosion from the first one threatens to throw you from your feet. Snarling, you turn your attention away from the operatives in time to watch Iorek be thrown back like a ragdoll from a great explosion. You dive away, trying to minimize the impact of the aftershock on your own body, and call out to warn Tyr, but a second explosion drowns out your voice. It is then that the function of the devices becomes clear to you: explosives, designed to cripple or destroy the generatorium. Such a thing would cut essential power, life support, to many decks and disable the shields and possibly the vessels weapons.

Two more explosions go off, and then a grinding of straining metal pierces your senses and you roll away, avoiding a section of catwalk falling to the ground.

[There are still six or seven operatives left alive after all that, and by some miracle not all of the explosives went off, four of about twenty in actuality. The remaining operatives are running to the other explosives, end them before they can get to them and finish the job.]


Tyr: Advancing on yet more targets, you cut down low and disembowel an operative before kicking him in the groin, shattering his pelvis and sending him to the ground. Without warning though, an explosion sends shrapnel pattering harmlessly off your armoured form where Iorek had been. Looking for your brother, you turn in time to see him hit the bulkhead hard, the left side of his face charred. Vermundr tries to yell some warning to you, but it is drowned out by a second explosion, and then two more within moments of that one before portions of the catwalk begin to fall.

[There were four operatives around here, but the falling catwalk kind of killed them. Either go to Iorek and see if he is alive or dead, or help Vermundr in dealing with what few operatives are left.]


Alrik; Gritting your teeth through the pain in your arm and the burns across your face, you find handholds to make your ascent and are just about to swing your bulk over the edge when explosions rock your world. The world once again falls away from you, and you are sent spinning only find purchase on a previous handhold a scant few meters from the opening. The runes on your vision stop blinking red, and instead are a steady red, looking below you see the plasma core flaring upward. A tail of the flaring core scorches the armoured wall to your immediate right, some of the excess burning right through your pouldron and deep into your flesh. You can only guess to what is going on above, but whatever it is, you’d likely prefer that than this.

[Didn’t think I’d let it be that easy for you did I? This time you may not be able to push away that pain, not yet anyway; the radiation and heat are starting to drain your power armour and making it more difficult to move. With some effort you will be able to climb up, and you will be able to get out in time to witness Keris fighting the bastard.]


Keris; The glowing red lenses of the helm shattering in a spray of ruby shards, forcing the traitor bastard to push a shoulder down and tackle forward. The act caught you off guard, allowing him to dodge the follow up stroke and to wrong foot you; allowing the traitor enough time to tear off his useless helmet. Again you stare into those gray eyes, the shaved scalp and bullet scar serving only to make the face all the more menacing. You look into the dulled orbs and find nothing but pure hatred pouring out; the sentiment is mutual though, and only serves to further your own anger.

He stabs forward with the combat blade, sidestepping the counter in a feint that you nearly fall for. At the last second you see the move for what it is, and avoid having the weapon lodged in your neck. A sudden explosion catches you off guard, and the Legionnare uses the distraction to launch an attack of his own, blade cutting deep into your flesh and numbing your right arm below the elbow, chainsword clattering to the floor. A wide swipe from the other sword forces him back, a chunk of his breastplate ripping away from the slight contact, but again you fail to do any major damage.

[Keep on going, overall you have not done to much damage, weakening several sections of his armour (especially his shoulder) and breaking the traitors nose when you smashed his helmet]


Iorek; Slowly you return to the world of consciousness, having to open your eyes slowly lest the light give you new waves of pain. When you do manage to fully open them, the left side of your vision is nothing, complete darkness, and something immediately feels wrong. The runes in the corner of your vision notifies you to multiple fractures, both of your bones and armour from the explosion.

[Let us be honest, your left eye is gone, the explosion peppered that side of your face with burns and shrapnel and took the eye in the process. You can still fight, you can still live, but your accuracy may be affected by this, or in the end maybe it won't. Getting back to your feet will at first be a problem, but then your armour will flood your system with painkillers and you will be able to get back into the swing of things.]

[Sydornis you still have the previous update to act on, but in addition to that the explosions do tear portions of the catwalks down. Your unharmed, but one or two of the operatives around there with you were less fortunate.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr sliced his chainsword low and disemboweled an operative before sending his foot into the man's groin and shattering his pelvis. Yet before he could make another move an explosion went off, small pings signaling that his armor had been hit with shrapnel, he saw Iorek get blown back and into a stanchion his brother's body going limp. Tyr let out a low growl and turned to see Vermundr, his mouth moving as if to yell at Tyr, but his voice was drowned out by another explosion. 

Two more followed the second quickly and Tyr lifted his handless arm to shield his face as the catwalk began to fall, crushing the four operatives he had been after beneath it. He did not know how many bombs were in this room but he assumed that many more were here, and he had only counted four explosions, that meant there were more here. This was a problem, he needed to find the other ones before the shit hit the fan and the others began to explode, if that happened then they were all dead.

He glanced over in Iorek's direction and smelled burnt meat, his brother's face was severely burnt on the left side, yet Tyr could not tell if he was dead or not. His brother's body was not as limp as before so he assumed he was living, but if the remaining operatives were not stopped he would most assuredly die as would they all. He made a decision that he hoped Russ and the All-Father would support and decided to come back for Iorek once the more immediate threat was dealt with.

He looked towards Vermundr and saw his brother going after around seven operatives, all sprinting towards what he could only assume were the other bombs. He immediately broke into full stride covering the distance between him and the closest operative in a second, his body running the man over and breaking many of his bones. He would not allow these men to reach their goals


----------



## Euphrati

Keris laboured to regain his equilibrium; the sudden shoulder charge of the Serpent taking him by surprise and forcing him back upon his heel, the adamantium teeth of his fallen brother’s chainsword scoring only paint from the archaic armour as Keris’ decapitating stroke was thrown off target. The maneuver opened the space between them; allowing the traitor to reach up and tear off his shattered helm, casting it aside to be lost to the shadows with a clatter of ceramite on steel. 

At long last, Keris stared into the true eyes of the Grey Hunter’s killer for a timeless moment that etched itself into his memories. Soulless eyes, the colour of wet ash from the corpse of a dead world, were set deep within a shaven skull stretched in a canvas of pallid flesh traced with the puckering of an old bullet wound. Blood, dark against the pale skin, flecked the traitor’s face from a shattered nose. The beast in Keris’ mind echoed the snarl upon his lips as the Serpent matched his stare.

Hate, ancient and cold as the void, met his ice-blue gaze and Keris felt the flames of his own hatred burn all the brighter in response. 

The blade in the Serpent’s hand flashed as it cut the distance between them, lightning fast like a striking viper. Keris’ chainswords growled as he swept a counter, the very blood in Keris’ veins burning with the thirst for vengeance that could only be slaked with the lifeblood of the traitor. At the last possible moment he realized the feint for what it was, twisting desperately aside as the traitor’s blade passed close enough to the skin of his throat to draw a hair-thin line of blood. The beast in his mind raged in anger as he lunged forward, intent on repaying the favour a thousand fold when the violence of an explosion rocked the decking beneath Keris’ feet and threw his attack off target. The traitor seized the opening he had been waiting for, bringing his glinting blade across in a vicious arc.

Bright pain lanced up Keris’ right arm as the Serpent’s blade bit deeply into the less armoured joint of his elbow; chainsword falling to the deck plating from numb fingers as the muscles in his arm convulsed. Keris roared in anger, lashing out with Alrik’s chainsword in a violent chest-height slash which tore a jagged chunk from the traitor’s cuirass as he was forced to throw himself out of the growling blade’s path and allotted Keris a brief respite to take measure of the wound.

The rich copper scent of his own blood coloured the air currents as Keris flexed his right arm experimentally, his hand responding willingly albeit a bit sluggish and with the burning sensation of a thousand pins. He growled and tugged his combat blade free from its tooled leather sheath at his hip; the wound was serious enough that his advanced body could not ignore it fully, but Keris could disregard the pain to still make some use of a blade, if only in defense, and that was all that mattered if it led to the death of the traitor before him. 

The blade was barely in his hand a heartbeat before Keris drove forward again, but the traitor had expected such a move and met the screaming chainsword with a lightning quick block; the flat of the Serpent’s combat blade sliding down the length of Keris’ sword in a shower of blue sparks before being stopped by the hand guard. Keris’ own combat blade met the traitor’s bolt pistol as it was brought to bear, forcing the weapon out and away as the two struggled for the upper-hand. Keris fought against the considerable strength of the traitor with sheer rage, the servos of his battle plate snarling in protest as he pushed them to their limits and then a step beyond. Yet, it was like trying to wrestle a bull mammoth to the ice by himself and Keris found himself being forced back step by tortured step as the beast in his mind howled in incandescent rage.

Mere handspans separated two sets of hate-filled eyes as Wolf and Legionnaire laboured against one another’s brute strength amid the coiling smoke of the spent explosives. Keris snarled, fangs gleaming the colour of blood in the churning light that spilled from the heart of the ship as he spoke,

‘Listen and listen well before you die, Oathbreaker. So that when your soul stands before the Gatekeeper of Hell, damned for all of eternity, you can tell him that Keris of Fenris, Son of Russ, sends his regards.’

Memories of the events that had led him to this moment, this test of his devotion and fury, flickered through the back of Keris’ consciousness as he redoubled his efforts, halting the Serpent in place with a growl of exertion. 

Then, without warning, Keris gave ground and twisted sideways. 

His brother’s chainsword howled as Keris brought it down upon the Serpent as he spun to defend himself from the unexpected move. The sound of diamond-coated teeth slicing through ceramite and into flesh and bone echoed through the genatorium; followed by the wet impact of the traitor’s arm, severed at the elbow and still gripping his bolt pistol, upon the hard steel of the floor.


----------



## dark angel

The situation was not the best, by far actually. Alrik had just about made it onto the platform, barely, when another coruscating blast had sent him flipping into the ether, his energy all but spent. His curled fingers wrapped around a jagged opening which Alrik had pried apart, his gauntlet clenching tighter instinctively. The metal was strong, but still it threatened to snap away under Alrik as gravity took its tumulus hold upon him. The spasmodic blinking of his crimson runes halted abruptly, disappeared, and then returned as one entity. They screamed warnings to his mind, grave warnings. 

He cast a glance below, face curled in muscular agony. Tentacle-like strands of regal energy whipped upwards, moving towards him with glacial grace. He related the core to some Fenrisian Squid, each individual strand forming an ethereal tentacle, the twisting globe at the centre, the body and head. Why had he been so foolish? The anger within him had forced him onwards. His longing for revenge and blood was too strong, each fibre in his body having shuddered with anticipation for the moist sensation. And now, he was hanging uselessly over the void, while his brethren fought fang and claw.

A strand of regal energy licked the metal, scant feet from his form. His right pauldron malnourished under the extreme energy, twisting and curling into a tight embrace of blackened ceramite. His flesh strung suddenly. His teeth fell onto his lips, breaking away burnt flesh, drawing a seeping layer of blood. He closed his eyes, listening. The sounds of bloodcurdling screams and weapons fire aroused him, the Wolf within lashing out, longing for the murderous acts of war.

He swung his left hand up, slipping it into another handhold. His armour was beginning to seize up, the radiation of the core growing too strong for even his environment-deflecting plate. 

Next, his right. His arm ached as it slipped into a wider hold, then promptly fell away. Alrik clutched tighter with his left as his right dangled, spinning him around onto his back. The core cackled, sending waves of regal upwards at him. His vision blurred into a white mass as he struggled, trying to spin himself back around, legs kicking frantically. His handhold creaked warningly, and despite his temporal lack of vision, Alrik knew what it meant.

Placing his feet together upon the wall, Alrik kicked out. His body flung parallel with the ceiling above, the handhold creaking louder and louder with each passing second. The heated metal met with his face suddenly, and he was back into his position, yet still dangling precariously. Every limb of his body ached, burned and lashed out with violent spasms. Once again he began to climb, this time with a haste, not wanting to drop to his death. 

The brink of the platform enough beckoned after several minutes, reassuring him that he was safe from death. With his right hand he latched onto the grilled flooring, allowing his left to come away from the topmost handhold, and latch onto the decking. Sparks sheeted him suddenly from nearby, each flickering ember landing against his scarred, crisped visage. Still dangling below the chest, Alrik pulled himself onto the decking, flat against the cool flooring. 

Above him, the Wolf and the Serpent dueled. Alrik Firehawk, armed with a mere Combat Blade, stood. Like a Phoenix rising from the flame, he held his blade in a reverse grip, the tip pointing downwards. He grinned, nestling ash flaking from his features, and leapt forwards, the nape of the Alpha Legionnaires neck in his sight.


----------



## deathbringer

Fuck

Plain and simple

"Glory to Alpharius" the words echoed as panic sensors echoed through his brain, his trigger finger contracted,.

A bomb, he had failed. He should have put a round through the bastards head as soon as he saw him

The last shot... a futile response, the wolf's last leap, aiming for the throat... futile, with the dying strength of the damned.

The mans chest exploded outwards, throwing him backwards, the trigger torn away like a live snake. Hope... desperate hope.

Torn away as his eyes fixed upon the depressed trigger.

Too cautious, always to cautious, he should have acted first thought of the consequences later.

A collosal explosion, a terrific cacophony of devestating noise. He was flying backwards, shrapnel tore at his armour, screaming sirens of warning resounded around his brain. His skin was on fire, embalmed in seering agony.

Pain, such pain.

Payment for his failings.

For his damning failure

Agony... a collosal impact threw his head forward, his chin smashed against his power armour

Blankness... emptiness.... Njoror's face in the darkness... the smiling face.... the beckoning finger.

So many failures... he had never gained vengeance... the wolf in his head whimpered... it lay sidewise a paw outstretched towards him, claw sheathed.... writhing spasms contracted through his fingers as he reached out.

Fur soft under his fingers, the roughness of a padded paw. Njoror was leading him away, the paw slipping from his grasp

"Follow me brother"

The pain dulled as Iorek followed him, strode after him into the darkness to feast for ever more in the hall of his liege lord

____________________________________________

Blackness.... what was he?

A ball of flame, a seering mass of agony

Agony.... what is agony?

This this is agony... this is anguish... this is true pain... rivers of agony cause his spine to tremor... twitching.... convulsing upon the ground.

Why.... why do i feel this pain

Because you failed... 

He is more than mere emotion, more than mere pain... he moves.... he can feel his feet moving in response to the electricity running up his spine.

He controls it ceases the movement

How how did i fail?

In so many ways... death would have been a bliss to this shame. The shame of your failures

More and more facts flitter through his brain, the last minutes previously a blur, begin to become detailed... thoughts return... yet one question begs

Who?

Do you not know?

I know....I am Iorek disgraced blood claw of Ragnar Blackmane. I am a failure.

The agony still burns, he embraces it, yet he resents the darkness

He opens his eyes... slowly... he knows not if the light will burn

It burns... reflexes bring his lids shut. Slower this time, he re opens his eyes... Eyes?

No eye

Nausea swings over him and blackness overwhelms him once more.

Nothingness envelops his brain

Consciousness returns more quickly this time... the information already fresh in his brain

An eye.... not eyes... a single eye.

He is crippled... crippled by his failure... oh payment comes so fast.

His eye opens....blindness in the light.... then his vision focuses... railings high above. His left side is in blankness. A whole 90 degrees of his vision torn from him. 

Pain swims through his body once more

He smells seered meat.... hesitantly he raises a hand. Does he dare...does he want to know?

Yes he must.

The hand raises..... agony... it falls to the floor once more... Rivers of anguish run through the limb. He tries the other hand... progress.... it raises... less pain upon his right side. His right eye intact.... interesting. The hand raises and he twists slowly. Frenzied pain in his sternum is overwhelmed by what he can feel. A mass of charred meat and bone... a crevice where his red eye once was. 

He is deformed.

The bottom right of his vision tells him of multiple fractures to armour and body... bones within him are fractured... smashed and crunched by the impact. He must get up.... he must get up.

His right arm feels strong... his left... useless.

His right leg.... almost untouched.... a pang in the left side of his hip yet he blocks it, plants foot and arm and strains. He is sitting up.... propped up on his right arm.... his left dangles.... relentless dogged thought holds him up.

He must get up.... he must.

He needs to use his left leg.

It trembles at the slightest weight.. rippling cramps tear at the muscles yet he forces them through. 

A grunt of exertion as he pushes.... hard heavy breaths as he forces himself upwards rising and rising.

he knows not why... but he must get up..

The left leg convulses and he trembled his right bicep bulging as he works. Blood on his lips as his teeth dig into them, ruby red iron spurting over his tongue. He tastes it... something stirs within him.... a rage a hatred... a lust for revenge a new strength.
The wolf wants more blood....

What wolf?

It lends him strength it pushes his mind forward... lends a new steel to his determination

Get up... revenge.... revenge....


His bicep and left leg contract.... the new energy lending new exertion and he raises. The torture of movement increases yet the wolf feeds upon the pain... the iron of his mind increases. 

He is on his feet... pain racks his left leg as his weight comes down upon it. He stumbles back against the wall and leans balanced. Gasping at the pain...

A rush... stimulants flood his body... relief oh sweet relief... he is stiff and sore yet the anguish is flooding away... fleeing his body and his eyes widen... his mind dulled by agony is now released.

He is no longer a wounded beast. He is Iorek.. he is back from the dead... better if he was dead
___________________________________________________________

Iorek moves forward... slowly... his right hand twitched to the sheeth at his side.... no chainsword... no bolt pistol... He is unarmed... injured... runes flash warnings at his side.... but he pays them no heed. His failures nag at him.. the severity of his wounds burn at him..

An eye... he was a marksman without an eye. Would it affect him... who could tell... he needed his pistol. His eye fixes upon it... faster than he expected... It lies to his left... He moves... slow shuffling steps towards it and haults inches above it. 

Bend... pain flares over his spines.... through his pelvis. His arm dangles and his fingers grope scraping the ground... scraping the cold familiarity of the pistol hilt. Then he has it. Its in his hand. Slowly he moves back up... feeling the seering torment fade to a dull throb. 

He raises the pistol, instinctive, speedily raising his right hand. Too fast... he wobbles upon his unsteady leg, his rear deltoid seers. He aims at a spot upon the wall. Not a difficult shot... gah he wished he had learnt to shoot by closing one eye.. Would have made this so much easier.

He aims slowly.... closes his eye and fires.

The recoil causes him to shudder... his body seeps with pain and he cringes as he slumps back against the wall.... his left leg leaving him unstable.

He almost falls down when his eyes find the mark in the wall and the bullet whole too far up and too the left. He almost gives up... falls to despair. Yet the first shot was never going to be perfect. The recoil taking him by surprise did not help.

A second shot... falls right and wide of the mark.... the absence of his eye leaving his vision dulled... his depth off... his right side dominant. Yet he could adjust.... there was a chance.... he could do it.... he could beat this... he just had to take steps.... baby steps.

He shuffled after his brothers... speed coming to him... a shuffle to a slow walk... to a loping walk... his confidence growing as morphine sated his brain in bliss as possibilites overcome the despair.. He could still fight.... he could make amends.

He was moving quicker now... pushing onwards after the forms of the packleader... stooping he picked up his fallen chainsword... the dull throb barely drawing a wince.

Yes he could still fight.... he could make amends. 

His tongue hit the air... stinging freshness over his mouth and he let out another long loud echoing howl....

The white wolf still lived.


----------



## unxpekted22

Their pencil legs were nothing compared to his massive limbs. These operatives were likely running the fastest they ever had in their soon-to-be cut short lives. But it wasn't enough.

After the initial sprint to catch up, he met the strides of the two furthest back. For a few steps his massive form was adjacent to them, but then the butt of a bolt pistol crushed the face of one, and the blade of an axe cut clean through the other's throat so fast that the operative watched as the ceiling shot up several feet higher in an instant, then he saw the floor, then the ceiling, then the floor, then the ceiling, and again until he saw his own body several meters away falling to the floor.

Vermundr reloaded his bolt pistol as he ran, having to put his axe on its mag-clamp for a moment. he let two shots loose into the back of the next two operatives. But they were almost at another set of bombs already. He fired again at the front two operatives still alive. they must have heard the gunshots behind them or have glanced back. The both began weaving slightly just before his next shots, and Vermundr was no marksman, he was plenty aware of this by now. but he was still faster than them. 

He caught up to them in a few more paces, grabbed onto one of their triceps and yanked backwards sending the man flying backwards toppling onto the hard floor. the last one reached the bombs and grabbed the activation device while turning around with his finger on the button. Just as he turned around, a gray blue fist smashed through his hand and the activation device and then straight through his face, and out he back of his treacherous skull.

Vermundr had to catch himself slightly so as not to flip over the control panel behind the operative. He placed his fingers spread across the left side of the operative's head, and pushed it while he pulled his right hand out of the hole, watching his blood covered fist disappear from the back of the skull and come back out he front was pretty satisfying he had to admit. he turned around with his bolt pistol in hand again, and lit up the operative he had only pulled backwards onto the floor in case he had not died from the crash with the floor.

What was not satisfying was what he saw when he looked back towards where the three of them had been. Tyr had chased after him and had killed one or two of the running operatives himself, but Iorek was slump against a wall. with his enhanced eyesight he could tell from here Iorek was on bad shape...the fact an astartes wasn't standing in a battle was sign enough in any case. 

On top of this, Keris and Alrik weren't standing behind him yet, which meant they hadn't defeated the traitor marine yet, but the chaos marine wasnt here yet either so they must have still been fighting.

but now they could help.

He saw Iorek get back to his feet, stagger, and a few seconds afterward fire at one of the walls. had he gone mad? Did something from the explosion smash his head? He did not yet realize Iorek's left eye was lost, and he wouldnt just yet. Keris and Alrik, hopefully both were still alive at least, they were still fighting and as pack leader he could not get himself to stop fighting until they all could stop.

"_Tyr! Help Iorek, we need to make sure our brothers are still alive._

He sprinted again, this time in the direction of the massive generators, hoping that when he turned the front corner both his brothers still be there. Still fighting or victorious didn't matter, he just wanted them to be alive. 

had been through the deaths of others in his pack. The first one dead under his command was of course the most difficult failure to swallow. the ones afterward weren't that much easier but he had learned to cope with fellow space wolves dieing, slowly but surely. He re-called the priest scolding him for his loss of morale after seeing space wolves die for the first time during the riots. Hell, he saw one of his brothers fall on this world before they had slain even a single heretic. 

Despite all that happened, losing Keris or Alrik would be detrimental. His leg muscles pumped as fast as they could, his blood pouring through them. He didnt even think once about all the inner conflicts the pack had experienced. He didnt think about the fact that any of his brothers might not wish for him to be the pack's leader. He didnt care, he just wanted to see them alive, and the traitor dead.


----------



## darkreever

Keris: A twitching half snarl-half smile bursts onto your face as the traitor’s arm crashes to the floor and he is forced to take a step back from the pain. Despite himself, the traitor is clearly in pain, his jaw clenched to the point where he might just break it if he clenched any tighter. Then something large leapt into the air from behind the Legionnaire and smashed into his armoured form, a blade held reversed in one hand before stabbing into the segments between power armour segments. 

With his other arm, Alrik tried wrapping the limb around the marine’s neck to maintain his position, a roar bursting from his throat as he tore the blade free in an attempt to stab again. The second attack was cut short though; despite all the damage, all the pain inflicted, the traitor was still able to fight on almost unphased. He quickly rammed his pouldron into Alrik’s chest and pitched him forward to the ground before having to take several steps back.

Alrik: You leap into the air just as the traitor staggers backward a step. It actually puts you in the perfect position, the Emperor or Russ must be winking at your or something. You land on the bastard hard, pain flaring across your chest but not enough to keep you from stabbing your blade into the spacing between the Legionnaire’s neck and shoulder. You try wrapping your free arm armour his neck, freeing your blade to stab again, but the traitor smashes his pouldron into you; stunning you for but a moment. With an incredible feat of strength, the bastard grabs you, and while pitching forward, throws you to the ground in front of Keris.

Keris and Alrik: Movement from above caught all of your attention, the traitor Legionnaire spitting blood onto the armoured grating of the floor before speaking. _“I shall take it you Abominations have completed your task then.”_ He said as another Alpha Legionnaire jumped from somewhere above to right in front of this one. The newcomer did not even look to the first, his eyes locked on Keris and the rising Alrik; something about those eyes did not seem right, as if there was something more than superhuman contained within. A series of vibrations shook the room slightly, more explosions crippling a system of the ship, before the newcomer spoke. _“Yes lord Alpharius, we merely desire to seek out some prey for now.”_ He said, something wrong and otherworldly in his voice causing your ears to bleed.

_“Fine, have your fun.”_ The first one said before turning his attention to Keris. _“_Keris_ of the Space Wolves you are a fool, with your final breath know that you were not even worthy to die by the hands of Alpharius. And you,”_ He said, this time to Alrik, _“your corpse must truly find your suffering amusing, but it will come to an end here.”_ Before you have a chance to retort or act, the traitor activates a beacon of some kind and vanishes with a bang of ozone. Such a thing should be impossible, to teleport into or outside of a ship the shields must be lowered; or down.

Not even allowing you a moment of respite, the newcomer charges forward with supernatural speed, hands melting into talons. That’s when you come to an understanding of what this enemy truly is.

[Bet you weren’t expecting that now were you? Pretty good feeling someone may not be terribly happy with me as well.]



Vermundr: You barely make it a dozen steps before a feeling forces you to stop, turning around you see the form of a member of the Alpha Legion standing confidently before you. It is the same one from the compound, that same writhing tattoo across his face, almost masking a wide grin. Without a word, he tosses something to you, the head of Sydornis lands at your feet; you can almost feel the bastards laughter in your head. Having had his fun the marine charges you, a menacing glaive held low in both of his hands. He is on your faster than should be possible, and you are forced to jump back in order to avoid the strike of the blade, only just bringing your axe up in time to block the next attack and only barely managing to counter a third.

Sweeping you wide with your own weapon, the traitor does not even try to block; instead allowing for the axe to tear away a portion of his armour and flesh. To your horror, the damage begins to heal itself, impossible colours filling the space and hardening back to the purple of the Alpha Legion before this marine, this thing, comes at you again.

