# A Road to Glory and Chaos Part II.(Action Thread)



## revan4559

It has been two hours since the death of Commander Vilhaus and the return of Modeus the supposed Dark Father of the entire warband under Lord Garrond's control while no assassin of Vilhaus was found the entire fortress is still on alert with regular patrols throughout the corridors and hallways looking for any sign of intruders that have of slipped in un-noticed during the duration of the speech. It appears that the remaining commanders of the warband are in a meeting with Lord Garrond to discuss what they are going to do as at the moment they are still gathering up their fleets in order to move the entire force off world before they can set off to conquer parts of the imperium which leaves you and the other 'lower' ranks to do what you wish to unless you are called upon for a specific task.

Currently you are relaxing within the part of the fortress dedicated to your god with the rest of forces which follow your patron awaiting your next orders so you are pretty much free to do what you want however due to what happened earlier today you are deep in thought wonder what you will do should there be a battle between Garrond's warband and the forces of Modeus. You wonder whether or not you should risk turning your back on Lord Garrond to join with Modeus incase of a battle as if you remain with Garrond it is unlikely that you will be rewarded by him but if you joined Modeus then he may reward you with power should you help defeat your current master. However defeating your current lord could prove to be your downfall as he has yet to be bested in combat and you remember that he has won the last three blood tournaments which means if you did turn your back on him and Modeus fails in killing him then the punishment that Garrond will visit upon you will be far worse than death. So you have many hard choices to make within the next fourty eight ours on where your loyalties currently lie.

Everyone: Welcome to A Road to Glory and Chaos Part II i hope you enjoy it as much as some of you did through the first one. Welcome to the new players and welcome back to those joining us from the previous action thread. At the moment the you are currently within a part of the fortress dedicated to your god musing over what has happened earlier, you are currently wieghing up your options about whether or not to betray Lord Garrond or not. While in your chambers what are you currently doing? Are you cleaning your armour? Sat in meditation musing? Sparing with some of the other marines or killing some cultists to ease your built up frustation? Are you praying to the gods for answers or are you stalking through the halls looking for something to kill? What are you currently doing and thinking?


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## Angel Encarmine

Aeron bellowed in rage as his chainaxe split the cultist from shoulder to groin, spraying his armor with arterial fluids and gore. Breathing in the smell of blood and slaughter, Aeron removed his helmet and slowly relaxed, looking around at the dozen dead cultists he had just butchered. The ceremonial slaughter in dedication to Khorne did little to ease his anticipation for the battle to come. 

Slowly sitting down amidst the carnage he had just wrought, he began thinking over which warlord he would side with. After reflecting for several minutes, Aeron came to the conclusion that Lord Garrond was the obvious choice. Whilst fighting for Lord Garrond, Aeron had enjoyed the many skulls he had claimed and the blood he had spilled for Khorne, Thus making Lord Garrond a suitable candidate for a leader in his mind. Aeron knew little of Modeus, and therefore cared little for him and his band of warriors. _ I shall bleed this Modeus and his warrriors dry and add their skulls to the throne of Khorne... _ thought Aeron, laughing as he envisioned the slaughter. Slowly rising from his sitting position, he put his helmet on and quietly began roaming the halls of the fortress, looking for blood to spill.

As he wandered the halls, he found himself thinking what there was to be gained in betraying Lord Garrond. He knew that to stand with Garrond was expected of him, and there would be no reward for remaining loyal. What reward was Modeus offering in return for the betrayal he asked.... Banishing these thoughts from his mind, Aeron decided he would side with Garrond unless Modeus began to win the battle. Upon reaching this conclusion, he stumbled across several cultists in the hallway. Smiling, he drew his chain Axes and began to butcher them, a savage grin forming on his face as the first was dismembered.


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## khrone forever

Marchellus sat in the chapel of Chaos Undivided musing on the resent events. He slowly picked up his bolt pistol and swiftly took it apart ,while checking its mechanism for faults or imperfections, to calm his troubled mind. Finding no problems he slotted the pieces back together, quickly took aim and blew the head of a cultist praying at the alter of Khorne. He didnt even consider chalking a kill down as mere humans did not deserve being noticed. 

His mind then flicked back to the problem at hand, and he silently chastised himself for a temporary lapse in concentration. This _Modeus_ seemed strange. He sounded.... _different_ to Garrond; more commanding; more in-touch with the gods. But then he had abandoned his warband earlier if the rumors were to be believed; but that could have been to gain a higher standing with the dark gods. Modeus' words sprang into his head " I have returned from the depths of the warp and the tutelage of the Dark Gods" that sounded more promising that Garronds achievements. However, Garrond was strong. The logic engines in his armour told him that the lightly outcome of the battle would see Garrond winning, based on what he new; but Modeus could offer more power _if_ he won. 

After a long internal debate, Marchellus decided that to die with power is better to live with none, and set about cleaning he armour happy with his choice to go with Modeus.


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## Akatsuki13

Circling the Altar of Chaos, Malphas gazed upon the four sacrifices. Each faithless humans collected from the hated Imperium. Once they lived in sin but now they were offering up their bodies, lives and souls to the Gods. Scores of the faithful, both Astates and mere humans had gathered and taken part in the ritual that was nearing the end of its second hour. Chanting, bloodletting and the lesser sacrifices of slaves had lead up to this point, the apex of the ceremony.

Each sacrifice had their tongues cut out, their bodies staked to the altar and the runes of Gods drawn upon their brows with their blood. Through the chamber the faithful were chanting louder and louder as the sacrifices looked up upon him with utter terror. 

“I am an Apostle of the Gods.” Malphas spoke, “appointed to chastise thee for your iniquities, for your faithlessness.”

“Exuro… Exuro… Exuro…” the faithful chanted.

“For your heresies against the True Gods thou shall burn forever within the Realm of the Gods!” Malphas roared, slamming a fifth rod into the center of the Altar.

Eldritch bolts of energy leap from the central rod to the smaller ones within the bodies of the sacrifices. The rods ignited in pale blue fire that quickly spread to the sacrifices, burning not just their bodies but their souls as well. Roars and cheers of praise for the Gods filled the chamber as the fires died down, leaving no traces of the sacrifices upon the Altar.

The cheering did not die down Malphas collected his Crozius Arcanum, his helmet and the Book of Lorgar from one of the robed acolytes standing close to the Altar before leaving the chamber. Devoted as they were these warriors were but a pale imitation of the true faithful. They were little more than begging dogs fighting over scraps. Not unlike Garrond and Modeus.

It mattered little to him who won this little feud between warlords so long as the Long War and the work of the Gods continued.


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## Deus Mortis

_Azauk hung from the rafters by his fleshes tail. He swung lightly back and forth like a living pendulum. The other had called him here to commune about the days events and what they were to do. Up here in the shadows, away from prying eyes of the other fleshlings Azauk became distracted. Someone below was spilling blood. It smelt glorious and Azauk pondered the ways he could feast on their delicious, warm arterial fluids._

*Azauk, not now* Zarapheth growled to his other half. For all the things that the daemon granted him, his constant urge to feed was a rather annoying trait, Zarapheth had come to find. *We need to decide what is to be done about this Modeus. He promises a lot.*

_*But what proof do we have that he can deliver on his promises?* Azauk questioned the other. *We can't throw our allegiances on the basis of a mortal's words* Azauk found the notion of him defending being loyal amusing. In truth, it wasn't the idea of being loyal had was protecting, but he knew that if they chose wrong, it could mean the death of the other, which would mean he would be consigned to the warp again until he could be summoned and that could be some time._

*Vilhaus is dead* Zarapheth informed the daemon he shared his flesh with, knowing that he had been slumbering when Modeus had delivered his show of power.

_*One of the commanders?* Azauk pried the other. He dug into the other's memories and saw the commander's head burst like a ripe fruit. *So he has a measure of power then.*_

*Clearly* Zarapheth concurred. *We could always fight for both sides*

_Azauk let an inquisitiveness flow between them, urging the other to go on._

*If we run into the fray, as you would no doubt wish...* Zarapheth continued *...and killed anyone and everyone we came across. Then, regardless of who wins this feud, we can claim we were fighting for them. Once the melee starts...*

_*...and it will. We both know that.* Azauk chimed in._

*Yes* Zarapheth agreed. *Once the melee starts, foe will be indistinguishable from friend. So if anyone claims we fought for the other, we simple say that we were killing defectors, thus cementing our loyalty. It's not like they will be able to ask our victims who's side they were on. Thus, we endure and the word of Lorgar and Chaos can continue to be spread* Zarapheth grinned at the ingenuity of his plan...

_...and Azauk grinned with the other. Even after millennia as one flesh, the other surprised him sometimes with his cunning. Yes, they would fight for both sides, and Azauk would feast on the flesh and blood of their foes. He could almost taste the fine beverage of crimson man-juice flowing between his teeth._

*Come Azauk, we must prepare for tomorrow's events. Training is in order* The other consented and he could feel the daemon drawing itself back into a slumber. Boney protrusions slid back into place and his flesh returned to it's native state. As his tail shortened and was drawn back into the base of his spine, Zarapheth uncoiled it and began his decent. As his flesh and armour changed back, he rotated in the air so that his feet were below him. 

A cultist was crushed with a sickly crunch as Zarapheth landed on-top of him. The daemon smelt the blood and begged to drink it. Zarapheth consented, and the tail shot out briefly into cultist's body, draining it of fluid. The other seemed satisfied and withdrew fully to slumber once more. Zarapheth noticed that the one conducting the ritual had been an Apostle of his legion, and that he was now leaving the temple of the Undivided. Zarapheth jogged after him until he was level with him. "Hail Chaplain!" He said as he approached. "How goes the spreading of the word?" After the Apostle responded, Zarapheth asked him " It appears we have time to kill. Will you give us a bout in the cages?"...


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## Lanterns & Torches

There was a soft wind blowing against his face as he sat, cross-legged, in the centre of one of the many courtyards of the maze that was the Tzeentch's followers' section of the fortresss. His wings were furled up against the back of his armour, the demonic scales a glinting shade of grey in the light. His force halberd lay flat on the ground to his right in a perfectly parallel angle to his body, the same with his bolt pistol on the ground to his left. 

His mind was awhirl with commotion as he peered down the myriad skeins of his future, trying to divine each possible outcome of each possible choice he would have to make very soon. He was undoubtedly still a newcomer in both Lord's eyes, but perhaps more-so in Garrond's since there had been so many exceptional warriors under his command before Cassian had even arrived. As it was, siding with Modeus would ensure instant recognition from the Lord so long as he proved right from the start how useful an ally he should be considered. However, during his sort time at this Lord Garrond's fortress, he had heard whisperings and rumours, some the owner's did not want anyone to hear from inside their heads, about the martial prowess of Lord Garrond, and so should he side with Modeus the battle ahead could be tough indeed. Cassian scoffed even as the thought crossed his mind; he had been through much worse and survived, and he would do so here, even were Modeus' forces to lose. He would find a way to live, there was always a way...

He was interrupted from his divining when the sound of soft footsteps nearby warned him of a cultist's presence. His eyes snapped open, his head swivelling to the left as he regarded the pathetic human hobbling along the cobblestone path, and he smiled. Not because he was feeling particularly sadistic or blood-thirsty, but because he could now seek guidance from the Lord of Change by using the cultist as a medium. He blinked, and was hurled through the warp to smash back into reality not half a foot in front of the cultist, who fell backwards in fright as he regarded the massive sorcerer. Leaning down to wrap a gargantuan hand around the grovelling cultist's scrawny throat, he lifted the man up effortlessly with one arm and walked back towards his previous position. 

In one swift, fluid movement, he broke the cultist's spine upon his knee, and dropped the now-screaming man directly in front of his sitting position, which he re-took quickly amidst his weapons. Facing the man, whose spine had been snapped perfectly so as to leave him alive, but immobilized, Cassian closed his eyes and began tapping into his powers as he murmured below his breath in a barely-audible whisper. 

Though Cassian's eyes were closed, he could see through the warp as the cultist began to mutate, change, form and deform in a twisting, writhing mass of flesh. He continued manipulating the slave as he sought out his God, and the knowledge the great being held.


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## Rems

Uhra sat in silence in his arming chamber slowly and methodically stripping, cleaning then reassembling his boltgun, pale hands tracing along runes and kill markings. The lights were out and he was bathed in darkness, shielded by inky blackness. His mind wandered as his hands moved of their own accord, arming rituals unchanged for ten thousand years. The simple, repetitive actions of maintenance calmed him as he pondered the day's events. For Modeus to have engineered Vilhaus' death in his own fortress spoke a great deal of his influence and cunning. It would be wise not to have a foe such as him. But would it be wise to have him as an ally instead?

Finished with his bolter he unsheathed his gladius, the two foot blade sliding free with a metallic rasp. The Night Lord took up a whetsone as he began to hone its edge, still assessing, analysing the variables of obedience or disloyalty. He cared not for Garrond or any supposed bonds of loyalty. With Garrond he had a place in the ranks, he was supplied and housed. But that was all he could hope to have serving Garrond, the man had his own favourites and lieutenants. So the question is whether that was enough? 

Placing the gladius to one side he ran final checks on his warsuit, testing nerve interfaces and plugin hardpoints. A motley accumulation of half a dozen armour marks, it was temperamental and required regular attention. Satisfied for now he held his corvus pattern helm is his hands, a bone white skull staring back at him. Lifting it he slid his head into the helm, amber retinal displays blinking into life as his armour's machine spirit awoke. 

Was it better to reign in hell or serve in heaven he had once been asked. The question had been put to him by his captain at the outset of the heresy, an old Nostramun expression popular with the ganger lords. He knew the answer then and knew now, power and strength were what mattered in this life and Modeus certainly offered both. Uhra locked his gauntlets into place, sheathed his gladius at his greave and mag clamped his bolter to his thigh; he had chosen.


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## deathbringer

The voice.... the thunderous rumble of words, words that had meaning which escaped his bewildered ears, that growling rasp that instilled menace into fluttering hearts.

Yet not many remembered it, not many had watched the speakers lips move as the voice surrounded them, enveloped them in words of glory and power. 
So few of them had diced with the man that had become their devil.

"No one is safe"

Fear flooded the crowd, a strong scent of terror arising as head after head flicked in a massive wave as the words hit them, the figure they all stared towards, had a fraction of a section to stare at himself in stunned bewilderment.

A crack and a body was slumping upon the pedastal, a single round, Ferrore saw it, has sensors tracked it, analysis of the type and caliber flooding through his circuits to store in his data banks as his right eye slowed and replayed it, twisting his head backwards to the point of origin. 

An empty space, a vacant gap where a warrior should be, where a smoking rifle butt should lie.

A snarl touched Ferrore's lips, contorted by sudden fear as flashes erupted in their midst, figures emerging with sharp earsplitting cracks like bone splintering. The whir of autocannons causing a cacophony of eerie high pitched screams and the crash of armour hitting the ground, the scrape of bolters being drawn as individuals turned to fire back.

A second flash and they were gone, figures prone, already rising, yet so many did not.

He whipped around

"Status report?"

Relays came in as squad after squad answered, surprise and shock in awestruck voices.

"Untouched, not a fucking round, nothing even near us"

Ferrore give a little snarl of binary, curses flowing in a fluid melee of zeroes and ones that made a couple of the techmarines at his side give the tiniest of chuckles.

There was silence, tense tranquility as heart rates returned to normal, weapons resheathed and voices began to echo the question that ran throughout his ranks, eyes fixed upon the bodies that remained still unmoving never to rise, so close, yet so far

"Why not us?"
"Why them?"

"Because i know the bastard..." hissed Ferrore, half to himself, half to the word at large "He'll want to finish me personally. Be vigilant brothers. Trust no one. The holiday's over gentleman, this is going to be a shit storm"

---------------------------------------------------------

He worked upon an optical servo has hands loosening a microscrew to intensify the dreadnaught's night vision, and reduce the intensity of day light streaming to his brain.

Brother Drakhar preferred the dark, longed for the world to be dull dim and lifeless, the pleasure of his limited senses denied and distorted, grim bastard.

"No one is safe" mocked the alpha legion dreadnaught "very impressive"

"There is something different, a hardness i never knew before. He will come for me"

Crackling laughter resounded through the ancients vox unit

"What makes you so special?"

Ferrore straightened, irritation bubbling at the mocking condescension, yet his words never came, the start of his retort cut off buy a sudden loud crack. Peripheral senses flared a light bedazzled and blinded them a surging overload of data causing Ferrore to howl as sparks flared in his processors and Drakhar gave a cry of alarm.

The great power fist, devoid of its crackling field of energy descended from nowhere, a suprisingly gentle blow to his head that still sent Ferrore thudding to the ground and he sprawled twisiting his body as he heard, the booming crack of the great autocannon as the dreadnaught bellowed in blistering rage, a searing wrath electrifying the room.

Yet even as they stared at the three figures materialised in there midst a barrier of calm against the blistering rage and anxiety flaring in an emotional wave from the techmarine and his charge, the centre figure raised an empty palm and backhanded the round, to lodge a smoking hole in the wall.

Across the room they faced eachother,Ferrore scrambling to his feet powersword and chainsword sliding from his back to cross in front of him as he took in the shere mass before him.

Two terminators clad in shimmering silver, powerfists deactivated, greater reaper autocannons aimed ponderously towards him, helmets a bare grimace of anticipation, they stood ready braced and aimed to unleash mass destruction on marine and machine before them.

Yet the centre figure drew the eye, like a nebula he drew all towards him, the shere immensity of his presence, a head taller than the terminators he seemd to dwarf the room, a long lightening claw raised ponderously upon a tremendous arm. In the distance, so close yet so far darkness and light battled behind him, sorcerous energy rippling from the air to crackle in ripples of blue and green lightening along gauntleted finger tips.

Taints of fear seized his limbs, froze them solid, as he stared upon the figure, the menace before him, death reflecting in every finger of the claw, so nonchelant, yet so potent.

Yet he would not go cheaply, a gentle growl hummed from his throat, a wolf ready to strike as he thumbed the activation runes, the chainsword whirring to life, the powerswords activation field crackling as the dreadnaughts power fist crackled to life, lightening flaring across its smooth surface.

The central figures hand moved to his side and the blade at his hip snapped into his fingers, glistening a translucent silver as he raised it high.

Recognition

A familiar blade, a blade he had touched, a blade he had worked on and repaired and the name that had dominated the last two hours crossed his own lips, an awestruck gasp hissing across the chasm of crossed blades.

"Modeus"

Curiosity burned, seered at him, his doubts resurfacing, was he to die tonight, should he not be dead already. His assurances were growing, the lack of action, he should be slumped, headless, his corpse oozing the last of his vitura, but why would he be allowed to live, why would he be granted the honour?

The sword slid back into its sheeth and a hand rose to the helm clamped upon the terminator armour, allowing it to fall to the floor to reveal. A face familiar yet unfamiliar, 

"Hello Ferrore"

Words of ice mirrored eyes of deadly steel, shards of ice surrounding portals to the immaterium, madness and wisdom rippled within their infintie depths

His blades raised, he would fight, fight the war he could not win

"So it has come to this?" spat Ferrore. A question lancing across the gap, a spur to action, to end it soon.

A wry smile spread over tight thin lips as the Lord's head tilted slightly to the left, eyes softening with wry amusement, raven locks shifting as he pondered the question.

"Come to what Ferrore? You believe I have come to kill you? You khorne worshipers are insane but your not stupid".

Ferrore ignored the jibe, retorting,pushing for clarity though relief flooded his soul, the racing hearts, slowing as calm settled, uneasy, untrusting, yet his life seemed safe, or was it a lure, a decoy, something to make him lower his weapons.

His voice was fervent, quick and feverish laced with distaste, images of what he saw upon the parade ground heavy on his thoughts

"Murder has been done today, blood spilt on a planet where blood has stained the soil for millenia. Why not Modeus, my numbers are many, why would you not kill me?"

The answer as quick, in a voice filled with certainty an answer mirrored by the lowering of a claw, matched by the descent of the terminators autocannons.
"Because it is your numbers that I am here for, that and your loyalty"

Across the chasm power fields ceased there shimmering, blades sliding back into sheathes, yet the guns remained pointed, a wary precaution against the sorcery they faced, the plasma gun on ferrore's shoulder lingered upon the left, the autocannon barrel, twirled slowly as it lingered on the right. 


Now the first move of peace was made and Ferrore's back foot tensed as Modeus stepped a move made to bridge the cleft between them, his eyes flitting over the dreadnaughts chasis, pondering, brow furrowed before his eyes fixed, focused upon Ferrore.

They bored into him and he blanched, forcing himself back, to look at the lips moving lest he loose himself in the satin covered pools of maddening power.

"I sense you have questions, many questions"

Anger and resentment flared inside him. The lack of trust, an issue smeared over by activity but now rubbed raw by proximity, by the exposure to lies and deceit.

"Many indeed, the sorceror Nerrak looked into the warp, to find trace of you, did he lie? Has he known of your survival for so long, has the tzeentchian wretch played me for a fool?"

Pain open pain, the lack of faith, had he lacked a vital quality, had he failed in some way?

Anguish turned to anger, rage bubbling over into half snarled rantings

"Why, why abandon us? Why do you return now to cause havoc and chaos, when you have no right you surrendered the war band upon leaving? What right do you have to reclaim it?

Even as Ferrore raged Modeus opposed him, matched his anger in clarity and certainty, his voice assured, rumbling with the trembling menace of a thousand souls, true belief surging through his words.

"Because it was the will of the gods Ferrore, things are set in motion that were planned long before the downfall of my chapter. It is only now that i realize that and intent to turn this to my advantage. As for your question about the Sorcerer...Yes Nerr'ak knew all this long that i was still alive. I have been busy being tutored by the greatest of the gods champions. You have only been played as a fool because that what happens to the followers of the other gods. The Great Changers followers are always five steps ahead of everyone else that is why i sought him out first. Do you understand?"

The rage maintained bubbled beneath the surface and he snapped back

"You know why i swore to the lord of skulls, you know he appeared to me when all was lost, offered me hope, the flame to fight on when my mortal flesh seared. You know i long to be rid of the rage and torment he inflicts upon me. So you have sworn to the lord of change, sorcery and corruption riddles your bones?"

Disgust rippled through him and he turned to the dreadnaught, mind certain, neck braced for the stroke was sure would fall upon his open neck

"Then we will meet upon the field of battle modeus, the changer protect you"

Yet a hand turned him round, face to face his demeanour implored to him, eyes widening as he met the techmarines gaze, a cry for understanding through all the wisdom

"I have not sworn myself fully to a single gods service Ferrore, I have sworn my service to them all. Do you think Abbadon got to where he is now with the help of a single god? Do you think that Huron got to where he is without the aid of the four gods?"

A pause, such arrogance to compare himself with such lofty names

"You know that the Lord of Skulls does not offer hope, only death to his servents. Only Blood, War and Death. Hope falls into the domain of Tzeentch as does ambition, change, mutation. It has been send many times before all things fuel the Great Changer but that is beside the point. What would you say if i told you i can rid you of Khornes Rage?"

He stopped, shell shocked, rage dissapating at the statement beyond his dreams. He spluttered, eyes wide yet scepticism hit the hope like a river, and he scoffed at the certainty that lingered in those eyes.

Those eyes

Such wisdom, terrible wisdom, the wisdom of one that knows the fate of the world, that knows the deepest secrets of the earth...yet such arrogance accompanied it, a crippling floor... to believe a mortal could challenge a god

"You have grown wise modeus, your eyes ripple with knowledge that I would fear to see, the changer has indeed morphed you in ways i see yet cannot comprehend. Yet even your are a fool to believe you can rid me of a god of Chaos, his talons are buried firmly with my soul, no mortal could remove them"

A slight chuckle that made Ferrore's head tilt as he stared deep at Modeus's expression

"It is a good thing i have allies that are not mortal. Isn't that correct Zartharon." 

A hand placed upon his armour, a single touch stirred something within his shoulder, another presence within him, tendrils of thought reaching out, surging towards his soul and he reached for his blades a snarl of outrage upon his lips as the spears of thought closed, growing in size and potency.

What have you done to me.... foul deceiver, what stirs within my mind?"

He went for his blades, hands reaching over his back yet his wrists were caught in a vice like grip pinned against metal and the dreadnaught roared in rage, sparks of lightneing flaring as the great powerfist crackled with lightening.

The spears grew surrounding the web tightening and he screamed as wires short circuited, cognitive processors failed and he looked up into the burning gaze of Modeus as curse streamed from his voxponder. The dreadnaught's power fist raised, yet with eyes of flame Modeus snarled hissed words that froze the ancient where he stood

"Make a move ancient of the hydra, and i shall tear off your limbs and return you to a pile of scrap who can only rage at his uselessness for another ten thousand years"

Now the eyes turned upon him even as he contorted before him, pinned between to behemoths, the second spirit within him tightening its grip, spears of thought circling his soul, sharks waiting, hunting the kill.

"Ferrore do you recall your battle against the bloodletter of khorne several days ago? With the blade that you wielded and broke during the battle?"

The daemon, realisation met with silvery words

"Its been awhile my gracious host"

The spears pierced his consciousness and he dropped, seisures rippling along his muscles as a snarling call for surrender burst into his mind

"Your body and soul is mine, surrender to my will"

Fires burned in ferrore's mind, the strip of flesh upon his pectoral searing with the heat of a thousand sons as bionic limbs struck the floor, his back arching like a grotesque metallic crustaceon

"Never daemon spawn"
Convinction, stubborn resiliance saw him through the agony, the spears unlatching, but they seiged again, sensing weakness, battling for control, his heart seized stopped restarted and beat frantically as he struggled for control, struggled to hold his strength, retake his systems one by one, neuron by neuron, implant by implant.

"Your failure is innevitable, you are weak"

Conviction, an idea, a base to attack from, mentally he shot back

"Yet i bested you, i smashed your blade, broke your back, you have hid from me, cowered from me"

Spears of his own thought leapt our and the daemon recoiled, snarling, howling as they pierced his conscience dousing flames, clashing with the spears that circled his mind in flashes of brilliant light.

"Cower again fiend"

Then the presence was gone and Ferrore was slumped on his knees, hearts racing, oil leaking from his bionic eyes.

Yet even as he shock, limb weak, head limp he gasped fervent terrified words

"what madness possesses me? what is its purpose?

Modues looked down upon him, understanding written across his features, so wise yet so young.

"The purpose is simple. To strengthen your mind against those that wish to invade and take over it. Like we wee both trained during our time as loyalists to resist the temptations of chaos, now you must further that training to resist the power of daemons and the gods. Do you understand me?"

He gave a week nod as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, drained, emotional he staggered legs giving way to send him hands flat against the cool surface of the dreadnaughts chassis

Yet no respite, Modeus's voice continued

"It is now time to move to the main reason I am here tech-marine. I am here for your troops.more importantly your dreadnoughts and tanks as while i have many marines and cultists at my command i require more heavy support if i am to fully take control of this warband again. Now will pledge your loyalty to me once again or will i have to get Zartharon to give you another lesson so soon?"

Anger flared and he fought back, rage giving him strength to stand and face Modeus, look up into his gaze and meet him stare for stare, inch for inch.

"You threaten me Modeus? You may be strong yet I am stubborn and I will not yield my forces to your mental torture. I never swore to you, I came to you as an equal, joined you as an equal, reserved the right to leave your service as equals. Ask me to join you as you once did, as equals, as brothers"

A slight smile, perhaps admiration as he looked down upon the techmarine that stood toe to toe with him, undefeated, uncowed, unyielding.

“Even though we have both fallen from our chapters into chaos it appears both of us still retain our pride. Very well Ferrore. Will you join me and help me conquer in the name of the gods as my equal? Or will you decline and remain the servant of the Tech-Commander and Lord Garrond? Should you join me then i assume you that once i catch Nerr'ak i'll allow you to take your vengence on him for having played you as a fool"


Cool words met cool words and ferrore raised his hand

"Without our pride we are nothing but cowards bending to fools, and my back stiffens with age. I will join you, my tanks are at your service, my blades too. I will fight at your left hand side as your strom the fortress and I will die at your left hand side if we should falter in our attempt."

Yet hesitiation his eyes turning to brother Drakhar, the dreadnaught that watched silently and the techmarine turned upon him with low words of caution.

" I commit treason here brother, against lord garrond, yet I do so willingly. If you are to stand with Garrond I bear you no ill will my ancient brother.

His fingers gently carressed the armour plates, forged with his own blood and sweat.

"I will repair you as i ought and i will stand against you in battle with sorrow in my heart."

A slight pause, hesitation, daring to hope for allegiance.
"Where do you stand brother Drakhar"

The dreadnaughts voice rumbled, a low growl, ponderous he considered the situation his words for ferrore, not modeus

"You have fixed me, treated me as a friend, cared for my every whim. I will stand with you little brother. I will be at your side."
Hands shock firm grips, a pack sealed without blood shed, the root of betrayal set deep within the legion.

Yet now they seperated, Modeus returning helm to head as he turned with parting words

"Now Ferrore i have much to prepare for the assault on this fortress as I also can't stay long as one of the Sons of the Cyclops calls this fortress home and it is possible he might sense my presence. I shall contact you again before the siege at which point you must gather your forces in one place so that I can move them out of the fortress as attacking it from within will prove deadly to you as you would be attacked from all sides."

The slightest pause as there gazes locked once more, the bond of brotherhood strong between them

"Until we draw blades together, farwell Ferrore" 

A blinding flash and a crack and there were only two in the room once more.

Silence strung between them, long and hanging, the hefty burden of their deal heavy upon there shoulders.

After minutes sat in silence Ferrore stood and moved towards the door, the voice of brother Drakhar halting him at the exit

"Where do you wander, brother"

Ferrore let out a little snarl the fingers of his left hand flexing, curling into a fist

"To punch a sorceror in the face"

For the first time, 3 sets of laughter split the room.
________________________________________________________
(OOC: this action has been approved by Reavan)

He called the sorceror that had played him to meet in the gardens, secluded alone, their issue not for the ears of the overlistener.

Yet Nerrak came, so much to discuss, so many things to say, yet Ferrore had one on his mind, the restless movement of his left fist a testement to his actions.

The sorceror approached and techmarine beckoned him close
"I have met Modeus, he appeared before me. Yet I have a message for you..."

The sorcerors gaze met his own, curiosity burning even as he unleashed a savage right hook onto the bridge of Nerrak's bony nose

"Play me for a fool again and I will rend your limbs from your puny body, sorceror"


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

(*A/N:* _I swear I posted an update before... ah well, time for attempt number two:_)

So, this Modeus thought he could take down Lord Garrond, could he? Well, in 48 Hours, Dantion would have his mind made up, and either be turning against Garrond, or remaining loyal to his cause.

"Iron Warriors, spread out," he called to his fellow brothers. In the present, they were using an ancient pre-heresy simulation tool that incredibly still worked, and they were using it to invade a fortress against their rivals in the loyalist legion, the Imperial Fists. Several Devestator blasts rang over the heads of the traitors, targeting and destroying a renegade Predator.

Nevertheless, that was what the Warsmith had intended. The Predator and the other two that accompanied it, in a spearhead formation, were being used as bait. He laughed, earning a few looks from the fellow Iron Warriors, at the fact that they had the manpower, or rather - armour-power, to waste a trio of Predators. Luckily, in a real fight - he would have used hordes of cutilists to attract the Imperial Fists attentions, but Dantion had a plan.

There were three loud sounds on the left, informing The Warsmith that the Vindicators had struck. The cries of surprise from the Imperial Fists on the inside of the fortress informed him that the plan had worked.

They were in. "Iron Warriors! Forward!" bellowed Dantion, lifting his Power-Fist above the trench-line and his power-armoured body and Combi-Melta out afterwards, closely followed by the rest of his brothers - as they ran towards the now-destroyed gate, which the Vindicators had already entered, with all the fury that one cursed by Khorne would boast. 

"For the Emperor!" 

A hated cry came up from the Imperial Fists battle-lines, when Dantion heard his vox-link crackle into life. "This is Sergeant Rayon to Warsmith Dantion, Sergeant Rayon to Warsmith Dantion."

"Try not to interrupt me in the middle of a simulation, Rayon. Next time I'll have to kill you. Speak quickly."

"Sorry, my Lord," responded Rayon. "I was just wondering about the choice between Modeus and Garrond... wherever you go, your warriors will follow you. Unless, you join Modeus - then I can think of one who we will have to deal with."

"Who would that be?" Dantion barked, even though he knew the answer.

"The bastard Eras."

"Right," nodded Dantion. "If I decide to join Modeus, you may execute Eras."

"Yes my Lord," Rayon responded. "And on that note, I'd rather if you did join Modeus."

"You will be the first to know, Rayon," Dantion responded with a frown, looking up at the simulation as a Combat-Squad of Imperial Fists Terminators had just teleported in front of the gate. "Dantion Out."

He cut the link, and smiled - watching as a trio of Obliterators fazed into view, between the Warsmith's forces and the Terminators. "For Dorn!" he heard the Sergeant shout.

This Simulation just became interesting.


----------



## komanko

OOC: The last part was done quickly because I only saw it now 

By Tzeentch! Damn Modeus’s soul to the warp! Nerr’ak was completely unprepared for his appearance at Garrond’s speech, years have passed since the last time Nerr’ak was caught off guard and now… Closing his sunken eyes he could see the memory of the terminator holding a storm bolter to his head, he could see the magnificent silver armour shining in the light. It reeked of evil and antiquity and so did the bolter.

Nerr’ak shuddered; he knew fear at that moment. He still remembered how he nearly panicked and threw on a psychic shield. He was lucky, if Modeus wanted him dead at that moment he would’ve been, he knew that he survived because of Modeus’s will alone and this made him nervous.

As they appeared the terminators were gone. After that all hell broke loose. Cultists panicked and scattered like insects escaping a deadly fire. Marines and their superiors took up arms and began running around looking for any clues of the whereabouts of the interlopers. Nerr’k knew that it was of no use, he knew that they would find nothing… Modeus had the help of daemons and gods unlike Garrond…

Nervously Nerr’ak paced around his quarters, he walked in a small circle, and he was never as alarmed as he was now. His daemonic mount lay in the room’s corner. It was sitting still waiting for Nerr’ak’s command, its magnificent colorful bands and feathers flying behind it like touched by an invisible wind. The beauty of daemons… Something only a few can appreciate.

Until now everything was quite, the two last days of the tournament passed quickly. The first of those was the last for Nerr’ak. He fought against a marine of some unknown chapter. Nerr’ak quickly annihilated him and was left wandering on how he even got to the final battles. Not that it mattered, after the battle Nerr’ak was finally blessed by Tzeentch in recognition of his value.

With the blessing of Tzeentch he saw the world much more clearly now, he could see in dimensions that no normal human being could. He could see beneath the armour and skin of marines and cultists alike. He could sense and feel their heart beating, he could see the tremors that it caused when it beat, he could see the blood pumping from it… He could tear it out!

He clenched his fists, his bionic arm responded its claw like fingertips closing instantly at the whim of his will. It was a nice addition, though he preferred his own flesh… The bionic arm did serve its purpose, it gave him even more strength, strength that couldn’t have been achieved even with his enhanced muscles, apparently bionics did have their use.

Outside of his quarters he could hear patrols passing around. The whole fortress was in alert, he could easily tell that as Garrond called for all his commanders to gather, of course only the high commanders and not all the commanders and their underlings.

This waiting was maddening for Nerr’ak. He felt that he was being watched and not necessarily by a corporeal watcher. He felt the eye of the warp upon him, he knew that someone was spying on him and he could not afford to look tense as a result.

He stopped and took slow heavy breaths, in his mind he chanted prayers to Tzeentch and recalled forbidden lore. Slowly he was calming down. He stepped out of the room, he had to take a walk around, he had to bring his mind to serenity. He decided to leave the mount inside the room, he had no intention to meditate and he was too nervous to just float around.

As he went out of the room he spotted a lonely cultist likewise, the cultist spotted him and understood his intention. It seemed that cultists had a sixth sense for knowing when they are going to die. Nerr’ak smiled a cold evil smile and stepped forward towards the frightened cultist which was hopelessly stumbling backwards. The cultist knew he could not escape, he knew that if Nerr’ak wanted he would pass the room in between them in several long strides.

Too late, Nerr’ak was already upon the cultist, he grabbed him by the throat, his flesh made hand choking the life out of his victim. He closed his eyes and opened his inner eye, the third one, the eye of Tzeentch. It was a horrible sight for the cultist who squirmed and tried to escape as terror grasped him. Through the eye Nerr’ak could see his heart pumping adrenaline into his body; he could see how the cultist was trying to escape and how air simply stopped reaching his lungs.

Nerr’ak dropped the cultist down; the sprawled man immediately began breathing in air trying to take as much as possible inside. He was surprised as Nerr’ak was by his own actions. Better not waste the cannon fodder Nerr’ak thought to himself and walked away.

He passed by another cultist who idiotically bumped into Nerr’ak’s armoured form. Before the cultist realized what happened to him Nerr’ak tore out his jaw and threw it away. It all happened so quick that the cultist’s mind did not even register what happened. After another millisecond Nerr’ak’s bionic arm tore through the man’s chest and pulled the heart out. He discarded the object and smashed it with armoured boot, splattering it against the floor. The cultist died instantly after that and Nerr’ak walked away.

His thoughts wandered back to Modeus, it was all too possible that he would find himself back at Modeus’s side, of course that would be so only if he received an incentive. He would have to see who is going to survive, Modeus or Garrond, though if his vision was a true one Garrond stood no chance against the blessed Modeus.

It was such a terrible question and he could not find the answer to it. He knew that he had no reason to stay with Garrond who treated him like a regular soldier although he proved his worth in the tournament more than any of the higher ranking superiors. It was an insult to him and his abilities to stay with Garrond.

On the other hand, he knew not the forces of Modeus, he was not aware of the scale of his troops. If he joined Modeus it was all too possible that he would find death by the hand of Garrond or his minions something which he did not like.

Though the chances seemed slim Modeus never failed before, he promised that he would return and he did so, he said that they would be able to defeat the lord who ruled over their first base and they succeeded. It seemed that Modeus was one to keep his promises something which alarmed Nerr’ak extremely. Yet the decision was made.

He would help Modeus… If there will be a reward for him in that.

His troops were still stowed in the mountain fort waiting for his orders. In two days the managed to fortify the ancient castle in a reasonable way. It was a shame that he did not have any Iron Warriors with his troops, they could’ve done wonders. 

A thought occurred to Nerr’ak. If he decided to go with Modeus it was all too possible that in the process the entire fortress would e destroyed. Nerr’ak could not allow it. The thought of the vast library which Garrond and his troops gathered being destroyed sent feelings of sorrow to his mind. He cared more for those books, tomes and scrolls than he did for his own men. He would have to find a way to preserve them. Hopefully it would involve stealing the books.

Knowing that his destiny was chosen and that his soul was protected by Tzeentch Nerr’ak walked towards the library, he was prepared to find a way to hide those valuable tomes. The ceramite boots of his Mark V suit struck against the ground and created a thumping sound. His face was a stone cold mask as he moved ever closer to his goal.

Nerr’ak stopped; an all too familiar presence caught his attention. It was… No, no! He could not be inside! Moments later the menacing presence disappeared like it was never there. For anyone not familiar with that presence it might have never really been there but Nerr’ak knew he was not imagining. 

Modeus was inside the fort.

The sense of panic that plagued his mind earlier returned redoubled. He stood frozen in place not knowing what his fate would be. Will this be the end of Nerr’ak? He did not know yet he decided to go with his head up. He unsheathed his force sword which he knew will do little to one so blessed by the gods, he walked on yet once again he was interrupted this time from an unexpected place.

A vox transmission. The tech marine, Ferrore wished to meet.

Fine. It will keep his mind off from Modeus. He sent his acknowledgement and turned around, changing direction and walking to the gardens where the old warband met just a day or two ago to discuss Modeus. The transmission was strange; it seemed that Ferrore wished to speak with him alone, away from prying ears. This was suspicious yet arrogantly Nerr’ak ignored it… What can a servant of Khorne plan for a sorcerer of Tzeentch! 

The form of the hooded techmarine stood in front of him. The gardens surrounded them like a forest, blurring any sound that came from the outside, blocking the lights and leaving them in a light darkness. Nerr’ak could feel that something was wrong; he knew that, he could sense the stench of Modeus upon the tech marine, did the meet? Nerr’ak was curious and nervous.

The dark red eyes of Ferroe glimmered in the shadow that his hood cast, his bionic appendages seemed heavy and broken, it was not a reassuring sight. Did Modues attack him? It was unlike a tech marine to leave his body unattended. Still Nerr’ak approached protected by his shroud of ignorance, not even noticing the twitching in the marine’s left fist.

Once Nerr’ak was an arm length away the marine spoke, he said that he met Modeus something which took the breath out of Nerr’ak’s lungs. Fear froze every limb in his body. He was right, the lord was here. Yet Ferrore did not stop there. He said that the lord had a message for Nerr’ak, a message? Suspicious. Yet his ignorance continued guiding him forward as he neared the tech marine even more.

Nerr’ak waited impatiently for Ferrore to speak. A low voice came out of the techmarine, it seemed that he was saying vengeance. Vengeance? It did not make any sense; Nerr’ak never caused Modeus any…

His thoughts were torn asunder as a mighty bionic fist smashed into his face and sent him reeling back. Sparks of pain transmitted into his brain. He clenched his broken nose, a howl of pain escaping his lips. The thought seared into his mind. Ferrore’s vengeance!

Blood flowed from a cut in his lip, he reeled back his mighty suit of power armour the only thing which kept him standing on his legs. Ferrore spoke threatening Nerr’ak to never play him as a fool again. Surprisingly Nerr’ak smiled, “*I do not need to use you as a doll like I did before!*” He said, his tongue tasting his own metallic blood. “*You are already used as a marionette by dear Modeus*.” He said and busted in maniacal laughter. 