[Not gonna be an easy fight, though this marine feels pain, he seems capable of regenerating damage done. To what extent, who knows; maybe if you lop off his head you’ll find out. This is not an easy fight, I give you free range to take the fight as you see fit within reason, you won’t be winning or losing in a single post.]

Iorek: As you make your way to the others, your body pumping chemicals and stimulants to stabilize your battered form, you see an operative behind Tyr who is still alive. Your fellow packmates attention is on you, and so he does not notice the danger from behind. As if instructed by some force, you tear your pistol from its place at your side and fire a pair of shots. One goes slightly wide of the mark and the second takes the operative in the chest. Though your aim is still considerably off, you can adjust and deal with it. That is until something lands on top of you, crashing you to the ground; but is off you and charging at Tyr before you have a chance to respond.

Tyr: Hearing Vermundr, you turn to aid Iorek and run in his direction. The white wolf is battered and burned, but appears to be recovering well enough on his own. Suddenly, Iorek’s pistol is in his grip and he fires to shots towards you, has he gone mad! The death scream from behind warns you of a danger, and you turn in time to see one final operative slump to the ground, his chest marked by a fist sized hole. A crash in front of you brings your attention away from the dead, and you have enough time to see something in purple power armour jump off Iorek and charge towards you. You will have none of this, and drive your shoulder into the traitor, pain flaring up in your limb as it is hooked by a jagged spike that seemed to grow upon contact. With a grunt of pain, you ram an elbow into the traitor’s face and the spike retracts.

Almost like an animal, the traitor drops to all fours, its arms and legs studded with numerous spikes. The look in its eyes though, that cannot be human, cannot be anything mortal.



[Have fun? Like Vermundr you are both given fairly free reign in this fight within reason; might be best to go over what you want done with each other, and me if you like.]


----------



## Euphrati

A lupine grin tugged at the corners of Keris’ feral snarl as he watched the Serpent stagger back in pain, streams of crimson oozing in viscous ropes from the remnant of the traitor’s left arm. Veins bulged across the Legionnaire’s brutal features, the muscles in his jaw clenched nearly to the point of shattering his perfidious bones. 

Keris felt his own body tense, the fiber-bundles in his armour drawing taunt in echo of his gene-enhanced flesh as he prepared to seize upon the chance laid out before him when a dark shadow surged up behind the traitor. The strobing lights of the generatorium flashed along the length of a combat blade as it was buried in the exposed space behind the raised neck guard and into the meat of the Serpent’s neck. A wave of emotions smashed into Keris like a storm upon the shoreline as Alrik, the skin of his face showing raw and charred from exposure to the flamer and radiation of the ship’s heart, tried to wrap his offhand around the traitor’s form as he heaved back on his blade to free it for another strike. 

_His brother was alive! _

The Serpent twisted with a preternatural speed despite the bleeding wounds Keris had given him and smashed a pouldron into Alrik’s chest, heaving the Blood Claw with his single remaining hand across the decking to land at Keris’ feet in a tumble of scared battleplate. 

The elation of watching his packmate rise up like a phantom from the bowels of hell itself was lost amid the wash of vexation. Motes of scarlet danced at the edges of Keris’ vision as the wolf in soul screamed in rage. _This was his fight! His kill! Did his wolfbrother have no trace of honour left within his ignoble body that he would interfere and cheat his own kin out of completing a blood-oath?_

A warning of movement from above foretold the arrival of a second traitor, the Serpent spitting blood and words onto the decking a mere heartbeat before the other dropped in between the two Space Wolves and before the wounded Legionnaire. Something in the eyes of this new marine caused a surge of absolute revulsion in Keris’ gut; dark shadows flickered behind them as if something more than the soul of a traitor was housed within. The decking trembled as more explosions, muffled by the bulk of the ship, could be heard in the distance as the new traitor replied to his fellow and searing pain drew a snarl from Keris’ lips as a warm trickle of blood slid down his cheeks from his sensitive ears at the sound of the traitor’s voice. The Serpent gave a curt reply, hissing venom-laced words at Keris before vanishing in a clap of displaced air as he triggered a device in his armour faster than either of them could react. 

*NO*…

_Revenge_. The one thing Keris craved most, the devotion to which had persevered him in the burden of his oath to Lord Blackmane, had been stolen from between the edge of his blade and the closing jaws of vengeance. Emotions rolled from the wolf in his soul like numbing cold from the heart of a glacier. He had been cheated from his moment of glory; the debt of Kjarl’s death remained unpaid. 

Something stirred deep within Keris like a leviathan waking for the first time as a single word tore from between his gleaming fangs,

‘*Coward*!‘

The remaining traitor sprang forward, his hands twisting into vicious claws as his vile taint was laid bare for all to see and the word was lost in the howl of berserker rage as Keris’ entire being was painted in shades of crimson. Unbridled fury roared from within the soul of the young Son of Russ, his distinctive intelligence and cunning thrust aside in the wake of a scalding storm of anger and hate. Every cell in his body screamed for reprisal paid in traitorous blood as he surged forward, leaping over Alrik as if his brother were merely another obstruction in his path, to meet the daemon-creature head on with a charge of his own.


----------



## unxpekted22

the thud on the ground panels was faintly heard beyond his own sprinting footsteps. It was more the sudden wave of evil that washed over him from behind, animosity catching up to his run with ease. He stopped cold in his tracks. His left slowly coming up parallel to his right. Peering over his shoulder pauldron as he slowly turned around, the legionnaire was instantly recognizable. He now faced the traitor marine, pistol and axe pointed to the ground but still held with frozen fists. Vermundr simply watched the markings dance across the grinning marine's face for a moment. His red lenses met the traitor's gaze,

"_You gonna run away this time? _ Asked Vermundr.

The legionnaire then revealed the hand behind his back, holding the decapitated head of brother Sydnornis and threw it towards Vermundr. It bounced close, with a wet lick of the floor, shattered remains of teeth left behind in the splosh of blood. It rolled just enough to roll onto Vermundr's foot, lose momentum and tumble backward some to where the face of his pack-mate stared up at him with dead-wide eyes.

The lights rolled over the gray-blue surfaces of Vermundr's helmet as he slowly looked up, a low growl from the deepest parts of his throat protruding his vox-projector. Over his own growl he heard the laughing but the traitors mouth made no such movements. There was no telling what was real with these traitors and what wasn't. He and his pack were still sitting naked in the center of the alpha legion's palm.

The traitor was upon him. Years of relentless extreme training was all that prevented him from losing his life in the first blow. His arms flew up, axe blocking the initial strikes, and his feet jumping back. The Legionnaire's unyielding foot fall happened to land on what was left of Sydornis's floppy face, popping the skull, unleashing all remaining fluids, which burst out over the top of the dark purple armored boot. But, Vermundr had no time to notice this. 

Two more incredible blocks, the last going wide and coming back around. The traitor opened his guard on purpose and Vermundr's eyes widened beneath his battle helm. He stepped back thinking the traitor had given himself to defeat for some suicidal reason. But Vermundr's eyes only grew wide as the ruinous powers showed themselves with a painful pleasure. The pain the traitor had felt did not escape the wolf. Magnificent swirling lights surrounded the wound and sealed it up even faster than he had ever seen a wound heal in his life. No blood seeped, the skin closed like an eyelid, and the nameless colors of lights sewed and stitched the wound...and even repaired the armor. 

As the traitor still stood in a manner implying he was enjoying the thought of impressing and frightening the young blood claw, Vermundr whipped his bolt pistol up at head level and fired everything it had towards the Traitor's disgusting face.

The bolt pistol rounds pinged off the upper chest and shoulder armor, and ripped through the flesh of his neck and face. Holes opened into the moving tattoo and shook the Legionnaire's head violently about, but he moved forward all the same.

"Damnit!" yelled Vermundr as he flung himself back and his pistol aside at the same time, just barely avoiding a clean swipe toward his gut once again. A succession of parries and blows occurred, but some of Vermundr's attention was focused on watching the wounds in the traitors head heal with the same demonic light as before. One of the glaives struck deep into his left shoulder guard, so much that it stuck there until the legionnaire yanked it backwards. The shoulder guard now had a wide, deep crushing slash through it, curving the armor inwards right across the symbol of Lord Blackmane. The other graive struck his right hip and the boot covered in the blood and strings of tissue and muscle of Sydornis's head came up to kick him in the gut.

Vermundr flew back, landing on his ass. His upper left arm was going numb, but he wasn't seeing any blood. The impact was with such a force that his nerves must have gone into shock. Must have been hardly an inch from actually hitting his arm. he got back to his feet. The attack to his hip, being the secondary strike, had not penetrated his power armor.

"I'll cut you limb from limb bastard, if that's whats it takes. And if you're still not dead, I'll throw your tainted limbs into the generator. You are no where near immortal, traitor, and neither are your petty gods. Everything that is chaos will burn. All the Alpha legion can do is run and hide. Not even relying on your emperor given tongues anymore, giving into the warp....I may not have been around then, during the turn of your faith, but ten thousand years later you're still a worthless disgrace to this universe."


----------



## dark angel

Alrik couldn’t help but to roar as he sent himself forth, blade growing hungry for blood in his grip. He was sure he could feel the pommel pulsing in anticipation, keening at him violently. He hammered into the back of the Alpha Legionnaire, resisting the urge to gag as he caught scent of the acrid musk. Of the Warp, burning itself into his nostrils. 

He ignored the searing pain that grew in his chest, and plunged his blade into the section of armour between the shoulder and neck, feeling it dip into the flesh of the Alpha Legionnaire. Quickly he weaved his arm around the neck of the Marine, finding his purchase.

Alrik brought his blade up for another strike. One that would never come. The Legionnaire’s pauldron hit him hard, jarring Alrik. The Astartes leaned over, taking grip of the Wolf’s wrist and threw him onto the ground. How he could possibly attain such strength, Alrik knew not. His thoughts dwindled for a quick instant as he fell through the air, and for some reason he felt as though he had died, thrown into an abyss. The Firehawk bounced as he hit the deck, at the feet of Keris.

The Firehawk nodded up at him, wincing. His Ice-Eyed Brother gave no such return, staring at the Treacherous Dog as he spoke to them both. Alrik pulled himself up unsteadily as he did so, placing one of his mighty gauntlets on his knee to help his rise. The Wolf was almost shocked when he called Keris by his name, his voice venom-tinged. It was ancient and horrible, and Alrik related it to the crashing of glaciers back home. 

Another Legionnaire leapt in from the side. His armour was similarly bedecked in purple, with strands of rusted silver bordering on the pauldrons and gauntlets. There was something tumulus about the Marine, as though he could barely contain himself. His eyes were baleful, hiding something utterly animalistic within. It was like looking at Morgun once again, at those cursed irises. The urge to gag returned. The Wolf within whispered harmful words to Alrik, caressing his thoughts with an iron claw.

He spat a goblet of acid-phlegm onto the decking. It sizzled, and as if on cue the floor began to shake. Somewhere, a tremendous blast had just carved into the ship. There was a thunderclap of eldritch energies, ending the conversation between the pair of Legionnaires, and the one-harmed bastard was gone. The Firehawk was sure that he saw the other Legionnaire grin, before the Traitor sprung forth.

Hands malformed into barbed claws, which gleamed in the artificial light menacingly. Keris charged forwards, and Alrik felt a pang of guilt in his throat. Was his Brother about to get himself killed for a petty longing for vengeance?

‘Idiot..’ Hissed the Firehawk, and without further ado, charged after his Brother. His Combat-Blade had never felt so large, but it was all he could work with. It was all he needed to cut the head from the Warp-tainted Astartes.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr nodded at Vermundr as he turned to go and aid Iorek only to see his brother with his gun pointed at him, was he mad?! Two shots flew by him and all Tyr could do was blink in disbelief, had his brother just shot at him, no there was no way but indeed it had happened. The first shot impacted on something metal behind him, of that he was thankful, but the second impacted on something wet and squishy, Tyr turning to see the mangled form of an operative falling lifelessly to the floor. 

He let out a deep breath, his brother was not mad thank Russ, Tyr had thought he had gone over the deep end for a moment. His ears registered a rush of wind and then a loud crash and he pulled his eyes to see a blur of purple power armor leaping off of Iorek's body and charging at him, finally an enemy for him to truly vent his anger on.

This Son of Russ was not about to allow a traitorous bastard charge him without any consequences and so with a mighty roar he charged the traitor. The two of them met with a loud bang and Tyr drove his should right into the bastard's chest only to feel a sharp pain from a spike that had suddenly appeared and hooked into his shoulder. He grunted with pain and rammed his elbow into the Alpha's face and the spike retreated,t he marine backing off of him and landing on all fours like an animal, the look in its eyes betraying its true nature.

This was no longer a marine, no it was no longer a human, whatever humanity this Astartes had once had had been traded for the powers and blessings of chaos. Tyr had smelled the taint of chaos on the other Alpha's planetside, the taint of one who had betrayed his vows so long ago and turned on his brothers and his father for his own gain. Yet the smell on this being was far beyond anything he had previously encountered, it was not the subtle sickly smell of one who was corrupt, it was an overpowering smell of the ultimate decay of one's soul. 

This thing was a beast, no more and no less, an engine of chaos and one that was not going to live past this day. Tyr knew that out of all of the brothers in the pack he was an animal, Iorek had his problems that he dealt with and Alrik was most definately a brute, but Tyr had been denied his vengeance on these traitors one too many times. The daemon-marine grinned and licked its lips, spikes protruding from its armor, and Tyr got into a ready stance.

He toyed with what weapon he should use, his pistol was a definate no but his chainsword was only weilded with one hand and he knew that he was going to have to use everything he had to kill this thing. He dropped his chainsword and pulled out his combat knife, he may have one hand but he was going to teach this abomination that this Son of Russ was not afraid to get up close and personal with his enemies and cracked his neck.

He knew Iorek was still alive and had the faith that his brother would aid him in this battle with well placed shots even though he was missing an eye. With a hiss the being charged him again on all fours, Tyr matching his charge with his own howl of rage as he charged in low, tackling the beast to the floor. The spikes caught on his armor and hooked it in some places but he had expected that, these "gifts" were going to be this thing's downfall, he shoved the knife into the soft spot of the armor covering the armpit and burried it to the hilt, the spikes retreating and the beast tossing him off.

He got up immediately and charged the beast again, his vision focusing only on the target before him, he would kill this daemon and send it back to the burning hells that it came from.


----------



## deathbringer

(Apologies I havent been in touch BAV been a hell of a life recently... as they say, now for something slightly different)

Relief, stimulents flooded him and the pain was doused by a cool breeze through his seering limbs. His musclees relaxed, the tensed knots unwinding and uncoiling, his right arm falling limp at his side.

His chest fell, the air forced from his lungs by a sudden contraction of the muscles under his fractured ribs. Fractures he no longer noticed, his body suddenly.... facile... so simple to stand upright, to stare into the light.

Blissful emptiness, absence of agony, a second wave carressed his skin and he felt the fibres around his wounds knitting, the gentle tug as broken skin and scorched flesh rec his second hearts beat receeding from the tremulous rolls of thunder to a steady metronome of possibility.

Another figure was emerging from the light pushing towards him and Iorek raised the pistol once more holding it steady, his final flawed defence held before him , his weapon and shield. Then the figure moved, pushed into a blindspot he had never had before and Iorek felt his chest contract, his body tensing his neck cricking as his muscles twitched.

Fixing upon something massive, something astartes

Tyr

His brother pushed towards him, cautious... unsure, hesitant as to his condition. The gentle giant of the group loped towards him, yet nay not just Tyr... a second figure, a slithering serpent of the shadows pushed madness in its slitted eyes towards him.

The wolfs hackles were on edge, fangs bared, a slither of saliva stretched between its jaws, its hind legs tensing

A glittering knife unfurled from his robes and he raised it high as fervent feet pounded towards the pondering marine whose eyes were filling with horror, fearful.

A flash of grey fur slashed forth, rage feared bloodthirst leapt

The pistol in his hand was swinging round, rising and falling as he aimed, positioned his pistol to the left of his brothers considerable bulk, the hand pulled in a motion drawn by instinct.

The pistol bucked and Iorek knew the shot was wrong, instinct screamed his error and his hand twitched, moving innately with the familiar buck of the recoil pushing his second shot closer to Tyr closer to his target. The blast of the second shot lasted a life time, the bullet seeming to swim lazily through the air, dawdling as it trundled past Tyr and caught the operative in the chest. 

Momentums collided, the shell exploded and serpent was thrown backwards, his chest a ragged mass of blood and torn flesh.

He could still shoot.

He was wrong, the whole process felt rank, like guess work. like tossing the dice chancing his arm yet instinct pulled him through.

He was not useless.

Instinct had drawn his hand and a small smile twitched across his lips, the tired greeting drawing across his lips torn away by a wolfs snarl.

He was falling, knees hitting the ground, a great weight upon his shoulders, snarls of feral rage in his ears, splitting his mouth as they burst from between his blood stained lips.

Then it was off him and the wolfs voice was blood curdling, longing

"daemon kin"

Purple armour shone upon its back, yet this was more beast than man, spikes tearing deadly hooks. The wolfs desire fueled him, his tongue tracing the blood stained lips, the copper tang of his weakness fueling the wolfs rage.

KILL
HUNT
KILL WITH CLAW AND FANG
The pistol was tight in his fist and he aimed as the beast hurled itself upon his brothers form, the two clashing in a test of strength and recoiling unabashed. Setting against eachother, the beast low to the ground, running like a w....

DONT THINK IT

The wolfs rage built and Iorek was surging to his feat.. adrenaline pumping the wolfs frenzied snarls pushing him forward.He was running... his footsteps echoing snarls for blood that reverberated in his ears. 

Did he dare shoot... screw shooting... adrenaline was in him... desire for battle for blood... he had run too long... cowered from the alpha legion too long... it was time for them to know his name... feel his wrath...
He was on the creature as Tyr charged and he dived upon it... desperately trying to force it to the ground to press those hooks deep into the deck to hold it in place for his oncoming brother. It writched beneath him like the death struggles of pray and the wolf in his mind burst into echoing howls once more. 

CLAW AND FANG

The pistol in his hand swept down striking at the creatures head... a savage blow a feverish blow...


----------



## darkreever

Keris; You bring your blade down onto the marine, talon meeting whirring teeth in a clash of otherworldly sparks as the two of you are held there. Then a wave of red washes over your vision and something feral pushes to the fore of your mind like a tidal wave. From somewhere deep, you find the strength to push forward and wrong foot the marine just as Alrik slides underneath your arm and drives his blade into the things chest. The creature makes an awful how of pain, lashing out and taking you in the knee before raking Alrik with its talons and fleeing. The blow is not enough to put you down, but it did force you to the ground from the pain.

As if controlled by something else, you return to your feet and follow suit after Alrik and the traitor. You catch up in time to prevent the talons from closing in on your packmates head, instead taking them to your side and offering you the chance at a major blow despite the pain.

[You now fight on two planes, the physical and the mental. Your inner wolf has rushed to try and take over, are you able to contain its bloodlust or will it prove the master of you? On the physical side of things, you now have a chance to cause some major damage to this traitor, but where do you choose to strike? Head is obviously not a choice that will work.]

Alrik; You are hot on Keris’s heels, ducking low to get beneath your packmate as he locks the traitor still in a spray of sparks. You ram your blade deep into the possessed marines chest and elicit a cry of pain from the thing, and as it tries to escape, taloned limbs cut deep gashes in your armour. Keris is forced to the ground, and you take off after the traitor, dodging attacks and making stabs of your own. You scare a number of blows, tearing away chunks of armour and even scoring a grazing blow against the things face. The cost of that last blow, though, gave the traitor an opening for your head that it was all to eager to take.

[I give you some free reign on the blows you trade with this enemy, when you turn around Keris will have already made his major attack on the marine.]

Vermundr; Angered by your words, the possessed leader blinks out of reality, or rather again moves faster than you can keep up with. It is on you again, swiping the glaive low for your legs but you manage to block. A reverse stroke takes you in the head, ripping a chunk of your helmet away before a blow of your own does much the same to the traitor: part of your helmet for one of its ears. Unlike before, that does not knit back together. As if deeply enraged by what just happened, the marine thrusts the glaive for your gut, something you manage to sidestep. Grabbing the weapon with your one hand, you ram the body of your pistol into the traitor’s face and force him to let go of the weapon. Casting away the glaive, you charge the traitor while he is momentarily stunned.

[You’ll get a good couple of blows in with this one, and will notice that the wounds do not heal nearly as well as before. Some will heal fast, and others no faster than they would for you. Could the glaive be more than just a weapon or is this thing just trying to fool with you?]

Tyr and Iorek; As you attack the traitor, it backflips away from the both of you and again lands on all fours like some sort of beast. It lunges at Tyr, spiked fists slamming into the larger marine as he attempts to deflect blows and counter with one of his own. Iorek tackles the thing from the side, a spike biting deep into his armour and tearing from the possessed marine. Bashing down with the bolt pistol, Iorek managed to bring the bastard to the ground, planting several bolt rounds in the things back and armour before it could roll away.

[Press your advantage, it will again go after Tyr, who will notice its one arm moving slower from the damage done by Iorek. It will get in several heavy blows, but you will drive your combat blade into its neck, not that that will be enough. Iorek will snatch up his chainsword from the ground, the thing has better reach than a combat blade after all.]


----------



## unxpekted22

The traitor's face actually cringed with this one, the moving tattoos over his face freezing for just a moment.

Vermundr turns with his damaged helmet, looking at the glaive on the floor. _Demonic weapons perhaps? Whether possessed or not, it was good to get the long reaching weapon out of the traitor's hands

His helmet still on, he re-focused on the marine lifting his axe on the chaos marine regaining his composure. Three feral swipes clashed against the purple power-armor, two making gashes on the chest area, and one striking a blocking fore-arm, hitting the flesh. Only a small amount of light appeared around the damage this time.

The feeling of butterflies, or whatever equivalent feeling a space marine would get in his gut, arose within, stirring his stomach fluids. He felt a new flush of saliva flow between his teeth. Am I actually about to kill an Alpha Legionnaire? A true chaos space marine from millenias' past?"

the traitor now weaponless, struck a cheap blow using his knee to charge Vermundr's lower thigh, followed by a wicked punch to the chest. Though simple it was effective, and earthquake rattling of Vermundr's sternum. Fractures....maybe broken. He thought. All he knew was that breathing hurt. It juts kept thinking of the outcome, the idea of him standing over the corpse of a marine who personally betrayed the Emperor and his loyal forces at the very beginning of it all.

His left foot almost collapsed from the new wound that took further and further effect with each second. He launched himself into the air at any rate, more to keep from having to take any more steps than anything else. His axe was coming straight down, aiming toward the top of the bastard's skull._


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's mind was slowly but surely shutting everything but the chaos marine out, focusing on his one and only objective. The beast had rolled away from he and Iorek, who had come from nowhere and tackled the beast while he had been after it himself, and now it charged at him again. Its hands were spiked fists, each landing on his armor with a loud bang, Tyr being hard pressed to counter back in any form of quickness. This thing was smaller then him, relatively, and it obviously was used to killing its enemies very up close and personal. 


Yet this did not deter Tyr, he was a Song of Russ, chosen warrior of the Allfather, and he was not going to let some beast get the best of him. But suddenly the thing was off of him and Iorek was on its back firing his pistol into before it knocked him off and rolled away. 

Its eyes stared at him and he locked his own with it, he felt something deep inside of him, something very powerful stir within his very being. He remembered this feeling, when he had fought with the first Alpha Legionaire, his inner wolf was fighting to come out. Yet this time Tyr was not afraid of it, he welcomed the beast knowing that together they could accomplish wonderful things, and this legionaire would be the first step. 

It charged him and Tyr met it head on, its fists landing on his armor as he fought to block them and attack himself. He noticed its left arm moving slightly slower, this was a new weakness that he would take full advantage of. A spiked fist flew at him with alarming speed and he leaned into and took the hit on his left shouldergaurd, shoving his combat blade deep into its armpit, the beast screaming in pain before resuming its attack. 

Tyr let out a deep menacing growl as he pulled his blade free, the beast was angered now, it was starting to make small mistakes. 

---------------


Like two ancient beasts of old they clashed, Tyr a monstrous black wolf missing part of its front left paw, and the chaos marine a quick and lithe green Hydra. 

A claw lashed out and the wolf rolled under it closing its jaw around the neck of one of the beast's heads. It let out a cry and a spiked claw slammed into the wolf's stomach, its jaw not letting go as it tore its head left and right in an effort to tear the head off, another three strikes to the stomach before it finally let go. The head fell to the snow covered floor, a tendon barely keeping the head attached, and the beast charged the wolf who lept at it with a howl on its lips. 

Slowly but surely it methodically yet viciously tore at the heads and soon only three were left. The middle head and the wolf locked eyes, each one letting out a cry of hate and anger before leaping at its opponent, a shockwave resonating around the clearing where they fought. The huge wolf saw an opening and took it leaping at the left head's neck, its teeth sinking into the skin and the muscle and sinew underneath, yet this time it bit down as hard as it could. The Hydra hissed and tore the wolf off of it, the two of them circling each other waiting for an opening. 

------------------

Tyr shot his arm out with his blade, his combat knife sticking into the marine's neck, the two of them struggling with each other. Suddenly their faces were inches away from each other, Tyr's good hand still gripping his combat blade and his other arm being held in the beast's good arm. The Alpha Legionaire hissed, a forked tongue flicking out of its mouth, but that would not deter Tyr. His face contorted and he snarled in hate as he fought against the marine, each one attempting to get the advantage.


----------



## Euphrati

Fanged blade met and locked with warp-twisted claw in a tempest of cerulean sparks that left blazing trails in the air as Keris faced the daemon without fear, matching its tainted brutality with the fervor of his hate shining within the crystalline depths of his icy blue eyes. The wolf within his soul stirred, instinctive and feral, pressing against his mind with a hunger cast in a thousand shades of blood, and bestial rage sang through Keris’ veins in burning rhythm to the beating of his twin hearts.

This was the legacy of the Wolf King; something ancient and primal from the darkness of mankind’s past that slumbered in the shadows of the human heart that had been unlocked within him by the Canis Helix, the potent genetic heritage of his sire, Leman Russ. It was fury distilled, the untamed beast that dwelt within his mind and body, and Keris felt the unbridled rush of strength that uncoiled within his flesh like the first ice-edged breath of wind from a looming storm.

A howl tore from Keris’ throat as he seized the gift of his primarch, forcing the daemon back in a surge of inhuman might as Alrik dove under the creature’s guard to sink his gleaming combat blade to the hilt in the traitor’s chest. A scream of agony exploded from a creature in a voice that had never been human; echoing in Keris’ ears as the daemon twisted wildly, lashing out with razor-edged claws that sliced through ceramite and into the flesh of his right knee. Pain seared through his nerves as the muscles in him leg spasmed, taking him to the floor in a clatter of power armour on steel as the traitor raked deep gouges from Alrik’s blue-grey battle plate before fleeing with his brother hot on its heels.

Rage swallowed the pain and Keris was back on his feet with inhuman speed; the desire to give wild chase a physical pressure upon his twitching limbs as the beast in his soul frothed for carnage, his fangs aching in his gums to tear through bleeding flesh. To feel the last beat of a heart against his tongue at the moment of a kill. To feed upo…

_I am Keris, chosen Son of Russ… *I Am Not A Beast*._ 

Keris’ diamond-edged strength of will knifed through the haze of copper-tinted violence in his mind like a perfectly balanced spear into the pale, exposed underbelly of a sea dragon. A howl of frustration filling his thoughts as the wolf in his soul fought against the fetters of his discipline even as he sprang after the battling forms of his packmate and the daemon. Emotions, feral and un-tempered, coloured the hidden battleground of Keris’ mind as he felt the beast that lurked within him push back.To cast aside the oaths he had sworn, even now faced with the depravity that was the daemon, would betray the very spirit of his slain mentor. _He could not reject the wolf within, for it was a part of him as much as the blood in his veins, but he would not allow the beast to rule his soul even if the temptation was hot upon his thoughts._

Keris saw the opening as his brother twisted to strike at the traitor’s head, warp-tainted claws angling for Alrik’s unguarded throat. It was a blow that his packmate could not avoid, could not recover to block in time. All fury at Alrik’s actions was placed aside as Keris surged forward, shielding his brother from the path of the blackened talons with his own flesh. Lancing pain exploded in Keris’ left side as the daemon’s blow sliced through the thick ceramite of his battleplate and through his muscled chest to only be stopped by his overlapping shield of ribs, the curved claws catching in the gene-forged bone for a fraction of a second. 

It was all the time Keris needed as he fought through the blinding pain to twist his brother’s chainsword around in a savage thrust that contained every ounce of his strength, every iota of anguish at the denial of his oath, every drop of his righteous hate of the warp-bred abomination before him and was aimed for the broken and blood-flecked wound in the traitor’s chest made by Alrik’s combat blade. 

_I am the Wolf that Stalks Between Stars._


----------



## dark angel

Keris’ Chainsword met with the claws of the Daemon-Kin in a fountain of bright sparks, coating both in silvery-blue embers. It was an artistic rendition of something terrible, an almost beautiful portrayal of murderous warfare. Noble, intelligent Keris and the foul contortion of reality dueled, the Ice-Eyed Wolf showing no fear, his face twisted into a sneer of contempt. Alrik drew nearer, his ceramite-encased fingers gripping tighter and tighter around the pommel of his meagre Combat-Blade.

He slipped beneath Keris’ outstretched arm, thrusting the gnarled tip forwards. It plunged deep, eating away through the ancient armour and muscular chest. The beast looked at him, astounded. A great cry erupted from its ancient throat, echoing around the cathedral-like interior of the generator chambers. The Daemon-Kin outstretched both hands towards the side, clawed fingers curling inwards, and brought them in on Alrik.

Deep slashes were carved from his flanks, plate rending away with monstrous ease. The Aquila upon his chest was carved; the twin-head of the Thunder Eagle disappearing. Alrik felt the gnawing, stronger than ever as the Emperor’s sigil was distorted and twisted into a clouding of gold upon grey-blue. Keris was on the ground, and Alrik’s scarred visage hardened. He bared his fangs, each one glinting in the half-light. 

Alrik pressed his attack. He tore his blade away, viscera flicking away from the marred surface. One hand held behind his back, Alrik advanced on the fleeing Daemon-Astartes. Several glancing blows impacted on the baroque armour of his opponent, dipping beneath the surface of the ceramite hide. It was his final blow which mattered. The Seax slipped across the cheek and right eye of the Daemon-Kin, turning flesh a rich scarlet. It stared at him, barely contained rage bubbling in its’ coloured eyes.

The talons of the monster sprung for his throat. Alrik knew it was a blow which would end him, and he knew he could not parry. The greatness which he was bound for would not come, he would not be told of in the distant future. He would be forgotten by all of his Brothers, a mere name amongst the annals of time. His stomach curled, his twinned hearts clenched. A rippling of regret washed through him, raising the hairs along his limbs. He did would he could. He grinned in fearless anticipation, allowing a quick series of words to fall from his pursed lips.

‘You accursed bastard..’

No blow came, however. Keris darted forth, stepping between the heinous bone-weapons and Alrik. The Daemon-Kin’s fingers bit into Keris, and it all came back to Alrik. He remembered how they had been before arriving on Hecutor, the strong bonds of friendship which had tied them together. Alrik had destroyed them, carved them into oblivion. And yet Keris was still willing to take a potentially grievous blow for the Firehawk.

Keris attacked once more. Alrik allowed a contemptuous smile to part his features, nodding shallowly in satisfaction.


----------



## deathbringer

The spike tore into his flesh as the writhing mass of daemonic entropy tumbled to the floor, pain countered anasthaesiac in a mellee of fierce combaat, building the rage as he struck down upon the creatures back. It writhed beneath him and his finger looped through the trigger with ease. 

He fired without hesitation feeling the body below him buckle under the sledgehammer impact of round after round. Then the pistol clicked, the hammmer slamming against empty chamber and the momentum was lost. He was falling backwards and the body was rising a backhanded blow spilling blood over his lips.

He was struggling to rise, stunned and shocked, hands wriggling like snakes over the ground attmepting to gain a purchase... somewhere from which he could rise. A sharp edge bit deep and he drew away turning his head, twisting his body unnaturally to see what lay within his blind spot.

A chainsword....

he snatched it up,rising slowly,delicately, body uncoiling and unfurling like the petals of a lily, raising the blade in two hands his thumb poised above the activation rune as he stalked forward. Tyr was grappling with the beast and he was floating, sauntering forwards, practicing the stroke as he moved, getting his depth, adjusting to the change in perception.

They grappled still, nose to nose.. face to face.. snarling roaring as Iorek sauntered nearer.
Thumbing the activation rune he dropped to one knee, the blade flicking out towards the possessed knees in one long scything cut... 

The blade roared as it tore through the air.... such a risk... such an unnecessary risk
To


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; With a roar you leap forward, crashing into the marine and bringing your axe down. With a snarl on his face, the traitor brings both armoured gauntlets together in an attempt to halt the blade. Though he manages to arrest much of the momentum, it is not without cost, and the axe takes away a portion of one hand and embeds itself in his neck.

With his remaining good hand, the traitor punches you in the face, deforming the helmet and forcing you to roll with the blow or be caught by follow up strikes. You rip your helm off, watching the traitor struggle to get back up and retrieve the glaive, your axe still stuck in his armoured neck. This time there is no light to heal the wound, there is no longer any light healing any of the wounds, the mock Aquila no longer shifts around.

[Finish him!]

Keris; Time goes on as if through a glacier, the bastard realizing that he cannot escape fast enough. The chainsword bites into the weakened section of plate, buckling the ceramite and punching deep within. In a moment, time seemingly returns itself and the whirring blades grind through reinforced bone and shred the organs contained within with a whine from the blade and a scream from the traitor. Rich blood bubbles from the bastard’s mouth, and he tries to raise a talon to your head, but whatever other being was contained within has since left the Legionnaire, and all he weakly raises is the shattered remnants of a gauntlet, fingers seemingly fused to each other.

The traitor falls to the ground, dead or dying it matters not to you. Pain floods your system, almost overwhelming the painkillers being pumped out by your armour. You are once again forced to the ground, your arm clutching the talon wound in your side. Turning your head, you see Alrik plain as day, and something deep within urges for you to spill yet more blood. This is not like before, not the spirit of the wolf alive with rage, but instead something more, something that reeks of evil.

[The battle within rages onward, the death of the traitor only served to fuel the need to shed further blood. You must stave it off, or give in and attack one of your own.]



Alrik; You watch as Keris takes the blow before deliver the killing stroke. Chainsword biting into the weakened chest plate caused by your own blade before. With a deathly shriek of pain, the traitor marine goes down, talons returning to hands. That is when Keris falls, head slowly turning to your direction; the blue of his eyes seems swallowed up by a vile red that raises your hackles.


[This can’t be too good; but what do you do? Ready yourself to fight your brother, or try to shake some sense into him?]



Iorek and Tyr; Iorek swipes with the chainsword, and his chop is met with the resistence of armour. With nowhere to go, and his attention on Tyr, the traitor is taken completely unawares until it is too late. His leg comes away in a shower of ceramite and bloody chunks of meat before Tyr hurls him away, a heap on the ground.

Tyr moves in, bringing an armoured leg down on the traitor before slamming his fist into the traitor’s face again and again, shattering the nose and cracking teeth. The spikes shoot out, greater than before, and the larger Space Wolf only just manages to dodge having his head ran through. Iorek responds to the move, chainsword slashing across a pair of spikes and into the traitors side, biting deep and taking away a large chunk on the return.

[With a ruined arm and lopped off leg, the traitor is all but dead. He might still try to resist, but one of you finish him off in whatever manner you see fit. You will then witness Vermundr defeating the lead possessed marine, go to your pack leader.]


----------



## unxpekted22

A sickly sound of screeching ceramite and sloppy tearing flesh. His axe fell first upon a last ditch effort to block, going first through one of the traitor's hands and landing just to the side of his target, the bastard's neck. 

His helmet dented inward on his face from a counter strike. He stepped back letting go of his axe to take of his battle helm. Lifting up, he saw that chaos marine already on the move toward his weapon, not bothering to remove the axe.

With a roar Vermundr's helm hit the floor, and he rushed to intercept the legionnaire, smashing into him with his right shoulder guard sending them both to the ground. No other thoughts now, just kill the traitor, but one statement would be nice, "Where's your special powers? they run away from you? A taste of what the Emperor felt when you betrayed him I'm sure."

He rolled over holding a knee to the legionnaire's throat as he said this. He found his bolt pistol laying next to them, punched the traitor in the face to stun him so he could lean over and grab it, returning his full weight on top of the marine. He dropped the empty mag onto the giant chest plate with the chaos icon. it hit and sled into the left crevice of the neck guard opposite the axe which still stuck out. 

He slid a fresh clip in and shoved the bolt pistol into the legionnaires horrid mouth. He made sure the traitor looked him in the eyes, Vermundr the space wold blood claw ending this blasphemous life that was 10,000 years old. He snarled and squeezed the trigger forgetting it was on burst. Three simultaneous rounds clapped out, somewhat silenced by the legionnaire's mouth. 

He stood up, withdrawing his axe from the tainted flesh and looking at the blood he had drawn, his first _real_ kill for the Emperor.


----------



## Euphrati

The universe seemed to draw in a breath as the corrupted traitor tried to writhe away from the strike with a last futile effort, the tip of Keris’ chainsword biting into the weakened rent in its armour with a hollow cracking like the jaws of fate snapping shut. The blade shivered in Keris’ grip, chewing through armour and bone in an eye blink as time came crashing back in like a storm wave cresting the bow of a dragonboat. The pitch of the snarling teeth changed as they found yielding flesh, tearing vital organs into tattered scraps of perverted meat and bring forth a scream of anguish from the abomination. Keris hammered the chainsword to the cross guard in the traitor’s chest, twisting the blade with a snarl of triumph as blood frothed from the between the creature’s lips and down his chin. 

The traitor twitched as his life was drawn across the altar of judgment, weakly raising an arm that only ended in the fused and deformed remnants of an astartes gauntlet as whatever warpspawn that had worn his flesh abandoned the traitor to his end. Keris gave a final jerk and the body slid off the growling blade with a wet sigh, crumpling to the floor with the finality of death and leaking ruby steams that glittered in the strobing lights. 

Pain, vicious and threatening to exceed the suppressors being pumped into his gene-forged body by his battleplate, erupted from the wound in Keris’ side as the traitor fell. Keris’ combat blade chimed as it struck the floor, gauntleted hand clutching at his torn side as the waves of agony sent the young Blood Claw crashing to his knees. 

Keris’ breath snarled in harsh pants through clenched teeth, the metallic tang of blood coating his tongue with every pain-laced gasp. The rich copper scent filled his senses, hot and heavy from where it ran thick down the length of the fanged blade still locked in his grasp. A shadow loomed from the corner of his vision and Alrik’s scared bulk came into focus like a faulty pictor abruptly snapping into true. Keris’ heartbeats thundered in his ears as the scent of fresh blood coiled about him; a voracious hunger to drive the growling blade into Alrik’s exposed throat clawing at the very core of his being.

The acidic bite of bile filled Keris’ mouth at the cold and alien malevolence that lingered upon the thought like a black sheen of poisoned oil upon a rocky shoreline. _This was not the feral emotion of the wulfen locked within his genetic spiral, but something beyond the kin of mankind._ A fragment of raw warpstuff that had never been borne of reality and yet existed in only the most abominable sense, the sum of all that was anathema, given monstrous consciousness without age or concept beyond destruction. 

_Daemon._

Keris could sense the void predator raking ethereal talons across the bulwark of his consciousness; seeking the tiniest crack in his psyche, the smallest rift of his dedication, as it whispered sibilant hunger at the edges of his mind. Darkness licked at his essence; every measure of his loyalty, every cornerstone of his devotion, was assaulted with void-cold thirst. _An eternity of carnage and slaughter. Power and blood to drown uncounted worlds for the price of his sou_…

*NEVER! *

The chainsword skidded across the plating as Keris cast it aside, dropping forward on all fours as pain screamed along every nerve in his body and gene-forged muscles corded in his defiance. Venom-laced bile dripped from between Keris’ bared fangs as he fought for each breathless word, 

‘*I… will never… submit*!’

Keris’ black crest of hair stood on end like the hackles of a wolf at bay, his voice becoming stronger with every word of defiance,

‘*Never*... will I turn my back … upon the light of the Allfather and my duty to my Brothers! *I will fight you*… until the last beat of my hearts before I will ever renounce my soul to your kind, warpfilth! *May Russ himself… bear witness to my oath*!’

With every moment the assault grew weaker, the daemon’s grip upon reality slipping away as it was met by the intensity of Keris’ unwavering faith. Its voiceless screams of fury faded away into the thrumming heartbeat of the wounded ship and, for a brief moment, Keris would have sworn the faint tang of salt-spray and ash eclipsed the bitter taste in his mouth as the daemon was swallowed back into the void. 

His whole body trembled with strain from the fight for his mind and soul, but a renewed strength of purpose coursed through Keris’ veins as he forced himself first to one knee and then to his feet to stand, splay-legged as if on the bucking deck of a storm-tossed dragonboat, in stubborn refusal of his wounded physical state and regarded Alrik with a stoical grunt,

‘You look like Morkai himself spat you back out...‘


----------



## deathbringer

The chainsword bit plating which squealed the petrified howl of futility as it buckled under the grinding teeth. It tore into flesh, corrupted flesh, matter that writhed with chaotic disruption of the hellish contortions of the never born. Two minds screamed out with one voice, pitch and rythm's echoing eerily as they bit the night air. 

Then the leg came away, chunks of flesh spattering across his outstretched knee, staining it with a crimson red. His nostrils flared as the smell tantalised them yet his eyes moved on, over the toppling wreckage of the possessed to the duel beyond.

A flurry of gunshots and a traitors head exploded as the unhelmed form of the packleader straightened from the headless corpse a grim smile spreading across his young face.

His noserinkled in digust as a bitter taste spread across his palate. 

He once the pride of the claw, was now a cripple, a freak, disfigured, watching as youngsters passed him by, surpassed his achievements, avoided his failings.

Thumps and squeals came from so far away as Tyr vented his rage, the rthump of fist and the crack of bone, interrupted by a sharp squeal, as spikes flared out, and Tyr was forced to leap aside, to evade a fatal blow.

Without thinking Iorek hacked downwards, the blow a bitter strike, a slashing cut of frustration that tore flesh from between the spikes yet he was already turning away.

With a backward glance he tossed his chainsword handle first to tyr who now stood above the husk of the marine

"Finish him brother, such a being leaves a bitter taste in my mouth"

Slowly he reloaded the bolt pistol, the motion familiar and reassuring.

Would he ever reach his dreams?

Was he destined to watch as others moved to greatness, to remain in the rank and file, untrusted and unremembered.

Slowly he moved towards the packleader, what next..... what next


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's mind was a haze, nothing but red and the figure of the traitor filling his vision as he drove his fist into its face over and over and over again. The tainted marine could do little to halt this new onslaught, his lifeblood bleeding away through his leg and causing his movements to become slow and labored. As he brought his fist up spikes shot out and he rolled away to avoid being impaled, barely noticing Iorek bringing the chainsword across the chest of the traitor to cut away the spikes. The weapon was tossed to him and his brother walked away, Tyr's mind not comprehending what had just happened between them. 

He dropped the chainsword and started beating the marine's face again until he could hear bones cracking and splitting, a hand reaching up in a feeble attempt to try and stop him. He quickly grabbed the chainsword and hacked it off before running the blade throught the marine's chest and stabbing the knife through his eye socket just to be sure he was absolutely dead.

His chest heaving from the anger and hate he had felt during the fight he sheathed his combat knife and grabbed his chainsword, making his way silently over to the pack leader.


----------



## dark angel

He _was _fearful.

Not for himself, however, but for the sanity of his Packmate. Keris turned towards him, and Alrik felt a shiver wrack his spine. The squelch of viscera had subsided, and now only the rapid panting of the Wolves, accompanied by the thrum of engines, sounded. The beautifully regal countenance of Keris was marred with flecks of crimson, and blue-black bruises. Alrik’s exhausted grip tightened, fingers slipping further around his Combat-Blade.

_Those eyes.._

Alrik was startled by the viciousness portrayed against the blue, by the glint of the lume-globes above. Alrik likened them to abysses, hollow and horrifying. Both of the Astartes bore an array of wounds, deep, crimson belching rents upon their ice-grey armour. The Firehawk was not fearful of death, but he was fearful that his amazing tome would never be wrote. He stiffened, pulling himself as tall as his wracked form would allow, staring down at Keris.

‘Brother..’ Alrik muttered, each fluctuating vowel threatening to allow anger to seep through. ‘Keris.’

The Firehawk allowed a blade-thin smile. A web of cracks danced through the burning twists and twirls on his face, revealing layers of pearly white beneath. Keris burst out in a series of defiant declarations, causing Alrik to take a threateningly strong step forwards. Slowly, shakily, Keris stood. Alrik took caution, scrutinizing his Brother for a possible weak spot. There was many, and if needed, Alrik would take the life of Keris into his hands.

‘You look like Morkai himself spat you back out.’ Keris chided, staring at Alrik. The aridity was still present, a rippling barrier between the pair of once-close Packmates. 

Instead of slackening his grip upon the pommel of his weapon, however, Alrik merely flexed his fingers and drew it in tighter.

‘Wrong. _I_ spat _him _out.’ 

Alrik burst out in harsh laughter, still keeping his guard up.


----------



## darkreever

Alrik and Keris; Drawing on what reserves of strength you have left, you make way to where the rest of the pack should be. The sight before you though, it somehow manages to steal the breath from your lungs. Two more traitors lay dead on the ground, a portion of the vast generator damaged by an explosion, and three members of the pack. Wait, three? And that is when you see the head of *Sydornis* by Vermundr and understanding comes rushing to you, another brother taken by these bastards. Iorek looks nearly as bad as you, the entire side of his head blackened from the explosion and it does not look like his one eye is working.

Iorek and Tyr; As you make way to Vermundr, Keris and Alrik come into sight and bother look in bad shape. Keris sports multiple breaches to his armour, with spatters of dark blood around at least one and much of the colour drained from his features. Alrik looks the opposite, his cracked and dry skin almost radiates heat from multiple burns, as if he had jumped into a ball of fire or something. You quickly realize that there are only five of you here, and notice the head of *Sydornis* on the ground, another to be avenged.

Vermundr; Looking up from the corpse of the dead possessed marine, you look and see the battered remains of your pack. Keris physically drained and sporting a number of heavy wounds despite his attempts to conceal the truth; Alrik sporting multiple burns from something; Iorek with his ruined eye; and Tyr with a number of injuries nearly as bad as Keris. Just the five of you now, *Sydornis* is gone like the others of the pack before him, these bastards took yet another!

[Any comments for each other? Thoughts on what you see?]

All; After a few moments, Vermundr finally growls out that the warp-tainted traitors had to come from somewhere, and that is when your ears pick up the sound of incoming footfalls. Turning to the source, you prepare for more killing until a dozen or more ship ratings come rushing in, a motley assortment of anti-boarder weapons carried amongst them. One of them nods to you before barking into a vox unit in his collar, calling for more support for this area and then rushing over to you. As he nears, he bows his head in a mark of respect, noticing the dead traitors scattered about and spitting a gobbet of phlegm on the nearest body.

_“My lords, lord Hogun ordered us to come here when the enemy attacked the main shield reactors. We lost contact with him after the explosion; let us handle damage here so that you can go fight those traitors.”_ He said, looking to the dead possessed leader as he did so. Without any need or prompting, you are off from where they came, passing another dozen ratings in the process while they try to assess the damages done to the ship and keep things out of the hands of the boarders.

Once in your sprint, you come across another group of ratings pinned down by more operatives. They never see you coming, by the time they realize what has happened, you are descending upon them and already half have been slain. In a handful of seconds, the ratings are no longer pinned and instead following in your wake. Minutes later, you charge down a damaged corridor and discover the battered body of three blood claws. One of them is badly injured, his arm missing above the elbow and chunks of plating embedded in the back of his head. Looking him over, there is no doubt that his injuries have put him in the red dream. One of the remaining two stands up and relays what happened: 

They had been attacked by six traitors, warp tainted creatures that were a mockery of astartes. They had killed more than half the pack with little trouble before they tried to run away. Grey hunter Hogun had tried to get in their way, cutting one down and holding up another, ordering for the blood claws to go after the others. They gave chase, and one armed with a glaive and bearing a sickly shifting tattoo cut one of the blood claws in half before joining his wicked brethren. One of the four stayed behind to fight the remaining blood claws, nearly killing them if not for the aid of Hogun, wounding the beast at the cost of his life against his own foe. That is when the explosions began, taking the traitors, the body of Hogun, and severely wounding one of the remaining blood claws.

[What do you take of this news? Hogun included, that is ten more dead, eleven including Sydornis.]

All; A ringing in your ear alerts you to an incoming via the vox implanted in your ear. Though distorted and lacking in tone, you know it can be no other than Njal. _“Pack leader __Vermundr__, report in, I cannot reach Grey Hunter Hogun.”_

[Vermundr, report the fate of Hogun and most of the other blood claws; before any response can be given a number of distant explosions will rock the ship. Njal will tell you that the shields have been taken down and that the enemy vessel is moving in for the kill. Worse than that, more operatives led by a single traitor marine are trying to take the bridge. Though it is just a feeling, upon hearing this Iorek gets the feeling that it is the other traitor from the citadel.

Obviously its off to keep the boarders from the bridge, Vermundr do you tell the remaining other blood claws, Freyr and Haladas, to go with you or do you have them remain with their brother?]


----------



## deathbringer

They looked terrible, Alrik's skin was blistered, scorched burns seeping clear fluid disfigured his face, Keris stood straight, erect, his face taut and unmoving as he fought to ignore the wounds that oozed his precious vitura. There armour was sliced and cut, there faces dour yet not defeated.

5 of them stood there, the last 5, 4 of their number had laughed and joked in the fist of Russ that first time, had burst forth with long languishing howls at the request of their Lord. He had dreamed of greatness then, thought he would rise, echo the metoric path of his lord and be etched in the histories of the fang.

No longer, he was doomed, destined to watch the younger generations surpass him in their rise.

So much death.. so much death

He could see them now, there bodies despoiled and desecrated, the fallen, that had watched him duel, that had howled alongside him in childish abandon.

They howled no longer, their throats torn out by the serpents strike.

He could see his brothers now, their rise certain, their youthful faces still strong, still ready, still hopeful. vermundr a leader, a warrior beyond reknown, his only authority Keris, the sage, the wise, his words cherished by those he preached too. 

Tyr and Alrik, grey hunters, lords of the hunt, wolf pelts surrounded their armour, glories of there own upon their belts, notches in the hilts of their swords.

He saw himself, pale, his reflection in there eyes, crushed and crippled, drifting along in this lifeless state.
Limbo...

Their was something in Keris's eyes and Iorek knew the answer before he asked, yet he asked anyway, hoping against hope his brother had sated vengeance, that it would not consume him as it knawed upon Iorek's fragile soul

"Did you?" he whispered his voice horse and unnatural against the silence of the dead.


----------



## unxpekted22

The tainted blood dripped and rolled, seeped and slithered across the deck. Vermundr took a deep breath and stood staring at the face, ripped apart, no tattoo feature glowing, sliding around the hideous truth. Bits of brain and shattered skull, anointed with the Emperor's wrath.

He turned to see Keris and Alrik coming from one direction, and Iorek and Tyr from another. he was so worried that when he turned he would find nothing, or even worse, the rest of the traitor's unit standing behind him, all with glowing limbs and weapons, bleeding necks of his brothers on the ground before them. 

How had they done this? before they could barely hold off the legionnaire's when they _weren't_ demonic. Had they gotten that much better in such a short time? or were they just lucky? Come to think of it again, the five of them had an impressive string of luck behind them as it was. is that what the All-father's universe was based on? Luck? He lapped down this bitter taste and let his heart beat pride and honor of true skill back into his breath.