It was clear; Modeus was offering them a reward that they sought after. Each will get his reward and Modeus will have no need to pay. Ferrore already got his; he got his vengeance and now was sworn to Modeus. Hatred and rage filled his mind as he snapped his nose back to place with sheer strength not even flinching at the pain. He wanted to tear the tech marine asunder… That was the work of Khorne scum, he wont taint his hands with the doings of the lord of skulls.

“*One day will come and I shall rend your soul from your body and present it to Tzeentch. You are but a pawn in the grand scheme Ferrore and no amount of vengeance will ever change that!*” He said as under wave of maniacal laughter rose from him.

He wiped the blood from his face with his hand; he turned around his long hair swirling behind him. His time will come… He sheathed his sword back, the pawns time will come, it always does… He walked away from the cursed garden vowing to present the foolish tech marine as a sacrifice to the mutator one day. His body will twist and writh as Tzeentch will bless him with the greatest of all curses. He growled one last time and strode away, leaving Ferrore alone, pleased by his actions.

Modeus will be coming for him now and he was eager to hear his proposal.


----------



## Yru0

Arcus stormed down the halls of the mighty fortress, his mind a whirl of confusion and deep thought, as was no doubt the vast majority of those fighting in Lord Garrond's warband, the recent events had usurped the rigid and tightly controlled regimental structure of the leadership and reign that Lord Garrond held over his Chaos followers, one based upon the promise of blood, war and conquest, yet this Modeus promised the same, and offered so much more, the skill, ferocity and tenacity of the attack which he had staged upon the unsuspecting warriors was evidence enough of his power, no sane mane would humiliate a Chaos Lord in such a way, yet Astartes were not famed for following Mad Men, save if those mad men were very powerful indeed. Turning the corner, Arcus heard cries of agony and suffering, manic laughter permeating from the source of the pain and the futile pleas for mercy, an Astartes, a Khorne worshipper no less, was laying waste to a number of cultists, their butchered remains desecrating the floor and their mangled bodies pleading for aid from the Apothecary. Arcus looked on at them in contempt, such lesser beings were next to worthless, their flimsy bodies and fragile minds all to easily twisted and tormented at the whims of their genetically altered brethren, yet they were not without their use, they were uncountable in number and for every bullet that struck one down was one lest threat to the mighty Astartes who fought the Great War on the hated enemy. Arcus ignored the cries of dismay and grimaced at his 'brother' in his blood rage fueled frenzy of murder, such barbaric acts were not what the Power of Chaos needed, such pointless worship only had its place once there was no more foes whose blood there was to spill. Feeling a hand grip his ankle, Arcus looked down cooly to see a dismembered body, and fearful eyes, the cultist had been cut through the torso, a diagonal slash that had signed his death warrant, the fact that he had survived so long after the blow was a sign that he was favoured by the gods, and therefore worthy of his attention and duty of office, "Find peace in the dark lords' kingdoms." stated the Apothecary casually, before an iron-clad boot crushed the mind of small man, silencing his whimpers. The slaughter around him only reinforced the urgent attention that the dilenma he faced deserved, such rampant butcher, although commonplace amongst the warband, was generally kept in check by the logical minds that still ruled most turned Astartes', yet the bezerking rage of the Khorne follower proved that Arcus was not the only one considering the ultimatum. It was as Arcus stalked away from the bloodshed that he made his decision, such infighting was pointless when the enemy still survived, and he had heard many stories of this Modeus, stories of pacts with gods and oaths of vengeance and war, war with those who truly deserved the wrath of the Lords, and it would not be the first time Arcus had taken seemingly unfavourable odds.


----------



## Akatsuki13

Malphas watched the possessed Astartes slaughter the lesser man with minimal interest. Mindless slaughter was the pointless act any warrior could commit. Murder must have purpose or else they’d all be little more than blood-mad savages like those who mindless venerated only the Blood God. That it was a fellow disciple of the Word only served to gull him further. It was men like him that were weakening the Legion as a whole. And it was those weak men that had seen him exiled from the Legion to cover up their failings and power games.

"Hail Chaplain!" the daemon-Astartes called as his body reverted into its normal state. "How goes the spreading of the Word?"

He turned to the warrior, keeping his face neutral. “As well as can be expected with such a weak flock,” he replied. “Most are of weak faith or weak wills, desiring only to kill and gain personal power. I doubt most will survive this little dispute between warlords.”

The former member of the Gal Vorbak merely nodded his head. "It appears we have time to kill. Will you give us a bout in the cages?" he asked.

For moment Malphas studied the warrior carefully. There appeared to be nothing remotely special about him save of course for the daemon within his flesh. But it had been a while since he had last flexed his muscles in any true form of combat and with this petty little feud about to turn into an all out war some practice could be useful. “Very well,” the Apostle answered.


----------



## Midge913

Noxious fumes and posionous smoke filled Urien's chamber as countless cauldrons and beakers bubbled with foul solutions. The cultist laid spread ealge and bound to his examination table moaned in muffled pain as Urien reached through the large inscion in its abdomen. Grasping hold of a handful of slippery intestines Urien pulled them out holding them up infront of his ruined face. Opening his mind to the warp he viewed his most recent creation through his connection with the wonderful powers of Father Nurgle. The parasite was indeed most voracious and the pestilence that it spread through the man's blood most intriguing. It was only through sorcery that the mans heart still beat pushing the infection and parasitic organisms through his body. This concoction would do nicely.... very nicely indeed. Removing the beaker containing his most recent offering to the God of Plague from its holder, Urien carefully poured the solution into a waiting grenade casing, chuckling and humming as he did. From behind him he heard the guttering cough of his "assistant" as the he cut off the power sustaining the cultists life. Spittle frothed from the mans mouth and blood began to pour from his tear ducts. Urien revelled in the sound.... Sending his mind out to experience the mans last breaths in all their profound glory. He chuckled as the man died, another sacrafice to the Lord of Decay.

Yet his experiments did little to take his mind from current events. Vilhaus was dead, not that he held any love or affection for the man, and now other's rushed to fill the power void that his untimely death had left in its wake. Garrond was a cruel and spiteful man, but Urien couldn't help but acknowledge that he held the loyalty of most of the warband. The coming days would prove to be very interesting indeed. He had heard of this Modeus, though he had never met the man, and from all accounts he was a warrior to be reckoned with. This was especially true if the rumors that he had found favor with all of the True Gods proved to be true. There was much power and recognition that could be gained in aligning with a man such as that. Perhaps it was best to wait in the shadows and see who would come out on top. 

"What would you do my young friend," Urien said to the corpse on the exam table. "Which side of the coin would you choose? Hmm?" 

Of course the dead man on the table had already told Urien all that he needed to know. Like the many plagues and gifts of Father Nurgle needed fresh flesh to grow and multiply, so too would Urien need fresh opportunities to grow in strength and influence. He made his choice should he be forced to choose a side and contented with the decision he started to hum to himself again. 

Walking to his lab table he removed a decanter of a particularly vibrant purple liquid from its place over a burner and began to mix it with the remains of the conccotion he had just poured into the grenade now situated on his belt. Foul yellow steam poured fourth from the top of the decanter as the two virulent solutions mixed. A quiet pleased purr escaped his lips as he turned to the cages on the wall behind him. Looking in at the pathetic cultists inside and giving them a large smile, made all the more horrifying by the decay to his face, Urien asked, "who wants to come out an play? Hmm? It should be fun?" He cackled as the cultists scurried around in the cell, like rats trying to escape a trap, amused by their energy. 

"Oh come now, don't be shy little friends, one drink... I insist." Grabbing one of the horrified cultist around the neck with one of his giant hands, he walked him to the exam table, uncermoniously dumped the corpse already there to the floor and cheerily went about securing his new "assistant" to the table. His mind clear, his decision made, all that was left to do was to act when the opportunity presented itself.


----------



## Santaire

“Please don’t kill me,” the cultist whispered. Kalus turned his head towards the whimpering fool. His eyes were completely black for a few seconds and then red flashed through them and the cultist gasped in fear. “Are you afraid of me you pathetic little man?” Kalus snarled. The cultist shrank even lower and nodded silently. “You fear me? You stupid fool, I have seen things that you wouldn’t even be able to dream of and I survived the encounter which is more than you could manage. You think I am terrifying, think again,” Kalus snarled. The cultist began to run away from him. “Pathetic coward,” Kalus bellowed and then everything went red. _You will never learn that I can control you _said the silky voice of Evisser. Kalus stumbled and clutched at his head. “This is my kill daemon, you will have your share later” he snarled. _Of course not, I am enjoying myself too much._ Kalus felt the claws slide out of his knuckles against his will and then everything went black.
________________________________________

Evisser examined the body that he controlled. It was strong and fast but he could make it stronger still. He could feel Kalus beating at the back of his mind but ignored it, focussing on the prey. The cultist was running. So pathetically stupid. Evisser forced the muscles to work, leaping forward into the attack. He was so much faster than Kalus could ever hope to be and he knew it, rejoicing as he flew down the corridor, his feet barely touching the floor. The cultist looked back and saw the visage that stared back at him. He shrieked and ran on but tripped and fell forward. He pushed himself up and ran on, turning to see that Evisser had disappeared. Then he turned his head to look forward.

The stupid cultist ran straight onto Evisser’s claws. His eyes bulged as Evisser sliced his soul to shreds. Imprisoned in the hunk of meat that was Kalus he could not rend souls from a distant he had to plunge his claws into them to do so. When the cultist’s soul was little more than afterthought he tore his claws out, letting the corpse drop to the floor. The cultist had become little more than a dried husk and when it hit the floor it began to dissolve into a pile of dust. Evisser kicked it idly and then felt an intense pressure on his mind. Kalus was fighting back, struggling to regain control of his body. Evisser let him, he had done what he wanted to do.
________________________________________

Sitting down on the bed in his sparsely furnished room Kalus reflected on the death of commander Vilhaus. The warrior had not been a friend of Kalus, no one had been since the Horus Heresy, but he had been respected by the possessed marine which was more than anyone had managed since the Heresy. The commander and Lord Garrond had been the only warriors who seemed worth of his respect until now. There had been warriors in the warband who he treated as equals, the newcomers to the warband foremost among them but they had been the only ones who he deemed greater than him. He felt a certain kinship with his fellow possessed marine Zarapheth the so called ‘Exalted’ but that was merely one daemon harbinger to another.

Now Modeus had arrived. Kalus wondered if his old Lord still remembered him but he doubted it. Modeus probably hadn’t even known he existed. Following Garrond would give him nothing he did not already have but joining Modeus would probably yield results as Modeus granted those who followed him with rewards, rewards that both Kalus and Evisser were eager to reap. Also Modeus was Kalus’ old Lord and had been a greater warrior than Garrond. He decided to think on it. Kalus stood, put on his helmet, and walked out of the door frame of his room. He walked through the corridors, ignoring the cultists who shrank away from him as he passed. News travelled fast and they had doubtless heard of his killing of their fellow but his helmet couldn’t have helped. It was a featureless mask with only 2 eye slits on its surface. He was walking to the courtyard where Vilhaus had died.

As he stood on the bare earth he felt the daemon’s presence at the back of his mind. _What is it came _the voice. “I don’t know, Modeus was my lord but he left and then Garrond took his place and yet now Modeus has returned. I feel torn between duties. Duty to Modeus and duty to Garrond,” Kalus said. _Then fight for both and join the winner_ came the suggestion. Kalus smiled at that but responded with “I fear that I would be discovered doing so and killed for neither Modeus nor Garrond have ever been merciful as far as I know. Both would kill me for betraying them but I suppose Modeus would be the only one to give me gifts. I have decided Evisser, we will follow our old Lord and damn the consequences,” he said decisively. _Very well_ the daemon responded and it’s presence slowly faded from his conscious mind...


----------



## Lord Ramo

Rachael sliced through the cultists arms with ease, moving faster than thought possible for a human to move. She may have been a member of the Sisters of battle once, but now she was a servant to Slaneesh, the Prince of Pleasure. She laughed at the cries of pain the young cultist let out as he sunk to his knees staring at where his wrists had been only a mere second ago. Rachael straightened, moving away to kick the sword he had held in both his hands, still attached to it, away from her as the man looked up with fear in his eyes.

Rachael moved slowly, sword held at her side as she walked over to the cultist, circling him as he pleaded for mercy, blood pooling around him as he twisted and turned, trying to keep her in his eyesight. It would be hard for him unless she wanted him to see the final strike, she had daemonic speed, a blessing from her God Slaneesh. She smiled serenely at his pleads stopping in his eyesight. She bent over so her lips were next to his ear.

_*"Mercy is for the weak, you will find none from me. Only the strongest survive, its a shame you didn't learn that in time now isn't it?" *_Her voice was angelic, mockingly so. She straightened and in a flash brought her sword up through the air before bringing it down, slicing the cultist in half. Blood and guts flowed freely as Rachael walked away, some cultists would clean the mess up, it wasn't her job.

She sighed as she walked away, that was her only distraction from her thoughts. Modeus had returned, and she wasn't sure how well she would be rewarded if she joined him, she wasn't a member of his original force, joining after he had mysteriously dissapeared. She would fight for him though, hope to be rewarded, she had to take the risk. She wouldn't get anything from Garrond, he expected them all to remain loyal and wouldn't reward them.

Soon she arrived at her original destination before she came across that poor useless cultist. She was here to get her power claw, which she won in the last round of the Blood Tournament customized so she could wield it instead of an astartes. The huge doors opened before her, and she made her way past the sea of vehicles and their carers, one destination in mind. She stopped in front of him after 10 minutes of trying to find him, Ferrore. *"Ferrore, if I may have a moment of your time?"* She asked as she drew close to him, "*I have a request, a favor to ask of you. I would like this power claw customized for my use, and am willing to pay however I can if you can do this."*


----------



## revan4559

Urien: You remain in your chamber experimenting on the cultists when you receive a vox message from the Plague-Commander Targal to meet him in his throne room to discuss some important information and plans. Stopping your experiment for now you leave your chamber and lock the multi-code door before heading through the hallways and chambers dedicated to nurgle to meet the Plague-Commander in his throne room once you get close you can see seven plague marines stood infront of the door, three either side and one directly infront, ahhhh the sacred number of nurgle makes you smile with joy and as you approach the marine infront of the large set of doors moves out of the way for you to enter. Upon entering the room you can see that is is completely emprty save for the rotting corpses covering the floor and the bloated plague-commander sat on his throne, from within his helmet you hear a voice filled with phlem call you closer and bids you to kneel. "Urien, i have a task for you of son of the plague father, it appears that two hundred of Garrond's chosen have been wounded while outside of the fortress and we have come to the conclusion that it is the doing of this 'Modeus'. Our task is to act as my eyes and ears as you go to the apocatherion and find out what happened. Is that understood?"

Ridoranaa: OOC: Please refer to the opening post on page 1 of the action thread.

Zena: OOC: Zena is having computer problems so ill add zena back in once necrosis pms me.

Rachael: You stand there waiting for Ferrore to reply to you but judging by his posture something has happened that seems to have set his mind in dark places. Perhaps he has heard some news of an event that could change everything or maybe he is just sulking because Modeus has returned and didn't let him know where he had gone as Ferrore was one of the original warriors to swear his service to Modeus along with the Sorcerer Nerr'ak, The Possessed Kalus and the Warrior Vladimir, all of which you haven't seen in awhile. Turning your attention back to Ferrore he takes the power claw from you and heads off towards his own work station to continue with what ever he was previously doing or towork on your power claw.(If he says anything or interacts with you further then you will need to see his post when he posts it).

Ferrore: What the sorcerer says annoys you but before you are able to do or say anything back to him he has left the garden and returned to his own part of the fortress dedicated to his patron. Turning away you head back to the hangers while thinking on how you will be contacted by Modeus when the time has come to attack the fortress, once you return to the hanger area you can see the Dark Sister Rachael stood there waiting for you holding a power claw in her arms staring at you and as she walks over to you she asks if you can modify it to fit her power armour. Something like that should be easier for you but you do have more pressing matters to attend, so whether you reply or interact with her after you take the weapon from her is up to you, but as you return to your work station you get a vox message from the Tech-Commander to be ready to repair an incoming load of wargear after two hundred of Garrond's favoured marines were attacked outside of the fortress and their wargear needs seeing to. It appears that Modeus has already made his first move even though its only been twenty minutes since you last saw him.

Kalus: After making your decision you heard the soundof running water and turn to its source to actually find a cultist dead within a fountain, its blood pouring down the side and onto the ground yet there is something about this cultist that makes you walk over to it and look down upon it. Both you and the daemon within you can sense the warp about this corpse and looking at the blood you notice it is still flowly, but not into a pool but into letters and words which form before your eyes. The blood forms a simple setence that makes your entire body stiffen and your mind race to wonder how it is that the person controlling the blood knows of your decision. The blood has formed into the setence: "Kalus, I require you to be my eyes and ears within the fortress. Should you find out anything or interest then you are to return to this fountain with a cultist and sacrifice it inside of the pool so you can communicate with me....Modeus." The blood then changes from the letters into a normal blood pool so that others can't see what was wrriten. It appears you are being watched and it is now your choice if you decide to do what your old/new lord asks.

Nerr'ak: You stride through the hallways back to the chambers and librarys dedicated to the changer of ways within the fortress thinking on what Ferrore said and how Modeus will contact you along with what he intends to offer you. But if he was so easily able to get inside of the fortress and get out without the Thousand Son Sorcerer Xynx not knowing then he may of become powerful indeed, as you continue to walk through the wallways you start to feel your entire body start to tingle as if something from the warp was affecting it and before you know it there is a large flash of white light that fills your vision and you feel as if you have been pulled off of your feet before being set down again. As your vision clears you notice that you are no longer within the fortress and the scent of the warp is about of...teleportation. Quickly look around you find you are in a throne room of some sort with fourty silver armoured terminators aiming auto-cannons, assault cannons and stormbolters in your direction which makes you instantly create a psychic force field but before you are able to defend yourself a voice you have no heard in while rings in your eyes making you turn towards a large throne. Seated upon this throne is a terminator that would easily stand a full head taller than all the others, upon its left hand is a lightning claw with a wrist mounted strom bolter and at its waist a power sword which you recognize. The face of the warrior is cloaked in shadow until he leans forward and who it is makes your twin hearts stop. "Hello Nerr'ak, I need to have a word with you." It is your old lord...Modeus. (I'll talk to you over msn to help you with your post like i did with deathbringer)

Aeron: You butcher your way through five of the nine cultists before they even know what is attacking them but once they realize they are about to die the remaining four start to scatter away from you as a large and horribly mutated ogryn steps infront of you with a look of anger on its face as if those cultists had once been its friends. You realize that the ogryn will prove a better challenge than mere cultists and revv your chainblade in a challenge just as the sub-human creature hefts a large slab of mable shaped into a club above its head and brings it down to meet with your chainaxe, you had heard rumors of how strong ogryns were and only now do you know that those rumours were slightly wrong as they appear to be stronger. Well atleast its skull will make a nice addition to those that carpet Khornes throneroom and maybe the ogrun has something of interest in one of his large pockets which you could use. (Feel free to fight the ogryn and kill the remaining four cultists, as your a khorne warrior, the bloodier the better)

Arthon: OOC: Refer to previous update on page 1(opening post)

Marchellus: While you are sat there cleaning your bolter a cultist bearing the colours of Garrond comes up to you holding a data-slate and after he hands it over he quickly scampers out of the room before you decide to use him as target practice for your now clean bolter. Picking up the data-slate you can see that it has a message from Garrond ordering you to come to the main throne room to hear his decision on who will take the ex-Commander Alhaus's command over the undivided section of the warband. If you decide to go then that is up to you however judging by the fact only a few of the others have recieved the same message it appears that you are one of the choices to take over commander, you quickly realize this could play to your advantage if you still wish to join Modeus as you can commander most of the forces of undivided to join him and attack Garrond's forces, something which may make Modeus decide to reward you. So once again it is your choice whether or not you wish to head to the main throne room.

Zarapheth: You walk alongside the Dark Apostle through the hallways and chambers towards the farside of the halls of undivided within the fortress where all of the sparring cages are located, a place where all of the marines of undivided or those bound to a single god can release their pent of anger and frustation out on each other or on many of the cultists that are used as cannon fodder during campaigns or for rituals. Once you reach the sparring cages you can see most of them are on use save for a couple at the back of the room, as you look around you can see a group of four other possessed marines inside a singel cage which you can both sense and see one of each belongs to one of the gods and they are tearing pieces out of each other in the name of the patrons. This makes you smile slightly at how foolish it is for them to fight amoung themselves when they could serve chaos as a whole, finally reaching one of the free sparring changes you have a few moments to get ready for your spar with the Dark Apostle.

Uhra: After gathering up your wargear you leave your chamber to wander around the fortress after making your decision to join Modeus and start to scout out all the weak points within the fortress and firing points, the problem with looking for weakness's of this fortress is that most of it was built under the Ex-commander Alhaus's observation and the Iron Warriors are known to be excellent fortress builders and siegesmiths. Walking around the fortress you witness a conversation between a Tech-Marine and a Sorcerer which you overhear is to do with Modeus which prompts you to think that perhaps one of these two can contact the the lord that you wish to serve and let him know that you will pledge yourself and your troops to him. But judging from the conversation the sorcerer isn't on Modeus's good side and that the Tech-Marine will be a better idea, perhaps you should follow him and try to talk to him in private if you are able to?

Malphas: You and the possessed marine Zarapheth head towards the sparring cages located on the farside of the halls dedicated to the four gods, while making your way there you remain mainly silent as you start to mull over which of the two chaos lords, Garrond and Modeus, is more likely to become the greater champion of the gods and wage a war in their name that will strike fear into the imperium for hundreds of years. When you finally reach the sparring cages you can see that some of them are already in use as Khorne Beserker's hack cultists to bloody pieces, while Sorcerer's shread sacrifices to atoms with only their minds. After a few moe minutes of walking around you finally find a free sparring cage where you and the possessed marine can hone your skills. Once inside you should agree on what ever terms of the training session you wish to set or just start your sparring match.

Arcus: As you walk away from the khorne beserker killing his way through the cultists you see a large ogryn bumble past you and go straight towards Aeron holding a large slab of marble in his hands. Whether you decide to warn the khorne worshipper is up to you but staying and watching the battle may prove to be atleast entertaining, of course you can always return back to your chamber as you get a vox message from one of the other dark apocatheries within the halls of undivided that there has been an influx of Garrond's warriors being brought to the apocatherion after going out of the fortress to patrol, you quickly summerize that they were attacked by Modeus's men and sent back as a warning to everyone to hurry up and make up there mind as even though only two hours have passed it is entirely possible that Modeus and his forces could attack earlier. Well even though do don't have to help the chaos marines that will need tending to you still atleast need to harvest their gene-seed which you could perhaps present to Modeus as a gift and proof of your loyalty when he finally turns up.

Hardal: The simulation does become more interesting as the Oblitirators fire at the Terminator's with las-cannons that have sprouted from their hands yet the cowards duck behind cover at the last moment meaning that out of the ten only two are taken down. While the oblitirators keep the Termiantors pinned you have time if you so wish to run from where you are now to get closer to the enemies are engage them in melee as while terminator armour makes you stronger and tougher it also reduces your speed more than power armour, meaning that you will be able to target the weak points in the armour more easily than if they were in power armour. Or of course you could remain where you are and help the oblitirators lay down fire support as reinforcements start to join the battle on both sides(imperial fists and iron warriors) along with several defilers joining the fray on your side.


----------



## High_Seraph

Ridoranaa knelt in prayer to Grandfather Nurgle in his chambers as he pondered what he should do. *If I stay in service to Lord Garrond I may very well lose my life. However if I should join this Modeus and he loses I shall be severly reprimanded by Lord Garrond. In any case Nurgle will have his share of glory whoever wins this coming fight. That might be it. Remain defensive it has proven effective for me so far why not continue being defensive. And whoever should win has the patronage of Nurgle and the rest of the gods.* 

His thoughts cleared Ridoranaa made for the cultists room in the Nurgle wing ready to sacrifice seven cultists in the name of Nurgle. Walking along the corridors Ridoranaa notices that there are few people around to talk to concerning the upcoming battle. Entering the cultist chamber Ridoranaa selected seven of them who look ready to be sacrificed. Looking at them they think that they were chosen foor something great and unexpected. When his hand flashed up and across one's face they realised that they were only to be sacrificed in the name of Nurgle. 

The first one he hit head burst open like an overripe melon. The next was choked with his left hand while another's head was pressed into the wall with his right. Grabbing one by both arms Ridoranaa pulled until they came out of the sockets then twsted ripping them off. Laughing Ridoranaa threw the fifth one into the wall causing him to become several inches shorter than before and breaking his skull open. The sixth was decapitated with his axe. The seventh was shot with his bolt pistol. 

Leaving the room Ridoranaa thought *Maybe I should seek out one of the members of Modeus' original warband for some answers to the man.* Picking up his pace Ridoranaa set out looking for one of them to question for the moment.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

THINGS CERTINALY GOT more interesting as the Obliterators met the Terminators in Close Combat. It was like watching warlords fight warlords, when Hardal knew that they were only the elite troops of both armies.

_Only_ Elite Troops, The Warsmith smiled, within the simulation, and turned to his brothers. They were at the walls of the Citadel now, and found bolter rounds raining down on them from above. One astartes next to Hardal caught a bolter round in the head, forcing him to vanish upon contact and detract from the simulation. Hardal knew that, from the waring runes - was Tomas Vegron. His attention still fixed on the Terminators battle with the Obliterators, Hardal watched the two forces exchange blows with unrelenting fury, smoke extending to cover the Iron Warriors that were now swarming around their allies, intent on the Imperial Fist protectors of the Citadel.

Any normal man would have decided that now would have been the time to retreat, but the Imperial Fists held their ground, as stubborn as their gene-father, Rogal Dorn - determined not to show cowardice in the face of impossible numbers swarming towards their lines, bringing Storm Shields and Thunder Hammers to bear.

Hardal watched another Iron Warrior tumble to the floor on his left, and from inside his helmet, the renegade astartes was informed that this fallen marine was called Brigannor. Well, they would certainly be punished after this particular excerise. Suddenly there was a loud roar, and The Warsmith looked up to see that the Obliterators had switched the weapon-wheel to their lascannons, and began firing heavy bursts of weaponary at the Terminators that remained defiant.

But at last, they broke - and the cowards began to retreat behind the nearest cover. Seizing the initiative, Hardal bellowed to his men, ordering them to follow him. Together, the surviving Iron Warriors grouped around their leader in response, bolters, and special weaponary brought to the front, gunning down and loyalist who thought about attempting to aid the Terminators, who were now cut off - and easy prey for the Iron Warriors.

Due to the fact that the Imperial Fists Terminators had been pinned down by the Obliterators, this made it more easier for the Warsmith to get up close and personal with them. Few had the balls to encounter a Terminator in close combat, especially when Tactical Dreadnought Armour was one of the most feared, and rightly so - armour that the Space Marines had in their arsenal, but this did not stop Hardal Dantion, Warsmith of the Iron Warriors and a proud heir to the legacy set by his Primarch, Perturabo.

Where the Terminators lacked speed, this was where the light power armour made up for it. Although Power Armour was heavy for the wearer, it was nowhere near as heavy as the Tactical Dreadnought Armour, allowing the Power-Armoured Warsmith the time that he needed to bring up his Power-Fist, and deliver a blow to a Terminator that had been designed to kill Tanks.

"Fall Back!" bellowed the Sergeant, his face bare allowing Dantion to see the numerous scars that he had picked up. "Fall Back to the fortress! In the name of the Emperor!"

Then, there was a small flicker inside Dantion's helmet, from Terhal, informing him that reinforcments were on their way. _Defilers_, the Warsmith smiled as the data flicked through his helmet. _Excellent_.


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## Angel Encarmine

Laughing like a man possessed, Aeron slaughter 5 of the 9 cultists before they even knew he was among them, chain axes severing limbs and liberating organs and fountains of blood from their bodies. As he went to pursue the scattering cultists, a giant mutated ogryn stepped in front of him, hefting a large slab of marble formed into a club. Completely lost in a berzerker rage, Aeron charged this mutated creature bellowing and laughing in equal measure. As he closed with it the Ogryn hefted the club of marble over its head, bringing it down as if to crush him. Little did it know He was blessed with the mark of Khorne, and could easily match it, as he blocked the falling club and swung his other chainaxe around to disembowl the ogryn. Landing a glancing blow, Aeron took a punch from the creature, letting his armor absorb it, before stepping inside its guard and ramming his chanaxe straight down onto its collar bone. Screaming with laughter, he revved the chainaxe and pressed it down, mutated guts and blood spraying him as he eviscerated the creature. Watching the Ogryn stumble away, attempting to stuff its intesines back into its mutilated body, Aeron regained some meausure of his sanity. "_Your skull will make an excellent addition to the Throne of Khorne_" he said to the creature, before removing it's head with a swing of chainaxe. Looking around, he noticed the 4 cultists he had missed earlier. Drawing his bolt pistol, he shot each and everyone of them through the gut, smiling as the explosive rounds devastated their pathetic weak bodies. Picking up the ogryns severed head, he noticed something sticking out of its pocket. Curiosity getting the better of him, he moved to see what this item was.


----------



## Santaire

Kalus heard water running when he had heard nothing before and turned, swift as a viper. A cultist lay floating inside a fountain. He would have paid it no heed but suddenly he felt Evisser rise up inside him _He did not die by any means you possess_ came the silky voice. That puzzled Kalus and he walked to the corpse and looked down upon it. Then he felt a pressure in his skull, not painful but he recognized it instantly .You are right daemon, this was done by sorcery," he growled. As he stared down at the bloody corpse his gaze drifted to the water and what he saw there made him almost step back in alarm. Words were forming, a sentence and then when he felt the daemon's shock he realized that the words were not on the water, they were actually floating in the air in front of him. They read "Kalus, I require you to be my eyes and ears within the fortress. Should you find out anything or interest then you are to return to this fountain with a cultist and sacrifice it inside of the pool so you can communicate with me....Modeus."

Kalus mused over this as the blood slowly changed until it was just blood and nothing else. This was surely a sign of the Gods favour, that Modeus could perform a sacrifice without even being in the area. Kalus did not care about Garrond any more. He was a puppet lord, worthless in comparison with Modeus . It was Modeus who held the favour of the dark gods, not Garrond and Kalus considered sacrificing a cultist to tell Modeus this but then decided against it, his lord wanted some real information. Kalus turned from the fountain and walked into the fortress, hoping to find some important information to tell Modeus of...


----------



## Yru0

Arcus looked up from the mutilated body on the floor, the cultist instantly gone from his mind, its fate no longer of his concern. Maniac laughter still reverberated through the hall, eclipsing the screams of terror as the khornate worshiper, oblivious to all except his prey, slaughtered the fleeing men one after another. The rampant murder was obviously a one sided butcher, and Arcus felt no need to stand around, if the chaos warrior fell to these mortals then his gene-seed wouldn't be worth the extraction process, it would be best left to rot in the halls of the fortress than implanted into an otherwise promising neophyte. 

Turning to leave the scene, Arcus noticed the stumbling mutant making its way towards his brother, grief and rage clear in its eyes and murderous intent set in its every action. Pausing Arcus couldn't help but smile, the brute was headed to its death, yet perhaps his services would be needed in the aftermath after all. At the very least the conflict would prove entertaining and enlightening as to the warriors true skill, rather than how effectively he can cull cattle. However, as the Ogryn rose its crude weapon to strike the first blow, Arcus felt his Vox vibrating, "Brother Arcus, the hall of the warband has been struck a blow and our services are required in the hall of the undivided, the casualties are many and we must act quickly to recover their worthy gene-seed so that the next generation can continue the great war."
"I will heed the call Brother, what caused such destruction amongst the ranks?"
"Even we have not been told such things, these truly are trying times, but myself and our brothers believe it the doing of this Modeus."
Arcus immediately left the scene, his last vision of the fight the stunned ogryn confused at its sudden disembowelment at the hands of the marine, but that was no longer his concern.


----------



## Midge913

Screams rent the air as Urien's new toxin began to melt the cultists eyes in his sockets. He hummed in tune and rythm with his assistant cries and he could fell the subtle stirring of the power of corruption as the poisons worked their magic. Pursing his lips he said,"Was that fast enough? hmm? or was the effect to slow to take root?" Only screams answered him. 

"Urien," a voice crackled through his vox unit," you are required to attend Lorg Targal immediately." 

Urien's eyes suddenly flashed with insane anger as he recognized the voice of Targal's manservant. To be interrupted by such a insignificant being was intollerable. Controlling his breathing he replied in curt tones that he would come. 

Leaving his room he turned to lock the three separate panels that secured his sanctum, rubbing a bit of his own putrid saliva to the third and listened to the satisfying thunks of heavy metal bars sliding into place. His walk was not a long one, but he couldn't help but muse on the nature of his summons as he moved. It has been some time since the Plague-Commander had asked for his presence and that was only more evident that the rift between the himself and Targal had grown. They had known each other for a long time, but were Urien sought his own power, Targal was firmly in Garrond's back pocket. 

He arrived at the Plague-Commander's throne room and found that the door was barred by seven Plague Marines, three to each side, and one to the front. A low vibration and green nimbus surrounded the seven warriors, to Urien's eyes only, as he felt the power of that sacred number. Smiling at the stoic warriors he passed into Targal's chambers unimpeded. 

Looking up to the throne Urien took in Targal's appearance with barely contained glee. The Plague-Commander was a bastion of the power of Father Nurgle. Bloated beyond recognition, intestines clearly visible through rusted rents in his armor, Targal beckoned him to come forward and kneel in a voice thick with phlem. 

Stepping over the rotting corpses that littered the throne room's floor, Urien did as he was bid. 

"Urien," Targal wheezed,"I have a task for you of son of the plague father. It appears that two hundred of Garrond's chosen have been wounded while outside of the fortress and we have come to the conclusion that it is the doing of this 'Modeus'. Our task is to act as my eyes and ears as you go to the apocatherion and find out what happened. Is that understood?"

Well this was an interesting developement indeed, Urien thought. Modeus moved quickly and decisively. Perhaps this was Urien's opportunity to truely determine the man's resolve and power. 

"I understand my Lord Targal," Urien hissed, "Your will is my command." 

In the depths of his mind he chuckled to himself.... at least for now.


----------



## khrone forever

"Hum, this is interesting" Marchellus mused. "Chosen to command the Undivided forces at the will of Garrond." He was muttering to himself as he stalked the long winding corridors, and smirking every time a cultist started hyperventilating when he passed. " However I presume that others will have been given the opportunity and we will have to prove our worth, if i were to go. Then again i would be just fighting for Garrond, even in a higher ranking, but if i joined Modeus i would not have command of the Undivided but would probably have higher standing with the Gods. But if i 'joined' Garrond then helped Modeus, he might leave me in charge of the Undivided and i would have joind the right man..."

He stopped walking in front of a massive pair of double doors. Without realizing it he had walked toward the Garrond's throne room, making his mind up to see what Garrond had to offer, he pushed open the doors and went inside.

There were 14 marines kneeling in front of Garrond's throne, though he did not recognize any of them. He strode forward purposely and knelt in front on the throne with some anger at the insult.


----------



## Deus Mortis

As Zarapheth walked with Malphas to the training cages, he could tell that there was a crackling of tension between them. Since He had first approached the Chaplain, he had a look about him of annoyance and an air of supremacy. In truth, Zarapheth knew he did not hold the same rank as the Chaplain, but he did hold a daemon within himself, and he had been chosen to serve the true Gods before most of the legion, including Malphas, and did not appreciate being treated as an inferior. *Even if he was a Bearer of the Word* Zarapheth thought to himself. The other still rested in the journey to the cages, and Zarapheth was content to let him do so. It would be interesting to see how he could fair on he own strength against the Apostle.

The doors to the training halls were already open and the smell of blood and oil mixed with the the sound of clanging metal and roars to the Gods to form a sensual cocktail that made Zarapheth smile with glee. Nothing excited his hearts more than the promise of battle...

_...and blood. Azauk stirred groggily in the depths of the other's consciousness. They were entering the training halls with one of the Apostles of the other's former band of warriors. He read the intent in the flesh's mind and knew that they had arranged to duel. *Ah good, I was growing tired of such petty skirmishes with words between our 'commanders'* Azauk silently sniggered at the final word..._

...Zarapheth merely sent back what might have been a nod of agreement to a corporeal being. As he walked through training halls, past rows of filled cages, Zarapheth could feel Azauk being alert and awake, but had not forced any change yet. Instead, he seemed to hang like a shadow over his primed cells, weapons and armour, ready to infuse them with daemonic essence and power when the time arose. But not yet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw four marines move at one another with speed and ferocity that would only mean one thing. Zarapheth turned his attention to the four possessed marines duelling in a cage, tearing chunks out of one another, seemingly without reason. *It would appear our commanders are not the only ones who descend into petty disputes*...

_...Azauk looked through the other's eyes and saw what he meant. *Servants of the Pantheon, each a different facet of Chaos unable to reconcile itself into a harmonious one* Azauk remarked calmly to his flesh-mate..._

Zarapheth was surprised with the daemon. He had not known him to be particularly philosophical when it came to the nature of chaos, and such a casual summation of the problem with the four marines in the cage was most unlike his symbiot. *You are full of surprises*...

_*Being a child of the warp gives me an unparalleled insight fleshling. Remember that* Azauk sent back. The other could forget that whilst they shared this one flesh harmoniously, unlike other unions Azauk had seen, they were still very different persons. The cages awaited and Azauk stepped in first, not waiting for the other man-thing to follow. So strange that a conflict between two persons should be contained by bars of metal..._

*Azauk, this is a sparring match, not a fight to the death* Zarapheth sternly reminded the warp-spawn. It would certainly not go down well with Garrond if Zarapheth butchers one of his men in cold blood.

_...Azauk groaned in disappointment. In truth, he detested these 'sparring matches'. All the energy and effort of a real battle, but no blood. No sweet arterial fluid to drink and sustain him. Not notion of fear in the prey's eyes. Any victory won here would be hollow. As much as his host would hate him for admitting this, it did serve one purpose. Them fighting this flesh-thing now meant they could learn his fighting style, which made him, like all mortals, predictable. And if he proved problematic, that could be very useful indeed..._

_"Tell me former warrior of Gal Vorbak why have you come to the Blood Tournament? For the glory of the Gods or your own?"_. Malphas' question brought Zarapheth back to the fore.
"I am not former. I am still a member of the Gal Vorbak, and I would appreciate it if you remembered that." Zarapheth said first. He would not be treated like an inferior by one who had less of an insight into the nature of the warp. "I came here for the same reason you did, to spread the word." Malphas took up his chosen weapons and Zarapheth unsheathed his chainsword as his lighting claws crackled into life.

*"A match of submission. First to be submit loses."* They spoke as one. Both man and monster speaking with one voice. Claws of metal melted with warp-blessed flesh and became like crackling fingers. The toothed sword blended into a steel tenticle which moved ponderously slowly. A boned tail exited the base of the spine and hard boney tusks jutted out of the face of this man-monster.

It jumped at the manling with a bellowing roar and swiped with its crackling claws. Lightning met metal and sparks danced across the two weapon's edges. Both combatants stepped back, but the monster shot out it's unnatural tail around it's prey's arm and pulled it close for a deadly embrace, But the mortal rode the pull with his weapon extended and smashed it's blunt edge into the non-man's chest, sending it recoiling back toward the cage walls. Armour dented, skin split and organs bruised, but the daemon healed them with a small exertion of its unnatural power.

The mortal gave no reprieve and stepped in for another blow, but this time was met with the steel tenticle. While the weapon was trapped claws dug into the mortals flesh surrounding his torso in a feral stroke. The lightning cut almost to the bone, but yet the mortal flesh healed itself, like the daemonic flesh of his opponent. In an instant while the beast was confused, a savage blow cam from the side forcing the weapon arm to be released. The fleshling asked about its allegiance, and the two voices answered in unison *"We serve Chaos!"*.

Another attack, another blow, both struck at their rapidly healing foes with furious abandon, each one sending the two flying apart, as if like magnetic poles were being forced together. A particularly savage blow sent the beast against the wall and the mortal jumped at his chance by placing the sharp edge of his weapon against the possessed marine's throat, declaring a win. However, in his haste the mortal had forgotten about his opponents additional limb and only once the point of it pierced through his armour and levelled the same threat as the mortal's own weapon did to the beast did the man-thing realise that he would have to call this fight a draw.

As Malphas retreated with a slight air of annoyance, Zarapheth slowly felt his daemonic partner recede into the back of his consciousness. He knew Azauk would have loved to have executed Malphas of leaving himself undefended from one of their most potent weapons, but the daemon realised that for now they must stay their hand. It was only a sparring match and he would have plenty of blood soon enough. But the ability to restrain Azauk had drain Zarapheth mentally as much as the furiously short fight had drained him physically. 

"As for Sicarius and the Burning Truth, I am afraid I probably know as much as you do, dear Chaplain" Zarapheth said in his normal voice, the natural one. "I must confess, I have been out of touch with the legion's affairs for a while now, and hence was eager to talk with you. However, I fear there is little time for that now. There are still preparations to be made and meditations I must attend before we stand with our lord. Let us hope we find ourselves on the same side. I would hate to have to kill a fellow Bearer of the Word" Zarapheth smiled at his last jest and chuckled as he left. However, Malphas seemed anything but amused. And, despite his jest, he knew that if he needed to face the Apostle on the field of battle, he would need to kill him quickly and probably by using trickery or surprise. Getting into a fair fight with the Apostle would be a long and bloody affair, one him and Azauk might not survive, and even if they did would leave them easy prey for some other cunning servant of Chaos...


----------



## komanko

OOC: Worked with Revan, too long for me to go and highlight each frigging sentence, and I win deathy, mine is two hundred words longer XD Who needs quality when you have quantity!

Knowledge was power, that much was known to Nerr'ak since the day he was born. His plan to save those tomes as pathetic and probably futile as it was, was necessary. So much knowledge could not be simply lost because of the way of war as while manpower and soldiers are replaceable the knowledge of ages past is not. 

Another turn, another grim badly lit hallway. The stench of blood could be smelled from afar, someone was spilling it in the name of a god. From another part one could smell death as one of the death worshipping nurglites were preparing their rituals and experiments. While those stenches dominated the fortress another smell could be felt, it was a quiet one, gentle, hidden within the others. The smell of ecstasy and lust, the smell of drugs and stimulants. It was hidden well, tempting, lurking. 

While those smells dominated most of the fortress and represented each god, the smell of Tzeentch was non existent. There is no smell, no taste to knowledge, neither to mutation or progress. One cant sense intelligence or deceit, one can’t feel the warp as a corporeal object. It was the perfect environment, nothing to distract those of bright mind, nothing to keep them away from achieving their ultimate potential. 

Still, there were things which kept Nerr’ak away from peace and quite. Continues thoughts plagued his mind, thoughts about his own death, thoughts about rewards, thoughts about disappearing lords and their silent servants. And in between those thoughts about the architect of fate, about the great mutator, the one who continues to spin the web around and again with no real purpose. In Tzeentch’srealm to plot was to act like a god and to lie was to speak like one. 

Nerr’ak Gorgon, a psychically granted individual, a renegade, a Night Lord, a Warp Wielder, a sorcerer, one who possessed knowledge of old, the one with answers for ones questions, the one handed warlord. This one was confused and for the first time in what seemed like eternity maybe even afraid. 

For everyone, the unknown is the most terrifying thing and Nerr’akwas no exception. He knew that Modeus would contact him, he had too, he proved so by contacting Ferrore, yet he did not know what would Modeus do with him, he could execute him, he could simply throw him away like a used up toy. Those thoughts of uncertainty were terrifying for Nerr’ak, he felt helpless and as the clock ticked on he knew that he could do nothing to change it no even if he had all the time in the universe. 

The cursed lord Modeus had obviously grown in power, he consorted with daemons from the warp, he now wielded the magic of the warp something he did not do before. Yet those thoughts were what madeNerr’ak smile nastily as he walked on. He recalled the vision aboutModeus, he recalled how he saw him with the daemons of Tzeentch, with the magnificent Lords of Change. When he recalled that a single thought popped into his mind, a thought which shattered the fear from Modeus, what if all of his powers were granted by daemons, what if all those powers were essentially burrowed from daemons. If that was true than it meant that Modeus was actually as weak as he was before and that his powers are only temporary, until he fulfills his role in Tzeentch’s puppet show. 

Another pointless turn, the last one before he reaches the library. He purposely walked forward, yet something stopped him. He sniffed around, something at the edge of his senses screamed at him that something was misplaced and not right. He closed his eyes and tried to hear something out of the ordinary. The only thing he could hear was a slight noise which resembled a generator powering up. He tasted the air, nothing out of the ordinary. With his eyes closed he opened his third eye. 

He tried to recoil in terror from the position which he stood on yet he could not, he was already locked in place as the noise he heard earlier suddenly strengthened and became nearly deafening to him. Through his third eye he could see the warp cage which he was trapped inside, the energy continued building up until it reached its climax and a blinding searing light filled his vision. He heard himself dropping to his knees, he could not hear the sound of ceramiteagainst stone. Instead... 

He heard the sound of ceramite against metal. 

His eyes opened and for a moment they widened in terror, a slight moment which gave away his true emotions but just for a moment. His stone cold mask was once again on him as he slowly stood up. He looked forward as he counted around forty terminators, all clad in their silver armor each one wielding a deadly weapon of his own. Storm bolters, auto cannons, assault cannons. Each one of those weapons could reap his unprotected body to pieces in mere moments. 

Before even scouring the room forward he instantly created a warp barrier around himself, he did not know what the terminators would do but the barrier would give him a little chance to survive their onslaught if they decide to unleash their weapons against him. 

Seeing that the terminators aren’t prone on attacking him yet he scoured the rest of the room. It was a throne room as in the end of it was a throne with a large terminator sitting on top of it. The ground as noted before was made of a metal alloy. There was no obvious escape route from him to use. So he could only proceed forward. 

He looked at the seated terminator, he seemed larger than the rest. In one hand he had an attached lightning claw, it was silver as the rest of the armor, to the same hand was attached a wrist mounted Storm Bolter which could easily rip through armoured targets. On the waist a power sword lay, one that was recognized by Nerr’ak. It didn’t even take a second for Nerr’ak to figure out who they all were.Relicators, the silver armor should have given their identities away the moment he saw them and on the throne sat Modeus, their leader. 

He shouldn't have been surprised. The leading terminator, the lord,Modeus. He leaned forward revealing his face. Scars decorated it in many placed. A grim smile was directed at Nerr’ak. His eyes flickered with something between supreme intelligence to madness. His raven black hair dangled behind him magnificently. It surely was Modeusand although he did not look much different on the outside Nerr’akcould feel how much he changed. 

His lips parted and his smooth majestic voice came out of them, he greeted Nerr’ak , he claimed that he had to speak with Nerr’ak, to have a word with him. Idiot. In moments like this such niceties were useless especially when both parties knew exactly what was going on. Nerr’ak sneered in hatred and quickly spat out a reply, “Then speak Lord, while time is eternal it is still valuable.” He moved forward towards the terminator Modeus, fearless, filled with anger, respect, hate and caution. 
As Nerr’ak spoke Modeus leaned backwards again, his face hidden from the light. His warp touched eyes tingling in a madness ofcolours. He could see how Modeus is squeezing the black as night skulls in the end of the obsidian throne’s arms. A crooked smile spread on his face. As powerful as his former lord now was he was still an inexperienced leader, young and foolish. 

Nerr’ak ran his fingers through his own black hair, his fingers long and frail looking yet still covered in the ceramite armor of a space marine. Something that made them stronger than nearly any substance in existence. 

Sparks of rage nearly flew out of Nerr’ak’s eyes when he heardModeus’s patronizing and arrogant reply. He said that one should not bite the hand that feeds, Nerr’ak was curious to know which hand did he refer to because Modeus was not even close to be the one who feeds. He then warned Nerr’ak to not annoy him further as he annoyed him with his past lies. Yet on that Nerr’ak could not stand silent, Modeus was the only person which Nerr’ak never lied to. 

“While a master can feed his dogs it doesn't make him as strong as he hopes as he could easily just be a dog himself dear Modeus.” 

Before Nerr’ak could continue his words further Modeus stood up in anger. His face not hidden by shadows anymore. He could see anger clearly on his face, such a puppet... Nerr’ak couldn’t figure how such a fool could come up with such a vast amount of power. A shame that the power is always given to narrow minded idiots. 

Nerr’ak saw how the skulls began shattering under the lord’s grip, something which made Nerr’ak’s resolve and mental strength soar higher. Suddenly Modeus left his throne and strode towards Nerr’ak, he was taller than Nerr’ak remembered, that did not impress Nerr’akeven one bit. He was so arrogant, so direct, he did not know that words were like a snake. One should crawl around the object and than like a deadly viper strike when least expected. 

Like a foolish child Modeus fell directly into Nerr’ak’s trap, as he strode forward his hate and anger easily seen. He spat at Nerr’ak’sreply with his own words. He tried to mock Nerr’ak to no avail. “My dear Modeus, your bickering is of no interest to me. Your words are hollow and empty as your leadership. Even if you might be the hand that feeds that hand has always remained empty. You were out lord simply because you formed the warband nothing else, you are as inexperienced as all of us were, the only difference is that you are still narrow minded, stupid and inexperienced while I evolved and grew into something else.” He stopped for a moment to judgeModeus’s reaction. 

He saw how Modeus’s eyes widened in surprise of such insolence and inside this made Nerr’ak laugh insanely. Yet before he could continue speaking Modeus’s facial expression changed into a frown of anger and he quickly grabbed Nerr’ak by the throat. His grip like that of an iron claw, it tightened around Nerr’ak’s neck with no mercy. Slowly choking him. Nerr’ak did not even try to counter the blow, he didn't even try to escape the Lord’s grip. 

All Nerr’ak did was squirm his neck a little so he would be able to speak and when he finally managed too he began talking while still lifted from the ground by Modeus’s hand. His feet dangled below him helplessly, his body was generally helpless and useless yet his mind was still as powerful as a warlord class titan. 

He began laughing, his tone raspy and harsh caused by Modeus’schoking. “Your actions only speak of your foolishness Modeus.” He said with the same raspy tone. “You are weak and you have no idea on how to play when it comes to the game of words.” He tried taking breaths and managed to take a sharp quick one just so he would be able to speak even more. “As for your claims of me lying” He continued casually like he was not being choked by a hand’s grip. “I never lied to you, the closest I came to lying to you was lying to your underlings yet I never swore you any oath of loyalty, it was obvious for you as it was for me that I was part of your warband out of necessity and convenience. Saying that I nearly never lied to anyone from the warband, all I did was withhold information. They never asked for it and as such I never bothered giving it.” He said, he had plenty of air still left within his lungs yet he pretend like he was beginning to choke to his death so Modeus will leave him as it was beginning to annoy him. 
It was clear to Nerr’ak that Modeus was listening with interest. He could see emotions on his face and in his eyes. His eyes narrowed ever more and the grip began to tighten even further. For a momentNerr’ak thought that Modeus’s really planned to kill him yet his own arrogance reminded him how important he was for the Lord. 

For a moment Modeus’s head twitched to the left and then turned as if he was listening to something which was not there, to something which only he could hear. This made Nerr’ak suspect thatModeus might be using his powers to communicate with another person. That insolent full, how dared he not give Nerr’ak the full attention he deserved. Yet that moment passed quickly as Modeusseemed to refocus and look back at Nerr’ak with a small evil smile. 

He than threw Nerr’ak down the stairs with ease. Leaving his throat though still trying to hurt him in a way. He than said while Nerr’akslowly stood up that thats exactly what he liked about Nerr’ak, the fact that he was so honest when he was faced with death. Nerr’akcould barely contain his laughter, it appeared that Modeus took his bait even more than he expected. He was so arrogant that it was pathetic. 

The lord moved back to his throne and sat down again, he looked atNerr’ak that same smile still on his face. He than simply asked if they shall attend to the main subject of the meeting. This was the first sentence which Modeus said that Nerr’ak had no problem with. It was fine with Nerr’ak and as such he said “Might as well. Go ahead, speak.” 

Nearly instantly the lord spoke he said that as Nerr’ak already knows he would be assaulting Garrond’s fortress and hide spot. He in a way confessed that he needs more men in order to achieve victory saying that he requires more of them for the upcoming assault. It was to be expected though, his inexperience was showing out like a sore thumb. He than continued and said that he is giving Nerr’ak this chance to swear loyalty to him and help with the attack againstGarrond. He even added that this might redeem his earlier actions which annoyed Modeus. 

It did not matter to Nerr’ak, he did not feel like any of his actions demanded redeeming, all he did was point out how big of a foolModeus was and show the flaws in his personality. If it was a different time Nerr’ak might have been enraged by Modeus’s demand to swear loyalty yet as Nerr’ak already decided to follow Modeus it did not matter to him. 

It appeared that Modeus was not content on waiting for Nerr’ak to answer so he tried to scare him by trying to read his plans which was virtually impossible for such a narrow minded person. He tried frightening Nerr’ak by pointing out that he knows about his secret base, this did not surprise Nerr’ak. He knew that Modeus was watching him since the day he first had his vision. He felt that the relentless lord would never leave him be. The hide spot served its real purpose. Drawing out Modeus’s attention to it and hiding the troops from the imbecile Garrond. 

It seemed that now Modeus was waiting for an answer more patiently after trying to frighten Nerr’ak, unsuccessfully if Nerr’akmight be the judge of that. Shaking his head he said, “Your arrogance is frightening Modeus. As powerful as you are you cannot allow yourself such a thing. You are the same fool as you was before and your arrogance will lead to your downfall.” He raised his eyebrows as he said that and looked at Modeus, this time it was not to offend him, it was a warning. 

“I am aware of your knowledge of my base of operations. It was not meant to be a hiding spot, it was simply a storage for the worthy to use, and Garrond is far from being worthy. As such you can imagine my answer to your earlier request though it might come with exceptions.” He said and sighed in the end as if it pained him to say that. 

“I am going to have to ask firstly for one thing. In the name ofTzeentch you must preserve Garrond’s library. Though he is a fool the ones who serve him are not and as such came to amass a vast library of valuable knowledge that must be saved from the fires of war. Secondly, I must ask for a reward which will come in two forms. In a physical form and an incorporeal form. I’ll begin with the physical one. I would hazard a guess that you have a fleet at your disposal and if you then that you have a plan to get one. As such I would require a ship for myself and my troops as a reward, hopefully a big one which would be able to house a magnificent library along with troops, an armory, and a room which would serve as a reliquary.” 

He waited for a moment, pondering about his following request. He might as well ask that. “The incorporeal reward I am asking for is firstly. I am not swearing loyalty to you, our bonds shall remain as they were before, convenience and necessity. I wish to have my own will and not be bound to yours. I shall serve as before, as your second hand and advisor if you wish it to be so and from what I seen you need it to be so. I urge you to understand that as a servant ofTzeentch I cannot offer you my loyalty but do not be wary, I have no intention of bringing you down my only interest is knowledge as you might have learned already. These are my terms but I might be able to be swayed from them.” 

It seemed that Modeus was listening intently, when Nerr’ak finished he seemed to ponder how to react and if to accept the terms. The lord flexed his fingers several times while he squeezed the skulls on his throne, he then leaned forward and closed his eyes as if trying to decide what to do. To Nerr’ak’s surprise Modeus finally spoke up and said that he agrees to his terms with one exception, a blood oath. It was a silly condition and as such Nerr’ak would accept. The oath itself symbolized nothing whatsoever... 

After saying that Modeus waited for Nerr’ak’s agreement of disagreement. Nerr’ak waited a minute or so, although he made his mind up he wanted it to look like he is thinking what the lord has asked of him through. “Lets seal this pact than. I accept your condition.” He said and bowed half mockingly. 

As Nerr’ak said that he could’ve swore that he saw a small smile onModeus’s lips for a moment yet it quickly disappeared as he waved to one of his terminators, Nerr’ak looked back to see the terminator brining what seemed to be an ancient inscribed stone. The underling brought the stone with ease, putting it infront of Nerr’ak and Modeushe than disappeared back into the midst of the other Relicators. 

Pulling out a long curved knife from his robe he swore the blood oath, he swore in the name of the gods although the oath itself was empty of purpose and future effect. Still, the gods should see how loyal he was and as such they will see what a snake he is when the time comes. 

Taking the knife he moved it up to his head and slowly cut his cheek, the result was a clean and straight wound. He raised his hand and gathered the flowing blood from there and than after it stopped bleeding he opened his hand and let the blood fall upon the stone. 

The moment it came in contact with the stone it glowed in a strange looking blueish color. Inside the blood glowing runes could be seen as if they were bound into the blood itself, the process itself took less than a minute and when Nerr’ak looked at the stone he could see himself yet not as a reflection but as if viewed from an outer angle. It appears that the stone and the blood oath were actually a trap that was set in order for Modeus to be able to track him. That was clever, more than he expected from Modeus yet still, this plan had many holes in it which could be exploited in a later date. 

When the pact was sealed Modeus stood up silent for a moment and than he spoke saying that Nerr’ak can have the remaining time to prepare until the assault. He said that he would contact him before the assault begins and that he will gather everyone inside of Nerr’ak’smountain fort. That was acceptable. After he said that and sawNerr’ak nodding in agreement Modeus flickered his hand and with a deafening sound Nerr’ak was sent back to his previous location with the power of the warp. 

He opened his eyes and saw that once again he was stood in the hall leading to the library. 

This was most interesting he thought to himself. He felt like he came out victorious out of this small quarrel. He had managed to stay free while at the same time reap rewards which were not possible withGarrond in charge. Yes, this was most pleasing. Flexing his body he passed the library and went towards his own quarters. It was the right time to plot and wait.


----------



## deathbringer

The sorcerer reeled back from him, rocking on his feet as his face contorted with rage, the satisfying crack of bone sending shock and anguish across the twisted face.

Threats lanced from his mouth, mockery intertwined with ferocity, yet he stormed away, cloak whirling around him before Ferrore had to riposte to the claims of puppetry, to pour scorn upon his beliefs, break the grin from those sanctimonious features. He was left standing in the gardens, his attention once fixed upon the sorcerer now allowed to waver, his sensors permitted to scry the world around, as he began to stride back to his quarters.

A small blip, the tiniest of heat bubbles in the shadows, caught his eye, yet he ignored it, an anomaly, an air current, perhaps even a small animal, naught to attract his interest.

Away he moved footsteps clattering upon the ground, the loud resounding echo of iron shod feet on stone a metronome to a head devoid of thoughts, scratching paranoia beating at his brain.

So much to do, so little time, he would have to step up his troops combat drills, perhaps an arrangement could be made with another of the warbands. Sparring perhaps, something to keep his men fresh, a challenge for pride and honour.

He was assuming they were with him, he still had to ask them, vengeance had clouded his mind, yet he was sure they would trust him.

If they did not... what... what could he do, he would not kill them for loyalty, they were souls with minds not his troops, to own and hold. 

He would ask, not demand, tell them of modeus, of the man many of them had never known, never met. Of his visions, of the dreams he held, of the desire to one day leave and try his own hand, to fight across the galaxy with fists of iron, to make a name for himself.

The change of sound as his footsteps hit metal, echoed by the clatter of iron on stone still ringing made him hault, a scuffed step betraying the presence of his pursuer.

He did not turn round, voice the bionic monotone

"Your time in the shadows is at an end. Come forward and show yourself, if you desire words with me, we can walk and talk, make them quick, i have little time to waste."

___________________________________________________________

The sat at the work bench, the finishing touches to the dreadnoughts dimmed sensor, small flourishes and gentle caresses to lull the machine spirit back to harmony, the shrieking song of resistance it wailed, soothing to silence.

He felt something enter the room, rather than saw it, the low melody of sounds bringing his eyes to bear upon her.

"Ferrore, if I may have a moment of your time?" she drew close, his sensors stimulating the pleasure sensors of his brain, the pleasing aromas of metal and engine oil, a pleasant overtone

"I have a request, a favor to ask of you. I would like this power claw customized for my use, and am willing to pay however I can if you can do this."

She fascinated him in a way, useless as she was, a mortal walking amongst gods, enslaved to the pleasure prince. So like Ghazan, arrogant and conceited, embroiled in sadistic ecstasy.

Yet Ferrore could not deny he missed the bastards drawling sneer the challenging intellectual thrust he pitted against him.

Payment, amused him, in truth the challenge of reconfiguring a power claw, so it did not make the arm useless, payment enough for his meagre services, yet let her think she owed him a favour.

He took the powerclaw, pushing the optic carefully aside he began to probe the metal untangling wires, searching for places to cut remove and hone.

"This payment you speak off."

He let the words dangle yet he gave a low chuckle

"Muse on it no further, pay me in the currency of Tzeentch, sate my curiosity twisted sister"

His head flipped smoothly to fix upon her, waving her casually to a chair, bionics never leaving her face. Idle curiosity seered, soured by his dour mood, the bitter taste of his own paranoia seeping into a bitter litany of malicious curiosity.

"Tell me, what takes a servant of the holy orders of the imperium, loyal to the emperor, she suffers not the witch to live. What twisted her into a cultist cavorting amongst the slaaneshi, a power hungry human struggling against the tides up in the realm of demi gods?"


----------



## revan4559

Urien: After leaving the halls of the plague father you quickly make your way to the halls of undivided as fast as your power armoured legs can carry you. Upon reaching the apocatharion within the halls of undivided you step through the doorway to see two hundred of Garrond's finest even dead or dying on the tables and floor within the room with eleven(that includes Arcus) apocatheries moving about harvesting the gene-seed of the fallen while others seem to be doing what they can to see their brother astartes though most simply kill them and harvest their gene-seed. Walking around the room looking for someone living you interrogate you walk passed Arcus when the wounded marine grabs his shoulder and tells him that only ten of Modeus's marines did this to two hundred warriors who had been around since the horus heresy. This makes you realize Modeus is truely powerful indeed if only ten of his warriors did this, Perhaps you could go in search of other living warriors to see if the story is true(if you do they all say it is) or perhaps you return to inform the Plague-Commander of what has transpired here?

Ridoranaa: You walk around the entire fortress looking for one of Modeus's old warband to question but can't seem to find anyone who served Modeus when he ruled his warband. Perhaps they have gone into hiding and will make a surprise attack when Modeus returns and the battle begins or maybe they have already left the fortress to join their old master....so many questions on to where they have disappeared to. While you continue to walk around you try to recall the names of those who joined Garrond's warband when Modeus disappeared and recall only three names that you remember: The Sorcerer Nerr'ak, The Tech-Marine Ferrore and Kalus the Undivided, perhaps if you can find one of these you will be able to question them on how strong Modeus really is or how strong he has become. The easiest place to look would be the Hangers as that is where Ferrore is usual found, Kalus can normally be located within the halls of undivided and Nerr'ak makes his lair within the Tzeentchen Library a place you really do not want to step foot in. Where you go and who you question is up to you.

Kalus: You walk around the fortress until you come to a small passage way in which you hear voices from down the other end talking about who will replace Commander Alhuas and decide that this could be the kind of information that you master wishes to hear. Looking around to make sure no-one is watching you quietly walk down the passage and end up ontop of a small balcony above the throne room of Lord Garrond who is sat upon his throne. Infront of him are fifteen kneeling warriors from the halls of undivided that appear to be awaiting the decision of their lord to decide who will lead all of the undivided forces in his name. Crouching down so that you are hidden you look over the warriors that are gathered and recognize all of them which will be useful when you report to your master who is the new commander. While you continue to sit there wait you get the idea that if you can best all of these warriors in combat you could take over as Commander and swear your loyalty and all of your troops to Modeus causes. However will you take the risk to jump down and join in the trial to become the commander? As Lord Garrond has decided that all fifteen warriors are to fight to the death to decide who will be the new leader. What do you do?(Remember one of the 15 is a player so not killing him or fighting him yet)

Nerr'ak: Entering your chamber you look around to see that while nothing has been moved or changed you feel as if something isn't right. Looking around you feel the presence of another Pysker within the room which instantly makes you draw your force sword and activate its powerfield, walking forwards you sense the presence is close by now and getting closer and is likely about to make a sneak attack. Walking into the middle of your chamber your psychic senses tell you that an attack is coming from the left and you spin around while swinging your force sword you find that it connects with another weapon in a flash of bright light which blinds you for several moments. When your vision finally clears you see who it was you attacked with your force-sword, it is Commander Mortez Xynx one of the Thousand Sons who trace their heritage to Magnus the Red, The Crimson King. You see that your force sword has been blocked by the Commander's bedlam staff with ease as the Sorcerer's glowing blue eyes stare out from his helmet lens. "Nerr'ak, I have many questions that I wish you to answer and I will use what ever means nessercary to get them." It appears that Commander Mortez has sensed the amount of psychic power being used and has come to question you about such and maybe he has even learnt of Modeus. What are you currently thinking and feeling now that one of the Red Cyclops's sons has come to question on.

Aeron: Reaching inside of the Ogryn's pocket you lift up something circular and about the size of a grenade to see what it is and your eyes widden in surprise and annoyance. The thing you have picked up is a live and primed frag grenade with the pin missing which makes you wonder what the creature would have such a thing but you quickly come to your sense's and throw the grenade into a group of marines of Slaanesh that just walked through one of the doors and breath a sigh of relief as it detonates a few seconds after you had let go of it amongst the warriors throwing them all to the ground and showering them with sharpnel. It seems the Blood God favours you today as as the marines slowly push themselves to their feet you have enough time to charge up and attack each and everyone one of them(theres 6 in total but one is a champion so don't kill him in one post) which will surely please the Khorne by killing several of his rival brothers marines. However by the time you get ready to kill the final marine he whips out his bolt pistol and fires point blank into your chest which punches you straight off your feet and onto the back, it appears that this one may be a worthy challenge for you and be another trophy for Khrone's throne.

Marchellus: Your terminator armour's servos wheez and whine as they move into a kneeling position something which Terminator armour isn't really meant for as you listen to Lord Garrond prattle on about each of you has been picked to become the heir of Commander Alhuas however only one of you is truely worthy of the position in the eyes of the gods and Lord Garrond himself. Turning your head to look at the others you can see that all of them have reached for their weapons already even though Garrond hasn't said anything about a fight but you look to see that your Lord is now smiling. "Now the test is to see which of you is truely worthy of becoming the Commander of Undivided and answer only to me and the gods. For this i want you all to kill each other and the last one standing shall become one of my honoured Commanders. You may begin" With that Garrond relaxes in his throne while all other 14 marines jump to their feet. You give a quick glance over all of your opponents and see that only three overs are armoured in Terminator armour which will make things easier for you as the chainaxes and chainswords will barely scratch you but the power weapons and fists might kill you should they wound you. Well its pretty much a fight to the death with everyone in the room except for Garrond so enjoy yourself(dont kill all 14 in one post, as the terminators will require more than one post to kill). While readying your lightning claw three Alpha-Legion warriors charge at you with their chainswords revving and bolt pistols firing shots at you.

Zarapheth: Leaving the sparring cage you walk back through the chamber and see that the battle between the four possessed is still going on and the daemon within you mind recalls that the gods and their daemons are never allowed to defeat each other because should only one god remain the warp would become still and chaos would be at an end something the four gods do not wish so like the Great Game the battle within the sparring cage continues as the four possessed continue to tear each other to pieces only for their daemons to heal their mortal hosts so they can continue the battle. After watching the fight for a few more moments the daemon within your mind senses the build up of sorcery coming from the simulation chambers located within the halls of undivided and a being of great power emerge though you can not tell what god it belongs to as it seems to belong to the four. Do you decide to go and investigate what is going on or do you ignore it and go look for some cultists to slaughter and sate your thrist for blood?(if you go for the simulation chamber then you will need to refer to Hardal's post but only your daemon would be unaffected, your mortal mind and body would be slowed like the others).

Arcus: You quickly make your way into he halls of undivided to find over two hundred of warbands veterans even dead or dying with ten dark apocatheries mulling around from Marine to Marine checking to see if they are still alive and if they aren't kneeling over and extracting their gene-seed. Moving into the chamber more you can see some marines have been hit by bolter rounds, burnt by flamers and several are missing half of their lower body as if they had been hit by a las-cannon or sliced in half by a power weapon, you should set about your duty extracting the gene-seed of those fallen but you really don't care if those who'se geneseed your extracting are still alive as the would most likely die of their wounds anyway. As you go about your work you start to think on whether ot not it might be a good idea whether or not to join Modeus after seeing what his forces can do within such a short space of time and after you extract the gene-seed of a warrior dedicated to the Lord of Skulls you find a warrior of undivided who is fully conciouss and groaning in pain. As you move over to him he grips you by the shoulder as you look to see he is missing part of his lower left side the size of a dinner plate from where an Auto-Cannon shot must of hit him as he grips your shoulder you hear him speek in a rasping voice. "It was madness....ten warriors...against two hundred. How did we lose? Did the dark gods will..i..t..." With that the marines arm falls to the ground as he dies from blood loss leaving you to harvest his gene-seed but now with the information that this was done by only ten marines! Surely Modeus is powerful.

Hardal: You turn your head to look back at the battle going still raging on you feel something strange happen to your mind and body as the battle around you along with time itself seems to slow down..Sorcery...Looking around you notice that your body is moving at its normal speed but everyone else including your men have been slowed to a crawl. Reading your bolter you look around to see a Terminator in silvery grey materalize and walk straight through the simulated terminators to stand infront of you and only then do you realize he stands a full head taller than the Imperial Fist Terminators and almost ready the height of the Olibitirators. After a few moments of whether or not to fire your bolter into this new comer you wonder who it is as upon their left arm is a large astartes mark power claw with wrist mounted stormbolter and at his left hip is a powersword as long as your arm. "Greetings Warsmith" echo's a voice from the helmet of the Terminator. "I am Modeus and I have come to make a deal with you. Are you prepared to listen what I have to offer, Iron warrior?" The Terminator who you now know as Modeus stands before you awaiting your to speak. Do you say anything to this warrior? What are you currently thinking and how are you feeling to have someone so powerful standing before you?

Ferrore: You listen to the Dark Sister Rachael tell you of why she left the light of the False-Emperor and embraced the Prince of Pleasures and while she does so you start your work on the power claw. Firstly you start by stripping it down to its barest minimum so that it may still work and have enough power to tear through armour but also to increase its speed and weight so that a mere mortal such as Rachael could use it to the affect of an Astartes using a power fist, as you continue to work on the power-claw you start to increase the amount of armour around so that it would be protected when fighting against over weapons should they get through its powerfield. All the while when Rachael is talking and you are working on the power claw you can sometimes catch small bursts of vox chatter from the Dreadnought within the room as if he has conversing with others who are hidden and plotting like all the Sons of the Hydra do. Should you ask the Dreadnought what he is doing then he replies that he is currently in communication with all of the squad commanders that make up Ferrore's forces and feeding them lies and promises so that they will fight loyaly for Modeus and Ferrore. How do you feel about the Ancient doing this without telling you?


OOC: The following still need to post by next update or ill have to npc them until they contact me.

Rachael: Also see what Ferrore/Deathbringer posted.

Uhra:

Malphas:

Arthon:


----------



## Angel Encarmine

Pulling out the object from the dead ogryns pocket, Aeron found that it was indeed a fragmentation grenade primed with the pin missing. Snarling, he turned and threw the frag grenade without looking, and laughed as it landed among 6 slaaneshi marines whom just emerged from a side passage. As the explosion knocked the marines to the ground, Aeron drew his twin chainaxes and charged at them, shouting threats and oaths that gradually turned into unintelligible shouts as his rage overcame his sanity. 

Smashing into the small group, he killed the first marine instantly as his chainaxe made contact with its faceplate, the power of the blow crushing its skull and removing it, splattering onto the wall behind it. Spinning and chopping, he managed to kill another three of them, their blood painting his armor, and joining with the blood, organs, and body parts that already decorated the hallway. Knocking down one marine, he landed his chainaxes on the shoulders of the other, Severing its arms before slamming his chainaxe down on its exposed head, crushing it into its torso.

As Aeron turned to finish the last marine, he was greeted with the sight of its bolt pistol firing on him, the rounds slamming into his MK VIII power armor and sending him flying into the wall. Getting to his feet, he bellowed in rage and pain as one round had managed to penetrate his armor, doing some damage. Charging the slaaneshi champion as it drew its chainsword, he began hacking and swinging with his chainaxes, his anger boiling over as it parried and blocked his swings, managing to land a blow on his upper arm, cutting deep. Dropping one chaineaxe, he screamed in pain as he landed his other axe on the joint of its power armor, he shouted in its face as he revved his chainaxe, effectively removing its pauldron before it shouldered him away. _Khorne has blessed me with a worthy opponent at last _ He shouted, moving closer to the marine. _I shall bleed you dry and take your skull!_ he roared before charging into battle with it again.


----------



## High_Seraph

Roaming the halls Ridoranaa looked for any of the ones who served Modeus. As he was walking Ridoranaa tried to recall any names. *There was that tech-marine, Forre I think, who served which god? Ah doesn't matter wasn't Tzeentch like Nerr'ak. Wait wasn't there someone who was undivided?* Ridoranaa thought as he continued walking around the interior of the fortress wondering where they might be and what to say to get the information that he required.

Continuing the train of thoughts Ridoranaa turned towards the hangar where the tecxhmarines worked. *Kakus or something? No it was Kalus. Kalus might be in the Undivided section. No it was Ferrore and he should be in the hangar. Nerr'ak lives in the Tzeentchian Library and I am not about to go there unless in dire need to. Well I guess my feet have decided for me. Now how to approach Ferrore. * Walking swiftly now that his mind was made up Ridoranaa approached the hangar passing few cultists or other marines as well until he reached the area surronding the hangar.

Walking towards a techmarine Ridoranaa asks, _"Where can I find Ferrore?"_ Hearing the marines reply Ridoranaa immediately set off toawrds the marine. Passing by the marines working there Ridoranaa saw them working on various projects some hiding them upon noticing his gaze and not returning to work until he passed them by. Seeing the ancient dreadnaught of the Alpha Legion he walked around it to find Ferrore fixing something for a woman. Staring at her Ridoranaa's face broke into a smile showing some teeth that had blackened or rotted while still in his mouth.

_"I'm sorry to interupt your valued work honorued Tech-marine but I have a few questions to ask about this Modeus. I humbly request a private conversation as well though I will wait until you have finished whatever work you are doing for the moment is done."_ at the end Ridoranaa looks at Ferrorestill smiling.


----------



## Santaire

Kalus grinned as he heard muffled voices down one of the corridors he had not noticed before. He slipped down it, hearing the voices become clearer. As he stepped out of the corridor he saw fifteen men kneeling to Garrond. As he did so he began to think. If he could become the replacement of commander Alhaus he would be able to lead all of the undivided troops to Modeus' aid. As Garrond finished the marines leapt up and charged each other. Kalus waited until one was directly below him before he leapt. He felt his boots crunch into the marine’s spine, breaking it and the man collapsed. Kalus felt Evisser rise within him and the claws slid out of his knuckles. He spun with his claws outstretched and the warp forged steel sliced through the neck of one of the traitors. Kalus somersaulted over the falling corpse and buried both claws in the chest of one of the other marines. Evisser sucked the soul from his corpse and Kalus withdrew his claws before he sprinted at the wall. He ran up the wall with all the daemonic speed he possessed focussed on keeping his legs moving fast enough to prevent him from falling. He flipped backwards and raked his claws down the back of a marine who had been chasing him before he landed, poised on the balls of his feet. He turned and was faced with a terminator.

Kalus grinned. This was just getting interesting…


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

BEFORE HARDAL COULD shout his next orders to his fellow Iron Warriors, it seemed as though time itself was slowing down. Aside him, all of the simulations continued slowing down, it seemed along with every warrior that was pure flesh and blood, or at least those experiencing the simulation anyway, as if suspended by some sort of warp magic. 

"_Sorcery_," spat one of the Iron Warriors, an astartes named Karhl, and Dantion knew that he was right when he turned and saw a Terminator in silvery grey armour appear in front, and walk straight through the simulations surrounding him as though there was nothing holding them down at all. He was a full head higher than the simulated Imperial Fist Terminators, standing almost as high as the fearsome Obliterators themselves. 

Spinning his weapon round in the direction of this newcomer, who boasted a power claw, a large astartes one, backed up with a wrist mounted storm bolter at his hip, Dantion recognised the aura that this Terminator was giving off, informing him that whoever, or whatever - this renegade astartes was, he was superior to Dantion. And, that was a very hard situation to find himself in.

"Greetings, Warsmith," the voice echoed inside Hardal Dantion's own armour. "I am Modeus. And I have come to make a deal with you. Are you prepared to listen to my offer, Iron Warrior?"

Dantion paused, and lowered his weapon, knowing that even, the veteran Iron Warrior that he was - would not last two minutes against the superhuman warrior standing before him. "Men, lower your weapons."

They all lowered their weapons, bar one, who was hanging slightly towards the back of the group. "Never. Garrond is our lord and master. We should take out this fiend now whilst we have the chance, War-"

He never finished his sentence, with Dantion firing one bolt round to his head, causing the Iron Warrior's head to explode. "Never did like you, anyway," the Warsmith frowned, and turned back to Modeus. "Now, Modeus, you were saying?"


----------



## Lord Ramo

Rachael found Ferrore's request for payment most unusual, as he asked for knowledge from her about her fall from being a follower of the Corpse God that billions blindly followed and toiled for. As he asked he gestured for a chair, obviously planning on modifying her claw in front of her as she answered his question and enthralled him with her tale. Though she doubt he would be enthralled, for a start he was a techmarine, and would probably get bored with what she had to say.

Secondly he was a follower of the Blood God, who were not renowned for being great thinkers, and able to keep information, though she did not doubt he couldn't store it being a techmarine and all. She moved to the chair slowly, before sitting down. In reality she could see a slight insult in the way that he referred to her as a cultist who wanted power. 

She took her seat, pretending she didn't hear the implied insult even though she bristled at him calling her a cultist, she was much more than that.

*"Well Ferrore, it started with my parents, while the Inquisition was following rumours of an anti imperial sect on my birth world. The Inquisition soon discovered my parents and had them executed for heresy. Luckily for me, the Inquisition judged me pure and untainted. As such I was an orphan and the Adeptus Sorortias took me in."*

She paused watching him as he worked, showing no sign that he was listening, though she was sure that he was. *"Soon as I grew older and older they put me in a Order Militant, and I showed more and more combat prowess. All the time I heard whispers in my head, telling me that they were responsible for my parents death and that they only wanted to use me. When I became a full sister I was reprimanded several times and had to take penance for my actions in battle, showing a more sadistic side then they had hoped for."*

She looked around the huge hanger for a second, marveling at the sight. Surely if any of these forces joined Modeus then she was sure that he would succeed. Though she also doubted that he cared about a single sister, one who had preformed well above expectations, she would still serve him in the hope that she would be rewarded, even slightly.
*
"The final nail in my transformation came as me and my sister squad tried to purge a heretical vessel of life, believing foolishly that we would be more than a match for mere cultists. To begin with we had success, gunning down wave after wave and progressing ably through the ship. However their numbers and clever ambushes began to take their toll, and soon me my superior and two other sisters were all that were left, trying desperately to retreat through the ship. It was here that Slaanesh offered me power, beyond my wildest dreams, as well as pleasure like I had never felt before. I turned traitor, killing my own sisters and joining with the Cultists as they headed into the Eye of Terror. Soon I found myself on this world, fighting for Modeus for a second before being forced to join Garrond."*

She looked to the techmarine before she continued speaking lower than she was before.* "There is no doubt that Garrond is powerful, but I believe that Modeus offers more power, more chance of victory. I have heard the rumours, and I find myself inclined to stand by his forces in the coming battle."* She was sure that he would also stand by Modeus, he was one of his original followers, and she was sure that he would be far too tempted by the power he could obtain working under Modeus.


----------



## Midge913

Leaving the Targal's chambers, Urien mused on the raw emotions that he felt emanating off of the Plague-Commander during their meeting. If he did not know better he would think that Targal was afraid. Granted if this newcomer, this Modeus, was able to deal with that many of Garrond's warriors, then Targal should be afraid. It was Urien's intention to hand Modeus the support of Garrond's Plague-Marines, a good many of which already followed Urien's lead. He was just waiting for the right moment to depose Targal, and take his rightful place as the leader of Nurlge's forces. Targal was weak, content to languish at Garrond's side, to feed from the scraps off of Garrond's table. Such things did not interest Urien, did not interest him in the slightest. None of the other Sorcerers of Nurgle within this compound had his skills, none were fit to rule save him. Giggling at the prospect, Urien hurried his steps to the Apothacarion, spurred on by the shrieks and screams of the dying that floated down the hall way. 

Entering the surgical theatre, and chuckling as he thought of the contagion that he brought into this place with him. Already one of the Marines lying closest to the door began to scream as the relatively large wound to the mans forearm turned green began to seep with bright red puss, merely by his proximity to Urien. Intrigued urien took a strange device from a belt pouch, screwed it into his bionic eye socket, and watched as the sickness and infection ate away at the mans skin, nerves, muscle, and bone. The man would be dead in minutes and Urien felt nothing but satisfaction. A warrior loyal to Garrond would die, and Father Nurgle's gifts would be spread to others. Murming a few words, feeling the quiet stir of power, he made sure that the man would pass his infection to others. Chuckling as he righted himself, he continued through the room, filled with the dead and dying. 

Several members of the Apothecarion were shuffling around the room, tending to those that could be saved, killing those that couldn't, and harvesting the gene-seed from all of the dead. Important work Urien mused. If only he could get his hands on an uncorrupted sample of that genetic gold. The wonders that could be worked from souce a potent source would be invaluable to him, but the Dark Apothecaries guard their stores religiously and dealt with those who would try to procure the gene-seed outside their purvue very harshly. 

As Urien walked he heard snippets of conversation, but none of it of any real interest until he came upon one of the Apothecaries that he knew by reputation, Arcus Archon, speaking with one of the injured Marines. To Urien's surprise the Marine was telling Arcus that only 10 of Modeus' warriors had wrought the destruction on Garrond's forces, and that they had not lost a man. The man seemed to be living in perpetual horror, the devastation wrought by only 10 enemies leaving him with a broken mind. Urien had no cause to doubt the man, but just to be sure he asked several of the other patients in the Apothecarion about the incident and received the same stories from all of the injured and mostly dying. 

This developement only served to seal his decision to side with the new Lord modeus. He would go tell Targal of what had transpired but there was something he needed to do first. Opening his mind to the warp, he looked for a beacon of where Modeus might be, and found it flashing quielty, not too far away. Reaching out with his mind, Urien sent a message. A signal of trust to the man who may be his lord, Urien whispered, and with a errant thought hardened his will and contained all the spare thoughts that would threaten to emerge with the psychic message. 

He hardened his will and spoke softly into the immatirium. "Modeus," he whispered, " I have business to discuss with you." He let the connection fade, and pulling himself upright, made his way back towards Targals chamber.