He only needed to look into Keris's eyes once and he knew something was different, something good or bad he couldn't quite tell. The calming glacial blue eyes of wisdom filled with a new sense of determination. It could have sent a chill down Vermundr's neck and spine if he had not been so familiar with keris.

he saw the gash in his side, and the burns on Alrik. he would ahve assumed the heavy flamer legionnaire had transformed into a demon also, after glancing at the thing on the floor int he distance that Tyr and Iorek had killed. However, if they had killed that specific marine, Kjarl's killer, Keris wouldnt be covered in such a wild shade. He knew Keris had conquered his ailment the best he could, and he had enough faith Keris to keep his grip, so he wouldnt say anything. 

that meant a fourth legionnaire had entered the fight, another possessed seeing as keris's wound was not made by bolter, fire, or chainsword, or any other astartes weapon he could think of. A giant talon or claw. 

Alrik and Tyr, their faces, barely recognizable. Tyr was battered, his arm in half from a previous battle already. Vermundr felt his own face. Pain flared up but he could only feel a small amount of swelling. His face had taken some punches and his side and thigh struck, but that was it. The wound he had taken were already on their way to healing. The notion of luck lashed out again, trying to resurface.

_"These Traitors had to have come form somewhere," he growled as his hackles rose on his neck. I dont see any hull breaches here, so this wasn't their start."_ He realized he may have just stated the obvious, but he was more thinking out loud anyway.

It was then he heard the clanking of footsteps. He listened to the information intently, though he retrieved his axe and helmet while he did so. Good, the pack could move on from this room. Who knew how much damage had been done to the rest of the ship, and it sounded like Hogun was definitely in need of some support.

He and the rest of his brothers had already started running.

in mere moments they heard more fighting, gunfire and yells. They came up on another group of ratings pinned down by weak traitors. 

_"Tear through them!"_ scowled Vermundr to his pack.

He lifted his battle axe up sprinting straight through the enemy fire. such traitors seemed like insects now that he had defeated a legionnaire. He ran clear through one, trampling him, and slicing clear through another further back. Blood flew through the air to his sides from the strikes of his brothers as he glanced behind, seeing the ratings get up firing, finishing off their foe. 

minutes later they came to a blood soaked corridor full of smoke and debris, where three blood claws remained, though on a closer look it appeared to really only be two since the other was in a froze state, an arm missing and metal shards punctuating his skull. the others explained the situation.

When they finished speaking Vermundr tried to wrap his head around the situation. Six traitors. Hogun had killed at least one. His pack had encountered four of the legionnaire's in the generatorium. They had killed three. So the chaos marine who had held the heavy flamer still lived, and another as well, if not more. Who was to say that was the only group that made it aboard the ship. a group of 12 blood claws, all but destroyed. Three left alive, but with Sydornis and Hogun that made at least eleven more brothers of the company dead. 

Before he could act, or react, the voice of Njal reached his ear. He reported in to the Stormcaller, "_Yes Sir. Its my misfortune to tell you that Hogun and ten more blood claws have been killed, nine from the pack of brothers Freyr and Haladas while the last lays in the red dream, and brother Sydornis from my own. _

static filled his ear drum as the giant ship rumbled, and Vermundr's heart rate went up even higher learning the ship's shields were down with an enemy vessel coming for it. After hearing next about the bridge he responded quickly, _"We managed to kill three of the four alpha legionnaire's that attacked us in the generatorium sir. though injured, the fourth managed to escape, so there is at least one *other* legionnaire still aboard the ship. Also, these chaos marines we have encountered have been tainted by demonic powers, possessed Sir. I will be taking brothers Freyr and Haladas with my pack to the bridge."_

With this he turned towards Freyr and Haladas, _"Unfortunately we will ahve to leave your pack brother behind for now, we need every abled body we can get moving towards the bridge right now. Its up to us to stop the traitors from taking it. lets move."_


----------



## Euphrati

Menacing and suspicious, Alrik’s scent was a blow to Keris’ senses. _Was there ever a time you held respect for me, Brother? I shed blood for you without pause even after you cast scorn upon my bloodoath- upon us all and the foundation of Lord Blackmane’s honour._ The anger that filled him was borne of righteous strength as Keris’s hackles stood on end and the wolf in his soul gave a low rumble of empathetic indignation.

Ignoring the pain of muscles that burned with exhaustion from the violent combat and the wound that bled sluggishly in his side, a rough growl rolled from deep within Keris’ chest as he rose to his full height; his voice low and unwavering as he met Alrik’s dark eyes with open challenge,

‘By Russ and the Allfather, sheath your blade Firehawk … or _*use it*_ and do the work of the Great Enemy for him! But know this- if you ever question my faithfulness and loyalty again it will take the cunning every Priest in the Fang to piece your mangled hide back together when I am done with you.’

The pitch of battle was fading from his bloodstream, leaving the world soft-edged in its absence as Keris turned away from his clawbrother to regard the corpse and retrieve his combat blade and chainsword. He paused once as his eyes fell upon the bloody stump of the Serpent’s arm that lay upon the grating, archaic bolt pistol still gripped in the curled gauntlet, before following after Alrik as he made his way back to where their packmates had last been. 

The heavy metallic taste of spilled blood greeted Keris, the scents of his brothers telling of their wounds before he ever laid eyes upon them and the bitter sorrow of another loss; Sydornis. The decapitated head lay near Vermundr’s feet as Keris made his way up to the remains of his Claw, his packleader’s blue-grey armour flecked with the blood of another of the twisted daemon-possessed traitors. Pride lent strength to Keris’ movements as he nodded his greeting to Vermundr, his wolfbrother’s scent finally containing the surety that would forge him into a true packleader.

A third traitor’s body lay amidst the wreckage and the savage states of Tyr and Iorek were an unspoken testament to the formidable brutality of the Enemy. Tyr bled from a number of deep wounds nearly as bad as Keris’ own and Iorek’s pale features were marred with an injury that left him deprived of one eye. That single pale red eye met his own ice-blue and Iorek’s voice was low in the growl of the ship’s heartbeat. Keris reached out to place an unwavering hand upon his brother’s shoulder, his words cut with the certainty of a faith that had been tested against the darkness and found true,

‘Cowards die a thousand times before their true death, Iorek. I am bound by honour oath and, by the spirit of Grey Hunter Kjarl, I *will *kill him. Even if I must cut him apart piece by traitorous piece!’

Keris released his grip upon Iorek’s shoulder as his eyes traced the jagged wound that his packmate bore and slipped his hand into the pouch at his hip to lift out a small bundle with care. It was a pouch of simple medical supplies. _A gift that had not been forgotten._

‘Perhaps the time has come for me use this.’


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's breath was quick and rushed, the chemicals pumping through his body from the recent battle only serving to heighten the emotions that fought to gain control of him. His hatred for the enemy, the traitor, the coward, coursed through him like a drug and he wanted only to kill more of them seeing their very existence as a stain upon the stars themselves. He was battered and bloody, sporting almost as many wounds as Keris, yet he did not feel many of them, at least not yet. 

He was silent as they came together seeing Sydornis's head, another brother fallen to the blades of the traitors, and another one that would be revenged. He looked over Iorek as they began to make their way out of the room they were in and through the ship and smiled saying, *"I'll give you an eye if you give me your hand."*. He chuckled a bit to himself before they ran into a group of ratings that was pinned down by more operatives who never saw them coming. They tore into them and they were dead within seconds, blood and gore strewn all over the place, and as they ran on Tyr caught a glimpse of his long hair off of a reflection on the ship's wall, covered completely in blood. They soon ran into three blood claws, two standing and bloody and the other in the red dream. He listened to them, it would seem that the traitors that had attacked them and his own pack were one of the same, and all but one had been slain, his end was neigh.

His mind was lost in his own thoughts, how he would kill the next traitor marine to cross his path, how his pack had been weeded down slowly but surely till only the strongest remained, and how he so wished that he had his other hand back so that he could have another weapon to use against these bastards. They were ordered to the bridge, it was being attacked by the traitors and Njal needed them, he would follow his brothers into hell and he would kill until he could kill no more. Then once the battle was over, he would eat and he would drink and be merry with his brothers.


----------



## dark angel

He scanned Keris cynically, eyes darting from head-to-toe. He did not trust Keris. His outburst was crude, alien to the orator’s normally passive, coolheaded nature. He deliberately awaited for Keris to speak, not bothering to rush away into the arms of his Brothers. 

‘This blade is not for your through, Keris.’ He declared calmly, keeping his temper in place despite the keening within his chest. ‘Unless, that is, you give me reason to state otherwise.’

Keris’ threat was crude, barbaric. It emitted exactly what the Space Wolves were. Murderous bastards, one and all, enlightened and lifted into the Emperor’s Fraternity by performing some daring act. Alrik allowed a grin, his pinked teeth reflecting no light, no distorted visage. Harrumphing 

Harrumphing, Alrik turned away, callously limping towards the others, his armour still largely unresponsive. He stooped down at his Bolt Pistol, quickly taking it in his ceramite-shod fingers, slamming a new magazine into the housing. Next he collected his sanguine-clad Chainsword, the one which Keris had masterfully used against the Alpha Legionnaire, when all had believed Alrik was lost. 

Engaging the maglocks upon his hip, Alrik refastened his scabbard and slipped his Chainsword home. Tyr, Iorek and Vermundr were assembled together, and at the feet of Vermundr rested a fleshy globule. Sydnornis’ countenance was locked in a grimace of agony, the corners of the mouth upturned, the eyes jaded over. The ghastly puncture that had separated neck from shoulder had spewed blood and sinuous strands, and like the tentacles of a Fenrisian Squid they dangled. Alrik allowed a knife-thin smile at his fellows, clenching his eyes shut as his burns cracked. 

Alrik angled his head pompously, looking over his shoulder to Keris, reassuring that his Brother was following. The Firehawk did not like the fact that he distrusted his once-closest, but it was a matter of selfishness over friendship. The battered remnants of the Pack spent several minutes, acknowledging one another, regarding each dent and rupture across their metallic hides. Alrik himself was a cadaverous form, blackened and covered in congealed blood, both his own and that of the Cultists which he had joyfully slaughtered.

The Firehawk scowled at Vermundr. The Pack-Leader had fallen from favour in Alrik’s eyes, a pup suckling from the teat of a wolf. He had spoken something about the Traitors; something which had fallen on deaf ears, on uncaring ears. Still, Alrik could feel the reverberating of explosions in the distant, space-bound landscape. Muffled footsteps grew closer, and Alrik’s grip upon his Seax once again regained purchase; ready for whatever the fatherless Legion could throw at the noble Sons of Fenris.

Chapter Bondsmen, clad in grey-blue overalls and bearing a variety of shotguns, maiming blades and other weapons, revealed themselves from the darkness. They slyly advanced, their leader spitting a ball of phlegm upon the remains of a Possessed Astartes. He informed the Pack of why he was present, but Alrik chose not to listen. He did not need information to complete the tasks ahead. He was an Astartes, a killing machination in the visage of his Primarch, bestial and fierce. Alrik Firehawk was a God in miniature.

When they were finally on the move again, Alrik replaced his helm, steam venting from the cooling pipes that snaked around his collar-armour. His nerve branches itched suddenly and his world turned crimson. He stared through the lenses with vehement passion, scanning each branching corridor. The staccato reports of weapons fire growled in his helm’s speakers, loud and frightening to a mortal soul. To Alrik, it was the noise that would accompany him throughout his new-life. 

A shard of shrapnel pinged off of Alrik’s pauldron, and he allowed a cautious grin. The enemy was near, he knew of it. While he traded his stronger senses for the safety of an helm, Alrik was efficiently lacking when compared to his Brothers. But it mattered not. Where he fell behind in his gifts, he was enhanced in his brutally awesome acts.

‘For the All-Father.’ Alrik whispered to himself, as the Pack came out into a hallway. Serfs were clustered behind fallen pillars and shattered furniture, firing blindly at a mass of boarders. The Operatives returned fire at them, oblivious to the presence of Russ’ Scions. Releasing a wavering mewl, Alrik charged forth, a blur of flickering armour.

The first of the enemy released a low gurgle as Alrik severed his throat, and in turn the Firehawk cried out in exultation. He pivoted on his foot, a searing swathe of crimson narrowly missing his massive torso, and threw his weapon from extended fingers. The tip buried deep, rendering arteries and organs, punching the Operative from her feet. She squirmed, dribbling crimson, hands clutching the weapon protruding from her chest. 

Another fell to Alrik’s fists, pummeled into the decking, bones crunching and grinding into a fine dust. Only when his gauntlets lost all original pigment did Alrik stop, panting heavily, his eyes narrowed. Blood spurted from where Alrik had torn a gash in the man’s chest, covering the Firehawk’s legs, turning his armour a royal pink. He reclaimed his weapon from the chest of the lifeless woman, slipping it back into his housing.

The skirmish had been fast and deadly. The Wolves had torn their way through the boarders, leaving piles of steaming offal upon the deck, richly decorated with the blood of their victims. It was a gorily glorious sight, one that reeked of the Wolves’ purpose. That purpose, of course, was killing. 

The Wolves carried on, until they finally came across a trio of Blood Claws. One had slipped into the Red Dream, armour sections jutting from the rear of his skull, sunk into the flesh and bone. His arm hung uselessly, thin sinuous threads keeping it from absolute severing. Alrik knew one of the other Blood Claws as Freyr, having seen him within the dining halls aboard the ship, but never upon the field of battle.

Alrik clasped hands with the other Blood Claw, reclining away from him slowly as the story of what had happened was reiterated. By the time it was finished; Alrik Firehawk was baying for blood.


----------



## deathbringer

"I'll give you an eye if you give me a hand"
Bitter levity like ashes clogging his senses, his mouth twitching and tearing, filling with a bilious taste that activated his gag reflex, his stomach lurching. The eyes of his brother were open, the flitters of dancing mischief that Njoror had once bore lit them like fading fireworks trailing away almost swamped by the deep dusk of fatigue.

He forced the purile taste away his mouth stoic, frozen by thoughts of bitterness as the hand of brother Keris clenched upon him, the warmth of his fingers sending growls of discontentment from the wolf within, snarls easily ignored amongst the weight of his words.

"Cowards die a thousand times before their true death, Iorek. I am bound by honour oath and, by the spirit of Grey Hunter Kjarl, I will kill him. Even if I must cut him apart piece by traitorous piece!’"

His other hand found his pouch taking out a bundle that seemed a long distant memory in Iorek's mind. A gift given in kindness, another bond between them. The gift repaid in well thought words

‘Perhaps the time has come for me use this.’ 

A smile bloomed across the disfigured face, the shredded skin rolling as he reached out to clasp his brothers pauldron in turn, a bond of brotherhood, a circle, a loathing fettered and overcome. Two different wolves stood here, embraced as brothers linked by a bond that life could overcome yet only death could shatter.


"Then we will hunt a thousand times brother till we take the very light from their eyes."

A laugh unnaturally shrill in the silence burst from his lips and he whispered under his breath, his eyes unfocused, staring at the glassy eyed corpse of vermundr's tatooed challenger

"Embrace death and there is nothing to fear, embrace failure and you have died already."

He met the blue eyes, those icy peaks that glowed brighter, burning like the midday sun.

"We will cast them back to the abyss from whence they came."

Footfalls, frantic upon the floor and he broke the embrace the pistol slipping into his hand with ready ease he aimed upon the doorway, falling into a crouch with seemless ease.

Not all had changed, he was still lightening... just erratic lightening... not the best kind.

Bondsman entered weapons between them and words on their lips that spoke of blood and slaughter, cried out of pain and fear. Now they were moving following in the packleader wake as he pushed forwards eyes alert and axe raised.

Blood and slaughter liberation by pistol and sword clad them further and the wolf stirred standing erect fur high upon end its howling agony within his mind. It had meaning, the screeching echoing sound, the bristling fur, a warning siren in his head... danger... danger... enemies.

A blood claw lay within the confines of the passage way, his still form motionless amongst the charred remaints of human flesh littered the floor, smears of blood upon the walls, the faint echoes of screams seemed to dwindle within its dingy bloodstained passageway.

So much death, a story of tragedy, of bretheren lost, of new possibilities. A new grey hunter to be raised, one more to the list of those to be mourned, those taken by the treacherous sons of alpharius. Who... who? who amongst so much death.

Amongst it all 4 stood battered and bruised yet never torn down, physically battered, mentally stronger matured, brought forth by the trials and tribulations of life. Keris a pillar of faith to the right of the growing leadership of Vermundr. To his left Tyr a pillar of strength, Alrik a burning inferno of righteous rage that enveloped them. 

And him. He stood too. 5 had survived, the remenants of their number, from the early days.

Njoror, Odin, Sydornis, Romka, Von names of fallen brothers swirled round them, curling and twisting, emotional shackles between them.

Then words slipped from vermundr's mouth... words that shattered his ties to them in a single moment

"We managed to kill three of the four alpha legionnaire's that attacked us in the generatorium sir. though injured, the fourth managed to escape, so there is at least one other legionnaire still aboard the ship. Also, these chaos marines we have encountered have been tainted by demonic powers, possessed Sir. I will be taking brothers Freyr and Haladas with my pack to the bridge."

Words meant for another ear, words that in chance had mingled with the growling snarls of the wolf within him.

One other.. one other... a sudden certainty, a feeling... a certainty born within him.

There was a traitor on this ship.

Him.

The wolf was snarling, howling, growls of hatred as it fought against the prison of mental supression, the battering of its screams forcing Iorek's eyes open wide, shocked, electricity running up his spine, his hand drawing his chainsword, a gentle press of his thumb revving it to life with a low humming roar.

His eye locked with the icy blue once more, the single red alive, burning with wildfire as it held the glacier for a single second, a smile spreading over the blackened remenants of his ghostly white skin

"Embrace death" he hissed as his feet began to pound upon the corridor floor, the monotonous thunder growing louder as he picked up speed


----------



## Euphrati

For a long breath; Iorek seemed to be absorbed in a mire of inner thoughts, his remaining eye unfocused and glazed with pain and other churning emotions. The pale-skinned lid blinked; the blood red orb snapping into focus as ruined features shifted into the twist of a smile and Keris felt the grip of his wolfbrother’s hand settle upon his own shoulder. Keris returned the grin in kind; his visage lupine-fanged and predator keen. Bonds were being renewed and the pack reformed like the clan-holdings in the churning of Fenris’ world-forge during the time of fire. 

Vermundr’s voice was low compared to the commanding throb of the reactors; Keris started to give a nod of agreement to his packleader when another sound sent his hackles on end and his free hand to the grip of his chainsword. His wolfbrothers were instantly on alert; Iorek tensing beside him, his hand dropping from Keris’ shoulder to pull his pistol in a seemingly single motion. Men appeared from the coiling smoke clad in the livery of those bonded to the Wolves and armed to repel boarders; Keris relaxed slightly as he noted the familiar cutting smiles of fenrisian axes and charms of warding tied to forearms with corded leather thongs.

One of the number approached the Claw, his scent and body language carrying the warm tones of respect, and Keris listened to his words even as he rummaged through the small pack still in his grip. There was little of use to his advanced biology in the kit; in the end he discarded all but the contents of a tube of counterseptic smeared roughly into the wound in his side. The wound was deep, the black carapace that covered his torso had been pierced and his shield of ribs throbbed where the daemon-twisted claws had caught in the bone even with the painblocks that flooded his bloodstream; Keris doubted the unguent would do much other than add a distinctly obnoxious note to his scent. 

At the words of the bondsman; Vermundr wheeled and tore off into the bowels of the ship in the direction indicated, the Claw falling into a ground devouring pace behind its packleader. Keris felt a stab of fiery pain that accompanied each stride, irritated at the fatigue that seemed to press upon his every action. The skin of his neck and left jaw itched in a vexing fashion, the wounds had long since sealed over with knots of scar tissue but tiny shards of the shot were still lodged in the meat like barbed hooks in the gullet of a mature sea dragon until his body either broke them down or forced them to the surface. 

The running Wolves encountered a cluster of ratings pinned down under the fire of enemy operatives at one point in their path, spearing into the heart of the foe before the traitorous forces had even recognized the approach of the Sons of Russ. Keris vented the irritation of his wounds in the fervor of combat, the breaking of bones and hot sprays of lifeblood off his fanged blade lent a degree of unchecked ferocity by the barely audible growls that accompanied each movement.

The pack wasted no time and was soon on the move again; Keris was under no falsehood that his reactions were being affected by his lingering exhaustion coupled with the severity of his wounds and drew on dwindling reserves of strength to keep up the furious pace set by his packleader. _The wolf in his soul gave a pained whine; it hated this visible weakness to the others._

They rounded a corner and pulled up short as the scent of blood washed over them. Astartes blood. _Wolf blood._

Two sets of eyes turned to greet them as they stalked forward, Freyr and Haladas, Blood Claws of another pack; a third packbrother deep in the red dream where they crouched. Keris rolled their scents to the back of his tongue and tasted death as one of the pair stood and relayed an account of what had befallen their pack and the Grey Hunter Hogun. Keris committed the details of the telling to memory; a low rumbling growl of respect and loss, beyond the edges of un-augmented human hearing, sounded deep in his chest.

Memories of such things were important beyond measure for the Sons of Russ; for each re-telling of a man’s deeds let his soul know that he had not been forgotten. Hogun’s pack would want to know how their brother’s lifeblood was spent and Keris breathed a silent oath to see that they did.

The vox chimed briefly, Njal’s voice seeking his packleader and Vermundr responding in turn, and Keris gave a solemn nod to the teller,

‘I thank you for the account. Grey Hunter Hogun Triple-Fang will be remembered and mourned later, as will all of our wolfbrothers, but the hunt is not over yet.’

Vermundr had finished speaking to the Stormcaller and turned back to the two Blood Claws, his tone and posture dominate; Keris searched for their scents, gauging the reaction of the other Wolves to his packleader. But something in Iorek’s scent drew his attention; a hunger, a need for vengeance that Keris knew keenly, and his eyes locked for a moment with the blood-red of his wolfbrother’s. Keris gave a low growl,

‘Hunt well, Iorek Ghostwolf, I have not forgotten my oath to you.’

Wyrd was being knotted tighter with each drum-step the pack took towards the command deck of the Fist of Russ; Keris could taste it in the very air around them.


----------



## darkreever

All; Running through the corridors of the ship, you can feel the impact of more bombardment from without. These traitor bastards had no qualms running the risk of losing some of their own as long as it meant damaging or destroying the Fist. Several times you came up scenes of former fighting, many of the bodies were taken out by heavy caliber weapons or bolts, however there was also the odd remnants of charred flesh as well. This did not bode well.

Turning a tight corner, you come upon more deck-hands, they themselves running in the direction of the bridge to try and deal with the boarders before it is too late. Upon hearing your heavier footfalls though, they all quickly make room for you to get in ahead. As brave as these men might be, they would still rather something more ferocious got to the enemy first.

Minutes later you came upon them, elite boarders by the looks of things; two dozen individuals armed with an array of bolt weapons and shotguns, and one even with an ancient plasmagun. Though from the looks of things, it was temperamental at best, given how the traitor was being careful with it. As the rear vanguard of boarder’s calls out for the rest of their number to enemies from behind, you roar a challenge and make to get to the enemy before they can act.

[First, apologies for the delay in update, and then by how short it is; you know, real life and all that. Having said that it is time to lay into these bastards! Before you are two dozen heavily armed and armoured operatives; you already know their weapons so now their armour: a motley mix of flak and carapace armour scavenged from who knows where. At the head of these traitors is the marine, in battle with Njal himself as the mighty priest keeps the boarders held back before the armoured bulkhead of the bridge. The marine himself is different, a tattered cape hangs loosely from his shoulders and in one hand flashes a gold blade, and in the other a staff bleeding out a vast number of colours.]

[If this feels short to the point of cheated, please don't feel that way. Just need an idea of reactions before giving you all mini-updates.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

They raced through the corridors of the ship like banshees on the wind. Every now and then they would pass up scenes of battle, bodies with chests exploded outwards with their innards splayed across the floor or heads completely gone, some of the bodies looking as though they had been flash-heated and burned to a crisp. They were getting closer he could smell it, the death on the bodies was getting fresher as they progressed, the blood and burnt skin filling his nostrils with their sickly scent. 

The wolf inside of him growled at the scent, he would make sure that these soldiers did not have their threads cut for no reason, and even though they now slept on the red snow he would make the traitors pay. He smelled flesh, living flesh, they came up on a group of soldiers who were also making their way to the bridge and they parted allowing the group of blood claws through. 

They came up on the boarders quickly, two dozen of them toting various bolter weapons and one even weilding an ancient looking plasma gun. At their front was the last legionaire, the traitor was locked in battle with Njal who was fighting to keep them away from the bridge, the wolf would not be able to hold the whole group despite his strength and experience. The way to the bridge was confined to say the least, good for the wolves but bad for the operatives, they didnt have the strength to stand up against a pack of blood claws in close combat.

Tyr charged without hesitation or thought, Njal needed help, and the sooner they engaged these men the better chance they had at staying alive themselves. The first operative was beaten aside as Tyr dove into the reagaurd, a hellish howl on his lips that sounded like it had come from a hellhound. He swung his chainsword down and to the right hacking off an operative's leg, Tyr's armored boot slamming into his face just as he hit the floor.

His long hair was spattered with huge amounts of blood and gore from the previous fights and it spattered blood in the faces of his enemies as spun and fought to keep moving so that he could kill but also not be killed by the plasma gunner. He looked up and saw an operative pointing a boltgun straight at him before pulling the trigger but Tyr was faster, he was dodging the shot before the trigger was even pulled and the bolt slammed into another operative behind him. With another hellish howl he dove at the man who had just shot at him with all the fury of the burning hells themselves.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr ran as fast as he could but he could not get himself to stay at the front of his pack. Iorek ran with an unmatched intent, and Tyr's larger legs pushed off with righteous fury.

Vermundr barely saw the humans as they parted to let the small pack of blood claws pass. The targets came to his eyes immediately. About two dozen operatives and Njal dueling with the legionnaire on the bridge, who seemed to be of similar stature.

Tyr was the first to attack, leaping into an onrush of madness. A flicker of hesitation crossed his lips. Their main goal was to aid their elder brother, but would that be better done killing the operatives first or making their way as fast as possible to the legionnaire, what if they just got in Njal's way?

charging at the nearest operative himself, he realized it might not matter either way, for his pack seemed to be in an unstoppable wrath at the moment, some of them at least, and likely would go for whoever they saw fit. He didn't want to hinder this wrath as he had tried to do once before. He would let it run freely this time. But he needed to know something.