----------



## komanko

OOC: Revan I told you I was not in the mood so this is the best I could come up with XD
Anyway enjoy. Hope its to your liking and that I didn't make Xynx look like too much of an idiot.

Everything was quiet, even as he walked towards his own quarters he noticed the unnatural silence. It was nearly like he was walking directly into another dimension, one of complete silence. 

His breath slowed down, he walked more cautiously towards his own quarters. Looking frantically to each side, taking in each detail his heightened senses noticed. Anything to give away what was happening, and although everything seemed completely the same he could not help but feel that something is lurking, waiting for him.

He finally entered the room, he felt like he was intruding although it was his own quarters. This complete silence was alarming. He quickly looked around the room taking in every detail, remembering exactly how he left everything and comparing it to how it all looked now. He was not about to be caught off guard, his senses told him of another psyker nearby. He could feel him, he or she were extremely close.

His hand slowly slid down to his force sword, he held the hilt with a firm hand, he was ready to face anything that would be set upon him. Nerr’ak continued moving forward, cautiously, elegantly, one step at a time, like walking through a damn minefield.

He soon reached the middle of his own room, yet he felt like he was blind, he could not see where the intruder was. He could not say for certain. Suddenly there was a rise in the psychic energy in the room and Nerr’ak could feel a presence coming from his left, probably trying to attack him.

He spun around, his sword was unsheathed in a single pure motion, it pierced the air in a magnificent way, cut through it perfectly, it circled with Nerr’ak and finally reached its destination. The sound of two weapons colliding could be heard yet a searing bright light blinded him, he could not see the attacker. Only a couple of moments later he reclaimed his sight and was able to see…

“Commander Xynx! What are you doing here!?” Nerr’ak asked in surprise when he saw the commander, he was quite alarmed and now maybe, truly afraid. Xynx was one of the original thousand sons, he served under the one eyed primarch, under the crimson king, the greatest of all sorcerer. All of the thousand sons were needed to be feared as each of them had the power to annihilate nearly anyone. As the only ones who are left were the strongest of them all.

It would do Nerr’ak good to get rid of Xynx, but it was impossible for him. Xynx was a Thousand Son after all and Nerr’ak barely a renegade. Looking down he saw that his blade collided with the commander’s bedlam staff. Both weapons seemed to be unharmed yet this was not what alarmed Nerr’ak, what truly made him fear was the commander’s presence and the fact that his eyes were glowing in an eerie blue color, his face invisible, hidden beneath his own helm.

Nerr’ak had to play his role, he had to stay calm and find a way to sneak past the commander’s defenses. Even before he asked he knew what the commander wanted. He probably managed to intercept the rise in psychic energy, he felt that Nerr’ak had something to do with it. Damned be Modeus and his idiocy, using his sorcery like it held no risks. He would be the end of Nerr’ak!

No! He had to stay calm. He praised himself for looking firm and calm when Xynx said that he needed many questions answered and that he will use any means necessary to obtain the answers to them. The only thing which could give away Nerr’ak’s alarm and fear was the fact that he repeatedly flexed his fingers yet luckily the commander haven’t noticed as he was occupied with waiting for Nerr’ak’s answer anxiously.

“I will answer every question you have my lord.” Nerr’ak said with his most humble of tones, he tried to turn to the commander’s arrogant side, the side that will make him lower his defenses after seeing Nerr’ak groveling and cooperating with the questioning. Yet too successfully survive this without being eliminated Nerr’ak had to distract the commander long enough for him to be able to die! He saw no way to achieve that at this time and as such he could only wait.

He knew that no matter how much information he would give to Xynx, no matter how crucial and important it was, the commander wont immediately relay it to Garrond. As every follower of Tzeentch he will hold on this information until the most profitable time and only then let it out, in small pieces. 

Though Nerr’ak knew how the followers of Tzeentch reacted most of the time Xynx managed to surprise him when he began questioning him directly, he quickly asked several questions obviously waiting for short and precise answers. Well, Nerr’ak is not going to give in so easily. He had to stall time in order to survive.

“My lord, I have no interest in holding the truth away from you. I do everything I can to help Garrond and his chosen deal with wretches like Modeus and as such I would happily provide you with any information I have.” He said, again with his humble and groveling tone.

“To answer your first question, Modeus have abducted me with his newly found powers, he managed to pull me out of the fortress with his powers yet to where… I do not know. I would hazard a guess that it was his own ship but I cannot know for certain. IT could’ve been a fortress or even a different planet or a moon.” Nerr’ak began to babble idiotic suggestions, he knew that it would make him seem less threatening and less worthy in the eyes of the commander which in order will lower his defenses and caution at the sight of such an idiot.

“Your second question the most potent of sorcerers I shall answer with ease and certainty. Modeus wished to convince me to return into his care. He offered me rewards for serving him and helping him against Garrond and even for making others move to his side. He told me that he wanted me to kill you and obviously that’s where I declined. I knew that I couldn’t harm, not speaking of killing, someone like you. I doubt if I would manage to even scratch your magnificent armor my lord.” He could feel Xynx’s self esteem going up, no one was immune to compliments, a powerful weapon indeed. 

He saw how the commander stood more casually now, his staff lightly gripped in his hand, it seemed like he was talking to a friend or a loyal servant. “Your third question is hard to answer your ingenuity. When I landed in his base of operation I saw only a vanguard, maybe his personal bodyguard of forty terminators and as such I cannot tell you what his forces consist of. Yet what I can tell you is that we have traitors in this base, I know because I saw him speak to one through the warp. More correctly I felt it. So it is possible that our own forces will turn on us…” Nerr’ak said the word our on purpose, he wanted Xynx to completely believe that he was on his side, that he was not a threat.

“As I already answered your next question I would not repeat it, I already told you that I have declined his offer, I stand ready to protect my rightful lord, you.”

Before the commander was able to say anything else a disturbance in the warp made both of them turn their attention. Someone was communicating through it. One of the aspiring sorcerers in Garrond’s fort. It was obviously so, as no sane person would communicate through the warp when so many sorcerers were around. The neophyte obviously did not know that others could hear his message, someone was looking for Modeus.

Both Nerr’ak and Xynx were amazed by the stupidity of the communicator. Both of them dropped their defenses completely when they listened to the words of the sorcerer who tried communicating with Garrond. Unluckily for Xynx, Nerr’ak was the first to recover his thoughts, this was his opportunity.

Swift as lightning his sword rose, like an arrow it pierced through the ancient power armour which engulfed the thousand son. As swift as it went in it went out through the other side. He could hear the pain that the commander was going through, he could feel the surprise, the feeling of betrayal, the shame of how he could’ve been wounded by one such as Nerr’ak.

“You’ve underestimated your opponent my dear commander.” He said with a loathsome and yet sweet voice. “I have accepted Modeus’s offer.” Nerr’ak continued. Yet it appeared that Nerr’ak underestimated the Thousand Son’s will as well. As he twisted the sword deeper a huge psychic scream erupted from the commanders mind, sending a message of warning and alarm. “What have you done you fool!!” Nerr’ak screamed in hatred and surprise.

With another swift motion he raised his sword upwards, the sword cut through the power armor like butter, splitting the commander from the gut upwards, dividing him in two. With a powerful swing the sword came out though the neck. A huge line was painted in the commander’s armor. It was the line of death. Nerr’ak pushed the body away, the commander rolled to the ground, dead before he even hit it. The loss of blood would severe his neural system, he will die of organ failure. He couldn’t survive. 

Nerr’ak removed the helm from the commander’s face and with one strong and hateful stomp he smashed the head into a bloody pulp. He was not going to risk the commander staying alive. He attached the help to his armor. It would serve him well. Yet it was time to make his way out. The fortress would be upon him.

He walked out of the chamber a force sword in one hand a combi flamer in another. His face was filled with bloodlust and the blood of the commander. He ordered his mount to follow through a mental connection between them. Mounting it in the corridors would be useless, he would have to get out and find an open area to escape.

His slow walked turned into a run as he heard many footsteps coming from nearly all directions. He looked back and saw several marines dedicated to Tzeentch, and they obviously saw him. They immidiatly began firing at him sending bolts, plasma shots and what not at him yet Nerr’ak was smarter as he covered himself in a psychic shield. It could deflect a titans blast if he had the power so those pitiful shots which were directed at him were not going to pass through the shield.

He rushed forward just to be greeted by what seemed to be a horde of cultists. Each of them eager to kill him in order to receive a blessing from Tzeentch or the recognition of lord Garrond. A grave mistake. Nerr’ak increased his running speed and his combi flamer was set in front of him. None of the cultists realized what his real plan was, something so nasty that he was surprised that he thought of it himself. 

Nerr’ak squeezed the trigger of his combi flamer and a burst of flame came out, yet all the cultists were surprised as the flame didn’t even reach them, Nerr’ak was too far. He smiled, they still haven’t figured out his true destructive potential and none of them began retreating. A moment later Nerr’ak released a psychic spike which filled the hallway in front of him. The spike was imbued with the power of the flamer and resulted in a huge fireball which traveled down towards the helpless cultists.

The screams were what Nerr’ak felt first. Only then he saw the damage. Nearly half of the cultists were sprawled across the hallway. Some crushed by the force of the spike, others burned to ashes. Some tried to escape yet the fireball caught them and simply incinerated them leaving nothing to mourn, leaving no remains to scavenge.

He saw the marines behind him stop shooting in fear and awe yet it was only momentary as they began shooting again pretty quickly. He could hear more footsteps. He had to make haste.

He rushed forward, tearing through the remaining cultists. He came out at what seemed to be a small garden, the sky looked at him from above. It was time to disappear. This time he simply unleashed a prepared fireball down the corridor he came from, he had to stall the marines a bit. He then quickly set fire to everything around him, the flame rose from the garden like a huge giant, it would provide the perfect screen to escape. As the flame began to rise Nerr’ak mounted his disk and took to the sky, a moment later he heard the sound of grenades dropping where he stood a second ago. Tzeentch smiled upon him as he made his way to his fortress.


----------



## revan4559

Urien: As you make your way back towards Targal's chambers you hear a soft voice whispering into your mind and instantly try to raise your mental barriers but it is hopeless as one one speaking to you possesses more power than you do. "Your invitation of a conversation was crude at best Sorcerer, though all of us who use the warp to send messages can do so most of us have little finess in keeping them hidden from others. You Fool! thanks to your message through the warp the child of the Cyclops now knows that I am within the fortress and most withdraw quickly! aaaargh!" As the voice shouts in your mind a bench next to you is ripped off the ground and slammed into your back by an unknown force. "Meet me at the blood tournament arena in four hours and come alone." With that the voice disappears and you slowly push yourself to your feet, it appears that you may of made a mistake in contacting Modeus while within the fortress as now Commander Xynx, leader of the forces of Tzeentch and a Thousand Son knows that you have contacted Modeus and will perhaps tell Garrond...you are in a most difficult position. You should hurry back to Targal's chambers as even the Thousand Son wont step foot in the halls of Nurgle.

Ridoranaa: For now it appears the Tech-Marine Ferrore ignores you as he listens to the Dark Sister Rachael tell her story of how she fell from the corpse-gods light into the embrace of Slaanesh, a tale which you find midly ineresting as Nurgle and Slaanesh have a neutral attitude towards each other. While waiting for an answer from Ferrore it seems you won't get one as he is busy with the power-claw infront of him and remembering your times talking to other tech-marines you remember that once they have something to work on they usually block out all other distractions until the task at hand has been finished. Before you try to ask Ferrore to answer your questions again you hear a voice within your head and recognize it as Commander Xynx, Leader of the Forces of Tzeentch. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind and you then hear the sound of hundreds if not thousands of pairs of boots running throughout the fortress in an attempt to stop Nerr'ak. It seems things have become interesting, perhaps if you could help this sorcerer leave the fortress you could question him instead of the Tech-Marine?

Kalus: Before you are able to start your fight with the terminator you hear a voice within your head that isnt Evisser, it is infact Commander Xynx the leader of Tzeentch and he is shouting to everyone within the fortress using his sorcery. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind and Garrond pushes himself off of his throne and bellows his orders to everything gathered within the hall. "You are to stop this fight immidately! The new challenge is this! The one to bring Nerr'ak to me shall become the new commander of the forces of undivided!" To you this could be a double blessing as Nerr'ak used to serve Modeus and if he has contacted your lord them maybe he knows what Modeus plans on doing, but should Nerr'ak be killed before hand then you will not know and this could potentially annoy Modeus as Nerr'ak has hundreds of sorcerers at his command which could prove useful. You better make your decision at what you are going to do.

Nerr'ak: Your plan to escape ontop of your disk and fly over the fortress for some parts is a great success but as you rise out of the garden you can see that most of the fortress still towers above you. As you your disc turns to fly off towards your own keep there is a large explosion about ten meters to your left which almost knocks you from your mount. Looking back you see several of the turrets on the fortress's towers turn to face you...Anti-Air turrets...this could be problematic as not only would a direct hit kill your daemon but it would also send you tumbling to the ground with no way of stopping so you decide to sit down on your disk and close your eyes as you raise a force barrier around yourself to deflect the worst of the explosions and bullets that are now being fired from the fortress towards you. Should you open your eyes and look over the fortress you can see Garronds forces pouring out of the doors and onto the walls and into the courtyard as they all look up at you and shout in anger while some of them raise their bolters, missile launchers and las-cannons to open fire on you. It appears that killing Xynx may not of been a good idea as now until you are out of their range it is very likely your barrier won't hold up against many direct hits...dare you call into the warp and ask Modeus for his aid or do what you can on your own?

Aeron: The slaaneshi champion giggles and laughs with glee as you remove his pouldron and looks at his slightly bleeding shoulder with a smile before revving his chainsword and charges towards you with a large fang filled smile. As he gets closer something whips out from behind him and hits your already bleeding arm with some form of blade and it takes you a couple of moments to figure out that the Slaaneshi champion has infact been blessed with a scythed tail that flails around behind him and now without your other chain-axe this could prove to be a problem as now the champion affectively has three weapons(chainsword, bolt pistol, tail) should he wish to use them and you only have one for the moment as your enhanced body starts to make the wound on your arm clot. How do you intend to fight this opponent? Will you charge at him with the fury and anger of Khorne himself and attack widely or will you attempt some other ploy to kill him? Of course you won't! You are one of the Beserker's of Khorne!

Zarapheth: Leaving the sparring cage you walk back through the chamber and see that the battle between the four possessed is still going on and the daemon within you mind recalls that the gods and their daemons are never allowed to defeat each other because should only one god remain the warp would become still and chaos would be at an end something the four gods do not wish so like the Great Game the battle within the sparring cage continues as the four possessed continue to tear each other to pieces only for their daemons to heal their mortal hosts so they can continue the battle. After watching the fight for a few more moments the daemon within your mind senses the build up of sorcery coming from the simulation chambers located within the halls of undivided and a being of great power emerge though you can not tell what god it belongs to as it seems to belong to the four. Do you decide to go and investigate what is going on or do you ignore it and go look for some cultists to slaughter and sate your thrist for blood?(if you go for the simulation chamber then you will need to refer to Hardal's post but only your daemon would be unaffected, your mortal mind and body would be slowed like the others). Also if you wish to then read the Everyone post below to decide if you will go after Nerr'ak or not.

Arcus: While you continue to harvest the gene-seed of the fallen you hear a bellowing voice enter your mind that stops you continueing your duty as you listen to it. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind. This new turn of events makes little change to what you are doing as you do not really care as a Dark Apocathery your first duty is to tend to the gene-seed of the fallen to ensure the future generation of astartes can fight against the loyalist dogs of the Corpse-God. While you return to harvesting the gene-seed of the fallen your mind starts to wonder what would happen if you presented all of this gene-seed to Modeus along with all the forces that you control within Garrond's warband, surely he will be pleased enough to award you a place as his Chief Apocathery and perhaps even award you with more troops for up coming campaigns but once again this brings about the problem of trying to contact Modeus...but then again doesn't Nerr'ak know how to contact him? Suddenly the current events becoem very important if you wish to bestray Garrond and join Modeus. All you need to do is ensure the survival of the sorcerer Nerr'ak.

Hardal: The terminators helmet turned to watch you shoot one of your fellow Iron Warriors through the head before turnings its attention back to you. "As you will hear when this simulation ends, I have killed two-hundred of Garronds finest warriors while they were away from this fortress to prove a point that everything has a choice of joining me or dieing. But those that I find worthy I have come to visit with a personal offer to join me in taking down your current Lord, while I have amassed a great forces I still require more men if this is to be an easy victory that will not cripple my forces for what I have planned. I also require knowledge of this fortress's weak points and kill zones so that is why I have come to you Warsmith." The silver terminator then steps forward so he is barely a foot away and you can definately see he towers over you. "So my offer is this, you and your warriors pledge yourselves to me and give me what I require and I will see that you are rewarded greatly. Not onlt that but you will also have the chance to command a greater host of war machines that you already possess. So then Iron Warrior, what is your decision?" You can see Modeus clentch his left hand slightly and the four blades of his lightning claws flick out of their sheaths. Will you swear loyalty? Will you attack Modeus or will you even bargin for more?

Ferrore: You listen to what the dark sister Rachael has to say about how she turned from the false-emperors light and embraced Slaanesh which in turn makes you think back on your own fall to chaos all those years ago when you had met the Oblitirators...So much has changed since then and now it seems that the future for yourself has become very uncertain but your alliance with Modeus will atleast give you some purpose in the up coming years and wars against the corpse-god. Returning your attention back to the power-claw infront of you, you sense the presences of another astartes enter the room but it wasn't mearly 'sensing' him it was more of the fact you could smell him more than anything as the marine appears to have been blessed by Nurgle which makes the daemon within you shudder. He then states that he has come to ask you qustions but before you can answer you get a shouting voice pierce your mind which stop what you are doing. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind. It seems that the sorcerer has done something rash and gotten himself in alot of trouble but to you this just makes you laugh at his foolishness. Do you return to working on the power-claw? Do you continue your conversation with Rachael or find out what the nurgle marine wishes to know?

Rachael: After telling your tale to Ferrore he just remains working on your power-claw while obviously thinking over what you have said and clearly he is planning what to do. You and then shortly joined by a marine who has clearly been blessed by Nurgle as you were able to smell him before he even appeared and what surprises you is that he has come to question Ferrore about certain things. Do you leave the two marines to their conversation or remain where you are so you can hear what they are talking about? Before you can make your decision though you hear a psychic voice enter your mind in the form of a shout and what it says completely sends you off guard. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind but while you already know Nerr'ak you now have the decision of aiding Garrond's forces or remaining within the hanger and letting all the others within the fortress chase after the sorcerer...or perhaps you could go and add Nerr'ak and in return get him to perform some sorcery for you to increase your abilities?

For Everyone below if you still wish to be in the roleplay then use the following update to post: "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!" After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into your mind which stops you in your tracks at what ever you were doing as you recall the voice sounds like Commander Xynx one of Garronds commanders and a Thousand Son. The ease that a sorcerer was able to penerate your mind and implant this message makes you shiver and decide to train to increase your mental barriers to try and ward against such. But now you are left with a choice of whether or not you decide to hunt down this Nerr'ak or to return to what ever you were doing. However should you decide to hunt him down then clearly Garrond could reward you for bringing the traitor to him, though if you aid Nerr'ak then perhaps Lord Modeus will reward you for saving one of his followers? The decision of what you do is yours.

Uhra: See above.

Malphas: See above.

Marchellus: See above.

Arthon: See above.

Cassian: See above.

Zena: See Above.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

THE WARSMITH PAID close attention as the Terminator's helmet looked in the direction of the bullet that he was firing into the body of the mole, before turning his attention back to Hardal Dantion.

"As you will hear when this simulation ends," boomed Modeus, his voice echoing of authority, "I have killed two hundred of Garrond's finest warriors while they were away from this fortress, and I have done this to prove a point, that everything has a choice. Joining with me, or dying by my hands."

He couldn't help it, the Warsmith was impressed. Modeus, whoever the hell he was, the Terminator had enough power to take down two hundred warriors that could be part of his future warband, just to _prove a point_. Although Dantion didn't need to be a genius to work out that there was more coming.

"But those that I find worthy I have come to visit with a personal offer to join me in taking down your current Lord, while I have amassed a great forces I still require more men if this is to be an easy victory that will not cripple my forces for what I have planned. I also require knowledge of this fortress's weak points and kill zones so that is why I have come to you Warsmith."

Dantion paused. This was interesting, and now Modeus had let slip something that could be used to the Iron Warrior's advantage. So my offer is this, you and your warriors pledge yourselves to me and give me what I require and I will see that you are rewarded greatly. Not only that, but you will also have the chance to command a greater host of war machines that you already possess. So then... _Iron Warrior_, what is your decision?"

Dantion turned to his men, and could tell they had been already swayed by Modeus' words. Well, almost everyone. The warrior Andrei had fallen, but it didn't matter. He was a mole, planted in his group ensure that the Iron Warriors remained loyal to Garrond. Too bad, the Warsmith reflected. They didn't see that one coming.

"I will pledge loyalty to you, my lord," The Iron Warrior nodded bowing, and as he did so - he noticed the Terminator's left hand clench slightly and the four blades of lightning claws flick out of their sheaths. It was safe just to pledge loyalty now, he would only reap more rewards as he progressed. Especially if he was one of the first of Garrond's forces to swear loyalty to Modeus. "You have my forces at your disposal."

"Although I will withhold the information of the fortress' weak points until I can be assured that I get a substantial boost in my forces," he added, pausing a bit before remembering to finish off with a, "My Lord."


----------



## khrone forever

With a crackle of ozone, Marchellus’ lighting claw powered up as the 3 Alpha-legion charged. with a quick calculation in his head, he aimed the arm-mounted assault cannon at the closest marines’ hip joint and let of a burst of shells. One of them found its mark and burrowed though the weak joint between his groin and leg, before exploding and blowing his leg to pieces. The crippled marine fell and slid towards him face first; Marchellus lifted his leg and brought it crashing down on his head. The re-enforced ceramite held out for a second or two then broke and the marines head below was crushed into a gooey mess. 

As he turned to face the other oncoming warriors he half heard and half felt the whining of a chain weapon. He started to bring his lighting claw to block the blow, but before he managed it, a chain axe bounced off his left shoulder pad and spun away, only having scratched the paintwork. “DIE FOOL” Marchellus bellowed, amplifying his voice through his armour “DIE KNOWING YOU HAVE FAILED”. He then spun round and drove his lighting claw deep inside the marines blue armour; then flexed his fingers, mangling his insides. He tossed the dying Astartes away contemptuously.

Seeing the ease with which he had dispatched his fellows, the final alpha warrior fled toward the main brawl, trying to pick easier targets Marchellus assumed. However he was cut down by a bolt of plasma fired from another marine, previously hidden, behind a pillar. “I see you” Marchellus whispered to himself and he lined up his assault cannon and let fly. The marine, and the pillar he was hiding behind, disintegrated under the weight of fire. As he re-loaded the assault cannon, he felt a weak tugging at his leg. He looked down and saw the marine that he had maimed, grasping for his leg. Marchellus directed his servo-arm to rip of the marines backpack, and then sever his spine. Leaving him crippled and encumbered by his armour, but still very much alive and in pain.
As he observed the battle, he noted that one of the other terminators was flagging; he was currently under the assault of a possessed that looked like a genestealer hybrid; with 4 arms and chitin plates running over his armour. As he looked on, the terminator crushed the lower body and legs of the possessed with his powerfist, but the final death throes of the marine dug deep into the terminators armour, ripping though like it was make of paper. They died together, in some obscene deadly hug.

He was brought back to reality by several bolter impacts on his torso, he looked around to see another marine charging at him with a chainsword and bolt pistol. He was about to turn when he heard a voice in his head. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!", every one in the chamber stopped to listen. Several things flashed though Marchellus’ mind in a few seconds: “there is not point going to kill this man, Narr’ak, as we are on the same side; this could reveal out betrayal to Garrond though; we could use this as an advantage.” Swiftly he formed a plan, “Everyone let us stop this fighting and go to hunt down this traitor we have been informed about!” he shouted across the room. This sudden outburst woke most people from their daze and some started running toward the door, eager to find the traitor. Marchellus glanced across to the others in the room and saw they were thinking the same thing as he was. As one, they all raised their weapons and cut down the marines that were running towards the doors in a hail of bolt rounds. 

Now only 5 of the 14 remained. This would get interesting...


----------



## Angel Encarmine

As Aeron charged the Slaaneshi champion, he felt a sharp pain on the wound of his bleeding left arm, as his enemy revealed its scythed tail, a blessing from its god. Overcome with the rage of Khorne, he barely felt it as the champions tail cut into his arm, laying it open to the bone and causing him to drop his chain axe. As the wound clotted, the Champion tried to level its bolt pistol at Aeron's helmet, yet he was too fast, shattering the bolt pistol with a blow from his axe, whilst dodging the tail and chainsword of the champion.

As the pair clashed in the hallway again, Aeron applied a different tactic to this slippery foe he found himself fighting. As he parried a blow from his enemies chainsword, instead of stepping back, he dropped his chainaxe and stepped into his opponents guard grabbing him and slamming him into the wall. Laughing as the marine started to get up, Aeron darted in and grabbed it by its tail, scooping up his chainaxe as he did. With one swing, he removed the Slaaneshi champions tail, stumbling away as his opponent let out a high pitched scream that felt as if it pierced his skull.

As he regained his composure, the Slaaneshi marine charged him again, fighting with a speed and strength it hadnt before, and Aeron could barely keep up as it's chainsword spun around, scoring a deep gouge in the armor on his thigh, spraying blood on the ground. Bellowing in rage, Aeron grabbed his opponent and ripped off its helmet, wrapping his armored hands around its throat as the pair slipped on an eviscerated cultist and went crashing to the ground, the Champion's chainsword sliding just out of it's reach. Screaming oaths in its face, Aeron patiently crushed the life out of the marine, ignoring its punches to his helmet, even as his visor cracked and shattered under the assault. As his fingers slipped into it's neck, and its black blood began seeping out of its mouth, he heard a crack and the marine went limp. Stumbling to his feet, Aeron stood over the marine and removed it's head, fully intending to dedicate it to khorne at the temple.

As he collected his weapons, he noticed that the wounds he sustained were much worse than he thought, and his helmet was cracked and malfunctioning. Regaining some measure of sanity and thought for self preservation now that he was no longer in battle, he thought that perhaps it would be a good idea to see an apothecary for the wounds, and a techmarine for the helmet. Gathering the skull of the champion and the ogryn, he limped his way to the temple of khorne, planning to lay the hard earned skulls there in dedication to the blood god.


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## High_Seraph

Waitintg for the tech-marine to finish talking to the girl Ridoranaa waited as patiently as he could before remembering that tech-marines withdraw from the outside when working on something. As Ridoranaa turned to leave he hears a voice within his head and recognize it as Commander Xynx, Leader of the Forces of Tzeentch. "Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!"

*Well now this is interesting. The Tzeencthian sorceror is a traitor? This could be just what I need to find out about this Modeus. Now how to turn this in my favor when I confront this sorceror.* After the message ends the image of Nerr'ak is burnt into Ridoranaa's mind and he then hear the sound of hundreds if not thousands of pairs of boots running throughout the fortress in an attempt to stop Nerr'ak. Opening a quick vox link to a squad of marines loyal only to Garrond Ridoranaa tells them, _"This is your Commander Ridoranaa, meet me just outside the main gate and we will deal with this traitor,_ closing that vox link ridoranaa quickly opens a new one to his second-in-command _ "Xerxes get twenty men just outside the main gate. We will be finding out information from Nerr'ak about Modeus I hope."_ closing that one as well he broadcasts openly in the hopes of reaching Nerr'ak.

_"Sorceror this is a friend get yourself over to the main gate and you shall find your freedom from this place. Dismiss this message at your peril."_ Hurrying along the corridors Ridoranaa makes for the main gate and hopes Nerr'ak listens to his call.


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## komanko

OOC: Not the best, but this will have to do considering the amount of time I have revan.

The fires burned bright below him, he could feel how much stronger he had got this past days. In the past the same amounts of energy that he spent today would leave him sprawled and exhausted, not anymore, he wasn’t even tired now. This feeling of power only bolstered his already growing arrogance though he seemed not to notice that.

The flames began spreading, hopefully some of the buildings will catch fire or something inflammable would explode which would leave a more then temporary scar upon the foolish lord’s base. It did not matter for now, Tzeentch smiled upon him today, not only that he slaughtered one of his own master’s chosen he actually managed to escape, for now… Yet Nerr’ak knew, he was one of the most qualified to know, he knew how fragile the balance of Tzeentch was, he knew that the favor of a chaos god is a temporary thing, fragile at best, especially Tzeentch’s favor.

He rose further and further, his deamonic mount carrying him to heights which he wouldn’t have possibly reached earlier, to fall from such an height would be death even to an Astarte and a sense of acrophobia swarmed him for a moment. Yet he quickly regained his focus as his disk went further.

He heard the whirring of guns turning, what guns could be placed in such heights? He heard the roar of cannons and a moment later a shot exploded just ten meters away from him, it rocked the disk and threatened to throw Nerr’ak off the daemon. Quickly looking back Nerr’ak’s suspicions were assured… Anti Air guns. That was not good, not good at all. It seemed that Tzeentch would not let him get away so easily after murdering one of his chosen, another test was hidden here in the sky above the fortress and Nerr’ak would pass it, he had to!

He flickered his hand and in a moment a psychic shield surrounded both him and his mount. It would be able to hold several blasts but the power of those cannons was indeed strong, it would be hard to hold off against them for long. As if sensing that he put a shield up one of the shots hit him. It exploded and engulfed him in a ball of flame yet the barrier protected him and the fire simply engulfed him like a ball yet it did not touch him.

He heard the roar of amassed bolter fire, looking down he saw hundreds if not thousands of soldiers swarming the fortress. Each of them shooting him, hoping to be the one who would bring him down, the one to receive the rewards of such a wonderful kill. None of them was really loyal, loyalty itself was a lie. A lie spread by Tzeentch himself. Every man would betray the others for the right price, for most it was promised death. Hopefully many would change their allegiance once Modeus attacks. 

A bright searing lance of light passed nearby, not hitting the shield but for a moment startling Nerr’ak. He looked down again, he saw that new weapons were being added to the puny bolters. Las cannons, rocket launchers, it really looked like they did not want him to leave. It appeared that he was really popular, yet he would have to disappoint them. He had to leave.

As he looked down he saw more and more soldiers pour out. Garrond’s army was bigger than expected, much bigger. Yet that was before the masses would defect, he would see how many are left when they would attack. 

Sweat ran down his face, it was getting into his eyes and momentarily blurring his vision. The mass of fire that was hitting him was taking a toll and he could feel it. Some of his muscles went numb as if giving their energy to support the shield. As long as he would get out of range all prices were fine to pay, except one, he would not contact Modeus for help, this would make him seem weak, something that he could not afford near that damned person.

He heard a vox transmission, it was wide open for everyone to here. It told him to come to the gate, well, if they thought he was going to fall for that trap they were mistaken yet still, his interest was aroused. He redirected his mount to fly over the main gate, once he would reach it he would try seeing who leads the man at the gate and then decide if he could be trusted. 

The mount turned slowly and flew towards the gate, cannon fire still tearing at them both. Once above the gate Nerr’ak put on the Thousand Sons helmet and used it to amplify his vision, he could clearly see the bloated form of a follower of nurgle, he seemed familiar, Nerr’ak thought he saw him at the tournament.

Well, someone who used an open vox transmission was indeed desperate and as such he was worth trusting, for the time being. Nerr’ak lowered his shield for a single second just to plant the image of his fort directly at the plague marines mind, burning it in the willing mind just like Xynx did earlier. Now he would know where to find him. He felt several bullets graze his armor and a buildup of energy behind him. He quickly threw his shield back on just to be hit by a huge cannon blast, the daemonic mount rocked and threatened to tear Nerr’ak off his feet yet luckily it stabilized and flew on, to the fortress, to relative safety.


----------



## Midge913

Urien walked non-chalantly back towards Commander Targal's chambers. Pleased with what he had learned about Modeus capabilities. If his warriors were powerful enought to do what they had to 200 of Garrond's chosen, he knew that he had chosen the right side. 

Suddenly, a presence encroached on his mind. Burrowing its way through his passive defenses and striking so swiftly and powerfully that Urien had no chance to fight against it. The power of the voice that now flowed into his mind was formidable indeed and Urien's mental barriers fell before it with little resistance. 

_*"Your invitation of a conversation was crude at best Sorcerer, though all of us who use the warp to send messages can do so most of us have little finess in keeping them hidden from others. You Fool! thanks to your message through the warp the child of the Cyclops now knows that I am within the fortress and most withdraw quickly! aaaargh!" *_No that was not possible Urien thought quickly, he only had time to register that one thought before one of the stone benchs that he was near ripped itself from the ground and slammed into his back with crushing force. Luckily blunt force trauma was not something Urien needed to worry about due to his gifts from Father Nurgle. All the same the blow was powerful enough to knock the wind from his lungs and send him sliding down the hallway. 

Righting himself he winced as the voice continued to roar in his head, _*"Meet me at the blood tournament arena in four hours and come alone."*_

With that the invading presence was gone, retreating back into the warp from whence it came. Urien was furious. This was the trickery of Tzeentch this was. Lashing out with his power his caused the blood to boil in the viens of a nearby cultist. The man's nargling scream calming him to the point that at least he could think clearly. He was no fool. He knew he had shielded his communications from unwanted listeners. He was set up and betrayed. Something had broadcast his message to Modeus so that any sorcer within the fortress could hear him. Perhaps it was unclear who the message may have been from, but it was obvious that Modeus knew, and according to the voice, who he presumed belonged ot Modeus himself, Commander Xynx knew of his communication. Damn! 

He wouldn't go to his meeting with Modeus empty handed, hastily hatching a plot, he hurried back to his chambers to retrieve his Wargear, and then made haste to speak with Lord Targal, a malicious smile plastered to his festering features.


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## Santaire

Kalus paused as the voice permeated his head. He listened for a moment and was about to move towards the door when someone suggested it. That made him pause. His instincts proved right and those who ran to the door were gunned down without mercy. Since obviously no escape lay in that direction Kalus decided on a more extreme option. He ran at the terminator and leapt up. He landed on its shoulders and bent his legs before springing again. He caught the ledge where he had been earlier with one hand and hauled himself up. With a parting glance to the 4 warriors who faced each other on the blood soaked floor Kalus sprinted for the exit.

Kalus skidded to a halt and opened a vox channel to his group. “Have you seen Nerr’ark,” he snarled. “Yes Kalus, he flew on his disk and left the fortress heading east,” one of the astartes responded. “Damn,” Kalus cursed aloud. “Get some bikes and meet me in the courtyard, we’ll follow his trail,” with that he closed the vox channel and before he could move he felt Evisser’s presence in his mind. I can sense his trail for you, the daemon hissed. “You can read my thoughts daemon, surely you knew that was what I intended for you to do,” Kalus responded a little scornfully. Of course the daemon sent, sounding a little defensive but I thought your species believed it to be polite to offer. Kalus snarled his reply “the Emperor’s lackeys think that but I would rather you just got on with it.”

The daemon withdrew into the darkness of his mind and Kalus felt it focus its power. It flooded into him and Kalus suddenly sped up immensely. Travelling so fast that the vacuum left by his passage sent a cultist hurtling into the wall at breakneck speed. He leapt from a window and seemed to fly cross to the courtyard. He skidded to a halt seeing his followers sat on roaring bikes. “Follow,” he said curtly and sprinted from the fortress...


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth stood and watched the other possessed marines fight each other. It was amusing to an extent. They would fight, and at some point, one would figure out the other's trick and would hold a moment of power over the other three. Then an unseen look would pass between the others. Not a physical look, not even a faint psychic message, but a daemonic, silent tongue that they told each other that they needed to work together to over-come the dominant one. So they would gang up, over-power the more dominant, but would swiftly turn on one another. Although, none of their wounds lasted more than a few seconds before the flesh re-knit itself and the host continued to fight...

_...*None of them can win fleshling* Azauk spoke to his host as he noticed the man watched the battle that raged between this isolated embodiment of the powers that be..._

...*What?*...

_...*None of these members of the pantheon can over-come the other. If they did, then the battle would cease and the training cage would be free from the chaos it needs. So is it with the warp. None of the gods can win, or else the warp would be still and chaos would be destroyed.*..._

...*Mmmm* Zarapheth mulled over what his daemon had said. He gave him such an unparalleled insight into the warp and the Gods he served. Some how he struggled to understand how the other mortals even scratched the surface of the powers they served. He thought it was about time he should leave when...

_...a shockwave. One of sorcery, and of a magnitude Azauk was unused to feeling outside of the presence of extremely gifted 'psykers' as these mortals called them. The other was already moving the muscles of their flesh. Azauk forced himself to remain just behind his host's eyes. He wanted to see where this explosion of sorcery originated from..._

Zarapheth ran down the hall. Azauk poked and prodded him in the right direction to lead him down this rabbit warren of a fortress. Eventually they reached a set of double doors that Zarapheth knew as the simulation room. *Nothing left to do but enter now.* And with that Zarapheth pushed open he doors...

_Azauk felt the fleshling grow cold and distant. His host felt out of sync with him. He felt like a shell. Something was wrong. This sorcery here was doing something to the other's mind and body. *We have no time for this.* Azauk spat contemptuously to the other at a speed he doubted at his slowed pace he would understand. One bonus of the other being slowed meant it was easier to gain control, but it was harder to force himself into his bodies cells. They were sluggish and unresponsive. Not by choice, but it was still infuriating.

Cells warped at a slow pace. Nothing would make this mortal body work faster. Imbuing his hosts body with daemonic power allowed it a degree of movement, but it was like moving through a highly viscous liquid. There was a ghostly silhouette standing over Dantion, the Iron Warrior. Words trickled through Azauk's ears, well his stolen ears. A mortal but not quite called Modeus was speaking of plans to defeat their worthless commander. Modeus. Modeus. Who had said the name to him? Azauk realized this was the man the flesh had spoken of. This was the upstart they might end up supporting. Clearly the other would want to know about this. So, as much as mortal conversations bored him, Azauk forced himself to listen to the conversation. 

Modeus had killed 200 hundred of Garronds 'chosen'. *Those blessed by the Gods?* Azauk pondered as Modeus continued to speak. The power of the pantheon radiated from this figure. Azauk read the currents of power and blessing that emanated from mortals like a his flesh read the scrolls of information that were projected onto the inside of his eye pieces. The powers emanating from this being were almost as powerful as tides of power that emanated from those possessed by greater daemons. Clearly, Modeus had great powers at his command.

Azauk couldn't hear what Dantion said, but Modeus seemed pleased with his response. From his speech about getting him to join his forces, he guessed this inert blend of man and machine had sworn his loyalty. It felt like it had taken an eternity but Azauk had pushed the flesh close enough to Modeus to scrap it's claws across the paint of the massive figures armour. The mortal glared at him for a moment. "We know you. We are with you" Azauk forces the mouth of his host to move with obscene slowness that the voice sounded more like gargling than words. But the figure seemed to nod with exaggerated slowness to indicate understanding. Suddenly, the figure faded into thin air and reality slid back into it's proper flow..._

...Zarapheth's muscles jumped with a blinding speed towards then middle of the room. His cells warped for no reason he knew. A scrambled, blurred message screamed at him from Azauk. *What the hell just happened?*...

_...The flesh was back. *Modeus was here*..._

...*Modeus? How?*...

_...*How do you think? Sorcery. An extremely powerful one, one even your commander's experienced sorcerers couldn't hope to match, or stop, or detect. He's killed 200 of the worthless mortal you call Garrond's 'chosen'* Azauk laughed contemptuously at the last part. Can't have been that chosen could they?..._

...200. Dead. Zarapheth was taking this in. First one of the Lord commanders, now the chosen. Clearly Modeus was powerful, more so that he had thought. Still, one question plagued him. *How do you know this?*...

_...Ah, now came the real question. *Because the sorcery took an isolated pocket of reality slightly out of sync, and all mortal flesh was almost stopped unless the caster willed it so. I, however, am not mortal flesh. I am already out of sync with your reality, so was free to listen as he spoke. However, your flesh proved difficult to move, so I had to imbue it with my own power to allow any sense of movement...*_

...*Hence the flesh-change* Zarapheth said with understanding...

_...*Yes.* Azauk said to confirm. *One more thing, mortal. We are now sided with Modeus, for better or worse...*_

...*Oh?*...

_...*You didn't see him. He radiated the power of the four. With such ferocity, I have only seen in those possessed by the strongest daemons. Whoever he is, the Gods are with him, and we would be wise to be with the Gods, would you not say?"..._

...Whilst this did kind of ruin their plans, the daemon sounded...almost scared. Not scared, more of a reverent awe. Clearly, there as something about Modeus that had Azauk gripped. And the daemon was interested in their mutual survival, so would have done what he believed best. Suddenly a psychic cry rang through their minds as Commander Xynx informed them that Nerr'ak was a traitor and was with Modeus. *So, Modeus has been busy?*...

_...*It would appear so manling* Azauk concurred. But the question was..._

...What do they do now? Do they chase after Nerr'ak for Garrond or Modeus? Do they even chase at all? For now it was a command and they needed to follow it so as not to give away their loyalties just yet. But would they chase alone, or would they round up their paltry force to chase with them?...

_...*Strength in a pack. Remember that mortal* Azauk probbed..._

...*Indeed*. A squad of possessed was very much like a pack. The strongest an most dominant man-beast would lead, and the others would follow. No questions, only absolute authority. In his short time in the blood tournament, Zarapheth had gathered a small 7 other marines whom he had also christened Gal Vorbak. It had not been long until the eighth, in a bid for glory had lost and sold them to Garrond. "Gal Vorbak on me" Zarapheth called out...