"_Iorek, If you can get the traitor's scent, tell me if it is the Njoror's killer. Though I had the scent as well I am sure it is much more familiar to you than myself and either that weapon or something else unnatural about him is throwing me off._"

If it was, He would not stand in the way of his brother's vengeance. If Njal happened to kill the legionnaire, then so be it, there was nothing he could do to stop his elder. But Maybe even If Iorek saw that Vermdunr would purposefully give him the opportunity, then maybe, just maybe, his brother could find _some_ kind of admiration or fondness for his pack leader. Vermudnr was still uncomfortable with the amount of troubles they had had with each other through this mission. Oddly enough, it was Iorek he saw as the one who could come back from it all. Alrik on the other hand, even not being the one to be struck by his tyrannic fist, seemed a lost cause at this point.

Vermundr split an operative in half, their bolter clashing to the metal floor. Seeing the bolter hit the floor allowed him to recall a certain detail of Njoror's death. Bolter rounds. It had been bolter rounds that killed Njoror and from the few glances he could spare towards the legionnaire's direction the only weapon he could see was the staff surrounded by a miasma of colors. Surely it could have been _either_ a bolter or bolt pistol but Vermundr could see none on the traitor's person. But, surely as well, this didn't mean the legionnaire didn't have one that he couldn't see. What Vermundr _couldn't_ recall was the peculiar smell that psykers carry amongst them. Perhaps the legionnaire dueling Njal was no psyker and merely held another demonic weapon similar to that of the worm he had slain with the moving face.

Blocking an operative with his axe who struck out at him with a large bayonet attached to a bolter, he gripped the operatives closest arm as he turned away from the force of Vermundr's block. He squeezed tightly, watching ruffles form in the cloth sleeve beneath the armor plating, and then pulled it loose with a stream of blood sliding out with it and a scream from the blasphemer. Through the curtain of falling blood came a trio of rounds from another bolter, hitting him square in the chest and knocking him back with surprise and loss of breath. To his surprise the stinging pain from the back of his left knee from a wound a traitor scored on the surface of the planet, flared up as he put all his pressure on it to stay on balance. He dropped to the one knee drawing his bolt pistol, and firing back over the screaming operative with one arm, and into the further target, dropping him with three large holes appearing in the chest through the plate armor. 

These operatives were wasting their time. He hoped one of his pack mates would rush to Njal's side, but there was no room to say one of them should over the others as they all had equal problems at the moment. Unfortunately, the operatives could not be ignored.


----------



## Euphrati

The Fist of Russ growled; its voice was the rumble of distant thunder as tremors ran through the vast steel bones of the mighty warship and Keris growled with it. The pack raced headlong through the corridors, the scenes of combat marking their path with the metallic scent of cooling lifeblood. The rank stink of ozone and charred human flesh punctuated the air currents, setting the hair at the nape of Keris’ neck on end and drawing a snarl of disquiet from the beast in his soul. 

His breath came in stifled pants through half bared teeth, the wound in his side was a constant flare of irritation and a warm trail of blood wept down the inside of his armour. The Larraman cells coursing through his veins could, given time and rest, almost certainly stop the blood loss, but Keris found himself in short supply of either so he simply endured, keeping pace with a determination forged out of devotion to duty and no small measure of genuine stubbornness. _He would not fail his wolfbrothers while life still beat in his chest._

Freyr and Haladas ran with them; Keris felt a taciturn sense of accomplishment when the pair had accepted Vermundr’s leadership without hesitation, indication that his brother had ultimately found his footing in his appointed role as a packleader. The pack rounded a corner and a contingent of bondsmen parted before them with haste, the men pressing back into the flanks of the passageway to allow the Sons of Russ an unobstructed path. These were men of unquestionable courage and loyalty, prepared to spend their lifeblood in defense of their master’s ship without pause, yet not even the strongest of them could match the primal ferocity and gene-forged power of the young Wolves that surged between their ranks. 

The minutes were marked by the meters of corridors that fell behind the pack’s heels, every loping stride bringing them closer to the ship’s command deck. Then, abruptly, the bulkhead of the bridge loomed before them; assaulted by nearly two dozen of the elite operatives led by a Traitor, a golden blade gleaming in one purple gauntlet and a staff that bled the foul taint of warp into the very air around him gripped tightly in the other, and defended by a living legend, the infinite wrath of the tempest bound into flesh, Njal Stormcaller. 

The Rune Priest stood against the Traitor on the far side of the enemy’s mass, lost in the swirl of battle, but Keris could taste the foulness of the twisted Oathbreaker hanging in the air like oily smoke. His scent was one Keris had not noted before and the mere whiff of it brought acidic bile to the back of his throat with its vileness. _The wolf in his soul echoed his hatred with bared fangs of rage, how many of the Enemy’s number had been hiding in the shadows all this time like poison serpents ready to strike?_

The operatives were armed with an assortment of bolt weapons and combat shotguns, yet one cradled a weapon with a potency that could not be ignored. The plasmagun was ancient by the look of its design and the care taken by its wielder and Keris marked it well in the fraction of a second that he scanned the milling traitors. The rearmost operatives screamed warning to their traitorous fellows, desperate to turn their weapons upon this new threat from behind, and Keris answered with a snarl that was underscored by the whine of his chainsword coming up to speed as the Claw surged forward.

Keris had switched his fanged blade to his left hand and his bolt pistol to his right as it still bore the lingering wound from the Serpent’s knife edge, but the craft of the Priests and the teaching of the Fang had seen him equally proficient with either as he had proven in the self-same fight. Tyr and Vermundr met the enemy before him, both bringing death with them in every strike. Keris’ pistol barked even as he met the first man with his blade; the bolt tearing through the ranks with the purity of the Allfather’s wrath, passing through the neck of a female operative in a spray of dark crimson before detonating in the chest of the bullish man behind her.

The cutting edge of his chainsword was buried in the collar of another man even as Keris twisted to avoid the nearly point-blank shot of a traitor’s shotgun, the impeding pain from the wound in his side drawing a sharp snarl from his lips and slowing him down. The fragmentary shot glanced off his left shoulder guard in a spray of blue-white sparks and Keris repaid the favour with a backhanded blow from the hilt of his chainsword that shattered the shotgun wielder’s skull as he ripped it free of the man’s traitorous brethren. Keris’ path was angled to the traitor gripping the plasmagun; he would not allow the weapon’s threat to remain unchecked.


----------



## darkreever

Vermundr; Your barrel into an operative, picking him off the ground and hurling him, or rather whats left of him after your done, into two more operatives. Looking around, you have made it to the opposite end of the fighting and can see the Legionnare and Njal fighting. You watch as the traitor lands a savage blow upon the rune priest, burying his blade into the elder wolf’s shoulder before arcs of lightning shoot from Njal’s fingers and hurl the traitor into a stanchion.

[A quick sweep of the fighting reveals Freyr being swarmed by operatives, a lucky round blasting apart most of his hand and obliterating his chainsword in the process. Do you rush to his aid and help him fight off the four operatives trying to kill him, or have at the traitor and see if you can’t give the wounded Njal some respite?]



Tyr; As you drive your chainsword through the chest of another operative, blast takes you square in the chest, quickly followed by three more that throw you back. As you hit the ground, a warning indicator informs you that your armour has been severely compromised. Before you can get back to your feet, four operatives are on you, shotguns lowered for the kill.

[Lets start by taking the legs from one of them, since that chainsword of yours never left your hand. One of them will pull the trigger of his gun, and though you’ll dodge a direct hit it will take a chunk from your pouldron and send shrapnel into the side of your head and neck. I don’t think I have to give you much more prompting from here now do I?]



Keris; Your actions do not go unnoticed, and before you are able to take a stride forward the plasmagun is aimed in your direction. The ball of plasma shoots from the weapon, forcing you to dodge away or be killed. Haladas is by your side instantly, his own chainsword biting deep into an enemy who had gotten in your way.

His weapon unable to fire again so quickly, the plasmagunner unholster's a pistol and fires wildly at you. Fat slugs slam into your armour, denting the plating but causing no other damage. Were you a lesser man not wearing power armour, those shots surely would have causes horrendous damage.

[The way is clear, end him. Once you do, someone will plunge a knife into your side before two other operatives jump on you. Combined they will bring you down and one will press a bolt pistol to your face. Best not let him pull the trigger.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr powered his chainsword through the chest of the operative in front of him, the teeth ripping his insides apart and shattering his ribs and spine as it shot out through his back before he tore it back out. He turned to attack the next man but a blast took him square in the chest and made him stumble backwards, but before he had time to do anything else three more slammed into him and knocked him onto his back. A warning indicator beeped letting him know that his armor was severely compromised, he was starting to think that this was going to be a common accurance with him. 

Four shotguns pointed down at him, the faces of the operatives twisted in smiles, they thought they had him killed did they? He smiled back at them before spitting at one's face and hitting him right in the eyes, the operative stumbling back and screaming as the acidic spit melted his eyes and part of his face. At the moment the spit left his mouth his chainsword was moving across the floor at knee level, it hit something and slowed for a split second before biting through the leg and tearing through the next in a fountain of gore. 

Two shotguns fired but Tyr was already rolling out of the way, one missed completely but the other hit his shouldergaurd sending shrapnel into his exposed neck and face. The pain was immense and he bellowed bestially before swiping his chainsword out and hacking off the operative's head. His face hurt, bad, and he could feel the already congealing blood pouring down the side of his face and neck like a slow moving lava flow. He heard a shotgun cocking and his swung around to take in the operative aiming at him, the shotgun was shaking slightly...he was scared, Tyr snarled before leaping at the man.

The shot went wide and the large wolf was on him in a split second, his mouth tearing at the man's throat. Blood gushed out of the ruptured veins as Tyr spit the chunk of neck out and kicked the flailing operative away, a sudden flash of pain hit him in the side and he roared as he turned to see the man who's legs he had ruined aiming a small pistol at him. The shot had somehow managed to go through a weak point in the side of his armor that had been made by the shotgun blasts and right into the side of his chest. 

It had hurt for the time being and most likely done minimal damage, but it had still served to piss off an already angry wolf. Tyr ran his chainsword through the operative who screamed before being thrown across the hallway and hitting the bulkhead hard with a wet crunch.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr couldnt help but yell Njal's name as he was struck hard by the legionnaire, but the Stormcaller pulled through and cast the traitor away with a fearsome attack of his own. The pack leader took one hard step in Njal's direction but halted fast as he heard Freyr yell out in pain.

A group of operatives overwhelmed him and his one hand now looked useless even from the distance. As far as Vermundr was concerned Freyr and Haladas were currently part of his own pack, there own had been all but destroyed save the two of them and it seemed likely they would become part of his pack after this mission anyway, seeing as his own was lacking in number as well.

He turned back to look at Njal and though it hit him hard in his gut to leave the Storm caller to fend for himself for a few more moments, Vermundr knew he was much more capable of doing so then Freyer was in his current predicament, and again, Vermundr figured he would be more likely to get in Njal's way rather than be of any real help.

Vermundr turned fast on his heel with a snarl on his lips and ran to Freyr's aid, landing his battle axe in the path of a close combat weapon coming down towards Freyr's head, effectively blocking the strike. He kicked the operative away, and subsequently fired into a few limbs and mid sections with his bolt pistol. Chunks of purple armor and dark cloth flying through the air with stains of blood.


----------



## deathbringer

He was first upon the bridge, his feet slowing from his hungry sprint as the scent that he expected, that he longed for, was torn away from him, absent, his raging soul suddenly hollow, purposeless.

His eyes fell upon the rune priest first. The might stormcaller, whose eyes danced with the storms of fenris as he duelled with a figure in a tattered cape, eyes locked, their blades span, weapons flashing on levels beyond the physical, beyond comprehension.

Yet it brought clarity. The figure was not the one he sought. Not the one he longed to face him.

Confusion rent the wolf in his mind and it whimpered nose lifted to the air,desperate to catch scent once more.

None.

Now rage bit them both, anger rising in them, unanimous and united they howled for wrath and ruin, howled for the blood they thought would be shed, mourned the life they could no longer take.

"Snake. I know you are near. Come face me. Face the destiny that binds us. You will not escape me"

His bolt pistol raised, the shot an echo to the rage in his words, hasty, high and wide yet the irritation bit deep. Seeped through him mingling with the rage as the pack pushed passed him, Tyr and Vermundr ahead, charging weapons raising towards a motley assortment of boarders that stood between them and the battle between priest and foe.

He leapt after them, a low snarl on his lips the chainsword raising as he tore after vermundr, watching them smash into the operatives, darting in vermundr's wake as the gap opened in the operatives, their ranks split by the packleaders fury.

A thunderous blow lanced into the rune priest shoulder and Iorek winced, as he stumbled, yet lightening lanced from his fingers and the tainted sorceror was thrown away, tossed aside by the powers of fenris.

He saw vermundr hesitate, between superior and the pack for turning in aid of the faltering freyr.

The choice of a leader, they could loose no more.

Yet someone had to help Njal. Should aid the stormcaller.

Without hesitation, Iorek launched forwards, if he could push through the gap, he could give the stormcaller respite, allow him to gain his strength once more.
His footsteps thundered and his chainsword raised, as his thumb revved it to life.


----------



## Euphrati

The coils on the back of the plasmagun threw off a baneful glow, illuminating the features of the operative wielding it from bellow as the man swung the barrel level with Keris’ path and pulled the trigger. A searing bolt of superheated plasma tore across the distance and only the unparalleled reflexes of his genefather saved him from being vaporized. Pain lanced from the wound in his side, washing the edges of Keris’ vision in scarlet as he twisted violently aside from the deadly path of the plasma bolt; the shot passing so close that his secondary eyelids snapped down instinctively to protect him from the blinding radiance of the weapon’s discharge. The growling teeth of a chainsword chewed through the chest of a man attempting to bar his evasion as Haladas stepped to Keris’ side, clearing the way with the surety of a packbrother and Keris seized the sudden opening, surging forward without requiring a second thought on the matter. 

The plasmagunner had snatched up a pistol from his waist, his primary weapon unable to fire again in such a short span of moments, and sent a desperate spray at the charging Blood Claw. Impacts of solid rounds burst against Keris’ chest and thigh armour, leaving smoking craters in the blue-grey ceramite but unable to penetrate the Astartes battleplate; had those same shots impacted upon bare flesh the resulting damage would have been nothing short of horrific.

Keris’ upstroke took the arm holding the pistol at the shoulder in a spray of dark blood; fragments of bone and brain matter were cast in a wide arch as the down stroke brought his snarling chainsword down upon the center of the man’s skull, snapping his spine with the sheer power of the blow so that the corpse collapsed over in a unnatural angle as it fell to the deck entangled in the glowing plasmagun.

The man’s heart had not even taken its final trembling beat before the sharp sense of danger coursed from the wolf in Keris’ soul and bright pain erupted anew from his wounded side. An enemy operative clad in a mix of light armour found the rent torn by the daemon-traitor’s claws and had sunk his long bladed knife to the grip in the flesh of Keris’ torso. The angle was such that the blade had bitten through new, unmarred flesh and hot blood gushed in a steaming river down his side. Keris had only barely acknowledged the extent of the wound when the sudden combined weight of two bodies sent him to the ground with a roar of fury and the barrel of a bolt pistol was shoved in his face.

Ice-blue eyes pinned in rage and Keris snarled in feral wrath, feeling the pain in his side as burning fire in his veins. The muscles in his neck tensed then snapped forward; jaws able to dent plasteel closing on the wrist of the hand gripping the pistol with the wet crunch of bone. A rewarding scream of agony burst from the traitor operative as he instinctively tried to jerk his arm away, but Keris’ fangs were sunk deep into the flackweave armour that did little to protect from the sheer strength of a son of Russ in pain-fueled berserk rage.

Keris jerked back and rolled, taking the screaming man with him like a kraken dragging a fishing boat down into the depths. The man’s fellow who had helped him bring the Blood Claw down was suddenly crushed between the decking, his screaming cohort, and nearly five hundred kilos of power armour clad fury.

Keris spat the man’s mangled wrist out; punching his bolt pistol through the chest of the operative to silence his screams and pulling the trigger to turn the second traitorous bastard into two separate pieces as he tried to squirm from under the dead weight of the corpse.


----------



## dark angel

Alrik’s bulk took up the rearmost position of the Pack, his armour blackened by the ship’s gargantuan heart, his face marred by a mesh of scar tissue. He felt vulnerable at the rear, but at the same time he realised that each of his Brothers relied upon him for their safety. He alone would be able to stop anything that the Arch-Enemy threw at them; or so he told himself with a passive voice. With simplistic imagery set within his mind, Alrik followed Vermundr’s whim, despite the clear animosity between the both. 

His Chainsword purred with a slight compression of the activation rune, the teeth revolving suddenly, droplets of crimson raining off. In his other hand, his Bolt Pistol scanned the backs of those before him, targeting weak points; the small of the back, the armpits, the rear of the neck and head. 

_It is not I who should feel vulnerable,_ he told himself promisingly, _it is them. _

The Firehawk slowed considerably, hairs bristling upon his overgrown form. He questioned himself, inwardly asking of his own motives. A single word ran through the darkened caldera that was his mind - Survival. Could it be attained, when the thrive for life had all but leeched away from him? Could he return to his former status amongst a Pack that he felt nothing for?

Realising he had fallen behind, Alrik took off into a sprint. His footfalls echoed loudly, ringing in his ears, the amplifiers in his helm clearly resonating any sound. Eventually, he caught up with the rear of his fellows, expecting heads to turn and questions to be thrown. There was none, his Brothers’ faces each set in stone, a murderous, deliberate look drawn upon their haggard countenances. The further they pushed, the more scenes of devastation they crossed.

Torn, limp bodies were scatted in the hallways, some leaning against walls, holding ripped chests and guts. Puddles of crimson arched out from each one, still wet, still splashing when the Wolves moved past, uncaring. There was worse, however. Charred forms, tendrils of smoke drifting upwards from them, lay nearby. Alrik stared into the whites of their eyes, wide with terror, mouths agape. Alrik quickly came to a conclusion - Obviously, it was the effect of some kind of flame weapon, or worse. 

Had the Boarders brought with them archaic weaponry? Possibly. It mattered not, though. Alrik would cleave his way through any that stood before him, and he would do so proudly. The Traitors had stained the Fist with their presence, and a musky smell now clung to every corridor, mixing with the aromatic stench of torn arteries and opened organs. Alrik unclasped his helm momentarily, reveling in the smell. His nostrils flared wildly, and his eyes grew wide for a short, crazed moment. It was beautiful, hungering. 

Soon, they passed a begrimed group of Serfs, who clung to weapons that they looked unfamiliar to. When the footsteps of the Wolves came to their ears, they pushed themselves against the walls, making themselves as small as possible in the tight confines. Only scarce minutes later, the first of the boarders came into view, through the red-lit darkness.

Alrik ploughed into them instantaneously. His Bolt Pistol discharged at point blank range, tossing a screeching woman away, ropey intestines outstretched behind her. A man clad in purple-green carapace hefted a baroque Boltgun at Alrik, face contorted in strain. The weapon discharged, and a round was sent whistling towards Alrik’s faceplate. The Marine narrowly twisted aside, feeling the tip of the round strike the flank of his head, before ricocheting away. 

Warning runes danced across his vision, dark-red in colouration, to show the Astartes the danger. Another trio of rounds were fired, each veering wildly of course and detonating upon girders and bulkheads. Alrik did not respite, and leapt forwards at the man. His Chainsword fell down from above, slipping between the Boarder’s armour and neck. Straps flung off, and Alrik pulled away at the groin. The man stopped in his tracks, his fatigues suddenly growing wet.

Bone palely glistened from beneath ribbons of revealed musculature, and the man allowed a scream as he surveyed his wounds. Alrik smiled sagely, and beheaded his plaything with one swoop. Blood jetted momentarily, before the corpse slumped to its knees, organs spilling out, and then collapsed over. 

Another being stood in his way. It was sexless beneath a set of scaled armour, the helm formed into the image of a rearing snake. A Bolt Pistol was clutched professionally in one hand, while in the other it held a short, curved blade. A cape of crimson billowed out behind it, flickering in a nonexistent wind. Rounds were suddenly fired, and each one hit Alrik’s armour. Sparks flashed, illuminating the blue-grey of the Wolves; giving it an odd majesty. 

The Firehawk stood firm, determined to ward off the rounds. The warning runes became more frantic, twisting in a whirl of reds about his head. When the snake-man’s Bolt Pistol clicked dry, Alrik was moving forwards; a blur of tempestuous colours against the inferno of battle. The serpent-man hefted his blade feebly, lifting it high above his head. Alrik’s Chainsword cleaved it in two, and he opened the serpent-man from chin-to-groin. Organs spilled out in a tide of wet offal, thudding at Alrik’s feet. Happy that the man was dead, Alrik turned his attentions to the bridge’s entrance.

There, Astartes dueled, both surrounded by strands of light. Njal Stormcaller, famed Psyker of the Wolves, furiously struck out against a Alpha Legionnaire. 

Alrik’s lips pealed back in disgust, teeth bright against a darkened, bloody mouth. 

_‘Witches.’ _


----------



## darkreever

All; You dispatch what is left of the operative strike-force in moments, they never truly stood a chance against you in all this. Deck ratings and ship crew move up from behind you, ending the lives of any operatives not already dead by your hands. They do not find many to silence, as should be expected. With that threat out of the way, you turn your full attention on the one last traitor here, locked in a duel with Njal. Wrongness oozes out from him like an aura, his very presence putting your hair on end as reality is thinned.

Njal again throws bolts of lightning from his fingers, but the sorcerer absorbs them through his staff before launching pink flames from his very mouth. A downward slice of his force weapon dispels the flames before they can cause any damage, and the rune priest only just has enough time to parry a sweep of the sorcerers blade. The two trade a flurry of blows, both physical and psychic, in an attempt to get through a weakness and end this. That is when Iorek launches forward, trying to blindside the traitor. Too late does he here the cry from Njal, to late does Iorek realize the folly in his move. Like liquid, the sorcerer shifts to regard Iorek, a wicked smile revealing twin sets of sharpened teeth. In the next moment, Njal is at Iorek’s side and the sorcerer up against the armoured bulkhead; his blade sheared in half. It is then that you notice the location of the rest of the blade, running through Iorek.

With a sneer, the bastard sorcerer calls out something in an otherworldly tongue, and with a flash of green light he is gone. A black outline of an eight pointed star is etched into the bulkhead where he had been. Njal’s cries of anger snap you back into action and you rush to Iorek and the priest.

Iorek; As you rush to Njal’s aid, the traitor turns to face you and time crawls nearly to a halt. You blink your eyes, and in that instant the traitor is upon you, a chill runs through your chest, and that is when you realize he had run his blade through you. In that moment, the two of you lock eyes and he says something to you, but the words are incomprehensible, making blood seep from your eyes, ears, and nose. But you do not need to know what he said, the message is written in his eyes: victory. That is when the next moment kicks in, and Njal brings his force weapon down with such force that it shatters the blade and makes the traitor jump away to avoid a counter-attack.

Your legs become weak, and then finally give out on you; forcing you to the ground with a thud. Through cloudy vision you see a flash of green, and through ears half listening you hear the cry of Njal and the pounding of boots upon the floor. You are turned onto your back, images of others losing focus before the world fades to black.

And then, you find yourself overlooking a mighty drop during a great storm. Below you the sea rages, lightning breaking the darkness up above. Though you are confused how you got here, the location is obvious: Fenris. Then, you hear something from behind, a howl that could have been mistaken for the wind. Turning to see what is making the noise, your eyes widen as you see a man that is not a man. Before you stands a figure on two legs, covered in snow white fur; its one good eye a bright gold. Both arms end in a set of wicked claws. The thing, you come to realize, is the very essence of your wolf spirit; the curse of the wulfen given form and wishing to take control. _Will you allow it to take over and be the master, or will you prove to be the master yourself?_ The wind howls high above, sounding almost familiar.

[But the question is true, will you put the wulfen in check or will it be the one that puts you in your place? In your hands is a spear, the tip made from the fang of a mighty kraken. The wulfen, the bestial mockery of your soul, growls out a challenge before circling you. It is time to see who is in charge of this body, if the curse shall define you once and for all. This you can do in a single post, but it obviously will not be an easy one.]

[This is the endgame; there are maybe two updates left and they will be wrapping things up. As always, your reactions to what has happened are important.]


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

Tyr's chainsword ran its whirring teeth through another operative's gut, his innards falling out of the gaping wound in looping coils, the Blood Claw ripping his weapon out before crushing the man's face with the pommel of the chainsword. Another operative lept at him, a blade reaching for the rent in his armor that the shotgun blasts had created, the tiny knife did not make it. He was pivoting on his left and swinging his bulk around, the operative's momentum taking him right past him only to have a massive armored elbow connect with the back of his head, the man fell to the floor gurgling in blind pain. 

Njal and the sorcerous traitor were still locked in battle, the two of them trading blows not only of the physical realm but also of the wyrd, lightning bolts rippling from Njal's hand as the traitor breathed pink flames. Tyr watched with a mixture of amazement and disgust, the two warriors were weilding such immense power with just a thought, yet the power they were weilding disgusted him. The Wyrd could not be trusted and the Wolf Priests had taught him that the Rune Priests were extremely careful with their powers and completely under control, yet Tyr was not sure that that was fully true.

The full power of Wyrd, or the warp as it was known to the majority of the Imperium, was not known for it was always changing. Tyr's hackles were up just being around the two sorcerors, he respected the Stormcaller and would always respect whatever Librarians he met from other chapters, but he would always be cautious around them...he did not want to have one become possessed and try to eat him...that would most certainly not be good. 

He knew he could never weild such power, he simply did not have the mind for it and he was not ashamed to say so, his was a much simpler calling from the Emperor. He was a simple warrior through and through, or at least he believed he was, he did not think himself wise enough to be a Wolf Priest nor nowhere near smart enough to be an Iron Priest. He thought about all the wounds he had sustained while on this one campaign, his first of many to come, and all that the had killed noting the size of his body and muscles. Simply put he was built to kill and to kill brutally, Alrik was like him also, the two of them visibly thicker then the others within their pack, he liked to think that it was to their advantage. 