_...*Children of the warp, return to us.* Azauk spoke through the warp. Psychic messages ran across the warp like lightning in a darkened sky. Humans and their crude forms of communication. Whilst some had powerful wards around them that prevent them from being read, but they were still traceable. The flesh moved down the corridors and their pack members joined them..._

..."How do we find the sorcerer?" Korynl asked as the pack gathered around him. Zarapheth knew that they all knew who's side they were on, and none of them questioned it. Zarapheth was pleased with this. He held dominance over this pack of daemons, and they all served one cause, the continued spread of Chaos. And Modeus seemed to be the promethium trail that the fires of chaos could easily jump along. But, they needed to contact Nerr'ak, but without drawing attention to themselves...

_...Azauk pulled the flesh's mouth into a wicked grin. Mortals were forced to contact the person's mind. But they had something no one else had. They were daemons and, having seen Nerr'ak around and from the images of a disc of Tzeentch being burnt into their mutual brain meant one thing; Nerr'ak had a daemonic link. But daemons had to be contacted by their true names. Fortunately, one glance and daemons knew one another. Azauk whispered through the warp in a tongue alien to all mortals and untraceable to those without daemonic voices whispering in their ears. *Uchwyt. Uchwyt. We call you. We wish to side with your master's master. Lead us to him*..._

...*And?* Zarapheth probed the other. He felt a brief response and an unnatural scent trickled into his nostrils. Nothing that was emanating from a mortal body. Not a product of hormones or gland secretions. It was a trail left in the warp for them to follow. "You sensing that, sir?" Lyral said. He was one new to the possession and so still retained a degree of formality. "Yes Lyral. And we are following it...

_...and it will lead us to Nerr'ak, who should show us to Modeus." Azauk said with a rush of anticipation. The storm was breaking, and that meant blood. Blood raining from the heavens like nectar..._


----------



## Yru0

Arcus watched as the Astartes' eyes rolled back into his head. Removing his narthecium, he contemplated what he had just learned; so few warriors had caused such rampant devastation to Garrond's ranks, such was the favour in which the gods of chaos held this Modeus. Truly it will be he who leads the final crusade to purge the heavens of the false emperor, the likes of which even the great Abbadon or Horus himself would pale in comparison. Arcus couldn't help but lick his lips beneath is helm, it would be the greatest honour before the gods to serve in that final conflict, the blood of the loyalist dogs drowning the little fools who dare defy the true powers.

Arcus however, was suddenley ripped from his trance when he heard the psychic command like a bolt, *"Traitor! Nerr'ak is a Traitor! He has met and spoken with Modeus! All forces stop Nerr'ak from escaping!"* The new turn events was most interesting, and was worth more thought, but in the end such petty matters were of no concern to the Apothercarium, those who have been deemed by the gods themselves to harvest and guard the gene-seed of the worthy fallen. Yet as Arcus went on with his bloody duties, his mind floated away from the cries of anger and mercy that came before his narthecium; and the more he pondered upon the message, the more relevant it became. If he were to aid this sorcerer of Modeus, no doubt a trusted servant, Arcus would surely be in Modeus' favour, and by assocation in that of the gods, perhaps he may even be given command of more forces to spread their will. The Dark Apothecary paused in his work, musing on the possiblities before making a crumcial decision.

"Fools! The accursed sorcerer has tampered with the purity of the stock and is merely a distraction! We must guard the seed from the hands of those unworthy who wish to take what belongs to the gods!" Arcus turned and began to sprint towards the Chamber of the Seed. "The false lord must not be allowed to steal the future!" Arcus turned to see an Undivided warrior bellowing commands to his underlings who dutifully abandoned their posts, all rushing to the stock. A sly smile appeared beneath Arcus' helmeted face, the favor of Tzeentch was with him today, he now only had to play the part of the enraged guardian as his distraction rolled under its own momentum.


----------



## deathbringer

Spakrs were flying as he worked, the tiny saw at the end of his servo arm revving against the metal as he cut in loving carresses, dead metal fluttering to the floor in glittering metal ribbons.

In his mind a recorder whirred storing the story, the sights the smells of the room, for play back once he emerged. For now he was sealed, clutched within the fist of silence clamped tightly as he worked, a soldering iron clamped in his fist, he began to rewire, rerouting power, to snip away yet more weight from the great talon.

Such a waste upon such a feeble arm, though muscles laced it, had it been for an astartes he could have made a weapon of such beautiful power, slicing through the air with the speed of a slaaneshi, the deadly power of lord khorne.

Such a waste, like a mural to the will of the machine spirit, infested with xenos graffiti.

The minutes flew away, the power claw reshaped, the blades honed to a fine curve, the cluster of short claws twisting as he viewed them hands rotating with unbelievable dexterity, the claw so light and manouverable in his hands.

A voice blasted through his mental walls, vivid, so closed within his brain yet dulled, dulled by the hateful ramblings of an enraged daemon, spiteful words and deep loathing. Yet still he heard the words, dimmed yet still screaming of Nerraks folly and his mind rolled with laughter as he pictured the sorceror, Garrond upon his tail.

Fool, such a fool, to let himself be discovered, yet he had work to do. 

The daemon gibbered, groaning moans that almost sent him slumping yet he held himself straight.

Without pause he took the sisters hand and slid the claw into place over her outstretched wrist, watching it slide over her fingers, the world he had recorded running back to him, her words her story sliding over his mind, feeding his eager soul, the true purpose of her visit interrupted by the stench and subtle words of a marine that no longer lingered on the threshold.

In the very cornor of his mind, the murmerings of the alpha legion, the vox transmissions to his troops, sneaky bastard, what if he intended to undermine him, what if this was his plan.... nay this was not the time, this was war, he had no time.

He had to trust someone...
"Trust me," the voice burst in his head, "we are one and two."

"You are my battle, my war, you will make me steel,"

"Call the troops to arms, we muster and leave now, while everyone looks at the stars"

He turned to rachel

"If you want to meet Modeus now is your chance"


he raised a hand of steel
"but hold twisted sister. Think of what you run with, Modeus may forgive those that stand against him but for those that betray garrond their is no recompense. We go to glory or our deaths, you break your oath to Garrond today sister, if you follow me there is no turning back"

Cloak sweeping he strode from the room, a sharp nod to the dreadnaught who still muttered behind him


----------



## revan4559

Urien: After gathering your wargear you return to the chambers of nugle and walk towards the door that leads to Commander Targal's personal room and now instead of there being seven nurgle marines stood outside there are fourteen. Yet another sacred number of Nurgle and you can easily see the small nimbus of power around them has doubled to a slight background noise of buzzing. As you step closer those infront of the door move out of the way for you to be allowed to enter the room and meet with their lead, stepping through the doors you are once again in the corpse filled room but instead of Commander Targal being sat on his throne he has pushed himself off of it and is now stood in the middle of the room, a tattered and ruined cloak wrapped around himself and his helmet along with a large scythe clutched in his left hand. When you enter the Plague-Commander turns his attention to look at you and his helmets lens glow under his make shift hood. "What have you come to report Urien?"

Ridoranaa: When you get to the main gate there is still no sigh of the sorcerer but your second in command has brought twenty marines loyal to you with him while the squad of marines loyal to Garrond that you vox'ed are stood there aswell preparing their weapons and scanning the skies as the vox channels are a buzz with information that the sorcerer Nerr'ak is trying to escape on a disc of tzeentch towards one of the gates. While you stand there waiting and ordering your men you look up to see that Nerr'ak is slowly descending towards your position on his mount and as he gets closer you prepare yourselves to enact your plan of saving Nerr'ak and getting him to take you to meet Modeus. As the sorcerer hovers past you he burns the image of a mountain fortress located several miles outside of the city into your mind and as he does the squad of marines loyal to Garrond open fire at Nerr'ak forcing him to put up his psychic shield again and float off over the gate elsewhere but the bolter rounds still spark against his shield. You should perhaps order your men to kill the loyal marines of Garrond and get their gene-seed harvested so you can present it to Modeus or atleast use it in future to make marines loyal to you.

Kalus: As you sprint from the fortress the bikes do follow you by you get the feeling that something is wrong as they are using a vox channel that you do not have access to meaning they are talking amoungst themselves and if you try to talk to them or ask then questions none of them answer you. as you continue to run you look up to see that the disc that Nerr'ak was on has now descended and landed somewhere in the city which will make it harder for you to find him unless you split up and go insearch of the sorcerer. As the biker squad splits up without you ordering them to two of them remain following you and still talking amoungst themselves which gives you a very very bad feeling that something might of happened. Do you stop and try to find out what the bikers are talking about or do you run around the city in search of Nerr'ak?

Nerr'ak: As you approach the gate you look down to see a group of marines looking up at you but none of them firing an after you burn the image of your fortress into the nurgle marine who appears to be the one wh contacts you fifteen of the thirty six marines raise their bolters towards you and start to fire making their bolt shells spark off your psychic shield and fall harmlessly to the ground. But they are shooting at you! Is it possible that it was a trick to find out where your base was and then to send Garrond's forces there to destroy your own or perhaps those fifteen marines are loyal to Garrond and decided to attack you without orders of their leader. Oh so many questions which need answering with so little time to answer them in at the moment and as your disc continues to hover in the air and move towards the base you figure out it may not be a good idea to remain in the sky as then they will see what direction you are headed in. Perhaps when you are outside of the fortress and into the city you should go down to ground level and take a longer route through the city towards your base so that Garrond's forces will not be able to find you.

Aeron: The temple dedicated to Khorne, if you can call it a temple, is a large chamber filled with rows upon rows of skulls piled upon shelves and on the ground with a large pool of blood that is said to have no bottom and given the nature of this world being a daemon world it is entirely possible. As you limp into the room you can see several cultists kneeling by the pool of blood with their heads over the edge as another khorne beserker cuts each of their heads off so their blood spills into the pool and the skulls sink into it. You need to make your decision if you put your trophies on one of the shelves to offer it up to Khorne by dropping them into the pool. Once you have done you should seek out the apocatheries first of all to get your wounds checked and dealt with before going to the tech-marines to have your wargear repaired as soon as possible as you have no idea when this 'Modeus' will attack the Garronds base which will prove to be a glorious and bloody battle you can dedicate to Khorne. As you move about the 'temple' you look to see that the Khorne beserker has turned his attention to you and revvs his chainaxe as he starts to walk over towards you, after a few feet he then enters into a run as he pulls back his weapon arm ready to strike.

Zarapheth: You and the group of daemons set off in persuit of Nerr'ak and his daemonic mount who should eventually lead you to Modeus, as you and your followers leave the fortress you can sense the daemonic trail of the disc but it is somewhere faint as if someone or something was trying to shield it...but that isn't possible unless someone knew you were after Nerr'ak. You and your daemons hurry after the scent to look for Nerr'ak and find that the disc has landed somewhere within the city and started to float about there along with it mixing in with the trail of other discs similar to itself which could make things more problematic should you pick the wrong trail to follow. While determining which of the three you should follow you decide to follow the faintest one as you remember that someone is trying to stop you from following meaning that the sorcerer and his mount should be at the end of the trail you are now following. (I suggest asking Komanko in a pm whether you find him now or later on before posting that you find him.)

Arcus: You move around the halls of undivided to where the large quanities of gene-seed are stored and can see several dark apocatheries with their followers stood outside of the doors with their weapons ready to defend against anyone who wishes to gain entry that is not part of the apocatherion. Looking around you can see that most of the troops however are running off in pursuit of Nerr'ak and will most likely not return for several hours at the most but still it would be a good idea to make sure they stay away long enough for you to enact what ever kind of plan you were thinking of. Walking over to the other dark apocatheries you see them walk inside allowing you to follow and once inside of the giant gene-seed storage facility you see the apocatheries set about examining all of the gene-seed to make sure that it is still stable and use-able for the future to create more astartes to fight against the false-emperor. As the door closes behind you, you have the perfect oppotinuty to try and convert your brother apocatheries or even try to kill them so that you become the chief apocathery for Garrond and eventually Modeus.

Hardal: The four claws on Modeus's left wrist flick back into their sheathes with a click as he relaxes his hand and stares at you through his helmet lenses before his helmeted head turns to look at the warriors currently gathered before his attention turns back to you. "If you withhold the information I require for too long then I shall have Garrond informed that you intend to join me just to watch you hounded across this world by his forces much like the Sorcerer Nerr'ak currently is. So it would be in your best interest to give me the information I require now or i can always rip it from your mind but believe me Warsmith if you think you and your warriros can defeat me you will be in for a big surprise so once again the choice is yours. Give me the information now willingly or you will give them to me while i tear the skin from your body and turn your bones into dust." Modeus then flexes his right hand as he stares at you through his red lenses on his helmet. Do you do what the Lord asks you or do you still go with your plan of not telling him what he needs to know and call his bluff?

Ferrore: The Alpha Legion dreadnoughts servo's wheeze slightly as it pushes itself to its full height and makes it stomping movements to follow you and as you, rachael and the dreadnought leave to go into the main hanger you can see that most of your foot troops are stood there awaiting your orders. It seems that the dreadnought was ordering them to come and meet you but if you could smile the sight of the vehicles and warmachines that belong to you roar into life would most definately bring a smile to your lips. Moving with the corrupted sister and the dreadnought you make your way out of the hanger and start to make your way with your forces to leave the fortress in search of a place where you can store your forces where Garrond will not be able to find them which then makes you remember Modeus's first base, where its location is and that it is large enough to store all of your forces until the up coming battle. But as you reach one of the side gates there is a marine stood before you with his weapons drawn "Halt Tech-Marine. You and your forces shall go no further than this." It appears that this single marine wants to stop your entire force by himself....however this could prove to be a good challenge for the Dark Sister to prove she can be useful to Modeus.

Rachael: The tech-marine slides the lighter nad slightly modifided power-claw over your left hand and attaches it to your power armour and once it is you can feel the energy field within the weapon hum into life which brings a small smile to your lips as you now have a weapon which can tear through heavily armoured targets easier than your power sword. Then Ferrore decides to tell you that if you want to meet Modeus then you are to come with him but warns you that while Modeus will forgive those that stand against him Garrond will not be so kind so you need to make sure your mind is fully made up on joining Modeus before you follow the tech-marine. Deciding that you will join the old lord of Ferrore's you follow him and the dreadnought out into the hanger where all of his forces are gathering, perhps you should gather yours to meet you and Ferrore at where ever it is that he is taking you? Following the tech-marine you walk to one of the side gates there is a marine stood before you with his weapons drawn "Halt Tech-Marine. You and your forces shall go no further than this." Do you fight this marine or allow Ferrore to deal with him?

Marchellus: Garrond sits on his throne amused at your antics as you cut down those that go to hunt Nerr'ak but he has still given you an order to go and bring Nerr'ak to him either alive or partially dead he hasn't really given a specific order at how intact the sorcerer has to be. After cutting down the marines running to the door you look back to see that the other marines who helped you do so reload and ALL of them turn their bolters and bolt pistols on you and start to unleash a hailstorm of fire at you but thanks to your terminator armour most of the shells harmlessly bounce off and either land on the floor or lodge themselves in the wall or one of the pillars. It appears that these five do not what to give up and continue firing at you, you guess its time to show them what real power is by turning your assault cannon on them which can make short work of infantry and tanks alike. Once you have killed the marines shooting at you, you should do what Garrond says and go insearch of Nerr'ak.


----------



## Midge913

Shuffling quickly down the halls back towards his quarters, Urien laughed silently to himself at the audacity of his plan. He was tired of sitting in the shadows, silently waiting for scraps of power to be bequeathed upon him by those who thought that they were above him. He was a chosen sorcer of the Plague God, he had power they did not understand. Power of the living body itself. He would no longer play lap dog to those fools that followed Garrond. 

Somewhere in his mind, the still sane part of him tried to warn him of the folly of his intended course of action, but the part of him that desired power and influence beat its counter part into submission. He felt the changing power of the warp in him and he continued to draw that power in. As he did noxious fumes began to seep from the open pores on his back, slime and festering poxes began to cover the wall of the corridor as he passed. 

He arrived at his sanctum and after deactivating the locks to the door, stormed inside. Fury and rage boiling within him. He hated being used, and by the servants of the Changling even more. With a sweep of his hand he siphoned some of the power, throbbing dangerously behind his eyes, out into the dozen cultists caged in the room. With a collective scream they all dropped dead, hearts exploded in their chests. He doned his filth encrusted helm, checked to see if his plasma pistol had a fresh power core, and took his trusted weapon, a force scythe, its blade encrusted with rust and centuries worth of diseased gore. He was proud of the weapon, one of his own design, and he worked the activation tab several times, watching the blade spring out to a read position and then close again, the blade resting a channel along the side of the shaft. He felt powerful, from the warp infused parts of his mind, he heard anxious whispers and gleeful chitterings. A voice told him to be bold, to take what was rightfully his, the voice infusing him with power. 

Moments later he stood, fully adorned for war, in front of the door way to Targal's chambers. He noticed that the number of guards had been doubled to 14 plague marines and Urien, in his insanity, took this as a sign from his patron that now was his time to act. The group had a visible nimbus of power, they could have delayed him, but they did not, and he stepped into the room, doors slamming shut behind him.

Plague-Commander Targal was not in his throne. Instead he stood in the middle of the corpse ridden floor, his face covered in his helm, tattered cloak falling around his ankles, catching on the disease ridden bodies that littered the room as he paced back and forth. The but of his own scythe marking out a stoccata rythm as it touched the floor. 

Urien, the haft of his scythe held tightly in one hand, power burning in his mind and rotten soul, stared at Targal who turned to look at him. 

_*"What have you come to report Urien?",*_ Targal asked slowly.

"Yes," Urien answered, "I come to report that Garrond's time is short, as is yours."

Slamming the haft of his scythe to the ground Urien released the power that he had been building, and a sickly black and green bolt of lighing sprung forth from his upraised hand. Arching to the ceilings and floors, melting stone and pulverizing bodies as it flew towards Targal, directly at his diseased heart.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

HARDAL WATCHED AS Modeus' left wrist claws flicked back into their sheathed with a click. Relaxing his hand, the Terminator turned to look at Dantion through his helmet. "Very well," he began, and when he spoke, the Warsmith should have known that he wouldn't have got his way with the upstart general. "But if you withhold the information for too long, I shall have Garrond informed that you intend to join me just to watch you hounded across this world by all of the forces under his command. Like what is happening to Sorcerer Nerr'ak." 

Dantion didn't know who Sorcerer Nerr'ak was, and because he was unfamiliar with the name, the Iron Warrior guessed that Nerr'ak belonged to one of the newer influx of Garrond's forces, presumably from Modeus' old warband.

"So it would be in your best interest to give me the information I require now _or_... I can always rip it from your mind but believe me Warsmith if you think you and your warriros can defeat me you will be in for a big surprise so once again the choice is yours."

He paused for an effect. "Give me the information now willingly or you will give them to me while I tear the skin from your body and turn your bones into dust."

Dantion grimaced, his watching his Plan A being torn to pieces before his own eyes. Clearly Modeus knew what he was doing. "If... you insist," he said after a moments pause, and began to enact his Plan B. "I will tell you everything."

And so tell, the Warsmith did.


----------



## High_Seraph

As Ridoranaa approached the main gate he thought over his plan to bring Nerr'ak to him in an attempt to secure passage to this Modeus and find information about him. *Seven of those ten men will serve as sacrifices to Nurgle while the rest will serve as an offering of peace between me and this sorceror of Tzeentch.* Exiting the fortress he noticed that Xerxes had gotten himself and the twenty men requested there as well as the men loyal to Garrond over himself and was pleased to see Tuthran there preparing their weapons and scanning the skies. Keeping a hand pressed to his comm Ridoranaa scans various vox frequencies as reports of Nerr'ak heading for a gate mounted on a disc of Taeentch is reported across several channels. 

Ordering some men around Ridoranaa looks up into the sky to see Nerr'ak descending towards them, a smile forming on his lips that turn instantly into a snarl when Tuthran and his men opened fire at Nerr'ak ending his hopes of meeting Modeus. A burning pain fills his mind at that moment filling his mind with a fortress located several miles in the mountains. _"Xerxes kill Tuthran and his men now!!"_ Ridoranaa roars as he draws his power axe and charges into combat with Tuthran himself. Slamming his axe into Tuthran's chest Ridornaa draws his pstol and shoots at Tuthran's head. Looking around as the rest die Ridoranaa says, _"Harvest the geneseed. Bring some with us, store the rest until we find suitable recruits who will be loyal to me and Grandfather Nurgle. We go to the mountains to find out some information."_


----------



## Santaire

As Kalus sprinted after Nerr’ark’s retreating form he sensed that his followers were talking amongst themselves on a secured channel. He felt the first signs of nervousness as they kept silent despite his queries into what they had been discussing amongst themselves. As he continued to run, easily outpacing their bikes he looked skyward and saw Nerr’ark’s disk land in a city. He bit his lip. This would make the search more difficult than it already was. Without prompting from him his group split up to search for the sorcerer but 2 of the marines followed Kalus. They were still talking amongst themselves and Kalus stopped and turned. “What have you to speak of that I may not hear?” he hissed. There was more venom in that voice than that which coated the blade of a Dark Eldar Haemonculus. The marines froze and the youngest of them glanced nervously at his comrade, a man who had served Kalus from the beginning. The man removed his helmet and looked at Kalus. His head was a mass of scar tissue and bright green eyes made him look oddly contrasting. His eyes showed nothing as he faced the possessed marine. He opened his mouth to speak…


----------



## Lord Ramo

Racheal watched as the tech marine, dedicated to the god of slaughter and skulls, Khorne's follower Ferrore stood, in his damned hands that once helped the False Emperor in his works to unite man, he held her newest weapon, a powerful tool that could be utilized in any close combat situation. He moved to her, sliding the power claw onto her left hand, attaching the cables necessary to make it one with her armour. She smiled as she could feel it hum into existence, ready to reap destruction and bring pleasure to Slaneesh. 

She would be nigh unstoppable, she thought to herself as she quickly went through her wargear. At her thigh maglocked to her leg was her bolter, her power sword at her hip and now her claw. Each of these would keep her one step ahead of the enemy she thought to herself, they would keep her alive and serving her God. That was the most important part. She did have the blessing of her God though, he had gifted her with daemonic speed, something she would use in tandem with her now powerful close combat attacks of a power claw, able to rip apart the most heavily armoured opponents, and her power sword.

"If you want to meet Modeus now is your chance" She looked up to see the Tech-Marine say, but he held up a steel hand after the words had left his augmented throat. "But hold twisted sister. Think of what you run with, Modeus may forgive those that stand against him but for those that betray garrond their is no recompense. We go to glory or our deaths, you break your oath to Garrond today sister, if you follow me there is no turning back"

She nodded before saying, *"Modeus is my choice Ferrore, Garrond can meet his maker as far as I am concerned, I am not afraid of the consequences."* She stepped forward with him, as he and an Ancient made their way away. She was committed to this path now, and hoped that Modeus would find some use for her, or at least acknowledge what she had accomplished and allow her power and glory.

It seemed that the Tech-Marine was gathering his forces and leaving, Racheal quickly opened up a vox to her Second in command inside the fortress, a marine named Casvus. *"Cas ready all my men and head for the hanger immediately, we are leaving this place to join Modeus. Anyone tries to stop you tell them either you have been ordered to the hanger, or that you are bringing a traitor to Garrond. If that doesn't work then engage them, but keep moving or you will get bogged down, trapped and will die, and that will piss both me and the Prince of Pleasure off now won't it."*

She recieved an affirmative before voxing her forces already outside the fortress. *"Excso, ready all my troops and be prepared to follow my beacon. I am to meet Modeus and hopefully he will welcome us into his growing forces."*

As the group moved to the hanger doors she spotted a marine in the way, who refused to let them past. She looked at Ferrore before stepping forward to him. Her power claw buzzed into life as she leapt at him, knowing most likely that he would dodge her first attack, but hoped that he wouldn't notice the power sword she drew mid leap, activating it and bringing it down towards his head.


----------



## deathbringer

She chose, chose to stand alongside him, the twisted sisters voice filled with conviction. Such a fool, a mortal would find little glory amongst Gods of War, yet even a dog had if loosed at the right time.

He strode forth, the dreadnaughts great ringing footsteps clattering as it followed his from the room, the slightest of grim chuckles crackling through its vox as Ferrore halted in pure ecstasy at the force that stood before him

Rank upon rank of warriors stood before him, great war machines and dreadnaughts cast their shadows over their faces, an army, a legion, the power to kill, nay to annihilate.

At his command, at his request, the great thunder as mighty fists slapped upon breastplates that glittered and shone, no wire out of place, no scratches or dents left untended.

Words failed him, his mind flooded with emotion, the purity of the sight, the sudden knowledge of how far he had come in such a short time, how much he could achieve.

He strode from the hall the sister by his side only for a body to cross his path, a figure in midnight clad, blade raised, armour glittering in the shadows

"Halt Tech-Marine. You and your forces shall go no further than this." 

A mirthless chuckle cracked across his lips, the dreadnaughts autocannon hummed as it began to whir and Ferrore opened his mouth to retort. Yet his words fell away the dark sister charged, leaping high her blade unsheathing in mid air. Cautiously, he raised a hand placing it upon the barrel of the cannon the laughter fading as his head tilted slightly to one side

"Hold a moment... let us unleash the hounds"


----------



## komanko

A trick! Treachery! How could this be? How is it possible that he fell into such a simple trap!?

Panic began spreading through Nerr’ak’s mind, fear, disgust at his own incompetence. How was he tricked by such a lowly being, a follower of Nurgle out of all. 

As he rose towards the sky he saw how a dozen of the plague marine’s guard raised their weapons, he saw how they took aim, and he felt when they began firing. A single thought yet remained, why only a dozen? Why weren’t all of them shooting? Was it possible that it was not treachery after all?

No matter, even if it wasn’t he would simply have to assume that it was. He would rally his forces and prepare them to defend the fortress. He felt how the bolts harmlessly bounce off his shield, it was a smart idea – raising the shield after he burned the image in the mind of the marine, it saved his life. He felt pride at his own ingenuity though he did not seem to notice his own arrogance.

He should land and destroy the impudent wretches, they are nothing in comparison to one of his own power. No! There was no time, if he won’t retreat now the whole fortress would be upon him, assuming that he won’t be blasted to pieces by anti air fire first. Grumbling Nerr’ak retreated, his daemonic mount carrying him away from the fire of the marines. Soon he would be out of the fortress’s range and he would have to make his way to the fortress. Yet another question remained, was it smart to use the mount to get there? Anyone who would look skywards would see where he is going. Yet it was all too possible that they already knew now, after all he did burn the image of the fortress into the marine’s mind.

So much questions yet none of them could be answered in such a short time. He growled in anger, he still couldn’t believe that he fell to such a foolish and obvious trap. For the first time he began noticing his own arrogance. He should avoid such impulses in the future, if there would be one. Servants of Tzeentch shouldn’t fall in traps of lowly beings like that. They shouldn’t fall at troops at all, they are the ones who set them…

As the disk flew away one lucky strike from an anti air weapon shook them both and for a moment Nerr’ak was sure that he was hit, he couldn’t feel his left arm. He looked at where his left arm should be, his face twisted in horrible anger and worry. What he saw nearly made him shoot himself. Did he lose every sense in him? As he looked down he saw his bionic arm. He mumbled in anger. This panic was affecting him. He had to focus and regain his senses.

Finally the decision was made, Nerr’ak sent a mind command to his mount to land in the nearest part of the city. The mount obeyed. Once they were out of the anti air guns range they landed. It was some dusty corner of the city. Ruined houses, some destroyed by ancient explosions other just collapsing after years of punishment.

Yet even though it was a distant unheard of part in the city it was still populated, by scum obviously. All kinds of mutants, cultists and foolish scum would hole up in parts like this. Probably waste their times in underground pubs getting drunk and then fighting for something. Those people had no drive, it was sad in a way, they were wasting their lives while they could sacrifice themselves for the glory of chaos, it didn’t matter, as long as they were to stay out of his way Nerr’ak would not kill them and remove their useless existence.

Nerr’ak stepped off the disk and then commanded it to blend with the presence of other mounts in the air, he would then fly in a longer route to the fortress to confuse the enemy which would be following with no doubt. Nerr’ak pulled his hood on and walked away. His mount nearly instantly took into air and flew away quickly disappearing from sight. Even though he hid his appearance he would be easy to spot, he was huge in comparison to others and no doubt if asked the scum which populated this area will give out any information about the lone Astarte who walked the streets while covered in shadows.

It seemed like Tzeentch had some plans for him, it appears that he would have to ditch his armor in order to blend into the crowd more easily. So be it, he knew the best place to do so. He began marching towards Modeus’s old base, if he is lucky the base would be unclaimed and empty, he would be able to ditch his armor in his old section of the fortress and then come back and reclaim it later.

He marched onwards and after a short walk and many curves and turns he reached the area in which the fortress was located. Through the crowd around him he spotted a figure which was carrying a relatively large bag. With his mind set on the target he unsheathed his combi pistol and blew out its brain, he had to take that bag in order to insert any valuable things he did not want to leave in the fortress for any scavenger to take.

The crowd around him did not panic once the shot sounded, apparently it was an everyday sight in such a city. Yet the crowd did make way for him when the saw the smoke rising from his bolt pistol. A single figure stood in his way when he nearly reached the unlucky victim, it seemed like someone was brave enough and foolish enough to claim this man’s possessions as his own. Without a word Nerr’ak slammed his armoured fist into the man’s face. He heard the sickening sound of bones cracking, he felt how the nose of the man sunk back into the skull, and he heard the whimper of pain rising from the persons lips. Before the man fell he was already dead, the force of the blow tore pieces of the skull which slid into the brain, destroying it swiftly and with it the man which it belonged to.

With a quick motion Nerr’ak grabbed the bag and emptied everything which was inside, he didn’t even pay attention what spewed out. Once that was done he walked away towards the base. Entering as quickly as he could and rising to his old quarters. There he took off his power armour, the old MK V Heresy Suit fell on the ground with a defaning sound, Nerr’ak didn’t have time to waste on niceties. After all of the armor was off he put on his robes and moved the armor aside making a big pile of armor which would offend the armorer which created that suit.

He took one last look at the old base, it was still ravaged from the battle with the upstart lord who tried taking over them, not to mention that it was destroyed by their inner battles and pillaged by scavengers once they left. Everything was stripped out, nothing of worth, nothing at all. Those scavengers… Undeserving scum, they should be shot at immediately. Grabbing Xynx’s helm he put it inside the bag along with his plasma pistol and bedlam staff, such weapons would attract unwanted attention while a combi pistol and a force sword weren’t as attention getting, luckily anyone who will look at his force sword will confuse it with a power sword and thus won’t recognize him as a psychically gifted individual.

Dusty wind rose, his robes flickered in the hot stream of air. The smell of dust in his nostrils made him exhale through them. He was not used to walking outside without his power armour. He felt so vulnerable without it. Still, he had his psychic shield and it was even better then the power armour. He narrowed his eyes against the wind and looked forward trying to gauge the easiest and fastest way to get back to the mountain fortress.

He licked his lips and strode onwards with a quick step. His face hidden by his hood as well as the rest of his body hidden by his robe. He walked through the crowed his sword held in his hand, it was just a percussion.

While he walked through the streets he felt an eery feeling at the back of his mind, it was like a six sense was trying to tell him that he is not alone. Well obviously he was not alone, he was surrounded by various people he answered to himself arrogantly. Yet why would he get this strange feeling if everything was alright? He would have to be cautious, he would need to try and find out what was wrong.

He moved quicker, turning in random directions yet seemingly looking like he knows exactly where he is going by planning ahead which direction he would turn in. As he turned he swore he could hear a faint sniff as if someone was hunting him down. His fast pace quickened and he started to jog, he didn’t like the feeling of being hunted like a lowly beast.

It was time to turn the scales, the hunter would become prey. As he turned again, left this time he quickly leaned against the wall. He opened his third eye to scan for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing was insight except one, it was a small presence, barely looking important yet the warp was extremely strong with it, it couldn’t be a sorcerer, any sorcerer would have to be vastly mutated to exude such amounts of warp energies.

He swiftly ran forward, his robe swirling against the wind, his hood flying off his head to reveal his pale skin and hawkish features. His long raven hair dangled behind him as he ran. His eyes narrowed in determination as he looked around for a alley to turn towards. His eye’s color ever changing, ever mutating, ever improving.

Finally he found it, a badly lit alley, it was a dead end. Only one would come out. He opened his mutated eye again, the symbol of Tzeentch on his forehead opened in half as the new eye flickered and opened. For some this would be a horrifying sight for others a sign of blessing, it was all down to belief and tolerance something which the useless imperium didn’t excel in.

As he suspected, the same figure was still following him, the one which exuded vast amount of warp energies. He watched as the figure turned exactly where he turned, following in his footsteps precisely, as if feeling where he is. It was like some sort of a hunting dog. Nerr’ak closed his eyes as he saw the figure moving towards the corner alleyway. He exhaled slowly and prepared himself.

The moment he saw the feint silhouette of a figure in the entrance to the alleyway he blasted out with his psychic spike. It hurtled directly into the stomach of the figure knocking all the air from its lungs and sending it flying backwards smashing into the building in the other side of the street.

So much force went into the spike that it literally crushed the target against the wall, which after being slammed crumbled on the target covering it in stone. Nerr’ak smiled wickedly and quickly moved forward, arrogantly, as usual, not checking even if the target was really dead. He quickly made his way out of the city and back into his mountain fort, finally he was protected and it was time to rally his troops.

He marched through the fortress which was no properly barricaded, and locked. Killzones were set up with heavy infantry and chokepoints were created for the enemy to struggle to pass them without heavy support. The fortress itself was mostly inside the mountain which would keep the enemy fighting even if they breach the defenses on the outside, it would take a long time for the enemy to manage and pull out every troop from this mountain fortress especially when they wouldn’t be able to use their heavy support.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth bounded across the brief stretch of land between the fortress and the out-skirts of the city. That's where the trail led them. It kept getting fainter, and then a sudden burst, as if the dampener that had been placed over the signal had been removed. "North, we go north" Zarapheth said. The rest of his hounds nodded in acknowledgement, and they set off in pursuit. Nerr'ak was hardly their prey, but he was so used to chasing prey to sate his blood-lust and the will of his commanders, Zarapheth didn't know what else to call him. He was struggling to find Nerr'ak's mount wading through all these mindless civilians and their endless trails of emotions. Still, daemons had a very distinctive scent. On a daemon world, the other-world was alive with warp-trails, and several that matched Uchwyt's. This was infuriating...

_...Azauk was getting frustrated too. Their prey was slipping away, and they needed him and his ally. A storm was breaking. Azauk could feel currents in the warp churning. Mildly, but they were there. And when all hell broke loose, Azauk did not want to be found on the wrong side. He had become accustomed to a readily available supply of blood and being able to stay in the material realm. *Where was the bastard?* There were a few trails of Tzeentchian daemons wafting around, but nothing that Azauk felt drawn to as a hunter. The weakest one, the one they had followed all along was still high up. It had dipped momentarily, but then it had become high and visible again. *Why? Why would Nerr'ak do that?* the other asked Azauk thought as they continued to run through the streets. *Because he's not on his mount any more*..._

Zarapheth realized what Azauk was saying made sense. Nerr'ak would have briefly dipped his mount to jump off and disappear into the rat-warren of the city. So, they would go to where the mount had dipped. This pack of men-monsters barreled through the streets, smashing through meat-figures. Time was of the essence. They reached a ruin of what might have once been a fortress of sorts. Scavengers littered the ground level. They huddled round a body with it's head blown open. The face looked like a flower in bloom. Zarapheth new the marks of a bolt weapon, and he knew then that Nerr'ak had been here...

_...The pack was close. Each spread out and sniffed and listened to the fainted sign of activity anywhere. The mortals gave them a wide birth. Azauk picked up a heavy clang perforate the upper level. *Move* Azauk commanded his pack. They crawled up the walls and bounded up stairs to reach the room. There was a heavy metal door barring entry. The mortal Korynl was the biggest one, and broke through the door with ease. Three swings of his club-like arms and one of the doors came off it's hinges. There was a suit of armour lying there, hastily discarded. Nerr'ak had left not long ago. There was a psychic scent lingering on the armour, and trailing out into the street. *Quickly, we follow him*..._

The Gal Vorbak bounded down the streets once again. Three were on the roof, and the rest were on the floor. Were-as Nerr'ak had to blend with the crowd, for now Zarapheth and his brethren could chase through the streets with wild abandon. Their speed was allowing them to catch up. It was like following a blood trail for the possessed, and Zarapheth let Azauk lead the way...

_The streets were crowded and Azauk had to resist the urge to tear into the soft, wet meat of those around him. There would be time for a feast later. The psychic signature of the sorcerer was very close now. "Brothers, now we hunt" Azauk spoke in a hushed daemonic tongue. They slowed and focused on locating the prey. He wasn't in armour so his bulk wouldn't give him away, but such a shinning star of psychic potential would be easy to pick out amongst such dimmed, muted candles as these.

And there he was. The potential practically radiated out of his cloak. Azauk's mouth broke into a shark-toothed grin. *There you are*. The other noticed too. The problem was Nerr'ak noticed them. So they prey was on to them now. Good. It needed to know they were here. A dart round a corner. *Not likely* Several random turns, and Azauk kept up with them all. Nerr'ak wasn't escaping them. A last dart. This was a dead end, judging by the street lay-out. As Azauk turned the corner, he noted the build-up of psychic energy. He knew what was coming as he met the sorcerer's eyes. A bolt struck them. *Foolish mortal* Azauk thought. The force of the bolt flung them back into a wall. The problem with a psychic attack was that it was a link between two minds. Azauk took the nano-second to steal a tiny piece of information from Nerr'ak's mind. Now he knew where he was heading. 

The brick wall crumbled onto them. *The sorcerer is moving on, sir* The formal mortal. Garrond couldn't know they were seeking Modeus, or else they wouldn't make it through the gates. The other spoke "Go and tell Garrond we pursued Nerr'ak, we died, and then you lost him. Wait for our signal. We will return, either with Modeus, or alone, but we will return. Now, go!" A tone of command Azauk was unused to hearing from the flesh. *And us?* Azauk probed. The other seemed amused as they broke free from the rubble and the minor wounds and fractures mended themselves by sorcery. *We go after Nerr'ak*._

It didn't take long for them to reach Nerr'aks fortress from where they were. They even beat the master there. Problem now was getting in. Zarapheth looked up at the walls and the gun emplacements. This wasn't going to be easy. Or it wouldn't have been for a regular human or Astartes. But Zarapheth wasn't. Still, they should avoid killing any of Nerr'ak's soldiers. He wouldn't be very responsive if they murdered his troops. One troop faltered in their attentiveness, and Zarapheth jumped at the wall. His claws dug into walls and Zarapheth began rapidly scaling the walls. This had to be a rapid dash to the one place such an ego-centric being would go; the throne room. Luckly, they had the access to Nerr'ak's mind's eye of the fortress.

They hung just below the ledge of the wall now. One swift jolt upwards, and the were upon the troop that was there. Both hand smacked into the side of the man's head. Not a blow to kill, a blow to stun. The man fell to the floor unconscious, and Zarapheth was already moving. Three seconds later, and the Zarapheth was leaping over the other side of the wall, only being seen by the one marine that now lay unconscious. Four seconds and he slammed into the concrete. Three seconds later they were on the ground level and darting toward inner door leading to the main quarters. The doors flung open and the four marine guarding it turned to see who was intruding. But no one was there.

Zarapheth had hung onto the over-hanging arch of the doorway and launched himself upwards as he came through the door. By the time the guards had turned around, Zarapheth was already clinging to the roof and crawling upside-down along the corridor. Left, right, left. Twenty seconds since the doors and he was already looking at the final stair-case. Red velvet, but an unnatural red. Blood red. He knew the unique colour of the the sanguine fluid that flowed in the human veins. The problem was the twenty guard all armed with potent weapons. How did he get past them.

Zarapheth dropped down from the roof and walked calmly up to the door. The scales and claws retracted. He needed to look normal. *This is insane* Azauk told him. *We could just kill them*
*We might be able to, but twenty veterans armed with power weapons and other special weapons against one possessed marine doesn't speak of high odds* Azauk growled inside his head. This was the only way. The foot-steps resounded through the hall. All marines turned with their weapons raised. "Halt!" the one clearly in charge shouted. Zarapheth raised his hands in admission of defeat. 
"I need to speak with Nerr'ak"
"You NEED to do nothing. You are an intruder..."
"...I need to speak with Modeus." The leader seemed shocked.
"How do you know him?"
"He's gathering an army, and Nerr'ak can contact him"
"We should still shoot him" Another pointed out.
"Yes, you should..." *What?!* Azauk hissed, but Zarapheth continued "...but why not let your master kill me. If I'm lying, how much of a threat can one marine be to one as talented as your master? And if I'm telling the truth, then Modeus or Nerr'ak may reward you for giving them another ally. Either way, you lose nothing by letting me speak to him. There was a moment of silence. The sergeant spoke into his vox bead.
"Well, we'll soon find out. Nerr'ak has just arrived. You will wait for him in there." Zarapheth smiled and walked straight past the guards.