Yet the All-Father and Russ could have him marked out for something completely different then where his own thoughts were, he smiled at the realisation that he could go down any path depending on what his true strengths were. His thoughts were broken as Iorek rushed past him almost bumping into him in an effort to get to the side of Njal and aid him in his battle.

Tyr cried out for his brother to stop, did he not know that this traitor could kill him instantly?! Yet Iorek did not listen and instead powered forwards in his haste to kill the traitor, a quick flash and Njal yelling was all that Tyr needed to get moving himself. He was at the bulkhead in a second his chainsword sweeping out at the traitor's neck, yet a bright flash lit up the area and his sword's teeth bit into the bulkhead, once again the last traitor had teleported to safety. Tyr roared in anger before striking the bulkhead again, Njal's movements catching his attention and making him turn to regard his brother Iorek.

A blade, that had moments before been dripping with taint, broken and grey shot out of his brother's chest. His brother was laid on the ground by the Stormcaller, Tyr shouted his brother's name as he dropped his weapon and rushed to his side, his voice frantic. No no no no, he could not loose another brother this day, he would not loose another brother this day not these foul traitorous whelps. Iorek's eye closed slowly but Tyr could tell he was still alive, barely, but he was still clinging to life and Hel be damned if he couldnt help his brother make it out of this alive. 

He looked up at the Stormcaller and Vermundr, *"We must get him to the Apothecarian now, I will carry him." * He looked back at his brother and said,* "Be strong brother, fight the taint, you are a son of Russ and warrior of the All-Father chosen to fight for him against his enemies. Do not let thier hate take you over the edge, fight brother, fight."*


----------



## Euphrati

The haze of crimson only receded when he ran out of traitors to kill. 

Yet, it was merely to be replaced by dark shadows that pressed at the edges of Keris’ vision like the blue-black promise of quickly approaching nightfall. Every breath was a laboured wash of pain as he stood amid the piecemeal corpses of the enemy; his muscles twitching from the combined effects of over-exertion and the copious measure of stimulants, just shy of lethality, that his power armour had saturated his system with in an effort to keep up with his physical demands.

His senses were dulled, as if he had been wrapped in a heavy fur, and Keris found it becoming increasingly difficult to focus upon anything other than staying on this side of consciousness. The air was inundated with the stink of the warp and the metallic pungency of lifeblood, coating the back of his tongue like an oily film. His armour and weapons were limed a tacky scarlet, the memories of the battle lost in a coil of fury-clouded images.

The Stormcaller and Oathbreaker sorcerer were still locked in combat, arches of searingly bright lightning leaping from the outstretched gauntlet of Njal only to be answered by a vomited torrent of blasphemous pink flame from the Oathbreaker. Keris felt the bile rise in his gullet at the taint that flowed from the Traitor into the very air around him as he traded inhumanly fast blows with the Rune Priest. It was too late when Keris noticed Iorek’s charging form to even cry out a warning to his packbrother.

The Oathbreaker seemed to have been waiting for the very attack, whirling about like a viper upon the Blood Claw as Njal gave a harsh cry. His eyes blurred with the movement and in the next instance the Stormcaller was at Iorek’s side and the Oathbreaker had been flung away against the armoured bulkhead. The Traitor’s features were twisted into a mocking grin of triumph and the broken hilt of his sword was held out before him. His wolfbrother wavered slightly before crumpling to the decking even as the Oathbreaker shouted in a cursed tongue before vanishing in a flare of sickly green energy. Keris felt his veins fill with ice as the rest of the shattered blade gleamed from where it was buried in Iorek’s chest and the wolf in his soul gave a keen of dismay.

Tyr was first to Iorek’s side, dropping down next to the Rune Priest with frenetic concern clear upon his features. Keris fought against his body’s protests as he crossed the distance to lean heavily against a stanchion a meter away from where Iorek lay. Keris gave a pained whine as his legs refused to bear his weight, collapsing under him as he turned his back to the column and slid down its length to join his packbrother on the floor, 

‘Iorek _will_ fight …’ 

Keris’ breath growled through gritted, blood-pinked teeth as he fought off the drag of unconsciousness, 

‘… do not *ever *waver in that conviction, brother. *He… Will… Fight*.’

Keris’ eyes shifted off Tyr and to the pale, scarred features of his wounded brother,

‘Blood Claw Iorek Ghostwolf, you have made oaths, in the name of Russ and the Allfather, until the last breath in your body and I hold you to those vows now son of Fenris.’


----------



## unxpekted22

Freyr had been saved from further injury and Vermundr was happy to see a gray-blue flash rush from behind the last few operatives towards Njal and the heretic. One of his pack had moved to support the priest as he had hoped, and he was happier still to see it was Iorek, so he did not have to worry about another of the pack potentially stealing Iorek's kill and shattering his oath. 

However, he felt no such positive feelings when the gleam of the traitor's blade stuck out from Iorek's mid-section, and seeing the traitor disappear. Always running, always cowards, the only way they had been able to survive for so many milennia. As soon as Horus fell they started running, into the Eye they went, damned traitors cowards.

Vermudnr looked at Freyr almost afraid of a creeping regret, but no, he shoved it down, he had done the right thing and could not ahve foreseen this. Freyr was as significant to the great company as Iorek, and he couldnt let his personal preferences get in the way of duty. This slight pause in thought allowed Tyr to reach their fallen pack-mate first. there didnt seem to be a negotiation about moving him, Tyr was alreayd hefting him away intent on getting his to the apothecarium. Tyr was much bigger than Vermundr so trying to stop him physically wasnt an option and he doubted Tyr would listen, right now he honestly didn't feel like getting in another argument with his packmates, and besides he couldn't think of anything else to do in this scenario anyway; so to the apothecarium it was.

After taking hold of Iorek and helping Tyr without a word he heard Keris to the side speaking out to Iorek in a faint voice, faint for an astartes at least. Keris then nearly passed out on the floor. Vermundr made a deep sounding grunt from even more stress added to the situation. He held fast though regaining himself, realziing he could be half dead like Iorek or passed out from exhaustion like Keris, or missing a hand like Tyr.

_"Alrik, grab Keris, we shall bring both our brothers to the apothecarium."_

He looked over his shoulder toward Njal in case the stormcaller had anything to say.


----------



## dark angel

‘By Mydgarden, these bastards are unrelenting.’ Alrik sneered as he cleft a man in two, Chainsword gnawing through bulbous organs and reinforced bone. The Firehawk brought in his blade again, separating head from shoulders, and with his other hand gripped the mangy hair. 

Slyly, an Operative approached Alrik. In one hand he held a long dagger, the tip of which had been submerged in neurotoxins. The man, despite his efforts, did not expect what came next. Alrik wheeled around faster than thought possible, bringing in the decapitated skull from the side. It struck the Operative heavily, snapping his head towards the side, knocking teeth from between his torn lips. 

Alrik’s Chainsword shot forth between the pair, embedding into the man’s gut. Skin and organs churned, drawn towards the revolving blades like a dragonship to a whirlpool. For one cruel second, the man’s skin was horribly stretched. A keening howl rose into the air as Alrik brought the blade upwards, splitting open the man’s armour, and beneath that, his flesh. The dagger collapsed from lifeless fingers, clattering audibly. 

Breathing heavily, Alrik calmed his Chainsword’s bloodlust, decompressing the activation rune until the blades simply stopped, no-longer spitting blood. He looked to where the Warp-dabblers duelled. Njal was extremely skilled, bearing tempestuous powers. But his opponent was something else, something omnipotent. Alrik’s attempt to focus upon the Sorcerer failed; the area around the monstrosity blurring, as though in a veil. 

Njal’s outstretched fingers launched great strands of lightning, as though he was truly connected with Fenris. The Traitor’s staff met them, and they were merely absorbed by the… The bar of energy. Pink flame erupted from between the Traitor’s teeth, searing towards Njal, who expertly dispersed it with his own powered weapon. A blinding tirade of blows were passed between the pair, and another figure joined the foray. It was a blur of blue-grey against the surrounding metal, the hair a magnificent white.

_Iorek.._

The Traitor shifted around, a glimmering blade in his hand. Iorek fell bodily unto the weapon, and the Legionnaire’s smile remained in Alrik’s mind. Twinned rows of teeth, sharpened into fangs, not utterly dissimilar to Alrik’s own. Half of the Sorcerer’s blade remained in Iorek’s torso, the other still firmly grasped in the hand of Iorek’s slayer. Or, so, Alrik thought.

Alrik blink-clicked to the Squad’s details, and Iorek’s twin heartbeats still coalesced across his vision, if barely. The Alpha Legionnaire spoke in a language which was alien to Alrik, and with a flash of sickly-green light, he was gone. In his place, remained the sigil of the Archenemy - An Eight Pointed Star, engraved into the hull where its’ marker had been leaning. 

The Firehawk whipped his Bolt Pistol from its holster, and pressed down on the trigger. Repeatedly, rapidly. The bulkhead was illuminated with each explosive flash, the metal deforming with each timer’s end. Alrik’s finger continued to yank at the trigger, for several seconds after his magazine had clicked dry. He was enraged, furious that yet another of his Brothers had been run through by the blades of the unfaithful.

Staring at Iorek’s ruptured form, Alrik stalked towards his Brother, holstering his weapons. There was no need for them now - He was to mourn, not to fight. 

Tyr and Keris had gathered with Njal above the injured form, the latter having slumped onto the ground, physically and mentally exhausted. Alrik unclasped his helm, and then attached it to his hip, the mag-locks engaging with a thrum.

‘We must get him to the Apothecarion now, I will carry him.’ Tyr said, visibly worried about his Brother’s wellbeing. 

‘If we move him, we may cause further injury,’ Chided Alrik, snorting in derision. ‘The blade may well be stemming further blood loss. Movement could dislodge it, or worse.’

Alrik turned towards his Brothers, seeking aid. He expected nothing, but still felt a pang of regret when no acknowledgement came from them. Tyr was already lifting his Brother, and Alrik’s lips peeled back. 

_The oaf will make things worse! He’s going to murder Iorek!_ Alrik thought, watching as Tyr bodily lifted his Brother, despite the lack of an hand. 

‘Alrik, grab Keris, we shall bring both of our Brothers to the Apothecarium.’ Vermundr chirped in, and Alrik turned towards his Packleader. He would avoid further confrontation with Vermundr if possible; no further strain was needed upon their already fragile bonds. 

The Firehawk looked down on Keris, and grinned.

_‘You can bloody walk!’_

Raucous laughter echoed throughout the halls, a deep booming, filled with mirth.


----------



## unxpekted22

Vermundr's hackles rose on the back of his neck and his fangs lengthened from their gums as far as they could go with a gritting snarl. The brown of his shortly cut mane sprouting from only the center of his head swaying with a snapping turn of the head towards Freyr. With a few rough barks he ordered the blood claw acquaintance to take his place in helping Tyr carry Iorek. 

Alrik's laughing echo now mixed with the echo of Vermundr's order as Freyr's hands took hold of Iorek and his own hands left his dieing brother. 

He marched towards his larger brother's backside. With the obviousness of his approach, he didn't have to turn Alrik around. He pushed off his toes and reached out with hand to grip Alrik's gorget and pulled downwards forcing Alrik to look at him eye to eye, "Alrik, bastard firehawk! I gave you an order and this is no time for your foolish antics, look at him!"

He shouted as he gestured to Keris's form on the floor, bloody and battered, "I wont deal with a stubborn monster like you in my pack any longer. Worthy Sons of Russ like brothers Freyr and Haladas with us, could more than take your place here. And if all you are capable of replying with is spewing shit from your mouth about me being a lapdog, unworthy, or whining about my tyrannical leadership, then you can save your breath. I've heard enough of it already. If you want to reply with force then do it. It has already been proven time and time again who's opinion our elder brothers favour."

Vermundr held the lock on Alrik's pupils for a moment longer with breath hot from rage filling the small gap between them. He released his grip, pushing Alrik back upward, and moved to gather up Keris himself.


----------



## dark angel

Vermundr’s approach was clumsy, unprofessional. His footsteps were loud and spacious, great strides bringing him closer to Alrik’s chuckling form. The Firehawk wheeled on one heel, hands contorting into fists. But it was too late, Vermundr’s hand shot forth, fingers slipping beneath the overlapping gorget plate. Alrik was forcefully yanked, downwards. Vermundr spat venomous words at Alrik; despite the Firehawk having done nothing wrong. An unnecessary confrontation; in a moment where it was not needed.

His Brother stepped away, allowing Alrik a moment of clarity; a split second to regain his composure. He contemplating lashing out against his Packleader, but his eyes wandered towards the immobile form of Njal Stormcaller. Did Alrik refute what Vermundr had said, and face further repercussions? Or, did he simply ignore Vermundr’s words and remain as faithful to the Pack as he could?

Alrik’s choice was already chosen for him, from the moment Vermundr had gripped his gorget.

‘And yet again,’ Alrik hissed vehemently, his right hand tightening around the pommel of his crimsoned Chainsword. ‘You devolve our infrastructure into a quagmire. You are unfit for rule - Greedy, self-important. It was Tyr who suggested seeking aid on behalf of our Brothers, you merely followed it. You _are _a lapdog. You _are _unworthy. You _are _tyrannical.’

With an hiss of metal upon metal, and a flaking of dried blood, Alrik drew his Chainblade. He twisted it eloquently in his outstretched hand; slowly awakening it, caressing the activation rune with his thumb. The purring increased into an animalistic whine, the weapon wanting to taste Vermundr’s throat. 

‘But, this is neither the place or moment for such an argument. Our Brothers lay near death, and it would seem that Tyr alone is fixated upon their wellbeing.’ He gave one last, masterful twirl of his Chainsword before silencing it. ‘Perhaps we should get moving, eh?’

Beneath his faceplate, a cruel smirk stretched across his face. He made to move, deliberately dragging his pauldron across Vermundr’s. A quick whisper, audible to Vermundr only, departed from his lips.

‘Chose your enemies wisely, _Packleader_.’


----------



## unxpekted22

_"What was that?! Choose my enemies wisely!?"_ Yelled Vermundr in order to make sure Njal could hear. 

Vermundr thought about saying more, but nothing more could be said. He turned back around and walked with his pack leaving Alrik's fate to the hand of his superiors for the time being. Iorek and Keris's condition were by far a bigger problem. He gave a heavy exhale, what could be a laugh from frustration, a huff of disbelief at the moron Alrik was proving himself to be. If he had known anything about the structure of the wolves and let Vermundr lead his pack the way he saw fit instead of intervening between his former issues with Iorek then Alrik might still a pack brother he actually liked. The dumb bastard was going to get himself a conviction of treason at this rate.


----------



## darkreever

All; Without a word, Njal turns away from you and goes to the bridge. Your troubles or not, there is still something more important to be done. Time meaning everything, you press on to get aid for Iorek and Keris. The going gets worse, more blows shake the Fist of Russ and at one point you are forced to seek an alternate route when wreckage blocks your path. No traitors are left, not with the increased frequency of the rumbles and explosions about the Fist. By the grace of Russ and the Emperor you hope to make it and not be killed in the process.

*-Backtracking a few hours-*
As the last of the thunderhawks depart the _Fist of Russ_, the ship breaks from high orbit to monitor communications between the packs. Not minutes later, a distress signal is picked up; a mining vessel en route out of system has been attacked from within. It would appear that the Alpha Legion, or their followers, have decided to take their actions elsewhere. Njal Stormcaller orders the _Fist of Russ_ to break away and heed the call for help.

Something is off upon arrival, the _Fist of Russ_ encounters a lone ship seemingly devoid of life-signs. Signals identify the ship as _The Jewel_, a rogue trader light exploration ship lost nearly eighty years ago. Hails to the ship are met by no response, Njal, sensing something amiss, is about to order a boarding party to be sent when a sudden blast of static comes from _The Jewel_, the static eventually turning into a looped recording of laughter. _The Jewel_ powers up all systems, weapons of exotic design lashing out on the Space Wolf ship and drawing attention away from boarding torpedoes until it is too late.

Despite being boarded, the _Fist of Russ_ is quick to respond to the attack but The Jewel’s engines allow it to avoid the worst of possible damage. From behind the moon seven more ship’s come online, their ID signatures marking them out as a clash of human and xenos design, idolators. The Jewel and Fist of Russ exchange fire before arrival of idolators, neither able to cause any major damage. Without cause, the _Fist of Russ_ suffers a major implosion and her shields collapse in on themselves. Mere moments later, a spike in energy from _The Jewel_ is detected, a teleportation device within the captured ship.

_The Jewel_ then breaks off attack, allowing the now in range idolator squadron to pick the _Fist of Russ_ apart while it watches. In the opening salvoes traded between the eight ships, weapon batteries of the _Fist_ overload the weaker shields and hulls of two idolators. In return, however, the _Fist’s_ engines suffer heavy damage and the starboard section of the ship is effectively crippled. Like a cornered wolf, the _Fist of Russ_ wipes away another idolator in the wake of a second energy spike. With the second spike, _The Jewel_ completely breaks away from combat. Not wanting to let the traitor vessel escape out of system, the Fist of Russ attempts to give chase while defending against the last four idolators.

Another ship is detected, this one the _Eye of Morkai_, a sleek and powerful strike cruiser that bore *Egil Ironwolf* and his company to the system. The _Eye of Morkai_ enters the fray, bombardment cannon and forward batteries reducing two more idolators to lifeless hulks. Not wishing to suffer the same fate, the remaining idolators flee the system, leaving _The Jewel_ on its own and the _Fist of Russ_ to lick its wounds. Contact is made between Njal and the captain of the _Eye of Morkai_, a brief message alerting the unharmed vessel of the danger possessed by _The Jewel_. The _Eye_ gives chase, but _The Jewel_ has too great a lead and its engines are greater. No amounting of chasing is enough, _The Jewel_ manages to escape the system for the Emperor only knows where.

*-Returning to the present and jumping ahead a few hours-*
With the aid of the _Eye of Morkai_, the _Fist of Russ_ was able to defeat the ambush of the Alpha Legion and their cohorts. On planet, things fared little better; guilder Tein’s attempted coup was crushed by the wolves of lord Blackmane, but the cost was to be governor Nolan and the majority of the ruling guild. In wake of these events, and the failure to quash the rebellion before it had gone so far, or alert the Space Wolves sooner, wolf lord Ragnar Blackmane declared that until order is restored, marshal law is to be imposed. For the time being, colonel *Ktalen* of the PDF is given overall command of the various planets in the system as acting governor. Though such an act is generally not the purview of an astartes lord, none came forward challenging the right of this, at least not while two very capable cruiser lay in high orbit. The cause of the riots uprooted and destroyed, the presence of the Space Wolves is required no longer. They answered a call of help and honoured ancient oaths, for now it is time to return to Fenris.

*-Four days after entering the warp-*
Vermundr; You stand at the edge of the vast chamber, the edge of the wolf lords chamber. Unlike the last time you were here, the lighting is low, a great fire casting much of it and bathing much in shadow. Before you stands the imposing figure of your lord, Ragnar Blackmane, as he stares at the sheets of plating that block out the view of what lay beyond the ship. For to stare into the fabric of the warp, it is said, is to invite madness upon yourself.

Slowly, Ragnar turns and acknowledges your presence, moving over to the great flames and beckoning you to do the same. _“I must thank you __Vermundr__ ‘Iron-Vengeance’, without you and your pack my ship would be lost to us now.”_ He said finally, locking eyes with you as he did so. _“I told you before, your appointment as leader of your pack might only be temporary. That another might take up the mantle upon our return to Fenris. That is not to be so; this is your pack to lead and to guide to glory like your mentor.”_ The news of this, that command of the pack is yours permanently and in full, it washes over you like a great storm. _“Kjarl was a good friend, and an equally good judge of character. He saw potential in you, the same that I do, and that is why you command the pack after him.”_

Turning his attention back into the fire, Ragnar spoke again, the light dancing across his features. _“When we return to Fenris, you are to draw new potentials into your pack. Train them and bring death to our enemies. But know this, if you are to every truly lead your pack-brothers than it must be clear that they follow you. If your authority is challenged than you cannot stand by and let it fester; you lead and they follow, either willingly or by your hand alone. Go now pack leader, see to your brothers.”_

With that, you know that your time here is at an end. It is time to deal with the tension between you and Alrik. He is not hard to find, like Tyr, Keris, Freyr, and Haladas he watches over the still near death form of Iorek. His skin even paler than one would think possible.

[Tyr, in these last few days you have had your missing hand replaced, finally. But what have you done these last few days beyond keeping an eye on Iorek? What have you all done? Keris, half that time was spent mending the damage to your body but did you have words for Alrik? Did you try to seek out Njal or Sigurd in regards to what happened during your fight with the possessed? Alrik, did you pursue your course of action with Vermundr while the others were out of the way? Or is it possible that your words were of the heat of the moment and not truly something you meant? All of you heard the words of Vermundr in the end, though the exchange from Alrik is known to him and Vermundr alone. Much has happened these last few days; PM me if you have any questions or anything. Iorek your as before.]


----------



## deathbringer

A straggling hand was smashed aside with a lowered pauldron, sheer momentum rendering the fragile bones to shattered fragments. A long high howl of pain set the wolf within's mind aflame with bloodlust, his limbs clattering forward towards the torrents of energy that swirled around the pair. Celestial forces battled, the blades swirled, clashing in fountains of sparks that glittered in torrents of sorcerous flames.

A torrential downpour of lightening erupted from the force weapon, scorching the ground ahead of him and he paused, the wolf within's hackles suddenly up, a tortutred snarl of warning overriding the sound of ironclad footsteps clattering to silence. His eyes bore into upon the duel, the duel upon physical and mental planes. A duel beyond him.

A duel beyond them all.

The stormcaller, majestic and regal cast lightening, a sweep of his force weapon absorbing the twisted wretches counter stroke, then whirling, flashing in the flickering strobe of light and darkness that enveloped the pair. Glittering steel met a blade of shadows and they traded a flurry of blows, counter and strike, matched, locked in a corporeal stalemate.


Yet what if the stormcaller lay tattered and blood shed upon the floor. What if that corporeal shield was torn asunder.

A snarl met his own lips, a futile snarl, a snarl of the wolf that had been denied the rabbit and found an anaconda in its place. The hairs upon the back of his neck tightened standing erect, his bicep bunching, tightening as he brought his blade to shoulder height.

"Embrace death"

His voice echoed with the howls of a hungry wolf, as the white wolf struck. 3 strides and he was upon the traitor, nay the traitor was upon him.

Njal was screaming, words he could not here as the traitor's eyes met his, locked with his and rendered him frozen, his world transmogrified, the single ring of a bell, a long deep final tone reverberating in his ears. The blade was pushing towards him, towards the breast plate of his armour, the shadows solidifying to a shard of ice, a threat at the very fringes of his vision. A claxon bested the bell, overrode it as his armour reported the breach, became the preempt to his own doom. Then the ice became flames, flames within him. Fire tearing through his innards as a cackling laugh began to erupt, roll from the recesses of that foul mouth, a tongue flittering over twin sets of pointed pillars of decaying darkness.

Yet the laugh never came, was driven from the traitors throat by the stormallers mighty fist, the blade that blossomed through his stomach, that rendered his insides a mass of useless gore. Rage burned in the Stormcaller's eyes as he slumped, legs giving way as his tattered nerve endings seered, his brain filling with pure white mist.

His hands reached, smoothing over his armour till he found the blade embedded within him. His eyes closed, as he knelt clutching the blade, a low growl, commanding insistent pressed upon his ears.

Morkai, the great wolf, guardian of death ordered him, compelled him forward towards gates of black stone, figures waited between them, faces he could not see. Nay he could see one. See a single face, smiling, a hand outstretching to welcome him, to place a hand upon his pauldron and embrace him as kin once more. 

The great wolf called once more and his limbs took a stuttering step.

Then he was falling, limbs no longer upon the flagstone floor, a mass of fur and snapping jaws upon him. bearing him to the ground

"This is not over ghost wolf" snarled the wolf within. 

He hit the ground, his knees hitting nought but icy snow and he stared out. Foaming oceans, interspersed with ice stared back at him, great rolling seas as far as the eye could see, beauty, familiar beauty.

Emotion tugged at his soul, the sweet beauty of memory. The beauty of home.

Yet this was more than home, this was where it had all began.

His eyes fell upon the rocks below, the rocks upon which his body had once been rendered useless.

This was home....

A low howl, echoed within the wind, curled with it, snaking tendrils of sweet music echoing within the ghostly whip of the elements of Fenris. Reminiscence was rendered useless and he spun around, turned to find himself upon a snowy clifftop. Found himself to be not alone.

Two legs of snow white fur, carried a beast, a monstrosity, an eye of burning gold fixed upon him flaring with hate, wicked claws clattering together, sharp points clacking together as saliva dripped between its fangs, strands stretching and snapping as a tongue of darkened black gristle flittered within.

He smelt hate, he smelt dominance. He felt disgust, as his eyes flittered across the matted wrank fur, once regal, now corrupted and distorted, its purity ruined.

His eyes stared round, flittering for a weapon, and found one, a staff within his hand that he brought across his body, the end buried in the snow bearing a great point. A fang of icy bone. The krakens tooth glittered as lightening flashed around him and the two fell into a tightening circle.

Man and beastman, circled, unclothed, unarmoured, eyes locked.

This was the end. A challenge, who would lead this body.

The bestial snarl sent a torturous tremor rippling through his limbs.

Then Iorek acted, summoned his strength, met the wolfs cry with a shout of his own, the spear thrusting, the icy tip cracking through the air, slicing with the low cry of the kraken. Twisted claw met the spear deflecting it and the other lashed out to be met by the spear haft. Weapons locked, bestial biceps bulging against the mans arms, the spear forced backwards as twisted jaws snapped at gritted teeth.

(Back my dearest friends, this was more a show of faith. Thank you for your patience)


----------



## dark angel

He sat alone, in silence, in the darkness. The light ached his eyes, and there was a sense of familiarity about the dark - One of comfort, as though it embraced him. He was naked, save for his armoured leggings and gauntlets, his musculature beaded with perspiration. His breath was labored, almost forced - A rough rasping that echoed in his quarters diminutive confines. The fingers of one hand were placed upon his face, against charred flesh. With each appliance of pressure there, blisters sagged and bruises blossomed.