As he was left alone in the throne room Azauk spoke up again. *That was insane and brilliant in equal measure fleshling* Zarapheth chuckled to himself. His father was an orator of supreme skill, and all his sons had inherited a measure of that. He walked to the throne and ran his fingers over the wood and metal of the throne. Very ego-centric indeed. Zarapheth sat down in it, and then pivoted and hung his legs over the side and waited to Nerr'ak to enter. Soon enough the doors flung open and the sorcerer. The look on his face was one of surprise, then anger, then for a moment, intrigue. "You."
"So, you recognize me then." A mocking gesture
"Why..."
"Am I here? Didn't I kill your guards? Am I sitting in your throne? Shouldn't you kill me? All very good questions. I have just one. Can you help me contact Modeus?" Zarapheth stood up and walked closer to Nerr'ak. Without his armour on, Zarapheth stood almost half a foot above him. "And I have knowledge you will want, I'm sure of it. Knowledge to hide your intentions from prying eyes." Two voices spoke now. Daemon and man melded into one and stood waiting for the sorcerer's answer...


----------



## Angel Encarmine

Limping his way back into the temple of Khorne, Aeron grimaced at the pain from his wounds. Looking around the temple, he made the decision to sink the heads he had claimed in the name of his God into the blood pit in the center of the room, seeing as how he took the skulls for Khorne, not to display them on the shelves to others like some trophy. 

Limping his way to the pool of blood in the center of the chamber, Aeron saw another worshipper was cutting the heads off of cultists whom were willingly kneeling in front of the pool. Kneeling and placing both the head of the ogryn and slaaneshi champion on the surface of the pool, Aeron let them both go, watching them sink into the blood.

As Aeron stood, staggering slightly on his wounded leg, he turned and made his way to the door of the Temple. Before reaching the door, he heard the sound of the other Berzerkers axe revving up, and turned just in time to see him making his way towards him. Drawing his own axes, Aeron began laughing like a madman as it was obvious the other berzerker did not know he was blessed with the mark of Khorne. 

Clashing in the temple dedicated to their god, the berzerkers fought with a savagery and strength known only to their kind. As blows were traded, shouts of rage rang in the air as the pair both inflicted wounds upon one another that would of killed lesser men. Parrying another blow from the berzerker, Aeron surged forward and slammed his elbow into the helmet of his opponent, laughing as the berzerker slammed into the ground. Stepping over him, Aeron removed the mans helmet, and held his bucking chain axe to his throat.

"_I would slay you and dedicate your skull to the throne of Khorne, but I do not believe that our God should lose such a worthy warrior._" he said to the berzerker, before slamming his fist into his face, knocking him unconscious. Nearly losing his balance from the blood loss as he stood, Aeron limped out of the temple, hoping to make it to an apothecary before he succumbed to his wounds.


----------



## revan4559

Urien: Commander Targal lets out a phlegm filled laugh as his left hand shoots up and a bolt of dark green lightning launchers from his hand and slams into yours creating a minor explosion of dark green power and as your helmet filters out the bright light from the explosion you see Targal come charging towards you as his terminator armoured powered body slowly turns into an unstoppable battering ram as he picks up speed, his own Manreaper is held out to the side as he then brings it around in a scything sweep aiming for your left elbow joint to try and remove your arm giving but due to teh distance of the sweep you have enough time to bring up your own weapon to guard against the plague-commanders attack. As your weapons clash Lord Targal giggles and speaks with glee in his voice. "I knew this day would come Urien, oh how I have waited to have a worthy body to sent to the plague-lord I do hope that he will be every so pleased with yours." The Plague-commander then leans all of his corrupted weight into his weapon to slowly force you back half a step. How do you react to the plague-commander knowing you would attack? Do you break away from the weapon-deadlock and attack him with your force scythe or do you unleash yet more psychic powers?

Ridoranaa: You and your squad make your way out of the fortress and into the citys vast and sprawling streets as you make your way to the mountain fortress that belongs to Nerr'ak though you do estimate it will take over an hour to make your way there on foot. While making your way through the city you wonder whether or not you should order all of your troops to make their way to the mountain fortress of Nerr'aks as that is likely to be where the Relictor Lord Modeus will make his next appearance when he speaks with his followers, as you continue to make your way through the city you can hear the revving of bike engines and through the gaps inbetween buildings you can see some bikers loyal to Garrond racing about the city clearly in search of the Sorcerer which if they find Nerr'ak they could kill him which would make contacting Modeus alot harder than it is at the moment. So do you decide to hunt down the bikers first of all or do you leave them as they are and continue to make your way towards the mountain fortress?

Kalus: The marine who has removed his helmet shifts his thumbs from the handle bars to the triggers of his bike mounted bolters and pushes down on them unleashing a hailstorm of fire in your direction as he cries out an oath to Garrond and after a few seconds the younger marine does the same. Luckily enough due to your daemonic speed and armour you are spared the worst of the damage inflicted by the bolter rounds though several do find gaps in your armour and remove some of your skin and flesh as the bullets graze you. It appears that the bikers you have brought with you are compeltely loyal to Garrond which will make things alot harder when it comes to finding the Sorcerer but for now you have more pressing matters to deal with in the fact your troops are now trying to kill you. How do you go about killing them? Remember that they currently have you pinned down behind some large metal crates so you will need to be inventive in getting closer.

Nerr'ak: As you enter your fortress one of your apprentice sorcerers marches up to you and bows before he seals his helmet and removes it. "My lord it appears that many of the forces within Garrond's fortress are on the move with several of them coming here but from what I can tell they have all come in contact with Modeus but that is not the most pressing matter. One of the Gal-Vorbrak possessed marines has entered the fortress and demands a meeting with you saying that he has come to meet with Modeus, I reasoned you would know how to contact the Relictor Lord so I have awaited your return. I shall lead you to him if you wish." With that the apprentice replaces his helmet and leads you through the fortress to where the possessed marine of the Word Bearers remains crouched down surronded by guards all with their weapons aimed at him as he is currently sat on your throne. As soon as you enter the possessed demands that you contact Modeus in exchange for the knowledge that you have? Do you go and take your place upon your throne first of all or do you do what the marine wishes and attempt to contact Modeus?

Aeron: You manage to limp your way to the apocatherion within the halls of undivided where the apocatheries are attending to warriors and extracting gene-seed and as you push the doors open you collapose onto the ground and pass out from blood loss just as two apocatheries stride over to you. You may be unconciouss however it appears that Lord Khorne has saw fit to grand you a vision of the future should you join Modeus. You stand in the center of a burning city ontop of a pile of headless corpses that belong to the loyalist chapter known as the Doom Legion with your armour coated in blood and many helmets of the chapter attached to your belt, around you the remaining loyalist forces fight those of Modeus and you can see the great terminator armoured Lord stood ontop of a ruined land raider doing battle with the chapter master of the Doom Legion, all around there is so much blood that the very ground is red and the skies are a deep black as crimson lightning forks across the sky and the howls of daemons mix with the cries of the dying. To follow Modeus will surely bring great death to the imperium and will please Khorne greatly but before the vision can continue you are awakened by a sharp pain on your chest. Opening your eyes you look up at blinding light to see two apocatheries standing over you with their tools covered in blood. "Welcome back brother, your wounds were deep and many but you will survive given time to rest." With that the apocatheries leave giving you time to contemplate your allegiance once again.

Zarapheth: As Nerr'ak enters the room he stands there in silence as he mulls over the offer you have given him but while the Sorcerer thinks about his decision all the guards following him keep their weapons aimed at you but amoung them you are more worried about the several sorcerer's there as their combined psychic might could very well deal lasting damage to your body and the daemon within it. While you wait for the sorcerer to speak you wonder what it will be like meeting the real Modeus and not some psychic projection that you did earlier when you forced yourself through the time-warp he had created so that he could meet with the Warsmith...ah the Warsmith perhaps you could tell Lord Nerr'ak infront of you that Modeus now has the alliegence of Warsmith Hardal on his side which means there will be many mighty warmachines which can be used to crack open the fortress of Garrond and while you think of the Warsmith you remember hearing that apparently he has two Warhound titans currently stationed on one of his ships. Do you give any of this information to Nerr'ak now or do you wait until he answers your request?

Hardal: The Terminator infront of you listened to all you have to say before nodding its helmeted head and turns away from you. "That is all I need to know Warsmith, once I leave prepare your forces to strike from within at Garrond's forces as some rather interesting events have taken place and may require my plans to change. Gather your forces for war and wait until I contact you to let you know when it is time to strike." With that there is a flash of light and the Terminator called Modeus is gone allowing time around you and your men to return to normal but oddly the simulation has remained paused, most likely an affect of the teleporation of the terminator as now it gives you a few minutes to think on your conversation with the Relictor Lord. Do you continue with the simulation or do you do what Modeus has asked and prepare your forces for war? While most of your tanks and even your two prized warhound titans are currently in orbit within the Battle-Barge 'Fury of Iron' and the several dark mechanicus ships that are under your command. The choice is up to you and what you currently wish to do.

Ferrore: You watch as the Dark sisters power-claw tears straight for the chest of the marine barring your way and findit slightly amusing as the lifeless corpse collapses to the floor. It seems that you did a very good job rebuilding the power-claw from what it was and now that the marine is dead you are able to resume your journey to go to the other base along with time trying to figure out how you will contact Modeus. Along the way you could perhaps tell Rachael about the Lord of Relictors who is likely to be currently in orbit with the rest of his fleet awaiting the time to strike though you wonder how it is Modeus became so powerful in such a short amount of time. As you walk with your troops the presence that is the daemon uncoils within your mind and stretches in presence into your shoulder-mounted plasma-gun as it swivvles from target to target picking out the highest threats amoung your warriors before settling down into silence again...maybe this daemonic bond won't be such a bad thing if it can control your plasma-gun in the middle of battle?

Rachael: The marine guarding the door draws his chainblade and deflects your powersword strike but your power-claw lands a blow in the center of of his chestplate which completely crumples it and bursts out of the back of his armour killing he warrior instantly and sending his corpse flying backwards into the gate. Clearly your powerclaw is clearly going to be your deadliest weapon when it comes to fighting heavily armoured opponents now that the marine barring your way is dead you can finally make your way with Ferrore, his troops and your own to where ever it is Ferrore is going to be meeting Modeus. Perhaps you should go and ask Ferrore where exactly it is what you are going and how Modeus will know what you wish to meet and talk with him along with pledging your loyalty to the Lord of remaining Relictors.


----------



## Angel Encarmine

Staggering through the hallways of the undivided, Aeron finally managed to stumble his way to the door of the apothecarion. As he pushed the heavy doors open, before he could take another step, he was overcome by the blood loss from the wounds he had suffered at the hands of those he had been fighting. Collapsing in a heap at the entrance, he watched as two apothecaries strode over to him, their intent to heal him obvious. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the pair standing over him, muttering to each other about his wounds.

As he fell into the darkness of unconsciousness, Aeron found himself blessed with a vision from Khorne. 

Fire dances as far as the eye can see as the city burns around him, crimson lightening flashing across the pitch black sky. Looking around himself, Aeron first sees the sheer amount of blood coating the ground, as what appears to be loyalist astartes battle with a force of his fellow corrupted brethren. Looking into the distance, he sees a giant warrior clad in terminator armor clashing with what appears to be a chapter master, and as he studies the corrupted one in terminator armor, one name whisperes into his ear. "_Modeus_" 

Tearing his eyes from the pair battling to the end, he looks down, seeing his own MKVIII armor covered in blood and viscera, and notices for the first time he is standing on a giant mound of headless loyalist corpses, several of whos heads are attached to his belt. Grinning from ear to ear, Aeron goes to unsheath his chain axes, but before he can even move, he jerks awake. Looking up at the pair of apothecaries standing over him, tools coated in what he assumed was his own blood, one of them spoke. _"Welcome back brother, your wounds were deep and many but you will survive given time to rest."_Nodding his thanks to the pair, they both leave.

Sitting up and grimacing at the pain of his wounds, Aeron came to the realization that what he saw was a vision from the Blood God, and his choice in the upcoming battle would influence whether or not he would live to fulfill it. Getting slowly to his feet, he made his decision. If standing alongside Modeus was the will of Khorne, then he would carry it out until his last breath. Making up his mind to seek out Modeus, Aeron moved to the door of the room, intent on getting his armor repaired before the battle.


----------



## Santaire

Kalus spat. "Traitors," he hissed. The steady rain of fire continued for what seemed like an age without relenting. "Fear not brother," cried the older marine "he cannot reach us." Kalus gave a sour laugh at this and raised his voice above the sound of the bolters. "Oh really, I thought you knew me better than that." he heard a startled curse and waited a moment before darting round a corner, so fast that they did not see him move. Swiftly he scaled the building, using his claws to create hand holds when none were available.

He reached the top and leapt from that building to the next. Now he was directly behind the pair of marines who were still firing at his earlier position, although their eyes darted from side to side. Thankfully neither thought to look up and so Kalus leapt from the building, landing silently behind them. He clicked his fingers and they turned quickly. The older one drew his plasma gun and took aim, opening fire while the other did the same with his bolter. Kalus lepat to one side before darting forward. He sank his claws into the younger marine's chest.

He ripped them free and turned to see the other marine had drawn his power sword. He slashed it at the possessed marine but Kalus dodged and counterattacked. The man parried as fast as he could, but that wasn't fast enough. The claws tore into his chest and Kalus pulled him close. "This is how I deal with those who betray me," he hissed and watched the light fade from the traitor's eyes. He tossed the ragged corpse aside and crouched, sniffing like a hunting dog.

Evisser took control and Kalus sprinted through the streets, heading for the closest of his treacherous marines. Only a fool would stand in his way and only a moron would not feel sorry for them. The price of treachery where a possessed is involved, is oblivion...


----------



## Midge913

Urien couldn't help but giggle in glee as he watched the power under his command wreak such devastation on the room as his power streaked towards Targal. Unfortunately this sensation came to an abrupt halt as his opponent raised his own hand and with a sickly, wet laugh sent his own green tinged bolt of lightning forth. Power met power and the resulting explosion flared to a violent light that sent Urien's visor scrambling to correct for the shifts in light levels. As his vision cleared he saw that Targal, his vast bulk clad in terminator armor, charging toward urien, his wicked scythe held out to his side. With a grunt of effort, Targal sent the filth encrusted blade whistling towards Urien's left arm, in an attempt to severe the appendage at the elbow. Swifter and lighter on his feet than his heavily armored foe, Urien danced back and the right, the stave of his own scythe coming up to block the blow before it could reach him. 

Had he still had a sense of smell, or at least one that did not delight in decay, Urien would probably have been disgusted by the stench of Targal's breath as the man said with obvious glee in his voice, _"I knew this day would come Urien, oh how I have waited to have a worthy body to sent to the plague-lord I do hope that he will be ever so pleased with yours."_ The voices in Urien's mind chattered and laughed, a wave of rolling sound only audible to him, "I think not.... Too long have you sat complacent Targal. Too long have you played lap dog to Garrond. I think that it is you that will meet the Plague-Father and in tallying your deeds I feel that he will sorely disappointed." More chittering laughter at the edge of his mind echoed his words in a cacaphony of sound.

Urien flicked the activation tab on his scythe and laughed himself as the blade sprang open, the weapons glimmering power field springing to life in a sickly green glow. He saw that Targal's helmeted gaze flicked briefly to the weapon as it sprang to life, and almost felt the mans tension increase. As his opponenets gaze was misdirected Urien did something that Targal did not expect. With an effort of will he Urien wreathed his fist in cold black lightning, and jabbed the side of his armored palm into the weak point, the soft armor that surrounded Targals throat. The blow obviously would do little lasting damage, but Targal staggered back with a choking gasp, the scent of burnt metal and filth wafting in the smoke that now steamed from the site of Urien's blow. Taking advantage of the opportunity Urien ducked to the side, bringing his scythe down and to the right, attempting to bisect Targal's body with the formidable blow. Quicker than he thought possible Targal moved and took the blow to his left pauldron, robbing Urien of the killing strike, but a large chunk of rusted armor and diseased flesh fell to the ground with a sickening thud. A slow smile played over Urien's lips as he saw Targal regain his footing, and take in his opponent in a new light. Urien knew that the man had millenia of combat experience over him, but the man was slow, complacent. He had spent too much time in that throne, ordering his forces around at the will of Garrond. 

"Well, my lord," Urien said, his voice dripping with acidic sarcasm, "If I must take you a piece at a time so be it. It will provide and easier feast for the minions of Father Nurgle." As he spoke he readied another blast of Warp Lightning, the power coalescing around his hands, as Targal charged him once more.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

Once Hardal had told Modeus everything he knew, the Terminator nodded understandingly before saying, "That is all I need to know Warsmith. Once I leave, prepare your forces to strike from within at Garrond's troops, as some rather interesting events have taken place recently."

"Gather your forces for war and wait until I contact you to let you know when the time is to strike."

"Yes my... my lord," bowed Hardal, not in a tone of fear, but in a tone of respect for the mighty Terminator, leaving the Iron Warrior sure he had made the right choice after all. Before he could say another word though, there was a flash of light and the Terminator vanished from view, returning his men to normal time as though nothing had ever changed, only - there was one thing different. The Simulation had paused. Bolter rounds hung in mid-air, motionless, and the Obliterators and the Terminators that exchanged blows around him were frozen, but the Warsmith already knew that Modeus had somehow paused the simulation.

He turned to his men, and said, "I am exiting the simulation. You will do the same."

The battle-scenes vanished in a blink of an eye, the burnt landscape of a nameless world peeling back to reveal a large room where the real Iron Warriors were standing. There was about fifty of them in the room with him, the rest were elsewhere. Fifty would be more than enough to ensure that word got out that Dantion's Iron Warriors now served a new master, and any resistance would be crushed.

"Thorvon," snapped the Warsmith in the direction of the Iron Warrior who he had addressed.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I want you to contact _Fury of Iron_. We're bringing down everything we have but the Warlords," instructed the Warsmith. "The rest of you, I want a cover story fed to Garrond's loyalists. Send them on a wild goose chase. I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Yes sir," the Iron Warriors responded, and left to do their duties. Hopefully, Garrond wouldn't know what hit him.


----------



## High_Seraph

As Ridoranaa hurried along the streets of the city he dragged the layout from the depths of his mind looking for a faster route through the city. Recalling nothing that would help reach the fortress of Nerr'ak in less than an hour on foot he calls out the the squad accompyaning him to pick the pace up. *Maybe I should order the rest of my forces to the fortress as well. Or maybe leave the ones from that idiot from the old warband there and take the ones loyal to me as protection. That might be wise in case I decide to join Modeus. They could cause some confusion or even help me get back into Garrond's base. Or I could be walking into a trap set by the servant of Tzeentch in which case I sohould bring all my troops.*

_"Hardariel gather all the men and meet me at the outskirts of the city. Yes all the men, we go to secure information. Be there soon and wait for any signal from me about what to do."_ Ridoranaa voxes to a sub-commander as he continues his hurried pace. Stopping abruptly he cocks his head to one side for a moment listening to sounds of bikes running through the citty no doubt looking for Nerr'ak. Pausing for a bit before shaking his head Ridoranaa waves the squad forward towards the mountains ignoring the bikes. *Prove you can survive this and maybe I will join Modeus sorceror. If you die it will be poor sport at the fortress you command.* he thinks to himself as he rushes towards the mountains.


----------



## Akatsuki13

“Glorior Deus Erus. Gloria Devoveo Fidelis Animus,” Malphas chanted as he knelt before the small shrine within his chambers. “Enim Ferus Khorne. Enim Prudens Tzeentch. Enim Seciosus Slaanesh. Enim Amplexus Nurgle.”

The meditative prayers brought a calm and focus to the Apostle’s mind as he prepared himself for all that was about to happen. His clash with the Possessed had progressed exactly as he had planned. While the warrior and daemon may believe themselves to be an equal to him because of how that little spar went the truth was they were sorely mistaken. He had _allowed _Zarapheth and the daemon within his flesh to achieve their draw when he could have easily bested them. For if a warrior believed themselves an equal to an Apostle of the Word they would be far more receptive to his words. Too weak and the warrior would view him with nothing but contempt and distain, too strong and the warrior could become jealous and angry towards him. Only weak leaders commanded solely through fear or power. Garrond was one such leader. Modeus… well it was too early to tell what he was.
In his many, many years of waging the Long War Malphas had seen this pathetic power struggle play out a thousand different times between countless warlords obsessed with nothing else but their own personal glories and thirst for power. But soon this pointless squabble would end and one would stand victorious and ready to continue the work of the Gods. Malphas could feel it within his bones.

The sorcerer’s message of this Nerr’ak going to Modeus had come to him as it had undoubtedly come to scores of others. Initially he had decided not act, instead reflecting on the message itself. It had revealed far more than Garrond had intended it to. Such a message reeked of desperation. Either he feared that this defection could be the opening of a floodgate, draining more support from the warlord to his rival or Nerr’ak possessed something that Garrond did not want Modeus to possess. Regardless this would undoubtedly be what sparked the battle between the warlords, deciding who would ultimately lead this host.

Soon Malphas knew he would have to act to secure his position with the victor of this fight. A plan had already formed in his mind. Hundreds were still gathered around the Temples of the Gods, beseeching their great masters for their blessing in the coming battles. The weak-willed faithful would be his instrument. Properly motivated and directed they would drown one of the lords with their zealous fury and blood while giving the Gods a fitting first offering in the sacraments and contributions that were to come. And even should they fail and the other warlord prove to be the victor in this fight than he could easily claim that his actions were solely to purge the weak, the undeserving and the faithless from the ranks of the Host before they launched their true war.

Malphas rose up to his feet, ending his meditations. He pulled his anointed bolt pistols from their resting place on the shrine, uttering a quiet prayer before he returned them to his holsters. After that he reached for his leering skull-faced helmet, bringing it down on his head. Lastly he collected his Crozius Arcanum, the consecrated weapon crackling with power in his grasp as moved to leave his chambers.

Only one question remained, who should the fury of the faithful be directed at? Garrond or Modeus.

Very soon one was going to fall…


----------



## komanko

As he marched towards the throne room he inspected his troops. Some of them did not recognize him because of his lack of power armour yet those insolent mongrels were quickly put to place, especially the cultists who didn’t notice his presence. He demanded respect, he commanded it.

He quickly passed the training grounds and the quickly set up armoury, going from corridor to corridor, turning around each corner. It seemed like the fortress itself was blessed by Tzeentch, it was made as natural labyrinth, one that could easily confuse anyone who was not cautious.

When he finally reached the massive doors which barred the mutant lords throne room which now was his he noticed the high presence of guards, more then what he left this section with. Something was out of place. If he hadn’t noticed this disturbance he wouldn’t have noticed the stench of a daemon as well. One dreadfully familiar. None of his apprentices could summon daemons, at least not a daemon which would leave such a stench in the warp, awfully familiar that was…

As he was about to open the doors to the throne room one of the apprentices came to him, at first barely recognizing him, was he so different without his armour? It didn’t matter, he would crush any opposition with or without his armor. Quickly correcting his mistake the apprentice bowed in a mixture of fear and groveling. “Speak.” It was straight forward, a command. Whatever the apprentice wanted to say he would’ve to say it, or at least come up with a convincing lie.

From what the apprentice reported it seemed like many were moving out towards this fortress mountain yet it seemed like all who were coming were here just to seek an audience with Modeus. This fact enraged Nerr’ak in a way while in another it made him feel nothing. Was he not powerful enough to seek support from him, was Modues the only thing which could unite those greedy warriors?

He sneered, it was he who killed Xynx, a mighty thousand son nonetheless. He deserved to be respected, he deserved to be feared. Yet what was even more interesting was the second thing that the apprentice reported. 

It seems that he was expected in the throne room. Only now he managed to pick off that scent, he knew where it came from. It’s the same one he blasted to pieces earlier in the city. Damn mongrels and pests couldn’t stay dead… An even better question was how did he actually enter the fortress, because if he could’ve done it someone else would be able to do the same thing. So many things to find out…

“No, trust me. I can open the doors by myself I don’t need you to lead me.” He said sarcastically. “Get back to your duties and investigate who is responsible for letting a possessed marine slip through our defenses.” After a few seconds he added “I feel adventurous today, turn him into a test patient, do whatever you want with him.”

After the apprentice went away Nerr’ak swept the dust from his robes and took down his hood. His long black hair fell behind him, his pale skin seemed even more pale in the light of the corridor resembling more a corpse than a man.

After he was done tidying himself he moved his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. The least he could do without his power armour is create an illusion of power and control, he had to be calm as in his current state the Gal Vorbrak could easily tear him apart if he would not notice his movement. With that done he pushed the large heavy oak made doors open, they creaked in displeasure as they were pushed open yet opened anyway.

As he entered he was greeted with the sight and smell of many, marines aiming their weapons at one figure, sorcerers from behind them ready to annihilate that figure from existence, above them all the scent of a daemon lingered and it emitted from the figure which was now sat on the throne. His throne!

When the possessed noticed is presence he stood up, the sound of guns followed him quickly as the guards aimed at the marine’s new position. The possessed quickly began to speak, misjudging Nerr’ak’s thoughts of him, he was trying to behave tactically, dance around abit, Nerr’ak was not in that mood at all, after being chased by marines, shot at by anti air turrets, fighting with a thousand son and then hunted by biker gangs and possessed marines he was really not in the mood for dancing around.

“Shut up!” He said in a strict and menacing voice. “I know why you are here.” He paused and judged the marine, he clearly could smell the familiar scent of a powerful daemon behind him. “Get off my throne.” It was a command more than a request and the marine understood that and quickly moved. Nerr’ak didn’t even bother sitting on it, to be correct he walked in the opposite direction.

“You should be dead.” He said after a while, “And as you are not it seems that my haste might have made me do a mistake. Trust me when I say that I could’ve destroyed you then. Even more now when I have all these troops at my disposal.” He rolled his eyes from one troop to another and without a word burned one of them with his warp flames. “You should’ve killed him on sight, use your brains next time. Now each of you thank me for not sending you into a spiraling abyss of death and get the hell out of my throne room.” To make his point further understood he pointed at the door with his hand.

After they were gone he moved his attention back to the possessed marine. “Now Modeus. After that. Knowledge, and if you betray me…” An evil grin spread on his face… “If.” 

OOC: Left it open so Deus can continue and for revan as well.


----------



## Lord Ramo

The marine guarding the door drew his chainblade, seeing the strike coming from the powersword and quickly deflected it. However there was no way he was going to save himself from Rachaels deadly powerclaw. Rachael could only smile in satisfaction and pleasure as the claw went straight through the marine's chest, crumpling it completely and the talons from the claw exiting in the rear of his armour. She drew her claw back as the marine was sent flying, dead into the gate and stared at her claw for a moment.

She knew that her power claw would give her such an advantage when fighting heavily armoured opponents, and it was now probably her most deadly weapon. She looked over at the techmarine Ferrore, *"My compliments Tech marine. Your skill with weapons is outstanding, this claw will claim many souls for the Gods of Chaos."* She made the mental note to add Slaanesh, but let it stay in her mind. He was a follower of Khorne, and they were an unpredictable bunch.

She fell into step next to him as he led both his forces, and her own out of the fortress and away. As they walked questions popped into her head and she turned to the techmarine as they walked saying, *"Ferrore, where are we meeting Modeus? And how will Modeus know that I wish to talk to him about serving him and to fight for him and his forces?"*

She stayed quiet for the rest of the journey, her troops had their weapons ready just in case this was a trap, though she did doubt that it would be.


(OOC: not my best post I know, just didn't really know what to put.)


----------



## deathbringer

Rye amusement tinged him and he head the dreadnaught give a low rumbling laugh as the power claw tore the marines chest plate asunder the deep claws puncturing the armour with easing, slicing through rib and bone.

Beautiful, pure perfection, stripped down to mortal proportions, the blades of sleek shining metal forceful empowered by streamlined servos.

Perhaps he would do the same to his own servo claw, increase the speed and dexterity, perhaps.... so many possibilities.

The corpse spiralled unceremoniously backwards as the twisted sister removed her claw with a flourish staring in wonder at the great beast now encasing her fist, a delighted smile twisting her features as the fingers glittered in the fleeting light.

My compliments Tech marine. Your skill with weapons is outstanding, this claw will claim many souls for the Gods of Chaos." 
A grunt of ascension graced his lips, his mind elsewhere as the daemon snarled within rising from the back of his mind to stir within the gun upon his shoulder, swivelling, he felt the beast search track stop, then the beast subsided.

"Ferrore, where are we meeting Modeus? And how will Modeus know that I wish to talk to him about serving him and to fight for him and his forces?"

Where were they going, he knew the way but not the place, his feet told him the location without his mind comprehending it

"He will know as you are with me, perhaps he will have words for you, perhaps not, you could make your oath of fealty right here right now and I am sure he would hear you. The lord of the relictors is a mysterious warrior, he is not the man that first called for warriors within the square."

His mind faded into reverie, the puzzlement on the sisters face drawing him back to the conversation in hand
"He is not the man I followed the first time, he is more deadly, power ripples from him. I know not where we got yet my feet wander the path as if they had trod it a thousand times. We go to where rebellion stirs, where the forces of modeus muster. Be patient dark sister your time will come"


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## revan4559

Urien: Targel let out a wet sickly gurgling laugh before he tilted his head back and then thrust if forward as if he was about to head butt you but before he moves his head all the way down the grill part of his helmet explodes as a swarm of flies bursts from within and make their way to surronding you as they start to land ontop of your armour and get into the joints and servo's as they start to clog it up with the sheer number of their bodies but while most land on you others fly into the mouths of the corpses in the room and suddenly they start to jerk and spasm violently before raising to their feet and slowly shamble in the way of you and their master Targel. It appears that the plague-commander is a more potent sorcerer than you first thought and could have several things to learn from him but there is no time now that you are fully committed to killing him, With a flick of his own free hand Targel sends another bolt of green lightning towards you not caring about his raised corpse servants as some of them erupt into green flames and explode as they are touched by the bolt of green light. (Continue your fight with Targel but once again he isn't to die in your post as the fight will last 1-2 more updates before it ends. Feel free to go into as much depth as you wish.)

Ridoranaa: As you continue to make your way to the mountain one of your lieutenants with you sends you a vox message that another large force is approaching from behind you with a Tech-Marine of Khorne and Dark Sister of Slaanesh leading them in the same direction as the fortress. Thinking quickly you remember that the two warriors mentioned were part of the warband that Modeus led so do you stop and confront them as it could be very highly possible that they are returning to meet with their old master or do you hide your men and wait for them to move on? The choice is up to you but you should make your decision quickly as another message from your lieutenant suggests that the combined forces greatly out numbered your own(as the rest of your men are still at the base or are on the way) and could easily kill you if they decided to. What is your decision? Stand and confront them or hide and wait for them to move by?

Kalus: You run through the streets of the ruined city and after a few minutes of hunting you catch the scent of not your traitorus followers but of the sorcerer Nerr'ak that you were hunting who should hopefully lead you to your master Modeus but if you decide to follow that scent(which will eventually lead you out of the city and towards the mountain) then it is up to you or you could remain hunting your followers who are also hunting the sorcerer. Should you decide to remain and hunt your followers then it takes several more minutes for you to pick up on the smell of the bikes engines and judging by how strong the scent is you are close and could possible be near three of them, following the scent you come upon a plaza near the edge of the city with the three bikers looking around with their bolters ready talking to each other over their private vox-channel. Attacking them directly could be a bad idea as there is alot of open ground to cover so if you could lure them back into the streets then you will have an advantage.(What you do is up to you either going after nerr'ak or killing the marines, if you go for the marines then i want you to be imaginitive in how to lure them back into the streets).

Nerr'ak: While you and the possessed marine talk(when Deus does post or pms you) you hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the main doors and they open showing one of your apprentices walking towards you with his head held high. "Oh most mightiest of sorcerers, I come with information that two large forces(three is Seraph joins ramo and deathy) are heading directly towards this fortress. At the head of these armies are a tech-marine who burns with the rage of khorne and a dark sister who has embraced the dark prince (and a warrior of the plague-father if seraph joins), but while they do not appear to be hostile just yet their combined forces would be enough to sweep away our own. The tech-marine alone has enough tanks and fire-power to level this entire fortress within the hour so my Lord, I have come to ask what you wish your troops to do? Shall we take up defensivie positions and open fire or shall we remain at our stations under ordered otherwise?" What do you think and do upon hearing this? It seems the thrice-damned tech-marine and the corrupted human have come in search of you but what is more likely they have come looking for Modeus. Do you take the possessed marine with you and head out to meet them or order your forces to guide them to your throne room. It is up to you.

Malphas: You make your way out of the shrine to see ten of your Word Bears stood outside inthe hall way with five to each side awaiting your command, it seems that they have been stood there since you entered the shrine and have been awaiting your orders until one of them steps forward. "Dark Apostle, it appers that while you were in meditation that several of the lesser warlords have left the fortress and gone to join the one they call Modeus but where they go we do not know as of yet, it is as if something or someone is hiding their presence from our sorcerers. What are your orders my Lord? Garrond has issued a command that all availible marines should bolster the defences of the fortress but your are our master not him. So what is it you wish of us." The Marine then steps back into rank and awaits your command along with the rest of your men, now you need to make the decision of what you wish to do. You stand highly within Garrond's council being one of the few Dark Apostle in his warband but you do not know if he will survive this conflict, perhaps you could go and approach the sorcerers in the chambers of Great Changer to see if they can divine anything of the strands of the future. (You pretty have free choice in what you wish to do, you could go see Garrond or walk around the fortress. You could even go gather your men or visit the other commanders, the choice is up to you.)

Aeron: You leave the apocatharion in the halls of undivided and make your way to the main hanger were almost all of the tech-marines and tech-priests that serve Garrond are located but when you arrive you notice that a good portion of the vehicles and warmachines are missing which you quickly come to the conclusion that they belonged to some champions who have left Garrond's service to join Modeus's. Walking to the nearest tech-marine you hear the joints in your armour grind together and the gears and servo's wheeze as it seems your armour has sustatined quite abit of damage but then again you haven't had your armour or weapons regulary serviced for the last twenty years, seemingly content with doing what repairs you can by yourself. Looking up from his work on a powerfist the tech-marine wears the insignia of the iron-warriors and under closer inspection you see that he also belongs to the Warsmith Hardal. "Is there something you need bloody-handed servent of the raging god?" The tech-marine then goes back to his work as he awaits your armour. (After telling him what you need you should go and see the warsmith to try and find out where his loyalties lie, though you hate it you will need to use the guile and cunning of the Changers followers.)

Hardal: You exit the simulation and return to the part of the fortess which you have been given command over, several buildings and hangers in the northen part of the fortress where your forces gather and await your command, while making your way there you wonder how many troops Modeus has under his command now that you have pledged yourself to him, it must surely be more then that Garrond can muster or around the same or he would never try attacking the fortress head on but then again that is why you will attack from the inside in a sort of pincer movement. Yet while thinking on this you start to draw out battle-plans in your head at where you will station your forces so you can have Garrond's forces in a vice-like grip when the hammer falls upon the anvil...thinking of hammers you decide to head to your own personal tech-marines you have them go over your armour and weapons to make sure they are in the best condition ready for the up coming battle. (When you go to the tech-marines you will find Aeron so feel free to work out a conversation with him through pms)

Ferrore: Letting your feet guide you through the streets of the city you head eastwards towards the large siloutte of a mountain in the distance and while you march towards it you can feel the presence of the daemon uncurl within your mind and body once more as it starts to explore your body which is essentially its new host and prison. You feel it once more take control over your shoulder-mounted plasma-gun before shifting into the claws of your servo-harness and eventually into your left arm which after a few moments you are able to force out before it can do any real harm or damage to those around you. Should you wish to talk to the daemon then that is up to you(pm me or get on msn when you can if you do.). After about another hour of walking and scaling the mountain you, your forces and the dark sister plus hers find yourselves ontop of the mountain where a large fortress has been built, standing upon its walls are clearly chaos astartes with their weapons aimed at you but yet they haven't opened fire merely allowing you and the rest of your forces into the courtyard where you are confronted by a sorcerer and a possessed marine, looking at the sorcerer you can clearly see that it is Nerr'ak which makes the anger of khorne bubble in your mind but you have come here for a reason so you do your best not to let it show. (Important note, should Nerr'ak/Komanko decide to remain in his throne-room then you will be led there by one of his apprentices so pm him first to find out what he wishes to do.) Do you have anything to say to the sorcerer and what do you think of his fortress on this mountain?

Rachael: You follow the tech-marine as he makes his way out of the city with you, your forces and his own troops in tow as he walks east towards what appears to be a large mountain, could Modeus possible reside ontop of the mountain so close to Garrond's own which was barely two hours away by the nomal standards of time but being in the eye of terror such a meaningless thing as time held no sway. Following the tech-marine futher away from the city you wonder how Modeus becam so powerful in such a short space of time and what your new master is truely like as you were not there when he formed the small warband at the beginning which has now become a large and powerful force capable of bringing death and destruction to worlds at a time. After away you and the rest of the army make your way up the mountain and see that there is a large fortress infront of you with warriors maning its walls with weapon aimed at you but yet they haven't opened fire merely allowing you and the rest of your forces along with ferrore's forces to enter into the courtyard where you are confronted by a sorcerer and a possessed marine, looking at the sorcerer you can clearly see that it is Nerr'ak an original member of Modeus's warband. (Important note, should Nerr'ak/Komanko decide to remain in his throne-room then you will be led there by one of his apprentices so pm him first to find out what he wishes to do.) Do you have anything to say to the sorcerer and what do you think of his fortress on this mountain?

OOC Note for Deathbringer and Ramo: Remember that Seraph could join you if he wishes to so dont forget you can talk to his character if you wish.

Zarapheth: ooc: You need to reply to Nerr'aks previous post but you can also see his current one to get an idea of what is going on.


----------



## Yru0

The doors sealed behind Arcus as the Apothecaries rushed to their duties, their one and only concern in the event of an attack on the compound, the protection of the gene-seed and the continuation of the Great War. Arcus watched with disgust as the so-called Astartes who were given the honour of guarding the tanks, the only non-apothecary personnel allowed to even set foot in the sacred hall save for the Lord and his retinue themselves, running at the slightest scent of battle, at the slightest possibility of personal gain. The fools! Such petty bickering between the warbands was the lifeblood of chaos, and kept them fresh and ready for war, Arcus knew this, but how could the pinnacle of evolution, the Astartes, forget the greater goal, and forget their purpose and duty to their masters! The Imperium must fall, and Modeus promised to inflict such pain upon the false-emperor's puppets to call himself a servant of Chaos. Finding himself momentarily lost in the delicate strands of gene-seed swirling in the tanks which housed the future of the galaxy, Arcus was disappointed, yet invigorated, they required much work on behalf of the pantheon.

Arcus gazed over the assortment of his brothers, true followers of the cause, the eye of an apothecary could see beyond the mere bloodshed of battle, he was not merely a weapon, but also a creator, a healer, he knew of the bigger picture. But not all would agree with him, Arcus knew this to be true, and as a smile crept upon his lips, he realised that some of his so-called 'brethren' were in fact undeserving of the honour. However many would join him, if not follow him; it would be a fool who could not feel the tension as many realised that they were committing treason, who could not recognise the rumours spreading across the fortress to be true, or who could not understand the slight body language displayed by so many. 
“Brothers, for too long has our order been left to stagnate at the hands of our so-called lord!; Garrond promises us glorious conflict and retribution against the false-emperor, but what does he deliver? War amongst ourselves and a pitiful waste of the very seed of our salvation; Modeus promises us the same and so much more, he has delivered his followers to victory time and time again, and we have all seen the casualties his forces have inflicted thus far without even a full-fledged assault; that is only a glimpse at his power. I propose that we put our weight behind him, support his cause, and reap the rewards.” Arcus gazed out across the assembled Apothecaries, he could see their logical minds considering his words, but one shuffled in the corner, one who did not fit with the others, one who was reaching for the weapon holstered at his hip. 
The body slumped to the floor with an almost unnoticeable hole precisely through its forehead. Arcus lowered his outstretched arm, but did not re-holster his pistol, “Come brothers, we have little time to make a decision.”


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## Midge913

As Targal rushed forward he drew back his head as if to head butt Urien, but he stopped his charge short. A gurgling buzzing sound started to rumble from the grill of Targal's helmet and before Urien could react a swarm of flies came pouring out in a rush of sound. The insects swarmed around Urien, landing in droves on him, crawling their way into the joints of his armor, clogging them with their fat hairy bodies. He watched as more flies alighted on the corpses littering the room, crawling into their eyes and mouths. Urien let out a dememted laugh as the bodies began to twitch and writhe, raising to their feet in spasmatic jerky motions. In masse they turned their undead eyes upon him and began to lurch forward in his direction, placing themselves between Urien and their master. 

Targal let out a wet laugh, his tone carrying his voice over the heads of the animated corpses,_ "You are not the only one who Nurgle favors with his gifts of sorcery. You cannot win Urien, give up and let it end quickly."_

Concentrating on the masses of swarming flies clogging his armor joints, Urien lashed out with his own power. Green black lightning surged from his hand wreathing his spiralled down his arm and jumped criss-crossing across his body. He felt the distant pain the contact with the lightning, but it bothered him not and he began to laugh as flies died in the thousands, sizzling and popping as the tainted lightning touched them. The stench of it delicious to his rotted nostrils. Redirecting the force of his power, he flung his hand out directing the lightning at the zombies that stood between him and his quarry, arching from corpse to corpse. Their heads exploded, fire errupting where his power touched them. The corpses fell, burning and twitching in the face of his sorcery, and he began to laugh. _"Flies and corpses..... This is what the mighty Targal, master and commander of Nurgle's forces brings to bear." _ In response to his taunt, Targal flicked his hand forward sending another blistering bolt of warp lightning at him. Were it touched the already burning corpses the erupted into green flame. Side stepping the bolt easily Urien continued to laugh in the plague commander's face. "Missed me."He shouted as he ran towards the Plague-Commander, power sycthe raised, wheezing laughter bubbling from his lips. 