The knuckles of his other hand were swollen and bloodied, where he had vented his anger against a adamantine blast door. It was not the most therapeutic of options, but one which brought Alrik some release. He flexed the fingers of his damaged hand, grimacing as a jolt of pain danced along his arm and up into his chest. A blasphemous curse escaped his lips, though it was hushed; the Firehawk being fearful of further disagreement with his companions.

If there was one thing which he now wanted to avoid - It was further conflict amongst the Pack. Both Iorek and Keris lay stricken, balancing between life and death. He was certain that both would recover, he depended upon it. There was a spark of natural animosity between Iorek and Alrik, one which had recently been replaced with mutual respect that encouraged competition. Keris was a stanchion to not only Alrik, but the entirety of the Pack - A source of faith and wisdom, one which would shame Wolves many years his senior. 

Alrik sniggered at such caring thoughts. Beneath his muscular exterior, he did care for his Pack. His stubbornness and sense of self-importance tended to guide his words more than his brain, however. He did not procrastinate when it came to his words: they were hurried, brash and often judgmental. 

Alrik stood. It was an unsteady movement, and he swayed slightly as he did so. Sweat ran along the runnels in his flesh, cascading away at the waist. For several minutes he stood there, motionless, chest rising and deflating rhythmically. 

‘Lights..’ He growled, and his room was illuminated suddenly. He gathered up an opaque robe, slipping it onto his form. 

It adapted to his form, each rivet and bulge showing from beneath. Clad in half-armour, Alrik felt odd. His gauntlets and vambraces were still locked in place, membranous interfaces still plunging into his nerve clusters. His post-human metabolism and senses would safeguard him from most attacks, but without his torso plate, he felt relatively weak. Alrik pulled the hood up around his head, lips twisting backwards into a grin.

With his face now shadowed, he felt secure. There would be no looks of hate and disgust, no criticizing glares from those who did not have the right to pass such things on. He mapped the ship in his mind, selecting a route through the intricate tunnels and hallways, mentally noting whether or not certain ones were obscured with wreckage or closed for other reasons.

The name of his destination flashed in his head.

++++++++

His journey was made with haste, powerful strides bringing him closer to his destination. All the while, his thoughts wandered over a single thing - Over a single name, a single point in his life which was all important. 

_Keris._

+++++++

The air became stale, sanitized. The taste of sterilizing liquids and disinfection sprays numbed his senses, strong upon his tongue. The tiled floor clattered under his boots, medical orderlies pushed gurneys with cadavers upon past him - Mostly those of mortals, but some were larger, enhanced figures. Alrik gulped uneasily. He disliked the Apothecarium; it was a place of life and death, and the latter disturbed him greatly.

He did not fear death, for it was inevitable and foolish to do such a thing. Everything died, withered and became nothing more than motes. No, it was not death itself that he feared. It was when it came, and those that he would be forced to part with. 

Eventually, after his blind stumbling through the Apothecarium, he came across Keris. His Brother was suspended in a large, transparent tube. His body played host to an array of ghastly wounds, and a particularly devastating rent danced its way along Keris’ side. His Brother truly was a skilled actor - Alrik would have keeled over from such a wound. The amniotic fluid around Keris was milky in colour, so that certain areas of Keris’ body was obscured in the mist. His Ice-Eyed companion was in some form of induced sleep, a flicker of movement every now and then. Monitoring leads snaked up from his chest and back, interfaced with Keris’ black carapace.

Alrik’s twinned Hearts tightened, in the grasp of some benevolent entity. His features became sullen, and his eyes glittered with regret.

He placed an hand upon the tube, the cold of the liquid pressing against his palm, even through his gauntlet.

‘I’m sorry, Brother,’ Alrik admitted, face turned towards the deck. ‘I never meant for this, I never wanted it.’

And then, Alrik sat. He remained there for several hours, looking on intently at his Brother - For the briefest flicker of life, of acknowledgement. The Firehawk removed his gauntlet after a while, an imprint still remaining upon the sterile glass. He finally stood, voice lowered into a whisper.

‘I have failed you, Keris. Get well, Brother. Our Pack needs you more than ever now, and only you can heal it.’ He turned away, robes flapping out behind him. 

He vowed that he would dismantle more than one Servitor in Keris’ name.


----------



## Euphrati

Awareness slipped through Keris’ grasp like an ice-slick sceatline caught in the teeth of a storm; the fragmented moments blurring together into a wash of muffed sound and scent, interlaced with ever increasing lulls of pain-edged darkness. Somewhere, between one heartbeat and the next, unconsciousness finally claimed him beneath its shadowy waves.

---

_Pain._

Keris stirred slightly as sensation cut through the fog of oblivion; wavering at the edge of consciousness like a slumbering leviathan, a low growl curling from deep within his mind. The pain lessened and his growl was answered by another, deep and forceful yet comforting all the same, along with the thick scent of Wolves coupled with a sterile note to the air. Darkness reached out to reclaim him, but this time Keris let it take him without struggle. There was still pain, but it was a good pain; the pain of healing.

---

_Something woke him._

The rhythm of Keris’ heartbeat was a slow and steady pulse within his chest as his mind shook off the haze of the induced healing trance he had been in. There was a brief moment of suffocating disorientation, a sense of weightlessness and lapping warmth, before memories re-established themselves and his eyes fluttered open. The world was rimmed in a fog of pale fluids and sounds were muffled through the thick cry-steel of the healing tank’s rune-etched sides as Keris’ surroundings came into focus. 

The space before the tank was empty and silent.

There had been the briefest specter of movement as his awareness had surfaced, like a predator’s shadow caught out the corner of the eye, but the only thing that greeted him now was the slow winking status runes on the myriad of devices linked to the tank through dark coils of input cables… and the fading echo of a handprint on the outside of the tube.

---

Keris’ footsteps were silent despite his bulk as he prowled the length of the corridor with a subdued gait. He could feel the familiar restlessness of warp travel tugging at his pace as the wolf in his soul shifted warily. It was an instinctual uneasiness that he now grasp with a clarity borne of experiance.

The Wolf Priests had finally allowed him beyond the engraved doors of their domain for limited bouts of time and Keris had promptly seized upon the chance to stretch his legs and seek out guidance. The Stormcaller had lent him counsel before, but this time his inquires to the location of the Rune Priest had met with little success. Ultimately, Keris had turned his tracks back towards the apothecarium and the Priest he knew would be in attendance there.

His left side ached, itching maddeningly where the priests had mended the brutal wounds he had taken in defense of the Fist of Russ. The warp-spawn’s talon had torn through muscle and tissue; leaving a jagged rent in his black carapace and a gouge in his shield of fused ribs, and the operative’s blade had further pierced through his abdomen wall to lacerate his spleen and upper digestive track. The flesh under his blue-grey tunic was pink and raw but gratifyingly whole again; the distinctive enhanced healing of his gene-forged physiology further amplified by the unguents of the priests, but it would still be a span of time before the wound was fully healed.

Keris slipped through the carved entry to the apothecarium, threading his way to the far side of the room where the unwavering bulk of Wolf Priest Sigurd stood over Iorek, ice-blue eyes seemingly gazing beyond the pale flesh. The Blood Claw lay silently in his battle as Keris joined the priest at his wolfbrother’s side.

*"His soul is in turmoil. The wolf within him rages for control, only time will tell if Iorek has the strength of will to keep it at bay. But that is not why you are here, speak your mind."*

Sigurd’s voice was a low growl as Keris' eyes traced over Iorek's cold features. The Ghostwolf was as pale as the namesake Keris had granted his brother merely two days before in the heat of the fight for the Fist. Keris gave a nod to the Wolf Priest's words and met his gaze for a moment before speaking,

'I know how he feels in a way... to be tested beyond the flesh. You are correct that I seek your thoughts upon a matter, Priest. In the generatorium, my brothers were beset upon by the Oathbreaker's minions. Their very existence an affront to the senses.'

"Minions? Not the traitors themselves?" Sigurd gave a low grunt, turning his piercing stare upon Keris for a moment before moving to attend to another of the Company’s wounded; a war-scared long fang with the ragged edges of a hole showing from under a blood-laced wrap that took up much of his left shoulder, "Tell me of these minions Keris, why have they been hot on your mind?"

Keris’ gaze followed the priest’s movements, though he remained near his packmate’s side,

'They were Traitors, Elder, but ones that had given themselves over to the Great Enemy in body and soul. They were the shells for warp predators to twist and hide within, their very bodies corrupted by the blackness of their deeds. Alrik and I faced one with talons that grew in place of his hands. I ended him, but not before taking the wound that you and the other Priests mended over these last days. Yet, even as the traitor's heart beat its last the wound ached with a pain like I have never felt before and...'

Keris paused for a moment, forcing his heartbeat to slow from the fury of being touched by such a vile warp-daemon, 

'I could _feel _the warp-thing that had forsaken the Traitor trying to sink its claws into my own soul...'

At his last words, there was a visible change in Sigurd's demeanor; as if those words were enough to freeze the priest in place. "It tried to take you?" He asked after long moments, the words neutral and tone guarded, "When the...thing tried to corrupt your soul, you fought against it?"

'I denied it.' 

Keris met Sigurd's gaze unflinchingly, his words calm with the weight of his focus, 

'I would have greeted Morkai before allowing it to take me, even if it meant that I face Grey Hunter Kjarl in the Halls of Russ without my blood-oath to his death complete. There is nothing it could have offered me, no promise from its warped essence that could turn me from my oaths to the Allfather and Russ. I hated it all the more for the act.'

"Few can make such a claim, that they simply denied pure corruption. But then, that is what Kjarl saw in you and that is why you are the one the oath was first made to." Sigurd nodded to himself in recognition of some unsaid thought as he spoke. "That the thing tried to take you, that has been the only matter on your mind these days? Or is it how you fought the thing away?"

Keris paused as he considered the priest’s words, his crystal eyes again taking in the pale features of his wounded packbrother for a long moment before he spoke again, 

‘Wolf Scout Morgun bade me to watch over him. I have watched over them all as I could,' 

Keris looked back up to meet the eyes of the Priest, ice-blue to ice-blue, 

‘It has been on my mind, yes. That it tried to take me though is not the question. It was a warp-thing. I do not need to know Why it acts to know that I hate it... nor to fight against it. I was already wounded and fatigued from my duel with the Oathbreaker before he fled, yet I denied it still and you say few can claim such a thing. There is something abnormal within me that I could do so?'

"Your spirit is pure and un-breaking; it bends to your will and no other. Since you returned to the Fang years ago, you have never had to fight your inner wolf. It is a rare thing, but not uncommon and not impossible." Sigurd’s tone was calm, though not all of his words truly made sense to Keris as they were. The priest was not done speaking however.

"Look at him," he said while indicating Iorek, "and tell me what it is you see."

Keris looked down at his pale-skinned Wolfbrother, 

'Ghostwolf. I see pain... I see the blood of Russ that flows through us all and a battle that is unending. Yet, above all I see strength under the ice.'

Keris could feel the weight of Sigurd’s gaze as the Wolf Priest gave a low grunt. "Beyond the obvious, what does his spirit show you?"

Keris gave a slow nod of understanding and let his heart choose his words as they came, his eyes never leaving Iorek’s unconscious form,

'He walks with ghosts, some new and some old. They are there only because he chooses them to be. His wolfspirit is full of fury, rage eats him from the inside like a ravenous beast yet he still fights it through the pain and he will triumph.'

"If victory over his spirit is what Iorek wants, then he will take control. Kjarl was right about you; your tale shall be a great one indeed." Sigurd growled with the faintest hint of a smile, something Keris sensed was not a common occurrence for the older Wolf. "What of the rest of your pack brothers?"

Keris gave a slight nod at the words of the Wolf Priest; that Kjarl had marked him out before his mentor’s journey to the Great Hall of Russ left Keris’ throat tight in honour momentarily in memory of the Grey Hunter. He offered a silent gratitude before turning his thoughts to his packbrothers, 

'We are all still finding our paths. Tyr is much as the glaciers that guard the Fang, not without faults but stoic and relentless. His heart is true and his strength has been put to the whetstone, slowing honing to a keen edge with every pass.'

Keris paused, his tone containing a warmth as he spoke next of his packleader, 

'The Grey Hunter's mantle sat heavy upon Vermundr's shoulders when Lord Blackmane first named him as our packleader, but he has come to realize that he is not Hunter Kjarl, none of us are, and must walk his own path. I have encouraged him to trust in his instincts, to trust in us as his pack. You know my oath, but even had such a thing not been asked of me I would have stood at his side without doubt. I see strength within him and it is being refined as the Iron Priests forge an Iceblade one fang at a time. Yet, I still see questions lurking within him. Until he can trust in himself his road will be twice as hard.'

With that Keris' eyes hardened, his thoughts heavy upon the last of the pack that had survived first setting foot upon the soil of the planet, 

'The Firehawk troubles me greatly though, Priest.'

Sigurd simply nodded at first, taking in Keris' words of his own brothers. "A leader always questions, even if he does not show it. To claim otherwise is the way of the fool and the foolish. Your leader is like the rest of you, young and still learning; one does not become a great warrior in a single span." But with those words said, Sigurd's expression hardened to that of granite. "Your pack brother Alrik is many things, troubling the least of them. What of him troubles you?"

Keris favoured the Wolf Priest with a brief lupine smile at his advice, 

'If there is one thing that I have come to understand, Elder, it is that there is much I have yet to learn...' 

His smile dissolved quickly though as Sigurd turned to his mention of Alrik, 

'I fear he walks a crumbling path, and if he continues it his own gallower will be the face that stares back at him from the mirror.'

Sigurd’s tone did not change."In his challenging of Vermundr's leadership?"

Keris gave a low sigh, frustration tinting his ice-blue eyes darker, 

'I know my brothers look to my wisdom and take strength in my devotion, it is a weight I have accepted for them. For all of them. And yet there is something in Alrik that I cannot seem to reach despite my efforts. His pride is like a blade without a grip, yet he will not let it go despite the wounds it causes him.'

"In part, it is an inner strength that rivals that of your own; but it is a strength that only he can truly use. It will find a place in time, be certain of that." Sigurd growled, something in his sharp eyes hinted that the Wolf Priest knew more but he chose to remain silent on the matter. The priest’s attention turned to Keris’ side. "Your body is healing well, likely taking after your will. Is there anything more that burdens your mind?"

Keris gave a simple shake of his head,

‘Nothing that is of concern beyond what you have guided me on.’

Sigurd gestured to the door with a nod. “Find your packmakes, Iorek has his battle to fight and will be here when you eventually return." With that, Sigurd once again turned away to watch over another wolfbrother, one who had fallen to the red dream while fighting planetside.

Keris glanced down at the Ghostwolf, his fenrisian accent turning his soft words into a low growl,

‘I gave my oath to you that I would be here when you needed me, Ghostwolf. Now, fight without doubt in your heart.’

With that Keris made his way back into the halls of the ship, letting his nose and intuition guide his steps as he sought out his wolfbrothers starting with his packleader.


----------



## BlackApostleVilhelm

The blade flew at him with inhuman speed, just a blur of light as it sought his meaty neck but sliced only air, its target dodging the attack and throwing one of its own. Blade met blade in a skilled but frantic parry as the attacker was now on the defense in a split second. The attacker had gotten quicker over the past few days, having to get over his hand until it meshed with him fully making him get more agile, his attacks quicker and more precise while his parries were more smooth and streamlined. 

The two combatants locked blades, their faces inches from each other as each growled at the other, yet suddenly they were apart again and the smaller one was back on the offensive. There was a flurry of blows, a feint, and then another attack at his opponent's head that was once again met with air but followed up by something completely different. A large shoulder was lowered and barreling into the attacker who was sent sprawling onto the floor, a blade at his neck before he could get back up, the bout was over. 

Clapping and laughs came from outside the training cage as Tyr helped Freyr off the mat with a smile on his face,* "Come before the food gets cold."* Freyr smiled and followed him out of the training cage before racking his weapon. *"It's almost as if you have never lost a hand brother."* Tyr's grin got bigger at hearing this, truly his replacement hand had been a hard thing to get used to, often times getting in the way more than anything else. He had been fitted with an augmetic after the battle for the Fist had ended and his brothers had been taken to the Apothecarian, the priests telling him that it would take a little while for the nerves to start working properly again, he had laughed of course but he did not know how right they were.

After countless dropped meat haunches, tankards of full mead, and numerous failed strikes and blocks that ended in many lacerations and bruises his hand had stopped having a mind of its own allowed his brain to take control of it. While he had been getting used to it he silently complained to himself wondering why he just didnt leave his arm in a stump instead, but in hindsight getting used to the augmetic had actually been a good thing for him, forcing him to get faster and more agile in the training cages to help him dodge incoming blows or more easily parry them. 

Now is when it was showing, he had trained hard for hours on end every day since they had entered and he was feeling great about how much better he had gotten just because of his hand. His new packmate Freyr was a mighty quick one and for a lot of their first matches the only way Tyr had been able to win was if he had been able to bring his larger strength to bare, which more often than not didnt happen because he was not quick enough, yet now he won most of their matches. 

He wiped himself down with a towel before putting a robe on and walking with his brother to the dining halls. He had seen a lot of Vermundr in the training cages but Alrik had kept to himself a lot, Iorek and Keris mending in the Apothecarian. They still had a long time to go in the warp and he was excited for the coming bouts in the training cages and further battles ahead. Once in the dining halls he occupied himself with eating as much as possible and drinking more than the others in his pack or the other Blood Claws for that matter. He was loud as were the other wolves and he spoke volumes of his pack and the feats that they had achieved while planetside, each of his brothers having their own little tale that Tyr was telling for them. Keris, his brother's wisdom and faith showing how he held the pack together, Vermundr the packleader, taking on such a title with the utmost courage and bravery and shining, Iorek proving time and time again that he was the best shot that Tyr would ever know, even when he only had one eye, and Alrik who was utterly ruthless and brutal in battle. Each of his brothers showing their courage and bravery, each one shining with their own inner light and despite their differences being able to come through the trials that had so far been set before them. 

Yet while he spoke much about his pack he did not speak much about himself unless asked about a certain battle or encounter, the most liked one being the Ogryns and the waves of operatives that he, Alrik and Morgun had defended the comms room against. Many of the other Blood Claws found it hard to believe that Wolf Scout and two Blood Claws had held that room against so much even when one of their brothers fell right in front of them, yet Tyr had told them of Morgun's ability to kill and his brother Alrik's endless depths of courage as he fearlessly stared down every opponent and spilt their blood.

To emphasize the greatness of that encounter he would point to the massive scar on the side of his chest that the Ogryn had made and his brothers would whoop and yell. Every night since they had entered the warp he had been asked about his hand and to retell how he lost it yet continued to fight on, his brothers howling with enjoyment as he told them how he had killed his enemies with only one hand, especially when he told them about the operative he had used as a shield after impaling him on his stump. 

After dinner he made his way to the Apothecarian like he had for the past few nights and sat himself next to Iorek's prone form and sat silently as he watched over him. He did not need to say words to his brother, he knew that Iorek was strong enough to beat his inner wolf, yet he also knew that the Ghostwolf had lost much in this last campaign. His closest brother had been killed and then he had been lied to, two things that could shake any warrior to his core, he did not envy his brother that was certain. Yet while Tyr could not stop many of his brothers from dying on the planet he took the oath he had made to himself personally seriously and so he had visited Iorek and Keris daily, Keris in the morning and Iorek at night. 

He sat next to his brother's head and crossed his arms as he watched the goings on of the Apothecarian, Sigurd tending to other wolves who had become injured in battle. He was completely silent, first going over the battles that he had been through planetside, then his bouts in the practice cages and soon his mind degenerating to food and drink. Yet the whole time he sat there he mentally willed Iorek to heal, to have the courage and strength to beat his inner wolf and put an end to the hate that was threatening to consume him.


----------



## unxpekted22

The giant doors to his Lord's chambers sealed shut behind him; an uncomfortable contrast between the slowness of the doors' creaking movements and the speed of his beating hearts. When they finally sealed shut he exhaled, letting out an unintentional half-howl. His slammed his lips shut so that his Lord would not hear, embarrassing. Anxiety seemed to evaporate off his skin beneath his blue robes. He had an incredibly lucky start in his eyes, made pack leader after such a short amount of time into the mission, into his first off-world mission at that. But that same luck had the very likely potential to turn sharply sour. If Lord Blackmane had replaced his role with someone else, he would have looked like a damned fool. No one would ever let him forget the deaths under his short command, and no one would respect him in his time with the Wolves. But now, he had something going for him, his legacy was true.

He walked on, beginning slowly and picking up pace to a usual stride.

Despite nearly all of his pack mates disagreeing with their Lord’s decision from the beginning, whether in their hearts or making it known all too well with their mouths, he had prevailed. Despite other blood claw packs snickering at him and even the Ice-slayer saying he disapproved of him, he pulled through.

He did find himself wishing that his victory hadn’t come with such an odd price. A lie was the best thing he had ever done for himself. What made him the best choice for leader in his Lord’s eyes, made him the worst choice to his packmates. He felt he had barely been able to contain the four of his remaining pack-brothers, but the squad needed to be brought back to full strength. Only a few days before he would have doubted himself in this responsibility, but now he curled his hand to a fist, he would bring his new recruits in, and they would obey his leadership without question. It would likely be easier in any case, as the new recruits would only know him as packleader, wear as his current packmates had been equals prior, some even had him by age and battle experience. However, he acknowledged some worry rattling the pits of his lungs as he began to day dream, seeing Alrik and Iorek whispering to their new packmates that their pack leader was a liar and a fool, and to follow their lead instead. He had at least one brother that would remain completely loyal to him and stand by his side no matter what. Keris would always be a breath of fresh air for him, he had known that for some time now. He also knew that Keris played this role in all the minds of his pack. That breath of fresh air for each of them would be met in return by a heavy weight on Keris’s’ already aching back. Vermundr had to admit to himself that he was not sure how to change this, but he decided to remain content in the thought of finding a way no matter what. He knew he, at least, could start with continuing to focus on how to lead his pack better, for that alone would take much off of Keris’s full plate, as much as a son of Russ enjoys his great feasts. 

He had visited his wounded pack-mates before his meeting with the Lord. He could hardly see Keris in the solution filled vat he floated in, and since his visits had been the earliest, Sigurd hardly let him get very close to Iorek. 

After the amount of time passed had been lost to him, Vermundr found himself outside the mess hall listening to his brother’s voice. Tyr’s loud ramblings about his pack went on and on, but only because the other blood claws begged him for more. Vermundr chuckled to himself, looking at the floor as he listened. Apparently his pack wasn’t a disgrace anymore. The handful of them had played a major role in securing their Lord’s ship, he was sure that helped the image of their pack significantly. And he chuckled for Tyr, the big oaf. Vermundr realized right then and there that fighting wasn’t the only thing his large brother was good at. 

“Tyr the Story-teller” he whispered. 

Perhaps he could come up with a better name in the future, but for now the thought of knowing the fact was satisfying enough. For some reason the next image that smacked into his thoughts was the memory of his armored fist slamming into Iorek’s face-bones. “Iron-Vengeance” he repeated for the first time since he had left his Lord’s chambers. This reminded him of his need to speak with Alrik, and hopefully cure the awful daydreams of his brothers usurping him. He knew he would have to think carefully on this, for every word that left his lips seemed to put Alrik on edge as it was. He needed to meditate on what words would sting his brother’s skin the least. And so he did. 

More than 36 hours he sat in his personal chambers, thinking, and praying to his ferocious Father for guidance until he felt he was ready. After asking a few of his company brothers he came across throughout the hallways of the ship, he was led to believe he could find Alrik in the training cages. Sure enough, they had been correct.

The sounds of a sharpened blade slicing through half metal, half guts, spat into his ears as he approached the training area. The snarl of the Firehawk’s masochist nature made the air strange, but still familiar. He waited until the last gruesome head dropped to the floor before speaking,

“We need to talk, Alrik.”

And as Alrik’s head turned, so did Vermundr’s to a new sound coming from behind him; a familiar pair of footsteps, and soon the familiar scent of the awakened pack-brother.


----------



## deathbringer

A foul stench touched his nostrils, bit at his features like a weak acid, gnawing irritatingly as his face furrowed, creasing away from the noxious gases that caused bile to fill his mouth. His arms locked upon the staff pushing, foot planted within the icy maw of the snow behind him. Chills racked his left leg sending a tremor through his straining muscle as the wolf snapped again, great masses of blackened rot clacking together inches away, closing in as the wolf stretched, elongating, desperate feverish.

Anger incarnate pushed at the staff, forced its will upon it, to be met by cold steel and icy resolve. Biceps strained, equilibrium reached, poised and quivered as the beast pushed again, feral whimpers of exertion breaking the rythmic clack of jaws. Sweat beaded upon Iorek's furrowed brow, heat burst from his chest curled and twisted in spiralling combat with the abominations own putrid halitosis. They strained eye locked upon eye, the beasts feet scrabbled, searched for better purchase, matted white fur dissappearing into the snow only to remerge matted, on end, revealing seeping pustules upon the skin beneath.

Horror, hatred and loathing melded and solidified into a torrent of rage, a rolling boulder of anger that trundled towards him accelerating, tearing through the calm upon his soul, shreading it into pieces.

"Foul corruption of my soul" the roar erupted from him and his foot lashed out toes curling as it collided with the side of the beasts knee, feeling it buckle and they were apart once more, a furious howl replacing the pain, yet now Iorek flew forward.

The spear twirled as the beast reared its head, staggering to its feet, jumping backwards to avoid the spear thrust, lythe limbs allowing it to swerve the counter blow and swat away the cut of the krakan fang, talon meeting tooth in sending sparks flying, slicing open the darkening sky.

"Leave me now, leave me beast, my soul is mine."

The rage was pounding, the blood flooding through his ears as his body reacted lashing out, flailing at the wulfen before him, cutting blood red gashes across the milkt fur. Watching the matted hair drowned, stained by torrents of ruby red blood, tongue flicking over his teeth as the creature slumped, knees planting in its own vitae, growling as he raised his head and exposed its throat with the point of its spear. The growl grew, rumbles of fenrisian thunder growing to a roar of triumph.