The plague commander, surprised that his sorcery was so easily overcome, barely got his own sycthe up to block Urien's strike, and as a result Urien's blade passed through Targal's defenses, opening the front of his armor across the chest, from shoulder to hip. Vicera and bile poured from the wound and Targal looked at him with a mixture of loathing and hatred. Standing quickly to his full height, Targal bashed him across the head with the butt end of his scythe and raked his blade down Urien's back as he turned with the blow. Slime, pus, and blood flowed from the wound, running down Urien's back. He was only vaguely aware of the pain, as his diseased body reacted to the blow. Dancing back he began to circle Targal, looking for an opening to strike, the Plague-Commander mimicking him, his sycthe flickering with power. The voices in Urien's head began to chitter and sing, madness flaring in his eyes as they did. He funnelled his power into his sythe and rushed at Targal, aiming his next strike at the Plague-Commander's head. Knowing that his next blow would steal Targal's diseased soul, and he would relish sending it to Father Nurgle's bosom.


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## Bane_of_Kings

EXITING THE SIMULATION, the Warsmith returned to his part of the fortress, where he watched his men doing their best to prepare for a war that would hopefully take Garrond's forces by surprise. Dantion wondered how many troops now belonged to Modeus, especially with the large battalion pledged to him by the Warsmith. The two Titans had to be a boost as well, as he didn't think that this upstart would have more of the beasts. 

Depending on how many Titans Garrond had left, the amount of these god-machines could well turn the war in one side's favour. Beginning to draw up his battle-plans, the Warsmith barked into the private vox channel that he had linked up with all warriors under his direct command, and began conducting the plan. He would first surround and protect his area of the fortress from Garrond's forces, and wait until Modeus made the first move before unleashing his forces, preferably behind enemy lines in order to surprise Garrond's force and shatter their morale, and they would be caught in a vice-like grip with the hammer falling upon the anvil.

Thinking of the hammer, he remembered that he had to meet with his personal techmarines, to go over Dantion's armour and weapons to make sure they were ready for battle. On the way over, the first astartes that the Warsmith saw was Aeron, one who worshipped Khorne. Whilst the Iron Warriors normally detested any worship of the Gods, Aeron was a useful warrior, skilled in wreaking carnage on the enemy. Normally, he would have cause for subtly, but now was not the time. "You. Aeron, tell me now and tell me quickly. Where do your loyalties lie? With Garrond, or Modeus? You have my word that I will not relay anything of what you say here to Lord Commander Garrond." 

He would have chosen a different approach, but the Warsmith knew that time was of the essence here, and he didn't know how long he had until Modeus launched his attack. Plus, if Aeron was another mole inside his organization, he would have to rethink his plans. So, the astartes waited the Techmarine's response, hoping that Aeron would follow his Warsmith.


----------



## Angel Encarmine

As Aeron entered the hangar bay, he immediately noticed that most of the vehicles and war machines of Garrond were missing, and grinned savagely as he came to the conclusion that many of Garronds champions must of gone to the side of Modeus. As he made his way to a tech marine, he heard grinding and wheezing from the servos in his armor as they struggled to keep it operational. Thinking back, it had been almost twenty years since he had had his armor properly serviced, and the only thing keeping it somewhat together was the field repairs he had done to it in between battles. 

Approaching a tech marine of what he saw was the Iron warriors who was currently at work on a powerfist, the warrior spoke to him. _"Is there something you need bloody-handed servent of the raging god?"_ Nodding Aeron spoke _"My armor is in dire need of repair"_ he said simply, noticing the tech marine belonged to retinue of the mighty warsmith Hardal, before turning his back and letting him begin work on his armor. As he heard the tech marine fidgeting around his powerpack, he noticed what could only be the warsmith himself stride into the main hangar.

As Aeron studied Hardal, the Warsmith walked up to him _"You. Aeron, tell me now and tell me quickly. Where do your loyalties lie? With Garrond, or Modeus? You have my word that I will not relay anything of what you say here to Lord Commander Garrond." _ he questioned, as the tech marine removed Aeron's cracked helmet. "_I have been blessed by a vision from khorne that modeus will bring great glory to those that follow him, and wreak death and havoc upon those that do not._ he said, before continuing."_I follow Khorne above all others, and Modeus is the best choice to bring glory to the Blood God_ he growled,"_Where do you stand, Hardal?_" he asked, silently sliding out one of his chainaxes in case the warsmith was a loyalist of Garrond.


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## Bane_of_Kings

So, that was a stroke of luck, thought the Warsmith, as Aeron informed him of his allegiance to Modeus. Noticing that the Khorne warrior was doing his best to slide out a chainaxe in case things got awry, the Warsmith hastily responded, "Well then, follower of Khorne. You may count us as allies once again. Now, I suggest you prepare for battle as soon as you can, Aeron. Modeus will strike soon, and when he does, he will need every astartes at his disposal ready to overthrow Garrond."

"I hope I will see you on the battlefield, Aeron," the Iron Warrior said grimly, before heading in the direction of the nearest renegade Techmarine.


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## High_Seraph

As Ridoranaa and his men ran through the city making for the Sorcerer's base he received a vox from Xerxes, *"Commander a large force has entered the city quickly heading for our area under the command of a Tech-Marin and what appears to be fallen sister of battle. Whether they are hostile or not has not been confirmed."* Remembering the composition of the old warband of Modeus Ridoranaa recalls that they did indeed serve under him before losing to a warrior from Garrond's forces. Calling up a quick reference of the men with him he comes yo a conclusion of vast inferiority at the moment before getting the rest of the vox from Xerxes, *"My lord we do not have enough men to confront them. What are your orders?"*

_"Simple Xerxes. We do nothing and let them pass then follow with our full might. If they betray our presence then we crush the life from them and offer their souls to Father Nurgle. So take up ambush positions and await my command to do anything. Anyone opens fire without my explicit order will suffer greatly before I send their soul to Father Nurgle."_ Ridoranaa responds and giving quick hand signals to the troops around him jogs up to a door and kicks it in. startling the owner Ridoranaa ends their life with a quick bolt round to the head before cracking the curtains slightly to get a view of the street and settles in to wait for any word regqarding the new forces coming from his rear.


----------



## Lord Ramo

Racheal kept her eyes open as the group passed through the city. Such a large force would not go unnoticed by the forces that were still loyal to Garrond, and she was sure that he would have some forces hidden in the city. The guard that she had slain still was fresh in her mind, she was in awe of the speed in which she had killed him, a blessing from the Prince of Pleasure.

She would claim many souls for the Prince of Pleasure, hopefully under the command of Modeus. She had heard the rumours of his power, and to how his forces had damaged Garronds. Content with the choice she had made she followed the techmarine, a step behind him. Her eyes scanned buildings, and she discretely opened a vox channel to her troops. "Keep an eye out, these streets are perfect for an ambush. I hope that Garronds forces won't have had time to mobilize, and will only just have discovered our absence, but we must remain vigilant, the Prince of Pleasure demands it." 

She was content that between them and the forces of the Techmarine they would be able to deal with any quick threats. Ferrore had a mighty force at his disposal, and she prayed to Slaanesh that he wasn't leading her into an ambush. Mind you he didn't need to ambush her to defeat her forces, the amount of armour he had was staggering. She would have to keep an eye on him, he could potentially become a target at some point.

OOC: Waiting for the others to post before I post again as I don't yet know Komanko's decision whether to meet us or not.


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## Santaire

Kalus ripped his claws free from the traitor's shrivelled corpse. He crouched above the body and opened his warpsense to the city. He detected several of the traitors and moved off in their direction. However on the way he sensed another trail, that of Nerr'ark. He froze and cocked his head. He had 2 choices. He could continue his hunt for the traitors or move towards Nerr'ark. The traitors might return to Garrond and claim him to be a servant of Modeus however if he could reach Nerr'ark he would be able to discover the opinion of his Lord on the idea of him returning Nerr'ark to Garrond in a bid to gain favour and command of the undivided forces. Forces he would then use to defeat Garrond.

It was a difficult choice for the possessed marine considering even without the unearthly powers he must now possess Modeus had been a very ill tempered Lord who hated disobeiance. But again Modeus would have a much easier time of killing Garrond if the undivided were in hs service. Kalus made his choice and turned to follow the trace left by Nerr'ark. No matter the circumstances the opportunity to gain many new warriors was surely not one to be ignored.


----------



## Deus Mortis

The tone which Nerr'ak used brokered no argument. Zarapheth stood up out of the throne and stood to the right of it. In his fortress, Nerr'ak thought he was god, and now Zarapheth stood at the right hand of god. This idea made him smirk. Nerr'ak was clearly annoyed that one possessed marine had managed to infiltrate his fortress with no opposition. Although, it was always easier for one man to infiltrate a fortress than an army, so Zarapheth doubted Nerr'ak had much to worry about. More ranting, more words. For a child of one of the ultimate word-smith, Zarapheth was becoming bored of this endless talk. They needed to get down to business. He needed to talk to Modeus...

_*Azauk shared his flesh's sentiments. This reprimanding of the mortals here was a waste of their time. For a servant of a man who was about to try and take over one of the most powerful lord's on this planet, this blasted sorcerer seemed to lack a sense of urgency. But now he turned his attention back to them..._

Nerr'ak spoke, very direct. _“Now Modeus. After that. Knowledge, and if you betray me…”_ An evil grin spread on his face… _“If.”_
"Please, what purpose would it serve for me to betray you" Zarapheth walked over to Nerr'ak and stood a few meters from him. "Let's be honest..." Zarapheth grinned "...I should be more worried about you betraying me than you should be." 

Suddenly, an adept appeared. A lot of supplementation, a lot of groveling from the mortal. But then again, looking over at the ashen pile that once was a marine, he could understand the air of reverence with which they approached their lord. "Well, shall we go out and meet them?"...


----------



## deathbringer

A mountain bloomed in the distance, a great spike against the fading light, a symbol of strength and power towering above the creations of man, such stability and presence. His footsteps echoed, puffs of dust spiraling at his movement, the twisted sister falling into silent step alongside him, the thudding clump of her own power armor hurried as she sought to remain alongside him.

Would Modeus thank him from bringing a mortal into their ranks, perhaps the men she brought with him would be thanks enough, the legion of armour and warriors at his own back certainly a boon to Modeus and a hammerblow to Garrond. He could feel battle coming, a torrential rain of blood spattering down upon the paths of his future.

The daemon uncoiled a snarling mass of mockery, a tendril of its thoughts lazily undulating to coil lovingly around the plasma gun its voice a sneering carress

"Such a tiresome and foolish host. You bloody-minded brutes fail to notice even the most obvious things"

Ferrore's mind was terse, distracted and held elsewhere yet his thoughts snapped back, a surge of exertion loosening the daemons hold

"Silence spawn of changer, go back to your brooding"

His left leg seized , holding rigid causing him to stumble slightly letting out a low rumbling snarl, his mind twisting to rebuff the daemons irritation even as the sneering voice rang out

"You know, boot-licking cur of the bloody-one, that you could of been killed mere minutes ago?"

Confusion laced his thoughts and the daemon resurged ferrore regaining his wits to force him back his words sharp yet half tinged with curiosity

"but i wasn't"

The mocking tone disappeared followed by urgency, the sage knowledge of millenia burning with deadly desire

"Yet you still may be if you don't listen. Just now as you and your forces walked to this very fortress there was a force lying in wait and watching you go past. Followers of the pestilent-one no less."

Ferrore twitched with revulsion, his own hatred matched and outstripped by the burning fury of the daemon within him.

"Yet you failed to see it, and even now i can sense that force making its way here"

Ferrores mind curled with revulsion yet fascination seered, such a powerful entity, a sense so far beyond his control, yet if he could dominate it, perhaps it would be within his grasp.

"You sense it upon the aether?"

The word was vile, tainted and horrific, the realm of peddlers of sorcery, yet it leant them the power to match him in strength, his ignorance their strength

"We are in the aether you fool, at the heart of the eye of terror. Such things are easy for one such as me to sense. I can even sense where your master. Where the great silver skinned one sits preparing for his war upon the Fortress-Lord."

A great icy cacophony rung through his mind, gurgles rippling through the undertones, howls and screams echoing through the overtones.

Ferrore met it with cold steel and hard conviction, his words assured and calm

"Ignorance is a foe that cannot be excused but can be overcome. You speak of the aether through millenia surrounded by it, studying it. In knowledge I am but a child compared to you, yet we will not always be enemies you and I. One day I will break you and you will serve me"

"Just like the silver-one has broken you to be his trained mutt?"

The laugh echoed through his mind once more

"Before that time I will have finished what I have needed to do with your mind machine-one, and then I will be free to roam the aether once again."

Ferrore bit back with a low snarl, his anger rising, choler seering, mentally braced to lash out against the entity that flowed with graceful ease through his mind.

"Just like you daemon, I will stay with Modeus until he ceases to aid me, then I will leave. I have plans and dreams of my own, I'm sure you sense them."


The voice sounded strained, confused, a subtle eagerness and greed laced with sage wisdom

"You assume that the silver-lord will cease to aid you in time? Your path with him will be a long one filled with much blood-shed, death and destruction metal-skin. Do not think to end it so quickly or the flower that has yet to grow will die before it has time to take root."

It was Ferrore's turn for a bitter laugh, one moment mockery, next council, aye the servents of the changer where strange indeed

"Yet all things must come to and end. I wish to set a galaxy aflame, daemon. Abaddon the despoiler, Kharn the betrayer, Huron Blackheart. Who speaks of their right hand? Aye, I have no intention of leaving his side, yet one day I wish worlds to tremble at my name" 

"The betrayer rules no-one and serves only the bloody-one. He has no right hand. As for the Destroyer of Worlds and the Cripple...hmmm...their hands are disposed of when they out live their usefulness or die while they serve. You may yet be the same metal-skin. We shall see but that is beside the point i was making. An army of the plague-god sits upon this
fortress's doorstep. Do what you will with this information as it will prove amusing to me."

Ferrore snarled, contempt rising.

"Any force that quivers and hides before me is not an army daemon."

His mind spread across the totality of his force and his voice boomed through his mind

"This is an army"

The daemon culled it with a whisper

"Surely one of the sons of Vulkans knows how to lie in ambush? Are not all whelps of the Fire-Lord taught when they are young how to hide and kill as siliently as the wind?"

Ferrore's mind swelled with conceit, an spear of purest thought flashing through his mind

"Then pity he who tries to hunt the hunter. If he is loyal to Modeus, i weaken us both by conflict, if he is loyal to others I lead him onto the guns of Modeus's forces."

He let out a savage snarl

"I hope it amuses you"
_________________________________________________

He stood before a fortress, a great mountain fort, the stone fading into the very rock, the stench of sorcery burning in the subtle curves and contours of its design.

Nerrak, bastard, like all sorcerors a liar and a coward, they had held an allegiance for so long, throughout turmoil and pain.

Yet he had lied, played him for a fool. The daemon riled in his mind, writhed with gurgling snarls and hateful snorts.

An army looked upon the fortress in contemplative silence, their leaders head turning to the left as he sized up the marines upon the walls,weapons raised, fingers off the triggers.

"What do we do to them ," snarled the dreadnaught the great powerfist swinging in anticipation

Ferrore let out an evil chuckle

"We use our manners, we knock of course"

In unison the army, of warriors, man and machine stamped its left foot three times upon the mountaintop, a great ringing knock upon the mountainside,the very earth trembling beneath them even as Ferrore called out in an emotionless booming voice

"Brother Nerrak, Brother Nerrak, come, out come out wherever you are?"


----------



## komanko

A moment of silence passed between them, it seemed that the possessed marine did not enjoy the waiting. He could not appreciate the savoring of time, something which was available so rarely… People simply did not know what was best in life.

Nerr’ak sighed, sadly, the marine’s word were true and for one rare time he dropped out the act and simply replied, “That is true. You should be more worried about me.” He stopped for a moment considering his next words, this was information that he was revealing, information that the marine did not hold. “I… Have my reasons of not betraying you, and as such for the time being, until I part ways from Modeus you are safe from my treachery. By infiltrating my base you earned my interest and respect. Consider this as a friendship. Mutually beneficial one.”

Yet fate seemed to intervene again. Groveling scum, honeyed words. His temper was rising, how come his forces aren’t even aware of the enemies movement… Why is it that he knows of the appearance of three armies just several minutes before they arrive. His first wish was the smash the apprentice in front of him, send him to the ground and feed him to daemons from the warp yet something stopped him. He was a tool in the hand of the great mutator, it was not his duty to punish the fools. Tzeentch will do it if they truly deserve it, and, if he would have punished all those who needed punishing he would have no army left. They were all incompetent.

It seemed that Ferrore brought friends, he did not doubt that it was the cursed techmarine, only he would seek him out in such a hell hole. It was terrible that their friendship went to hell, an interesting figure he was. Very interesting yet not very intelligent, surely not as knowledgeable as a great servant of Tzeentch. Ferrore could not even be compared to Nerr’ak, while the techmarine was cursed with uncontrollable bloodlust Nerr’ak was blessed with the eyes of Tzeentch himself.

Yet something else took his attention, they had a gathering here. Tzeentch, Slaanesh, Khorne and Nurgle. All their servants were gathering, all in one place. This could not go peacefully without someone getting hurt and as such Nerr’ak will not let any of them enter his fortress. He would not risk his forces getting smashed from inside, he preferred those big heavy walls to protect him and not trap him.

Turning his attention back to the possessed marine he said, “Yes. It seems… That a holy gathering will take place, we are going to meet them.” With that said Nerr’ak pushed through the doors and moved out not waiting for the possessed marine to follow him. He was far from scared by the techmarine and the plague marine who followed must be the one who Nerr’ak imprinted the picture into. Yet he did not know who the dark sister was, he knew of only one yet he could not be sure if it was she who came or someone else.

He head the call of the fool, yet something was different about him, was he not so attuned to the presence of a daemon he wouldn’t have noticed it. It was true, Ferrore had a new friend, a powerful one. It would be a good idea to bind a powerful daemon like that to a weapon or even better, into another human. If done properly he would be able to raise an army of daemonhosts, such thoughts made his body shiver with anticipation of the thoughts of glory. Yet this was easier said than done.

He rubbed his hands one against the other and then stepped outside of the fort’s main doors. Unleashing his thoughts in a psychic wave he said, “ I hear your call my dear techmarine, why won’t you come inside my little fort and we will have a nice calm chat. Oh, and do invite your friends, it would make a fine holy gathering of the forces of chaos, if we don’t tear each other’s throats first. He mimicked the power that Xynx used to alert his forces, he did not care if anyone else heard it, no important information was given and he was not about to shout himself hoarse for the blasted techmarine.

Now, he shall wait.


----------



## Akatsuki13

"Dark Apostle, it appears that while you were in meditation that several of the lesser warlords have left the fortress and gone to join the one they call Modeus but where they go we do not know as of yet, it is as if something or someone is hiding their presence from our sorcerers. What are your orders my Lord? Garrond has issued a command that all available marines should bolster the defenses of the fortress but you are our master not him. So what is it you wish of us."

Malphas could not help but grin beneath his helmet at the devout warrior’s words. Even though he was exiled and on penance not all the faithful had abandoned him and never would for as long as he drew breath. Though they were not the warriors of his beloved Host they were far better than the warriors of lesser faith that flocked to all these petty warlords. For they, like he were the instruments of the Chaos Gods and the greatest of all the followers of the True Path. Even death itself held no fear for them.

However there was still the matter of Garrond’s order. He had been right. Now was the time to act. But still the question remained who to support? While he held a position of status within Garrond’s inner circle, the warlord was looking weaker and weaker by the minute in the face this new upstart. And though Modeus looked strong at the moment there was no telling how things would play out or even if he did support him that Modeus would accept him within a position akin to the one held now. Either choice presented risks but then even the devout must make sacrifices for the greater glory of the Dark Gods.

That being said needlessly, foolishly wasting the lifeblood of the faithful was nearly as much of a sin as bowing before the False Emperor. Malphas knew he had to make this choice carefully. Unlike _simpler _warriors could not just rush into the fighting and let fate decide how he would fair. No he needed a sign from the Gods or failing that more information on how events were playing out. Only then would he act.

Once long ago when he was a mere Acolyte, one of his rivals called him more a son of Alpharius than one of Lorgar. He immediately tore out the man’s tongue for such insult before explaining that true leaders are men of unwavering faith and intelligence. A leader could never afford to act without caution and consideration lest they bring failure, ruin and disgrace down upon them as it had for him on Ultramar.

Yes, insight and knowledge is needed now.

“Come my brothers,” he said to his small but formidable flock. “The Weaver of Fates calls to me. He wishes to bestow upon me insight into who is truly worthy to lead us. With his guidance we shall ensure that only the faithful and the worthy remain while the weak and pathetic are offered up to the Gods before the lapdogs of the False Emperor are.”


----------



## revan4559

Urien: The Plague-Commander stands exactly where he is as you aim send your scythe arching towards him as you aim to reap his soul for Grand-Father Nurgle but as you get closer and prepare to strike Lord Targal simply lowers his own scythe and steps forward his left hand shooting out and grabbing the haft of your force weapon between your own hands holding it in place with a iron like grip before he pulls you closer and slams his forehead into your own sending you reeling backwards. "You are a fool Urien, you forget than I am a member of the Death Guard! The Sons of Mortarion!" Lord Targal then raises his scythe into the air two handed as sickly green lightning dances over his weapon and his armour as he strides forth towards you but unlike earlier he keeps the lightning wraps around himself as he launches his attacks at you, with each block and parry you do the lightning around his blade crackles and creates a miniture shockwave forcing you back with each step. Your opponent seems to of taken it to the next level, you will need to think of something fast to overcome him.

Ridoranaa: You and your forces take cover in many of the buildings and lie in wait watching the two armies move passed you ignoring you completely as they leave the city and head towards the mountaining which you were headed to, after both forces leave you vox your troops and find out that none of them attacked and remained in waiting aswell meaning you were not discovered which now means you are free to head up to the mountain where the Sorcerer resides in peace though whether or not the two forces that passed you earlier are besieging it or joining those forces within the fortress you do not know. It is up to you if you wait for your entire force to gather to you before heading to the mountain or leaving with that troops you currently have with you, but once you make your way to the mountain you will need to figure out a way of letting the Sorcerer Nerr'ak know that you have come to join him.

Kalus: You set off from your currently location in the direction that you were headed original insearch of Nerr'ak and as you make your way there you get the scent of engine oils and fuel in the air along with finding the tracks and footprints of three large forces heading out of the city and towards a mountain several miles away, it is the same direction in which Nerr'ak was heading meaning that this will be very problematic as it could now mean that Nerr'ak has three large forces joining him or besieging him and he is a vital part of your plan to gain favor with both Garrond and Modeus. It seems that now you will have to alter your plan slightly unless you with to continue with your original plan which would now require you sneaking into where-ever Nerr'aks base was and overcoming the sorcerer before dragging him back to Garrond and presenting him to your current 'Master'. It is currently up to you which you wish to do.

Nerr'ak: You and the possessed marine leave your throne room and enter the winding corridors of your fortress as you head out to meet the tech-marine and dark sister though you would of prefered to stay in your throne room and have them come to you but Ferrore would never come to you through sheer stubborness so one of you would of had to compramise. While you walk with the possessed marine your mind slowly bubbles with anger and annoyance that it appears all those wishing to side with Modeus are coming to your fortress in search of you to make you contact their soon-to-be master, while this is a good thing in that you have power over them in that only you can directly contact Modeus it does mean that the location of your fortress is becoming known to those you would rather now have learn of its exsistance. As you make your way through the fortress you eventually end up at a large set of metalic doors which are pushed open by two astartes either side which floods the passage way full of light which takes you a few moments for your eyes to adjust to and as you step out into the open air you see a Tech-Marine and Dark Sister standing in the center of the courtyard and behind them two huge forces that could easily lay siege to this fortress if they wished. Do you say anything to either of these two or do you let them explain why they are here even though you already know the answer.

Malphas: You make your way from your private chambers with your personal retinue and head to the halls dedicated to the Fate-Weaver as if drawn by some invisible force, clearly the gods are now starting to act by guiding you there. As you make your way to the tzeentchian part of the fortress your mind reflects back on the battles with the loyalist scum who do not realize the power of the true gods until it is too late and while many of your battles you won there were those that ended in defeat which still cling to your soul: The battle with the Ultramarines 5th company upon calth, The war against the Dark Angels 3rd company upon a world whose name you no longer recall but the most recent being the failure of Abbadons so called 13th Black Crusade. After your musing you shake your head slightly to clear your mind and find yourself standing before two doors marked with the symbol of the Great Changer and after taking a deep breath you push them open to see that the great library is a buzz of activity as many sorcerers float off of the ground deep in meditation and powerful sorceries are woven around this place to ensure its knowledge is protected but there is one within these halls that you must speek with, the apprentice of the late commander Xynx, the only problem is finding him. Perhaps you should ask around.

Aeron: The Warsmith strides away from you with his retinue of warriors and as you leave the tech-marine to his work you make your way around the hanger observing the workings of the dark mechanicum and renegade tech-marines with passing interest as they work on their great machines such as Land Raiders, Leman Russ Battle-Tanks, several variants of Bane-blade and even a warhound titan but while you continue to wander you see some of your ancient brethen of the world-eaters entombed within the metalic coffins of the Dreadnoughts which sends a shiver down your spine as such unfortunate souls will never be able to experience the blood shed and glory of battle first hand again. Ignoring your ancient breathen you leave the hanger and make your way to the fortress walls to look out into the city that will soon become the battle ground of Garrond and Modeus's forces and know that such death and destruction will please Khorne greatly. You only wish that the tech-marine would hurry up with your armour so you can prepare for battle, looking around you see several cultists of slaanesh huddled together looking out into the city, atleast you now have something to entertain you until the tech-marine is done.

Hardal: You notice that one of the tech-marine who belongs to your forces is currently busy working on the armour of the khorne-marine Aeron and decide to leave him to it and search around for another of your tech-marines. After a few more minutes of searching you find three of them currently working on the chassis of one of your Iron Warrior Dreadnoughts but can see that there is no occupant inside it yet which clearly means either they removed the ancient warrior within to see to his walking tomb or that he was killed and they are preparing it for another unfortunate soul who will not know rest. Walking over to them all three of them stop and hammer their right fists on their chestplates. "Iron Within, Iron Within, Warsmith." All three of them say in perfect unison as they bow to you, it seems that all three of them will be checking over your wargear which will greatly speed up the process. While they set to work on your weapons and armour you could inquire about the other forces of Garrond still within the fortress from them as they will clearly of overheard something from other tech-marines.

Ferrore: After you and your warriors slam your left feet into the ground three times in a version of 'knocking' you wait several minutes out in the courtyard with the dark sister stood behind you and the sorcerer's warriors ontop of the walls aiming their weapons at you but as you continue to wait the large metalic doors infront of you swing outwards and two figures emerge, one wearing full astartes battle-armour in the colours of deep rust red and gold with the clear signs of daemonic possession and the other wearing a simple dark blue robe and using his staff as an improvised walking stick. You can clearly tell that the one in the robes is Nerr'ak going on the arrogance with which he walks but you do not know the other one, only that he is one of the Gal Vorbrak. What do you do now that Nerr'ak has appeared before you? Do you demand your audience with Modeus now or do you try to best the sorcerer in a battle with words? What you do and say is now up to you.

Rachael: You and Ferrore stand within the huge courtyard of the fortress and you can see that Nerr'aks forces are still clearing away mutants that obviously inhabbited this keep before he claimed it himself but while you are watching them your attention is snapped back to Ferrore and his forces as all of them raise their left leg and slam it into the ground three times in a parody of knocking on a door, the sounding echoing from all the armoured boots doing this is almost defeaning but most of it is filtered out through your helmet(assuming you have one on.) and for the next few minutes you merely wait. After what you guess was ten minutes and looking at your chrono-meter you see is true the large double doors infront of you open and two figures emerge, one wearing full astartes battle-armour in the colours of deep rust red and gold with the clear signs of daemonic possession and the other wearing a simple dark blue robe and using his staff as an improvised walking stick. You can clearly tell that the one in the robes is Nerr'ak going on the arrogance with which he walks but you do not know the other one, only that he is one of the Gal Vorbrak. Do you say anything to these two as they approach you or do you allow Ferrore to do all of the talking which could mean trouble as those of Khorne and Tzeentch do not get on.

Zarapheth: You and Nerr'ak leave the throne room and make your way throughthe winding passages of the fortress in complete silence as you sense that the sorcerer is not in a good mood at the moment and what is even more interesting to you however is the fact he has decided to meet his 'guests' unarmed. As you make your way through the fortress you eventually end up at a large set of metalic doors which are pushed open by two astartes either side which floods the passage way full of light which takes you a few moments for your eyes to adjust to and as you step out into the open air you see a Tech-Marine and Dark Sister standing in the center of the courtyard and behind them two huge forces that could easily lay siege to this fortress if they wished but they are likely here for the same reason as you, they are here to have an audience with Modeus. As for approach do you say or do anything to these two warriors before you and merely watching to see what they and the sorcerer do and talk about?

Arcus: The other apocatheries look at each other before one shuffles over to the now dead apocathery and removes his gene-seed and stores it within a spare tank before all of them make their way closer to you. "Our only concern is that the gene-seed remains safe and the continuation of the war against the corpse god goes on. We do not care who we follow or who it is that will use this gene-seed as long as we do our sacred duty." rumbles one of the apocatheries through a vox unit attached to his throat, looking over him you can see the colours and symbol of the alpha-legion on his left shoulder while the rest of his armour is painted in the bone-white of all apocatheries. "And with that dear-brother we shall return to our work as the guards have left this vault undefended so go pledge out alligence to Modeus is you wish but remember your sacred oaths and duty and we shall not stand in your way." With that the gathered apocatheries return to their duty leaving you alone to go insearch of Modeus, perhaps you should set off after the sorcerer as he was part of Modeus's warband?


----------



## Midge913

The voices in Urien's head positively sang with madness as he rushed forward, his scythe held ready. He barely heard his own cackling laughter above the chittering sounds in his head. They were excited, death always excited them. He felt the power that he held at bay, the power of corruption and pestiluence, and he bathed in its radiance. The sickly glow of his scythe bathing his decayed features in a ghastly light. Time seemed to slow as he anticipate the blade of his weapon piercing Targals flesh, his stagnant blood running to the ground. He longed for that moment that he could feel the terror of the man's soul as it was cast into the warp. His eyes closed of their own accord as he savored the moment, the voices in his head for once silent with tense eagerness. 

With a jarring impact, Urien's fantasy was shattered. He looked up and found that Targal had stepped into the blow, that the Plague-commander had caught Urien's scythe in a single hand, holding his weapon in an iron grip. Before he could counter Targal pulled him into a vicious head butt that knocked him back several feet, but he kept his balance, twirling his scythe to a read position once more, congealed blood running down into his eyes from the laceration above his eyebrow that the blow had caused. 

_"You are a fool Urien. You forget that I am a member of the Death Guard! The Sons of Mortarion!"_ Raising his staff in the air above Targal stalked toward Urien, sickly green lightning playing around his scythe and creeping down his body. This was no bolt that flew toward Urien, but some sort of defense. Targal swung at Urien, his movements heavy and sluggish in his Terminator armor, and Urien blocked the blow with his own weapon easily. What he did not expect was the backlash of power that almost forced him to his knees, pushing him back as crackling hiss of the two weapons touching exploded into a shower of sparks and ripples of force. Urien looked at his opponent with new found admiration..... It would be shame for Father Nurgle to loose such an able servant, but perhaps the Lord of Corruption could make use of Targal after he left this life. Nothing would daunt him or turn him from this course of action. 

The voices echoed around his skull as he traded blow for blow with the more heavily armored Plague-commander, each parry driving him back a step as the shockwave rippled out from their contact. Urien loathed being on the defensive... he must change the tide of this conflict for good. Agilely sidestepping Targals most recent set of attacks he swung the butt of his staff as hard as he could at the back of Targal's armored knee. He knew that it would do no lasting damage, but it did give him the distraction he needed to strike. As Targals joint gave way, only briefly and he stumbled slightly, though righting himself faster than Urien had expected, he struck. His scythe flashed down and in a spray of diseased fluid and congealed blood Targals left arm fell to the corpse littered floor. Targal seemed to stare at his missing limb, gaze shifting back and forth between the floor and his ruined shoulder. For the first time during their conflict Urien tasted fear coming from his opponent. Urien knew that he would win this fight, knew beyond reason that he was the favored son and his cackling laughter reverberated around the halls of Targal's throne room. Raising his scythe to the ready position once more, Urien screamed out at the top of his lungs, in between bouts of insane laughter, _"who is the fool now! You are a relic Targal, something of a bygone age. There was once strength in you and I followed you willingly, but no longer. You are weak. You are an archaic fool, clinging to the belief that your lineage makes you strong. Watch as the strength of your blood spills to the floor old one. Watch as the strength of Mortarion fails you."_


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

HARDAL GRUNTED UPON noticing that one Techmarine that currently belonged to his force was aiding Aeron, before turning around and storming off, his power armour clunking on the floor as he went. After a few minutes of searching, the Warsmith found three of those under his command tending to a Dreadnought, its chassis ripped open with no occupant inside. This showed that they had either removed the ancient warrior from his place of refuge, or he had been killed in battle and were currently preparing another unfortunate soul to become the latest Iron Warriors Dreadnought. He pitied the next warrior that would spend eternal suffering inside the war machine, and the unlucky servitors that would be around when it awoke.

Walking over to the three, armoured Iron Warriors, the Warsmith watched them all turn to salute him, and cried the battle-cry of the sons of Perturabo, "Iron Within, Iron Without, Warsmith."

Watching all three of them bow to him, Hardal smiled from inside his helmet, knowing that this would be a lot quicker with three Techmarines tending to his armour, rather than just one that he expected. There was a moments pause before the Warsmith spoke, breaking the silence. He knew that these Techmarines would no doubt have picked up some rumours from Garrond's loyalists, and that way - he could work out which of Garrond's forces remained in the fortress. "Techmarines," he began. "I want to know anything you have heard about the strength of Lord Garrond's forces that reside amongst his fortress. Tell me all you know, and I shall see that you will be rewarded."


----------



## Yru0

Arcus nodded silently towards the apothecary, one of the Alpha Legion often travelled farther than that of any other legion, and especially one of the apothecarium, could be as seeing as any follower of change. However, inside Arcus couldn't help but fume, he respected his fellow brethren, for their duty was paramount to not only the success of the great war, but the very survival of the forces of chaos themselves; they could not afford to get mixed up in the petty squabbles of warlords, it was inconsequential. Yet it was not. Arcus could see beyond the deep roots of tradition and out dated thinking, this war should have been won ages past, the corpse-emperor's skull should be the toy of Khorne, and the Imperium of Man returned to its glory. This was not so, Chaos could not go on being lead by anyone, they had to choose their leaders, those who were ruthless enough, and commanded enough power to crush the loyalists; and the apothecarium had to throw its weight behind those that could bring the fury of gods upon their foes. Modeus was that man.

Truth be told, Arcus had not expected much more from his brothers, but at least he had the assurance that they would not stand against him, and that the apothecarium would not be a house divided in the coming days of war. However a daunting task was ahead of him; an apothecary was not a leader of men, it was rare to find one with men to follow his whim, this had its benefits, apothecaries were largely left to their own devices, with even the stubborn khornates respecting their abilities and granting them the flexibility to perform their duties. Arcus would have to locate this Modeus on his own, and once found, he would not be able to offer legions of men and arms like many others, merely the promise of the apothecarium, which he not even commanded. However this Modeus would need every able bodied warrior he could muster for his crusade, and Arcus had made up his mind; to directly locate the Lord was completely out of the question, yet he once ruled over a local warband, and its members were now incorporated into Garrond's own forces, it was not a significant jump in logic to conclude that some of these warriors would return to their previous master. This, in fact, had already occured, the sorcerer Nerr'ak had fled from the fortress of Garrond, undoubtedly to pledge his alleigance to Modeus with his considerable forces. It was this man whom Arcus would find.

Locating the sorcerer, however, was no easy feat, yet word passed quickly to ears that knew how to find information; and it became increasingly clear to Arcus that he was not the only one seeking the elusive sorcerer. The forces of a techmarine and a sister had departed the fort with an unspecified destination, and although the path of the sorcerer was impossible to follow, it was a far more difficult task indeed to hide the movement of armies. Arcus left the fort shrouded in a hooded cloak, entering the city below as merely another pilgrim of chaos, his mind set on the task ahead.


----------



## High_Seraph

Ridoranaa crouched a step behind the curtain with his eyes locked on the road waiting for whoever was approaching him from behind. Eyes glued o the road waiting for those who were coming up behind him and waiting to see if they were hostile or not. Waiting there Ridoranaa let the rotting odor from the people he had shot upon entering here fill his nostrils as the first men had begun to appear down the street. Grinning to himself Ridoranaa calmly took up his bolter and sighted upon the figures aiming carefully at the one on the right. As they came closer the figure resolved into the Tech-Marine he had sought information at Garrond's base with the Dark Sister beside him.

Lowering his bolter Ridoranaa settled down to wait as they pass counting the number of men and vehicles as they do. Standing up Ridoranaa thinks to himself as they pass, *Well it seems that I have made the right choice in not attacking or even confronting them as it seems they heavily outnumber those with me and even had I my full compliment of troops that I would still be defeated. Well in any case I hope no one attacks them or they will be in extreme pain before dying slowly.* AS the last of the warriors disappears around the corner and the sounds of marching feet and vehicles fades into the distance Ridoranaa steps out into the street motioning for his men to come out and report.

Listening to the reports of his men Ridoranaa voxes Hardariel with the information before adding, _"Bring transports along at full speed regardless of anything else. We will advance into the rear of them and try to talk first but if it comes to battle bring the rest in a flank attack. Do not engage anyone until you receive my command or I fall dead or I shall personally see your soul to Nurgle. Is this understood?"_ As Hardariel voxes back his confirmation Ridoranaa turns his gaze towards the mountains. *If memory serves me that Tech-Marine is a follower of Khorne and the Dark Sister serves that hedonist Slaanesh. The Sorcerer serves Tzeentch and I serve Papa Nurgle which means there will be a concurrence of the gods there. Maybe this is what I have been looking to find? The gods take their favor from Garrond and give it to this Modeus and let the mortals know the choice by having their servants gather at one place?* as he pondered this the transports arrived. Waving his men aboard Ridoranaa directs the driver to make for the mountain fortress at cruising speed. 

Opening a vox channel on the same band he used at Garrond's base he says, _"Hello this is your friend from the north gate. I shall be arriving at your fortress in some time. I would take it kindly if you informed those headed to your fortress, as I assume they are joining you if not we shall catch them in a pincer, that I am friendly and arriving in transports."_ Ridoranaa quickly closes the link to prevent a trace.

(ooc: sorry for the wait.)


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## deathbringer

" I hear your call my dear techmarine, why won’t you come inside my little fort and we will have a nice calm chat. Oh, and do invite your friends, it would make a fine holy gathering of the forces of chaos, if we don’t tear each other’s throats first."

The sorcerors voice burst through his mind and the daemon riled and thrashed as the voice resounded through his skull, the dulcit tones laced with sickly sweetness, anethema to the daemons howling shrieks and rumbling snarls.

Ferrore let out a low hollow chuckle, his anger drained, the rage of khorne buffeted away by the tzeentchian rage that gurgled and twitched within. His eyes raised to meet the sorceror's as he stood before him, the unreadable features a mask before him, a flare of anger spiralling only to die in embers.

They had been allies before untrusting yet neutral, mutual respect... bah their had been no respect, merely mocking condescension from the sorceror, disguised in his oily tones.

Or had it been, would he have revealed the gem in the same position, admitted he was wrong whilst the warband was reshuffling, with him becoming its silent figurehead.

He thrust the thought away with a snarl as he strode forward, Zarcharon still coiling in his mind the dark sister at his side, the dreadnaught thudding along behind him and he growled in a low hiss to the sister

"If it comes down to it the sorcerors mine"

The growling stopped so suddenly, delirious laughter suddenly pouring through his mind, a silvery waterful

_"The silver one is here"_

So Modeus was near, waiting for them.

he stood before nerrak, silver mask glinting from beneath his hood as he looked upon the sorceror

"The die have been cast sorceror and once again our destinies are entwined, you as the right hand of Modeus and i his left. If we are to survive the night, i will need you to hold off the thousand son as you will need me to crack open the shell of the fortress and Modeus will need us both"

He let a low growl, his feet planting

"You played me for a fool and i struck you for it, perhaps unfairly though i would not apologize for the blow. Thus is say in the name of victory strike me if you will, I call whatever enmity I held for you forgiven."

_"but never forgotten"_ snarled the daemon


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## Lord Ramo

The two forces stood before the fortress, an assembled and deadly host, awaiting entry to the keep. Racheal could see the teams of Nerraks marines removing bodies of mutants, most obviously the previous occupants of the fortress. She was sure that he had had one hell of a fight on his hands when he first took the fortress, and that hopefully due to it, his forces would not be able to stand against theirs. 

She suddenly turned her attention back to Ferrore as he and his men raised their left legs and slammed it into the ground three times in a parody of knocking on a door, the sounding echoing from all the armoured boots doing this is almost defeaning. Racheal was glad that she was wearing her helmet, and that most of the noise was blocked out by its filters.

They stood there in silence, like statues, not moving a inch. Racheal kept one hand on her bolter, and stood with her claw by her side. She checked her chronometer to see how long they had been stood there, ten minutes. She wanted to get on with it, to pledge her allegiance to Modeus so that she could serve the Dark Prince more.

The doors slowly opened, the huge gates of the fortress opening like a mouth. Two astartes walked forwards to greet them, one of them wearing full astartes battle-armour in the colours of deep rust red and gold with the clear signs of daemonic possession. She was wary about this one, she knew that he would be dangerous to her and therefore must be taken care of soon. The other astartes that strode towards them was wearing a simple dark blue robe and using his staff as an improvised walking stick.