A final howl echoed as he pushed the spear home, thrust it through the creatures throat, watched blood spill to the ground pool over the snow and flow between the channels of there footsteps and mingle upon the rocky plinth, steam hissing upwards as the fingers of fenris sucked the water from it leaving a solid mass before him

The howl died as he looked into the blood red ice to see a single golden eye staring back at him

"In rage i have won again Iorek" snarled the wolf in his head


----------



## unxpekted22

(ooc: This is a joint post for Vermundr and Alrik that Darkangel and I wrote together Alrik is the green, Vermundr is the white.)

The voice startled Alrik, who, in his furious, brutal combat training, had shut off the surrounding environment. He was blackened by oil, having bit and torn his way through a steadily progressing line of Servitors. His head swiveled, and his eyes narrowed with jealous contempt. 'Vermundr.'

Vermundr looked back up to the cages to Alrik's hulking form, refocusing his attentions. He tapped his fangs together, twice before speaking, "We have some obvious issues to absolve before the pack goes on any further off-world missions brothers. Are we in agreement on that?"

Alrik scanned his Brother, who was in a pristine condition - Unarmored, but still magnificent in the way he conducted himself. If Alrik was the darkest depth, in his hued form, then Vermundr was the brightest of stars. The Firehawk maneuvered his bulk, chest lifting and deflating rhythmically, condensation sprouting before his mouth. ‘The integrity of our Pack, Vermundr,’ He began, stepping closer. ‘Is shameful. This, I agree with." 

"We have something going for us now it seems. Only a few days ago we had ever right to be ashamed of ourselves, but it seems saving our Lord's ship has brought us some hefty prestige. I have heard fellow blood claws talk throughout the great hallways of this vessel, their opinions are of a much more positive note, as is our Lord's it seems. Though I am certain there are still those within the company who find our pack... unamusing.

However, back to the matter at hand, and speaking of our Lord... I have not told anyone in the pack of my recent meeting with him. My role as packleader, has been made into a permanent one. There is no more discussion as to whether or not I will remain in this position."

‘You will remain in that position,’ Alrik sneered, mouth twitching at the corners. Even after his self-admission, Vermundr’s points had been solely fixated upon himself. ‘As long as you remain competent. I wish for no further conflict amongst us, Brother. Our Pack is dysfunctional in its current state, an embarrassment whether or not our Lord believes otherwise. I want nothing more than unity amongst us, but I cannot simply allow you to ignore the problems that we share.’

Vermundr's shoulders shook, but it was not out of anger, but a shock of confusion rippling over his back-skin, "I'm flustered to hear you say that I ignore my pack's problems Alrik, why would you think that I ignore our internal struggles? At times during the mission I feel I was thinking more on the problems within our pack than I was the presence of the arch-enemy."

A broad grin, revealing blood-flecked canines, spread itself across Alrik’s darkened features. ‘Then, your mind wanders far too often. You must understand, Vermundr, that there will always be inner-conflict among us. Perfect harmony is an unattainable fantasy. Look past these petty arguments; to bonds which we once had. I want them back, Vermundr. But I am not going to have it without a challenge.’

"A challenege? Well then, I can't say you're not a true space wolf then can I? What kind of challenge did you have in mind? If it would make you feel more comfortable being under my command, then I shall partake."

‘A duel,’ Alrik smiled. He collected a pair of Chainswords, the blades polished into a mirror-like sheen. ‘To first blood. Unless, of course, you are afraid? I really don’t care if you want to back out, little little-wyrm.’

"I am not at all afraid to put myself on an equal playing field with anyone of my pack Alrik," Vermundr removed the top portion of his robes, stepping into the ring with Alrik and taking hold of the outstretched chainsword. It did not have to be spoken that the runes would not be activated during the match, for to do so would be considered intent to kill. Vermundr's short brown mohawk was messy and somewhat flattened from his robe's hood.

"I may be smaller in size than you Alrik, but it is no disadvantage for me. But tell me, just so I know, why do you wish to spar me. Will this fight satisfy you? Will it change your opinion of my being leader of the pack? As a being who knows only war as all our brothers do, it is still uncomfortable to fight for no reason."

Alrik gave a twirl of his Chainsword, followed closely by a mock bow. ‘At least, not yet. Now, let us lay down some conditions - If I draw blood first, I am outside of the Pack, yet within. Your authority, it will be nothing to me, a mere word. If you draw blood first, I will subside. Your rule will become absolute, and my Chainsword will be laid at your feet.’

Perhaps, though just for a moment, Vermundr felt the first real urge of total dominance, of arrogant leadership rise in his abdomen. The thought of one of his pack laying down the conditions seemed to awake his wolf spirit. But it quickly subsided, something Vermundr had not yet ever truly had an issue with keeping under control, unlike Iorek it seemed. Perhaps this was another reason his Lord chose him to be packleader. He was able to push his wolf-like instincts aside and think logically. Most blood claws throughout all of the companies merely hurled themselves at their foes without thought, berzerk fury guiding them. 

"I accept your conditions. Let us begin then." He had weighed the risks, he accepted because he had to admit it, if he didnt spar with Alrik here, then he would ignore his authority regardless. It was not entirely beneficial to agree to the fight however, if he lost he would be seen as even less worthy in Alrik's eyes, and possibly his other packmates as well, but having Alrik's nature actually under his command for once would greatly help the pack in every aspect. He had to accept.

Alrik made no attempt to reply. His Chainsword shot forth between the pair, and it was expertly parried away by his Packleader. Vermundr had the skill of a viper - Fast, deadly in precision. Alrik was more akin to a bear, using his size and strength to his advantage, throwing in his weight with each blow. And now, it was begun. 

Blows were dealt and parried, with Alrik ruthlessly attacking, bringing the flat of his blade against that of Vermundr’s. Within moments, the violent thrusts and blows intensified into a merciless melee. 

Alrik came on with an immense ferocity. He meant what he had said, that was for certain. He was a joker at times but now was not one of them.

Vermundr began the fight on the defensive side of the dual. The mixture from giving Alrik the first move combined with his sheer awe at being on the side of Alrik that each of his dead enemies saw during their mission made it nearly impossible for him to get an offensive blow in. The weight of Alrik's blows were heavy against his blocks. He could see the sweat flying off of his packmate's badly scarred and burned face. If there was any time to unleash his inner wolf it was now. Which he found ironic, the first time he truly felt the need to do so was against an ally and not an enemy. But first, he needed to gain some footing.

Vermundr was on the defense, stepping away with each blow that Alrik dealt him, returning the favor but not overstepping his boundaries. Alrik’s scarred countenance twisted into a growl, his lips peeling back, the nub of his fang glimmering threateningly. 

The smallest of mistakes were made on Vermundr’s fault - Alrik faked an attack, and his Packleader darted to deflect the attack. Laughter spurted from the Firehawk’s lips, and he struck Vermundr’s side, hard. Vermundr veered away, a bruise blossoming across the Astartes’ hardened flank. Another blow, this time a piercing movement, ramming Vermundr in the chest with the end of his chainsword. But still, no blood trickled free.

Vermundr stumbled backward gripping the air just in front of his bruising chest, as it felt like the end of Alrik's chainsword was still there, throbbing against his ribs. He risked a glance down to see if he had bled, he hadn't. A close call. The firehawk laughed at his mistakes. Vermundr's lips curled back, clean rows of fanged teeth glistening. Eyes darkened, brows furrowed, mohawk rising, standing back on end.

He darted through a replied volley of strikes from Alrik. He wished he had his own battle axe, for he was much more used to its weight. Alrik was already accustomed to the chainsword, using it in battle. Vermundr let his hand slip down on the handle as much as he could to help get the feel of his battle axe's weight. He got as close as he could muster to Alrik before a blow was imminent, he then swung himself around to Alrik's backside, striking him in the back of the knee with his chainsword in the attempting to sweep the legs out from under him.

Vermundr’s strike to the soft of his knee was jarring, to an extent that the muscles on his legs flared in protest. The Firehawk stumbled forwards, his balance being ripped away by gravity’s malign claws. He thrust his Chainsword into the ground beneath him, using it as an anchor, wheeling back to face Vermundr. Alrik’s eyes were narrow, vehement. His breath came out in ragged, tired gasps. His hands tightened into fists. 

The Firehawk made a series of predatory lunges, each one aimed for Vermundr’s twinned-hearts, hoping to puncture them within his tempestuous mind, or at the very least, injure his Brother to a point of sadistic satisfaction. Most fell disappointingly short, failing to meet with flesh. Those that did touch were equally as feeble, but still, Alrik slavered for more violence. 

The Wolf now turned his attentions to the blade of his companion. It began with one tremendous blow, which was followed closely by an ear-ringing clang. The entirety of Alrik’s weight and power was now pressing behind his blade, pushing it against Vermundr’s. Alrik leaned in close, so that his ale-tinted breath coruscated across his Brother’s face. A grin, feral and jealous, stretched across Alrik’s face. ‘Ready, little-wyrm?’

After striking him, Alrik stumbled and turned upon him again with a much more focused anger. His eyes told Vermundr the realization that despite his larger size, vermundr was certainly capable of dealing a significant blow. But now he was trapped with his larger brother's ruined face close to his own, pressing down upon his chainsword to the point that Vermundr's own was pushing against his chest and placing stress on his spine to stay up-right. Vermundr ignored his brother's words, and came out of the block in a spin with a swing towards Alrik's face, landing a hit in the jaw. "You should try fighting with less guidance from your emotions Alrik."

Once again, Alrik found himself falling away from Vermundr, this time with harsh pain jolting along the side of his face. The muscles in his jaw, which had been the receiving end of the backside of a chainsword, tensed. Vermundr pulled his weapon-bearing hand backwards for another blow, allowing the larger Wolf a moment of clarity. He smiled an executioner’s smile, hand shooting forth between the two, gripping the hand guard of Vermundr’s Chainsaw. ‘Guidance,’ He snorted, fingers tightening. ‘Is good.’

In quick succession, Vermundr’s weapon was sliding across the floor, and Alrik’s knee connected with his Brother’s hip, sending him away. Spittle fell from Alrik’s lips in thick, viscous bands, glimmering in the half-light. His eyes were glassy, determined. He threw his own Chainsword away, and bunched his fists. He vowed that this would be enjoyable.

One second he held his chainsword tightly, and the next Vermundr found his hand open palmed and flaring with a static-like pain reverberating up to his elbow. Alrik threw his own chainsword aside and came at him fists clenched.

A moment of hesitation within him, the thought that perhaps Alrik was right, for thinking logically right now wasn’t helping at all and he was now clearly in the disadvantage without the use of chainswords. There simply was nothing for him to use now to get around or through Alrik's long reaching blows and strikes. He would have to find another way. 

But first came a crashing fist that met with his left cheek, spinning his body halfway round. It was followed by another when he faced Alrik once more, a hit to the right cheek and the massive body throwing him to the ground, an enormous thud echoing throughout the chamber. Alrik lifted his hand for the blow that would surely cause blood to flow from his face, and Vermundr’s size proved valuable yet again, as he was able to duck and weave his head and limbs, gaining enough leverage with Alrik’s fist in the air to move out of the strike’s path. His knee came up to Alrik’s inner thigh, and an open palm slapped Alrik’s right ear. He rolled away, breath heavy, still wondering how he would fully overcome his battle brother.

The blow was strong - Impressively so. Alrik’s leg jerked upwards, warmth suddenly flooding along his leg as the blood flow stemmed and subsequently continued. His senses became dizzied, frantic. The room twisted and turned about him, and he caught glimpses of Vermundr wandering away, recuperating from Alrik’s brutal assaults. Slowly, the Firehawk’s vision returned to him, as did his balance.

Alrik dropped down into a fighting crouch, fists curled before his gnarled features, eyes set firmly on Vermundr’s patrician features. His muscles tensed, perspiration running rivets down his blackened torso, breath misting in the immediate area before his face. Both were panting, exhausted by their non-fatal combat. And yet, neither would relent. The future of their Pack was at stake; without submission of either one, the Pack would continue to fracture until it ceased to exist.

I will win, I must win, coursed through Alrik’s mind, and once again, he was bounding forwards in large, powerful leaps.

He caught Vermundr in the midriff, arms locking around his back in a crushing bear hug. The Firehawk threw his head back, conniving, mirthless laughter flowing from his mouth. Vermundr was lifted into the air, shaking in Alrik’s steadily increasing grip. Expertly, the Wolf twisted so that Vermundr’s back was facing the floor, and threw himself from his feet. The sound of meat upon meat echoed wetly as both impacted, rolling away from one another.

‘This ends now, Vermundr!’ Alrik said, clambering to his feet. He did not give his Packleader time to reply, leaping into the offensive once again, swinging wildly. One swing connected with his Brother’s shoulder, the other to the solar plexus. More rained down on Vermundr, who was biding his time and effort.

Alrik’s fist pulled back for the final time.

His fist swam through the air, towards Vermundr’s nose. Time slowed, ebbing and weaving. Before the blow landed, the Packleader sidestepped, smiling victoriously. A colorful curse escaped Alrik’s lips, and it was then that he realized it was all over.

With an exhausted grin on his face, though it expressed victory all the same, Vermundr inhaled the moment that he had taken several bone cracking blows to find. As Alrik made one overly foolish lunge towards him, fist outstretched to connect with his nose, Vermundr simply sidestepped past the speeding knuckles while his left hand came up and over Alrik, sending Alrik’s face flying into his rising knee.

It happened in half a second. Vermundr twisted round, pushed down and struck with his knee and the larger Wolf went from striking through the air to rolling on the ground holding his face, all in blur. A normal human would have been unable to perceive what had just occurred. 

Vermundr continued to exhale heavily while he waited for Alrik to turn over. The victory was as clear as the deep crimson blood flowing from Alrik’s nostrils and forehead. Vermundr towered over Alrik for once, as he asked,” do you submit to me, brother?” 

Warm liquid ran down Alrik’s scars, accompanied by the aromatic stench of blood. The Firehawk’s tongue dabbed at his lips, tasting his spilled life source, reveling in it. Alrik looked up into the eyes of his Packleader, a cruel smirk stretching across his equally as daunting features.

Alrik’s hand pressed into his thigh, and mustering his strength, he pushed himself up. Across the pit, his Chainsword lay where he had discarded it, pressed into the ground. He trudged his way over to it, slack-shouldered, ruby droplets building up at his chin. He knelt down, weaving his fingers beneath the pommel, and slowly weighed it over in his hands. He turned towards Vermundr, and hung his head.

On conditions with the duel, he was to offer up his Chainsword to Vermundr - A token of forgiveness, of compliance. Slow, deliberate footsteps brought him back to Vermundr, whom he was now honour-bound to serve. He dropped to his knees, and in both hands, hefted his Chainsword above his head.


I accept your submission brother, and I am happy to have an agreement between us once again.” Vermundr lent a hand to help Alrik back to his feet this time. “I’d say that was a fine way to dissolve our differences, but I have to suggest not letting ourselves making a habit of it.” With this, Vermundr laughed with what he could muster from his remaining breath. 

“In the future I vow to listen to my pack brothers more carefully. As I have said, I must ask you to bare with me, for leading this pack is not an easy thing brother. But if I have everyone’s trust, things will go far, far smoother for us."

With his senses coming back to him he picked up another brother’s scent. He had almost forgotten of his wise brother’s presence. 

“Keris, it’s good to see you out of that milky tube.”


----------



## Euphrati

There was a muted bitterness that rode the air currents, a leaden sorrow that undercut the powerful scent of the blood of Russ. An outsider would not have sensed it; would not have noted the variance in tone to the battle tales or the restrain to the carousing. They would not feel the trace of sorrow in the missing scent of a wolfbrother. To Keris it was like a barbed axe blow to his senses.

The Administerium’s records would chronicle the events into dusty history as a victory to the Imperium; the uprising put down and the Auelk system in dutiful compliance once again. The Skalds would have a different memory to retell at hearthside during long, frigid nights in the Fang. 

Deceit and subterfuge were a bitter poison to swallow, even more so considering the blunt and forthright ferocity of the Wolves’ manner. The Serpent had lurked in the darkness before striking, unwilling to stand and fight with any scrap of honour, but its fangs had sunk deeply and the Traitors had shown their true depravity before fleeing in their dishonour into the shadows of the Warp once more; leaving behind a bloody gash in the flank of Lord Blackmane’s company. The cost in lifeblood had been felt the most acutely in the packs of Blood Claws. _It was a lesson in hatred that Keris had keenly learned._

The beating heart of the Fist of Russ gave a low rumble as she stalked the Wyrd like a Thunderwolf through the storms of Helwinter; her grey flanks were etched with new scars from the ignoble assault she had weathered. The sound uncurled through her vast belly and Keris felt his wolf spirit stir in echo to the warship’s bellicose mood as he prowled purposefully through the long passageways even as his mind lingered on the words he had shared with the Wolf Priest Sigurd not long before. 

Keris had not missed the significance of the elder Wolf Priest’s attention, nor the implication that watchful eyes had been on him since his return from the final trial of an aspirant. That trial has been as much of a symbolic journey as it had been a test of his strength of will and, though exhausted and rimed in a coat of storm driven frost, Keris’ strides had not faltered when he had trudged up the final steps of ice-slick flint to present himself at the massive main gate of the Fang. His memories of a life before were strangely soft-edged as if they belonged to another, yet Keris knew that life had provided the raw material that, in his death and re-birth, had shaped the path he now walked. 

_A path that had been trod a thousand times before and, Allfather willing, would continue unbroken until the end of days when Morkai swallowed the sun and Russ returned to stand with his sons in the Wolftime._

His will had been tested again and found as unyielding as the flanks of the Fang itself. A faithful smile danced within Keris’ crystal blue eyes at that thought. It was fitting, even as he tracked the scent of Vermundr towards the training arenas, his path would soon take him back to Fenris and the Fang where his journey had begun.

_It would be good to be home._

---

_Blood would be shed._

Keris had tasted it in the scent of his wolfbrothers the moment he stepped through the carved doorway and nodded silently to Vermundr before taking up a position to the side as a witness to his packleader’s confrontation of their wayward brother. The impetuousness that was whole cloth in Alrik’s nature had become more marked since they had been first paired together in patrols of the outlying range of peaks that flank the great fortress of the Wolves like teeth in the jaw of the world wolf itself and Keris took the moment to study his brother with a weighted gaze.

The challenge was something that Vermundr would have to fight on his own for, unless the rules of the duel were violated, Keris was honour bound to accept whatever the outcome would be. Yet, Keris was without doubt as he followed the lightning fast attacks. There was a surety to Vermundr, a strength that had been bound before finally unleashed, and Keris gave a nod to himself at the young packleader’s conviction as he traded words with Alrik between blows.

And then it was over and Keris tensed for a fraction of a second before Alrik submitted to Vermundr’s leadership as he had oathed.

Keris stepped forward, acknowledging his packleader’s words with a faint lupine smile,

‘That it is, brother. Though I am glad to be whole once again, I am quite content to forgo the prospect of looking like a specimen in a holding tank for as much time as possible.’

He chuckled a low growl before turning to regard Alrik with a somber gaze, 

‘Your greatest strength is also your weakness, Firehawk, but only if you allow it to be so. It is no different than a blade. Focus it and hone it. Use it against those who would stand as enemies to the Allfather, not against those who fight at your side as wolfbrothers.’

Keris flashed a momentary grin, ivory fangs gleaming, before reaching out to offer a warrior’s grip to his brother as way of healing the gap that still lingered between them,

‘Besides, at least then only the enemy has to look your handsome features square in the face.’


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## dark angel

Alrik gave a shallow nod to Keris, respectful, subversive.

‘Keris,’ He greeted, a knife-thin smile etched upon his mismatched features, revealing his sole incisor, the other behind his lip. ‘It is good to see you.’

His Brother offered advice, his words warm, but yet at the same time, they were tinted with the last vestments of anger, though that was acceptable in the Firehawk’s eyes. Following his words of wisdom, an hand passed the void between the pair, a sign of truce, a chance to rekindle the closest of bonds. A pair of long-winded seconds past, before Alrik’s gnarled limb stretched forth and clasped around the wrist of Keris, pulling him closer.

‘Such beauty as that which I am graced with, Keris, is a rarity. Perhaps an unfortunate one,’ He said, his smile still upon his features, his words punctuated by a low, wet laughter. ‘But one which if I was you, I would still find myself envying. You will be remembered by the Priests for words - I, on the other hand, for my dashing looks.’

He turned to Vermundr, his now-accepted Packleader. 

‘Perhaps Vermundr will be known as the Hawk-tamer, one of the few which have successfully brought my stubborn opinions to the dust, certainly an incredible feat. It is not one which many will accomplish, at least if I have anything to do with it.’ Alrik retracted his hand from Keris, folding his arms across his slab-like chest. ‘Perhaps, however, I let you win?’

Sporadic laughter escaped his lips.


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## unxpekted22

Vermundr stepped forward alongside Alrik, already laughing quietly as he took Keris's sarcasm multiple steps further.

He crossed his arms as well, his large forearms partially covering the bruised mark that now lay in the center of his chest. His face still felt a bit numb in certain areas but he paid it no mind. Pain was an easier thing to ignore when you were used to waking up the next day and finding it completely gone; everything back to full potential.

"Well most pains," he thought to himself. He looked down at the floor picturing Iorek on the slab again, until Alrik finished with his his sporadic laughter. Vermundr let the echoing words floating throughout the chamber sink in,

"Hawk-tamer, iron-vengeance, son-of-a-bitch, I seem to have gained many names over such a short period of time," He chuckled, "If you're already looking for another fight I'm sure Tyr would be happy to oblige you. Come, let us go find our pack brother."


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## darkreever

Iorek; Looking down upon the dying form of your wulfen self, all you can hear is the combination of laughter and glorious howling from within your skull. It is as if they were being made by the same being, the beast trying to take over your soul. You look into the creatures eye as life fades from it, and what stares back at you is little better. Your features are sharper, more bestial, but in the end they are yours, the face that stares back in the glazing eye is your own. And that, that is when the howling wind ends, the storm finally abates. A lone moon breaks free from dark clouds, bathing all in its sweet light while the sea rages on far beneath you.

Taking a breath, you close your eye to this, willing the half laugh, half howl to fade away. When you open it again, everything has changed; no longer are you standing over a shear face on Fenris with the ocean raging below you. No longer are you bathed in moonlight, as a storm ends and your beast spirit lays at your feet, its attempt to completely take control of you thwarted. No, what greets your eye this time is a mixture of gun-metal grey and wolf pelts, totems and charms, sterile air and the barest hint of smoke somewhere in the distance.

You try to rise, your body screaming in protest, but you bite down on your pain and move. You can see movement at the edge of your vision, blob figures that swim out of focus through the pain. One of the blobs says something, your name perhaps? Then something else moves into your vision, close by and with a cold air about it. A rough hand pushes you back down, and it takes everything you possess not to pass out; something sharp plunges into the side of your neck, something cold rushing into your body. The world suddenly becomes clearer, the pain receding; when you lift up against the rough hand, it does not hold you down. When you look at the six blobs, they resolve into familiar sights: Alrik, Keris, Tyr, and Vermundr.

Tyr is the first one to come to you, the wolf priest Sigurd soon leaving the five of you be in this moment. The large wolf claps you on the shoulder, and though the painkillers block out much, it still feels like the large wolf nearly crushed your arm. After him is Keris, then Vermundr, Freyr and Haladas, and finally Alrik as well.


Alrik, Keris, Tyr, and Vermundr; It is not for another five weeks that Iorek awakens from his dream-battle with himself. In that time, your wounds had healed, your armour restored, and you four tale told dozens of times these many weeks. But not a single day went by that you did not spend time by Iorek’s side, waiting for when your pack-brother would open his one good eye and be amongst you again. Never once did any of you give up hope, and in the end your patience, your knowledge that Iorek would return to you, proved true.

As you all waited in silence, watching Iorek’s still form, the barest flicker of movement erupted from the pale wolf. With fatigue born from Russ alone knows how much struggle, Iorek’s eye opened and he slowly sat up. His eye was cloudy and unfocused, one of you calling out his name in disbelief. Sigurd heard the word, and was over in a heartbeat. The priest pressed Iorek back down, looking him over before injecting a dose of adrenaline and painkiller. After that, when Iorek looked at you again, his eye was more focused and the strain on his features was lessened. Sigurd jerked his head for you to come to your brother, and then was off to tend to his other charges. Slowly, you gathered around the last of your pack brothers, whole once again. 





All; Through it all, you remained, prevailing through a tide of deceit and traitors, swearing oaths and making pacts. You faced traitors, the very face of evil and corruption and though you were unable to root it out for good, a time will come when you have your chance.

As you gather around Iorek and laugh at words amongst each other, you fail to notice a trio of figures away. One of them is Sigurd, dour in his work; another is the rune priest Njal, his eyes alight with something deep within, a frown over his features. The last of the three is a proud figure, a wolf-skin cloak of midnight black draped over his armoured features. _“They will go far, all of them will.”_ The wolf lord said to the priests. Sigurd nodded at this, _“Keris__ has a strong spirit, nigh unbreakable faith; Alrik as well, though his ways will always set him apart.”_

_“Aye, and __Vermundr__ has great makings ahead of him, the same with Tyr. Though while the one will see much as a leader, the other’s path is all the follower, with great glory and a long saga for it.”_ Njal spoke, his words filled in part with a dread of sorts. _“Something troubles you though old friend?”_ The wolf lord asked, noting the unease in the priests voice.

_“__Iorek__ is marked; he fought the beast within and triumphed for now. But he sought to use his anger and kill the beast spirit, he did not try to master it.” _Njal said, an edge of grimness topping his words. _“Aye,”_ said Sigurd, _“he fights the curse even now, but there is a shadow of the mark in his eye. It may consume him over time.”_

_“Then by Russ, let their oath be fulfilled before it happens. Let them achieve the glory they so deserve before the hardest choice must be made.”_

With that, the wolf lord turned and walked away. There would be time in the coming days to summon his blood claws and speak with them. Let them be amongst themselves for now, the journey home would end soon, and at the end Fenris awaited.


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