He was obviously Nerrak, and Ferrore whispered to her, "If it comes to it the sorcerors mine." Racheal nodded in return, hand gripping her bolter more tightly. She stayed silent, if they asked her something she would respond, but for now she would stay quiet and watch and wait.


----------



## komanko

He stood there, waiting, he did not know how Ferrore will react, he did not know what to anticipate. After a while the tech marine stepped forward, the dark sister followed him closely and behind him walked a dreadnought, each step raising dust from the ground. They stood there, each eyeing the other, both uncertain how to act, testing each other’s mettle subconsciously.

Finally the tech marine responded, a silvery mask gleamed underneath his hood, barely visible yet not out of sight. Without his armor Nerr’ak was less than a challenging foe to Ferrore, and probably not even a threat, still, he won’t let it show, he had to be confident of himself and by that make the tech marine think that Nerr’ak is more powerful than he truly is.

The words came slowly out of the marine’s mechanic mouth, they were monotonous, devoid of feelings. This one was more machine than man and for the first Nerr’ak actually realized that he and Ferrore were not thinking on the same lines. Nerr’ak listened to Ferrore’s words, he considered them, they were true. He truly did not have the firepower to crack open the fortress of his previous lord, but Ferrore surly did. Yet the marine was mistaken with some of what he said, was he not aware of the fight that raged?

His thoughts were cut abruptly as the tech marine stomped against the ground and began speaking again. That was an unexpected turn of events but maybe it was for the best. Maybe the tech marine was acknowledging, even if subconsciously, Nerr’ak’s superiority. No, again, thoughts of greatness were clouding his judgment, even if Ferrore thought that Nerr’ak was superior he would’ve never said it or showed it in any way. It seemed that though Nerr’ak won’t be superior he will be with an equal level to the marine and that was enough, he did not want to fear being stabbed in the back by a mechanical construct.

Yet the offer, that offer it never left his mind, he could strike the tech marine down, he could curse him, he could beat him, he could even surprisingly kill him but with so many around, they will probably shoot him down and all that he achieved would be gone, it was not worth it. Long have he hoped to earn the techmarine’s respect again, and it seemed like a good chance now, and even if he did not need the marine’s respect, what would striking him down achieve? Nothing.

Letting go of his hate Nerr’ak spoke, his eyes glinting with hidden wisdom. “Don’t bend before me as you did not bend before Modeus my dear Ferrore.” He closed the small gap between them and grabbed the tech marine’s wrist, “I have no intention of striking you down, we are a force to be reckoned with and together we will make a million worlds scream and wreath in the flames of death. I swear that our names shall be feared all throughout the pathetic imperium, even more than the name of Modeus. Ferrore my dear, we are on the path to greatness, you know it, and I feel it.”

With that he turned away, he was not used to letting out his emotions like that yet it seemed necessary, hopefully it will make the tech marine more trusting and by that more reliable ally. He needed to know that he won’t be betrayed, he couldn’t risk such a thing. “I forgot to mention” Nerr’ak added, “We have company, another host is making its way here as we speak, just behind you, ready to flank you…” He let his words die out and left Ferrore to judge them with his own thoughts.

“Proceed onwards plague champion, destiny awaits. I shall leave a small guard behind to escort you to my throne room, we shall meet there.” He voxed back to the plague marine. With that said he began walking back towards the fort not waiting for the others to follow. They had important business ahead of them. As he went inside he instructed one of his apprentices to gather an honor guard in order to escort the last to arrive.

As he made his way towards the throne room he felt a disturbance, he did not like it, all those disturbances today, too many, too much surprises. He did not take kindly to these surprises, he never knew what to expect. As he closed on his throne room the feeling of uneasiness only grew until he could spot something familiar in it. He hastened his steps and burst his way to the throne room. He should’ve known…

On the throne was sat Modeus, his silver armor glimmering in the dim light, his hand tapping on the side of the throne in a monotonous way. He looked at the Terminator Lord yet he could not see his face, as always his face was shrouded in darkness, only his eyes, glimmering in an ever changing steam of colors could be seen. Without wasting any time Nerr’ak spoke, he did not have any respect for the lord, he did not prove himself in Nerr’ak’s eyes yet. “Get off my throne Modeus, while I might be your accomplice this place is my home, not yours.” With that said he walked towards the lord without a second thought.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth walked in silence down the halls beside Nerr'ak in absolute silence. Clearly now was not the time to talk. The sorcerer's demeanor had made that obvious. Zarapheth thought it interesting that Nerr'ak had been so honest with him. From what he could guess, like all followers of Tzeentch, Nerr'ak wore a perpetual mask to hide his true intentions and emotions. It served him well in the short term, as his foes would often be left trying to guess his true intentions. But, as was the way with Tzeentchians also, actor behind the mask forgot what his original intentions were and even what the man behind the mask looked like. The corridors were winding to an end and a form of daylight...

_Azauk unwound himself in the fleshes mind. There were other presences here, and a lot of tensions. The flesh would need him to be ready in case of a fight. They walked out and there were several mortals outside. A collection of the gods were here. Pure desire radiated from the female mortal, clearly a servant of Slaanesh. But there was something wrong with the Khornate machine-man. *Daemonkin* Azauk hissed with a tone of satisfaction..._

*What?* Zarapheth asked. Then the daemon's vision diffused in his eyes and Zarapheth saw. A daemon resided in this tech-marine. But not a mutual one. Not a symbiotic relationship like his. No these two were are war within one flesh. Nerr'ak offered a few words to Ferrore. But this Dark Sister, Racheal he thought her name was, gripped her bolter tights and eyed him ready to strike. Zarapheth knew that the line between them being allies and adversaries was very thin...

_*Azauk took it a bit more personally. This mortal was frail, more so than these others and yet her eyes issued a challenge. The animal part dared her to try, dared her to try and raise a finger against him. She wouldn't last ten seconds against his daemonic power. The flesh forced him to hold back, but he couldn't stop a low grumble becoming audible from his throat. *She doesn't know who she's challenging*..._

Zarapheth knew Azauk was right. The dark sister would be destroyed in a head-to-head fight. She was a mere mortal, albeit one blessed the Dark Prince, but still only a mortal. He was an Astartes with a millenia of combat experience and daemonic power. *Maybe we will get he chance to dispose of her later.

Nerr'ak and Ferrore finished their conversation and Nerr'ak started to lead them all back into the fortress. They went back along the same corridor less than an hour ago, and Zarapheth glanced up at the small indentations his claws had left and smiled. Nerr'ak pushed open the great wooden doors, and there in the same position he had chosen, sat a gleaming silver terminator. The man radiated the power of the warp, and both man and daemon knew who this Astartes was in a moment. Both voices spoke in a whisper which cut through the air "Modeus"...


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Vladimir Bo'reath'kor slipped from the shadows, like he had never even been there. In absolute truth, he hadn't been. He had been captured in the lair of the Prince of Shadows, tormented for centuries as the Shadow Daemon's essence slowly and painfully fused with Vlad's soul. He was not truly possessed, neither truly whole; daemonkin. He knew the touch of a daemon, but retained, mostly, his own soul. His mind, however, was an entirely different story.

Vlad's sword, Stormblade, remained at his side, his daemonic left arm remaining in it's less warlike form, a "normal" arm and hand, even if the surface was completely shiny black, and veins of fiery crimson criss-crossed its surface. Vlad's deep blue power armour was dull and matte, and his black robes swathed his entire frame. But it was none of these things which made Vlad appear so silently and from such utter blackness; for with the blessing of the Shadow Prince, even the slightest pool of darkness provided almost complete invisibility.

Emerging from this black nether-realm, finally "freed" from minutes, or centuries, of imprisonment in the Warp, Vlad spoke with a sinister and cold voice as the essence of the Shadow Daemon influenced his speech:

*"Our great Lord Modeus may sit wherever he chooses, Nerr'ak. After all, he is still your master, is he not? Forgive me, hundreds of years in the Warp have left me rather... out of touch."*

Vlad stood by Modeus' side, noticing others in the strange chamber he was in. As his gaze moved over Ferrore, whom with he once shared strong comradeship before bitter estrangement, Vlad did not change at all. Indeed, the man Vlad had become barely recognised the people before him, remembering them only in the dreams of a screaming warrior trapped in the Warp. That same man still screamed inside Vlad's mind; but his screams went unheard.

*"And may I take the liberty to ask, dear Lord Modeus, where in hell are we, and what, by the Gods, are we doing here?"*


----------



## revan4559

Urien: Targal watches his severed arm fall to the floor with the slight tilting of his head in mild curiosity before his chest rises and falls with his shoulders as Targal starts to let out a loud bellowing yet phlegmy laugh that reverberates around the room. "This has been the most fun I have had in years Urien, I truely thank you for lifting me from my brooding and have decided that I shall continue to lead partof the warband in Nurgles name with you as my..." He looks down at his left arm and moves the stump. "...left hand. We shall do as you wish, we shall join forces with this Modeus and pledge our support to him." Targal stares at you from under his hood before making his way back to his throne. "Gather 7 by 7 cultists, and 7 by 7 of my chosen before returning to this chamber. We shall cast our minds into the aether and search for the Relictor Lord and make our deal with him." Targal takes his place on his throne while resting his scythe against his right shoulder. "Or do you intent to carry on this fight?"

Ridoranaa: You get a reply from the Sorcerer telling you that you are welcome in his fortress and that you are to be lead to his throne room by an escort of some of his followers. It seems that your plan is slowly coming together in being able to meet with Lord Modeus but before you set off two of your terminators drag an apocathery towards you and dump him on the ground and after removing his hood you can see it is Arcus though you do not know his loyalties you assume he was sneaking around in search of Modeus aswell so you decide to bring him with you and while you make your way to the fortress you can question him about what he is doing sulking around. After you reach the fortress you are greeted by several of Nerr'aks sorcerer's who then lead you and Arcus through the fortress to the throne room and once you enter it you see a gathering of Lords but your attention is drawn to the figure sat ontop of the throne at the other end of the hall: A hulking Terminator of silver-grey with ever changing eyes that invite madness and insanity, this can be none other than Modeus. (See Nerr'aks Fortress update below.)

Nerr'ak: See "Nerr'aks Fotress" update below.

Hardal: As the tech-marines move about you examining your armour and weapons only one of them spears as the other two go about their silent duty. "Garrond's forces are now currently at half strength from those flocking to Modeus's banner, but that does not include your own forces Warsmith. If there was a battle between Modeus and Garrond now then the battle could go either way but as of yet there are still others who haven't show where their loyalties lie, Such as Commander Helstrom, The Tech-Commander, Plague-Lord Targal and Lord Xynx's apprentice." The tech-marine that spears moves around behind you and checks over your power back before continueing. "Once their loyalties have been made public then I will be able to fully calculate which Lord has the best chance of winning but before then I would suggest to sit and wait to see which of the two Lords gains the upper hand and side with them. But this warband is yours my Lord so in the end it is your choice." The three tech-marines step away from you and bow. "Your armour and weapons are working at optimum capacity my Lord."

Malphas: You still need to reply to the previous update.

Aeron: You still need to reply to the previous update.

Kalus: You still need to reply to the previous update.

Ferrore: See "Nerr'aks Fotress" update below.

Rachael: See "Nerr'aks Fotress" update below.

Zarapheth: See "Nerr'aks Fotress" update below.

Arcus: You make your way through the city with relative ease in search of the way the amies have went but obviously your little trip to the gene-seed vaults has cost you time and the armies are no longer in the city, the tracks of the war-machines covered by the feet of hundreds of warriors passing through out the city but you do however manage to find a large army of nurgle making their way out of the city aswell which seem to be heading towards a very large mountain located north of the city. Could this perhaps be another of Garrond's forces leaving the fortress in order to go and serve Modeus? You do not know if they are but should you follow them then two of the rear-guard of the force turn to look back at you and raise their bolters. Before you know it there is a large impact to the back of your head which sends you into a daze before you are dragged by two hulking Terminators to meet with this forces master and once your eye sight clears you see that it is Ridoranaa, A Lord of Nurgle. Perhaps you should ask him where he is going and go with him?(If you do then you will end up in the fortress aswell with the rest of his forces. See Nerr'aks fortress update below.)

Vladimir: Modeus's voice seems to echo from everywhere in the room at once even though he is sat only a few feet from you. "We are gathered in Nerr'aks little mountain fortress to greet some new allies who seems to have betrayed Garrond and rallied to my banner, Vladimir. Amoung them is as you know, Ferrore and even Rachael the Dark Sister who joined my warband shortly after i 'disappeared'. Now if you would so kindly move down to join them, I shall commence with this meeting." Modeus waves his right hand dismissively in the direction of the group letting you know you should join them and while you make your way down to them you decide it best not to stand near the Khorne Tech-Marine for what happened when you also abbandoned the warband and fled to save your own skin. After taking your place you turn your attention to look back at your Lord as he speaks oncemore. (See Below.)


Nerr'aks Fortress: Seated upon Nerr'aks throne is a hulking terminator of silver-grey armour with a monsterous lightning claw for a left hand with a stormbolter sat ponderously ontop of it and leaning against the side of the throne is a gleaming silver powersword bearing the marks of all four dark gods and chaos undivided. The terminators head is shrouded in darkness with the only visable detail being two eye changing eyes that invite madness and insanity to whose who dare stare into them for too long, this can only be one astartes: The Relictor Lord, The Silver Giant, Modeus. The leader of this warband who has returned after vanishing without a trace for the majority of the blood tournament and now he is here for you to see and pledge your alligence to but after having sent Vladimir down to your level he now decides to speak. "It has been awhile since I have seen a gathering like this with all four gods reperesented, with one of the Sons of Lorgar repersenting chaos undivided. Clearly the gods have some sense of humor by gathering in one place and not tearing each others throats out." The voice of the silver lord seems to echo from every part of the room instead of just the seated figure on the throne.

Leaning forward the full features of Modeus can be seen as the darkness that covered his features now retreats to become merely a halo of darkness behind his raven black hair. "It is good to see some of you may friends. Bloody-Handed Ferrore, Viper-tongued Nerr'ak, Shadowy Vladimir you three joined me at the start of this Blood Tournament and I find it amusing that you will stand by my side when it has finished, but the rest of you I do not know so I wonder what it is that brings you here...Nerr'ak, Vladimir and Ferrore come out of loyalty and bonds created when they pledged themselves to be in the beginning but the rest of you have no such bonds so you are here merely to gain power and prestige amongst my forces rather then stand against me and be cursed beneith my iron boot." Modeus lets out a booming laugh before he pushes himself up from the throne, the deep marble finally cracking and splintering into dust as the full weight of the terminator armoured lord forces all his weight down upon it as he pushses himself up from it leaving Nerr'ak no-where to sit.

Striding forth and down the stairs towards you and the others his ever-changing eyes shift over each one of you as if he was looking into your soul or in the case of Ferrore, Vladimir and Zarapeth seeing those that also inhabit your bodies and as the Relictor Lord comes closer you finally get to see the true scale of his size that would easily tower above all other terminators you have seen except for those that were gene-forged back when the Primarchs and the False-Emperor walked the stars. Stopping several meters infront of you Modeus flexes his right hand and the blade that was resting against the throne flies across the room and lands in its scabbard with-out making a sound. "Many of Garrond's forces have pledged themselves to me but only the those lords I deem worthy of my attention are allowed to stand before me, and each one of you is one of those Lords. For pledging yourselves to me I have brought some tokens for you to use in the upcoming battle and until your demise." Modeus firstly turns to Nerr'ak.

"Of all those pledged to serve me you shout your disapproval of me and even though you would never admit it you DO serve me Nerr'ak and I did watch with great amusement as you were chased from the fortress and had to discard your armour." The Silver Lords right hand shots out and siezes Nerr'ak by the throat and lifts him from the floor effortlessly. "And even though I know ill come to regret not killing you right this moment for the forsee-able future I need to alive and without any armour a single well placed las-shot could kill you. So I have this for you." Modeus drops Nerr'ak to the ground and with a wave of his right hand a flash blinds all in the room as a teleporter array is used. Once your eyes re-adjust to the change in light you see two silver terminators standing either side of a third terminator though this one is painted in the colour of the Night Lords with symbols of fear and tzeentch emblazoned on it. "This suit of Terminator armour is for you Nerr'ak." With that Modeus strides away from Nerr'ak over to Ferrore. 

"My dear Ferrore. You already have many gifts and artifacts for you to use yet your bloody-minded god hasn't seen fit to bless you with any gifts or mutations so I have something that a tech-marine such as yourself will find most interesting." Reacing into a holster at his hip Modeus withdraws a gleaming silver shard of metal which he raises and places it against the Tech-Marines chest and applies enough force that a cracking noise is heard before he removes his hand. In the center of Ferrore's chest the metal shard has imbedded itself where it broke the armour but it is now starting to expand and flow like liquid across the tech-marines body and limbs including his metalic skull changing his deep red armour of a tech-marine and the blood god to a shining silver that continues to flow and change until it seeps through the gaps in his armour and disappears though around Ferrore's hand and feet the silver liquid metal remains. "Enjoy this gift greatly as I think you shall find it most interesting." Turning from Ferrore Modeus then makes his way to the Dark Sister: Rachael.

The hulking terminator lord stands infront of the Dark Sister and the size difference is great indeed. "You joined my warband shortly after I left to deal with matters of great importance and so you do not know what kind of master I am. I am one who rewards loyalty and punishes disobediance with death, remember that if you wish to continue your exsistance little woman. Now your battle-armour is similar to that of an Astartes but lacks the strength and protection that is granted as such your gift will need to en-able you to kill with ease from a distance as you lack the strength of an astartes to wield that sword with proper use and the speed to make up for the slowness of your power-claw. So I have this for you." A small flash of light erupts around Modeus's left hand and when it disappears he holds a stormbolter with the makings of slaanesh and coming from this weapon there is a laughing nosie as the plates of it shift with faces. Modeus hands the weapon to Rachael then walks off, it seems the Lord of the warband has gifted her with a daemonic bolter.

Modeus now stands before Zarapheth and frowns in annoyance "I am unsure what kind of gift or token to give one of the Gal Vorbrak other than the chance to reap a great many souls for the dark gods and to shout the praises of his Primarch. So my friend of daemon-kind if you have need of any material worth then let me know and I shall see what i can do." Modeus walks from the possessed marine to stand infront of Ridoranaa and looks over the nurgle lord. "You are or as I should say, were, one of Garrond's men so what made you change your mind?" Modeus waits for his reply before smiling slightly. "Well I can see you already possess a powerful arsenal of weaponary though that combat shield looks very battered as does that power-axe of yours. When you return to your men you will find a power-scythe and stormshield waiting for you, I do believe your second in command is currently looking after them." With that Modeus turns and walks over to Vladimir and Arcus.

Standing infront of Arcus, Modeus looks over the apocatheries weapons and shakes his head. "That bolter will do you no good if you intend to use that infernus pistol and your powersword. So you can have this, It was mine back when I was a sergeant." Modeus reaches down and unholsters a plasma-pistol before handing it to Arcus before looking back at one of his terminators as he strides foward and offers Arcus a strange double-bladed sword. "This blade comes from the relictors stores and is one of the artefacts we found during out travels. It is some form of power weapon as have never encountered before so use it well." ( http://www.coolminiornot.com/pics/img3da3d6a249419.jpg is its appearance for the blade.). Lastly Modeus walks over to Vladimir and looks down at him "You have already been given many gifts and have no need for anymore Vladimir though I have been over the manifest of what troops you brought to my warband and decided that you will be needing this." With a wave of his hand the second terminator steps forward and hands Vladimir the raptor-style of a jump-pack. "With all the raptors you have brought to this waband I think it would be best if their leader can move as fast as they do?". 

Modeus then moves away from the group with his two terminators and looks over you. "I need to return to my battle-barge to prepare my forces to battle. Is there anything any of you wish of me before I take my leave?" Modeus stands there with his two guards waiting for you to say something or ask any questions though it is likely that Nerr'ak could start shouting and cursing Modeus as he usually does. What are your reactions to these gifts/tokens from Modeus and do you trust the Relictor Lord for giving them to you with asking nothing in return?


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Vladimir nodded as Modeus told him of the warband's purpose here. Vlad did not know that Nerr'ak owned a "little fortress" and felt a twinge of delight when Modeus described it so condescendingly. The sorcerer always was a little bit too big for his boots, in Vlad's opinion. Well, the opinion that the Shadow Prince had managed to gather from the true Vlad's inane babbling, at least, was that Nerr'ak was a slimy bastard and not to be trusted, which suited the Shadow Daemon perfectly. Paranoia was certainly a character trait he encouraged.

As Modeus mentioned Ferrero, the reaction which should have been seen again was not present. A piece of Vlad's mind containing Ferrero was irrevocably damaged, and whilst so far there were no blatant pointers to this, it may soon become increasingly obvious. There was no cause for alarm for Vlad, however, because he, or at least, the Shadow-he, did not see any reason for it. To Shadow-him, everything was normal; just more faces he had once "known".

Vlad moved down to the others to listen to Modeus' speech, gliding silently along the floor even in his power armour. At this point he noticed Nerr'ak's lack of armour, and stifled a dry laugh. The fool would be so easy to remove right now, a stab from Stormblade, or even his daemon-arm, and the sorcerer would never trouble Vlad again. But where was the fun in that?

As the speech began in earnest, the Lord Modeus made a dry comment concerning the representation of all Four Gods in the meeting. It made little difference to Vlad, who's only true patronage came from the Shadow Prince. When Modeus recognised Vlad's seniority within the warband, he made a slight, almost imperceptible, inclination of his head, to acknowledge this recognition. Vlad's veteran status would, hopefully, prove useful in the coming days, as he was trusted; unwisely. The Shadow Prince held no notion of honour or loyalty; he openly despised the things.

Modeus looked at each warrior in turn, staring into their very soul. The Shadow Prince squirmed as the Relictor Lord discovered the secret daemon essence lurking inside Vlad, but he outwardly showed no sign of discomfort. Modeus now knew Vlad was not the same man he once was, but this was obvious; his unholy aura and daemonic left-arm gave that away. But the others, at least, did not know that Vlad housed the essence of the Shadow Daemon, which he would no doubt use to his own advantage later. Shame that Modeus discovered so early, though.

As Modeus explained how some of the warriors present were, in fact, turncoats from Lord Garrond's forces, Vlad made a mental note of this. These warriors did not hold loyalty to Modeus like Ferrero and, if unknowingly, Nerr'ak; they were fresh. Opportunists. They had betrayed once and they could persuaded to do so again.

*"Interesting..."* thought Vlad.

It seemed that Modeus was not finished, however. He brought with him gifts for everyone present; ironic that Vlad should be rewarded for his previous cowardice, and now his return to work the machinations of the Daemon of Shadows. Vlad himself was gifted with a jump pack; an interesting token, to be certain. It was a Raptor-styled pack, the colour the same as Vlad's armour, dark midnight-blue. Vlad swiftly un-attached his current basic power-backpack and, after a moment's shuffling, inserted the jump pack. 

Vlad's armour quickly adjusted to this latest addition, its systems integrating with the device in mere seconds. Vlad tested it with a thought, and tiny jet of flame puffed from the twin-rocket turbines. Vlad smiled underneath his helmet, satisfied with his new gift. Truly now he would be a force to be feared, especially with all the Raptors he hoped were still at his disposal.

Modeus stood to leave, moving towards his two Relictor-terminators to return to his battle-barge, asking if there was anything more the assembled group wanted of him. Vlad stepped forward:

*"My Lord Modeus,"* Vlad said, *"I have but one final question before you return to the battle-barge: what would you have us do now?"*


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

As the Techmarines moved about the Iron Warrior, examining Dantion's armour and weapons, fixing any that needed repair, one of the traitor astartes turned to the Warsmith and said, "Garrond's forces are now currently at half strength from those flocking to Modeus's banner, but that does not include your own forces Warsmith. If there was a battle between Modeus and Garrond now then the battle could go either way but as of yet there are still others who haven't show where their loyalties lie, Such as Commander Helstrom, The Tech-Commander, Plague-Lord Targal and Lord Xynx's apprentice." 

The Techmarine, before saying another word, moved behind the Warsmith and began to check his power-pack before mentioning, "Once the above warriors have declared their allegiance, I will be able to fully calculate which Lord has the best chance of winning. However, my Lord, I suggest waiting until which Lord gains the upper hand before moving - it would be a shame to commit such valuable forces needlessly when they could be used for a greater goal in the future."

Dantion remained silent, but nodded as the Techmarine returned to the front of the Warsmith, before stepping away from Hardal and bowing in unison with the other two, who had yet to speak during the examination. He took a note that only one of them wore a Servo-Harness. 

Then, the Techmarine who had spoken before, murmured as he rose to his feet, "Your armour and weapons should be working at optimum efficiency, my lord. This conversation between us never happened."

"What conversation?" responded Dantion, with a wry smile from inside his helmet, before turning around and stalking away. He wondered if he could find a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers contingent to convince one of the forces who hadn't yet picked a side to join Modeus' uprising. Hopefully he would be able to bag all of the undecided forces, but that would be unlikely.


----------



## Yru0

Arcus kept his hooded head bowed, unwilling to draw any unnecessary attention from any forces that he well knew to be lurking in the shadows. The passage of troops was clear in the city, trees were uprooted, the streets buckled beneath the weight of so many armoured soldiers, and even piles of rubble littered the road where either an armoured vehicle, or a terminator clad warrior, had decided to take a short-cut. However, these forces were long gone, their destination as of yet a mystery, but it was fairly obvious with their haste that they expected to be pursued; Garrond quite obviously had traitors clawing out of the woodwork. 

The streets seemed deserted, the residents fleeing before the march of the armies that barrelled through their homes. It appeared as if the entire city had become frozen as the power struggle between the two lords ground its way forward; frozen in fear, or in anticipation, Arcus couldn't tell. The apothecary once more found himself contemplating what awaited him during this inevetible war, he couldn't care less if death claimed him, it was an occupational hazard, and fear of the beyond became naught for an Astartes, yet more of a feeling of concern, of caution wormed its way into his mind. The grumbling of engines ripped Arcus from his thoughts, the sounds of heavy footsteps and bellows of orders was echoing from a neighbouring street. The shadows of a side alley offered Arcus some protection, and he gazed out at the force laid out before him; an army of nurgle on the war path. Perhaps this was another force loyal to Modeus attempting to make contact with the elusive lord? Arcus scanned the force with his enhanced vision, the rot on each of the warriors temporarily confusing the imperial-built scanners, the machine spirit arguing with itself over how these men who should be felled by disease and decay, were so obviously alive. Arcus ignored the readouts, his bionic eye was a useful tool for any apothecary, yet it had not been designed for use amongst the followers of Chaos, and so Arcus often had to discount much of its 'advice'. Suddenly, a whir of servo motors sounded behind him, but before he could so much as draw his pistol, a hard crack like thunder blackened his vision.

The apothecary awoke on his knees, two hulking terminator clad warriors standing on either side of him, stormbolters mercilessly aimed at his head. However, Arcus' gaze was fixed on the man before him, a lord of nurgle, apparently rather impatiently waiting for his prisoner to regain consciousness, a slight smile spread across his face. Arcus recognised it as Ridoranaa, a soldier who was high amongst the ranks of Garronds forces, Arcus had long considered him to become a champion of nurgle, the hulking piece of rot currently claiming that position was quickly passing his prime, and Arcus didn't need to be an apothecary to realize this. Ridoranaa was clad in a mighty suit of power armour, ordained with emblems of his god, and trophies of battle; Arcus pulled himself tall to his feet, undaunted before the behemothic warriors beside him and the powerful soldier before him, his single white shoulder pad more prominent that any suit of tactical dreadnought armour. Arcus gazed wearily at the two soldiers before looking at Ridoranaa with an eyebrow raised, "Such a large force beyond Garrond's fortress, and with patrols keeping an eye out for pursuers at that; Ridoranaa, these are not the actions of a *loyal* servant..."


----------



## Midge913

The Plague-Lords laughter echoed around the hall and the voices in Urien's head chittered with it. Something had changed in the timbre and pace of the mad nattering that was constantly with him, it seemed as if the voices were laughing with Targal, not at him. They were not calling for his death anymore, the rise and fall of the noise mimiced the Plague-Commanders exactly. To Urien's eyes, whether it existed or not, a nimbus of sickly yellow surrounded his former foe he felt the ire and rage he had felt melt away. Perhaps his god, the great All-father Nurgle, was not done with this Son of Mortarion. 

_""This has been the most fun I have had in years Urien, I truely thank you for lifting me from my brooding and have decided that I shall continue to lead partof the warband in Nurgles name with you as my... Left hand. We shall do as you wish. We shall join forces with this Modeus and pledge our support to him." _Targal stared at the ruined stump of his left arm and once more cast his mirth filled gaze over Urien. _ "Gather 7 by 7 cultists, and 7 by 7 of my chosen before returning to this chamber. We shall cast our minds into the aether and search for the Relictor Lord and make our deal with him." _Targal said and with that the voices exploded into a chacophony of noise in Urien's mind. All excited, all sick with the anticipation of the coming war. The mention of the sacred numbers of the Lord of Decay causing a ripple of sensation to flow through him. 

_"Or do you intend to carry on this fight?"_ Targal asked, his voice echoing from his helm. Urien, though ambitious recognized that Nurgle still favored the ancient warrior before him, and bowed his head in submission. 

_"No, my lord. I think perhaps that my purpose was served. I will gather those you have requested and return at once."_ With new purpose in his step the now favored sorcer strode from the hall to prepare for the ritual. A feeling of palpable joy radiating around him. Father Nurgle would be served many souls in the coming days and Urien would revel in the carnage.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth entered the throne room with everyone else and saw the huge silver figure seated on Nerr'ak's throne. Zarapheth's lip curled at one corner in a slight sneer. Clearly he had chosen the right method earlier to get Nerr'ak's attention, the only difference was that this figure wielded an unimaginable amount of power. His voice came in a booming echo that resonated from every corner of the room at once. But the piercing eyes were where Zarapheth's attentions lay. They seemed to pierce through the material level...

_Azauk felt those burning eye reach into the recesses of the fleshes soul, and he knew that the mortal was looking for him. Azauk stepped out of the inky corners of the other's being and faced their mutual commander. Even daemons were able to appreciate the power this Modeus wielded. Those glowing red eyes analyzed and sized up Azauk. He could feel them probing him and testing how much power he truly possessed. Azauk let their gaze wash over him and stood his ground, not in defiance but out of pride. When the eyes seemed satisfied for the moment, they retreated..._

The tendrils of power withdrew back into Modeus' eyes as he walked up to Nerr'ak. Zarapheth took the moment to observe the other's in the room. Most he had passed or had limited contact with in Garrond's fortress. He was disappointed to find that the Dark Apostle was not among the gathered. *His arrogance will be his undoing if we face him* the daemon remarked coldly. Zarapheth was forced to agree. Perhaps it would be good to humble the apostle.

Soon enough, Modeus stood before him, and Zarapheth was confused to find a look of annoyance in his new leader's face. "I am unsure what kind of gift or token to give one of the Gal Vorbrak other than the chance to reap a great many souls for the dark gods and to shout the praises of his Primarch. So my friend of daemon-kind if you have need of any material worth then let me know and I shall see what I can do."

"It is a great boon you have given us my Lord. However, I would ask one small favor of you. If you have a copy of The Book of Lorgar, I would ask to borrow it." Modeus obviously heard what he had said but said nothing to indicate that he would or would not give Zarapheth what he asked. He simply continued with his address. His last subject was a man Zarapheth had never seen before. Modeus announced that he would be returning to his battle barge in preparation for the final battle. All that remained now was the first shot to be fired...


----------



## Santaire

Kalus paused during his hunt as he detected the scent of several large forces moving towards Nerr'ak. A few moments later he discovered tank tracks and foot prints. He stopped and considered his options. Finding Nerr'ak would be much more problematic with 3 forces either joining or besieging him and so Kalus turned and headed back to the fortress. On the way he encountered one of the traitors. The warrior died, slowly. Kalus withdrew his claws and continued his sprint. He barreled through the streets, sending all in his path hurtling to one side.

So fast was his passage that he left a vacuum behind him that sucked people in at breakneck speed. He skidded to a halt and recovered his bearings before hurtling off in the direction of Garond's fortress...


----------



## High_Seraph

Receiving the vox from Nerr'ak Ridoranaa was about to order the movement of his troops when he received another vox this time from his outriders who discovered a lone marine watching his forces from a side street. Turning around Ridoranaa sees the two Terminators drop a hooded marine to the ground before him. Smiling slightly at the man's white shoulder guard Ridoranaa sees it is an Apothecary. After the man removes his his hood Ridoranaa sees it is Arcus an ambitious Apothecary.

*"Such a large force beyond Garrond's fortress, and with patrols keeping an eye out for pursuers at that; Ridoranaa, these are not the actions of a loyal servant..."* Laughing at the words Ridoranaa stares intently at the man before responding, _"Well loyal or not, It seems I made the right choice as we caught you did we not? Though it does beg the question of what you might be doing skulking in the shadows now doesn't ?"_ Listening to the Apothecary rattle on Ridoranaa answered with laughter in his words and eyes, _"Well it would seem that you are not the only one searching for Modeus or those who have gone over to him. Come with me aboard my rhino and we shall discuss some terms for a mutually beneficial alliance as I have no doubt that others there have formed their own factions._


----------



## Angel Encarmine

"Well then, follower of Khorne. You may count us as allies once again. Now, I suggest you prepare for battle as soon as you can, Aeron. Modeus will strike soon, and when he does, he will need every astartes at his disposal ready to overthrow Garrond."

"I hope I will see you on the battlefield, Aeron," Hardal said. " I look forward to fighting alongside you warsmith" Aeron responded, bowing his head in respect. As the warsmith strode away, he felt a slight tug as several armored plates as well as the powerpack of his armor were removed. " I will need time to work on these, feel free to return later." the techmarine told him, servo arm unfolding and fidgeting with his armor. 

Leaving the tech marine to his work, Aeron began wandering aimlessly around the hanger bay, feeling slighly lighter as most of his torso armor and power pack had been removed. watching the dark mechanicum and several tech marines working on what appeared to be a land raider and several bane blades, Aeron halted before a warhound titan. He was not the first to wonder what it would be like to command a vessel of such power. 

As he continued walking, he heard shrieks and bellows erupt from vox casters, and saw several of his brethren from the world eaters entombed forever in dreadnought armor. A slight feeling of pity washed over him, knowing that his brothers would never again feel the spatter of their enemies blood on their face, shivering slightly at the thought Aeron walked on. Coming to the walls of the fortress, Aeron stood and looked out into the city whose streets would soon run with blood of his fellow corrupted brethren. Knowing that such bloodshed would bring nothing but glory to his god Khorn, Aeron clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it into a wall. " that damned tech marine had better hurry up or i shall rip him apart." he thought savagely.

Looking around, Aeron noticed several cultists of slaanesh huddled together staring out into the city. Smiling slightly, Aeron drew a chain axe in his right hand and hid it behind his back. " Quite a sight, is it not fellow warriors?" he asked the cultists, attempting and succeeding to calm them by referring to them as his equals as he stepped close. " It is indeed my lo-" the first cultist said before Aerons chainaxe removed the top of his head mid sentence. Laughing he drew his other axe and killed two more cultists and shouted " Blood for the blood god!" as he disemboweled another. As the cultists screeched in pain and his blood splashed onto Aerons face, he smiled and drank it in. "Blood for the blood god indeed" he thought, savagely ripping his chainaxe from the dead cultist


----------



## Yru0

Arcus let out a slight humph of grudging agreement, "I cannot argue with your methods...or the skill of you warriors." the apothecary had adopted a slightly more respectful tone, realizing full well that his life was at the whim of the man before him.
Ridoranaa laughed loudly at the savvy reply, before answering in an almost pitiful tone, as if tiring of the charades and the motions, "Well it would seem that you are not the only one searching for Modeus or those who have gone over to him. Come with me aboard my rhino and we shall discuss some terms for a mutually beneficial alliance as I have no doubt that others there have formed their own factions." Arcus was taken aback by the directness of the man, searching for any hint of toying or laying a trap; Arcus had his suspicions of Ridoranaa's loyalty, but only a mad man would announce it to the world, but then again, who would the apothecary tell? Arcus hesitated before replying, weighing up his options, before making his decision, "Very well, after all, there is more than enough evidence of the power of those that marched this path before us." Arcus looked over the devastation caused by the passage of the armies, "Perhaps together we can bring more to the table of our Lord." Smiling, Arcus turned towards Ridoranaa's command vehicle and gestured with his armour-clad arm, "Shall we, follower of the Father?"


----------



## deathbringer

The sorceror convulsed with desire, his flesh riddled by petty emotion, muscles burning with the desire to strike to lunge. Deep eyes glittered with a sudden haughty malice, a deadly gleam underlying the twitching of his muscles, lethal force. Fool, he thought he was subservient, that Ferrore would allow him to strike him down, condemn his soul to the whims of the gods. He was not ready to be broken, he had so much more to achieve, so much more to tear asunder. 

The daemon snarled and riled within, a beast upon a tight leash, it battered at his mind longed to lash out at the sorceror before him. Hatred flashed, electric through his mind, and he controlled the rush of emotion, a dam of iron against sorcerous flames. This was no time for war amongst themselves, they must find peace amongst the gods. He had seen Garrond, seen his power, seen the machines of destruction arrayed against his forces. This was a battle poised upon a knife edge, no time for petty feuds and squabbles. 

“Don’t bend before me as you did not bend before Modeus my dear Ferrore.” 

The sorceror's eyes filled with shrewd cunning even as he reached out, long fingers sliding around his wrist and he shuddered with revulsion at the touch. He did not pull away, held strong and still, stone against water, on the outside, untouchable, impregnable, his patience imperceptably wearing away.

He saw his offer as weakness, rather than an attempt for strength through unity.

“I have no intention of striking you down, we are a force to be reckoned with and together we will make a million worlds scream and wreath in the flames of death. I swear that our names shall be feared all throughout the pathetic imperium, even more than the name of Modeus. Ferrore my dear, we are on the path to greatness, you know it, and I feel it.”

Fool, a twitch of his blade, or a hint of sorcery and he would have rent his body, seared plasma through his midriff. Strike me, with a closed fist as i struck you, fool to think he would allow his death at the hands of the changers puppet.

He merely inclined his head, a subtle achknowledgement of the path they shared, a path that only one could walk upon, eventually one would rise, the other would sink, or slump, a corpse littered upon the wayside.

Perhaps his own, perhaps the sorcerors, perhaps even Modeus's.

Who found greatness hiding behind the skirts of greater men? The sorceror spoke on, mocking, teasing, probing at the emotions that stirred so readily with the cold metal casing.

“I forgot to mention. We have company, another host is making its way here as we speak, just behind you, ready to flank you…”

He was aware, the daemon had made him aware, his blindness worried him, his inability to see beyond the walls of his vision gnawed at his stomach, yet he shrugged it away.

"I am aware, if it is another host intended to join modeus to cut it down would be folly. If it is garrond, the guns of your fortress should provide plenty of defense, my concern was minimal"

The sorcerors attention was elsewhere , his mouth speaking into the vox, yet Ferrore felt his attention drawn to the second being before him. New, a son of lorgar, armour of burning crimson tinged with bronze and brass radiated a subtle power, a spawned corruption that set his mind alert, his plasma gun twitched following the predatory movements along with the focus of his attention.

He bore himself with a feral grace even as they moved as one through the bowels of the fortress, the majesty of nerrak's creation lost upon him as he studied the retrating back of the bearer of the word. Power the radiated from him so much more than bestial animalistic power, the runes upon his armour seering with the daemonic energies of the warp.

Daemonic, possessed, two souls within one body their souls entertwined like lovers, sharing eachothers power, their synergy bringing abilities beyond mortal.... nay the human was shackled to an entity beyond his control, to be chained to another being, fused, corrupted, his very entity as a single soul destroyed, shattered and reforged as a corrupted mass of humanity and daemonkin.

_"I reject you filth," _

He spat at the daemon within, his words met only with mocking laughter interspersed with incomprehensable taunts and jibes. 

He was not surprised to find Modeus before them, astride Nerak's throne with casual condescension, he dominated their focus, many of the newer members letting out little gasps or sighs of awe. Truly impressive, the faint impression he had left upon Ferrore's mind smashed back to him with full force, the daemon bound into silent submission by the chaos lord's presence.

To think to betray such a man, that such a lord could not bring him fame and glory was madness.

A snake that slithered from the darkness, seeming to seep from the very walls was enough to break his focus, his mind reeling, body quivering he let out a feral snarl of bitterest hatred, the name of the coward slitting the silence

"Vlad"

Betrayer, coward, fool, friends once, close allies, yet Vlad had fled, left him, deserted him.

Bastard.

"Our great Lord Modeus may sit wherever he chooses, Nerr'ak. After all, he is still your master, is he not? Forgive me, hundreds of years in the Warp have left me rather... out of touch."

His voice oozed and flowed like the very shadows which flittered around his form, a voice so different, a form that seemed, like the daemonkin alongside him to ooze with power.

What corrupted power had the coward surrendered too?

"And may I take the liberty to ask, dear Lord Modeus, where in hell are we, and what, by the Gods, are we doing here?" 

He began to speak, the lash of scorn swept away by the voice of Modeus, the words overpowering him and he shuffled with irritation and impatience, the desire to snap, to shout to rage, to draw blade and kill, held upon a knife edge.

He spoke of gifts, of loyalty and ties between them and Ferrore glared at Vlad, hand slipping into the very depths of his robes to clasp around a gift deep in his pockets.

The grenade Vlad had gifted him, a tie to bond their friendship, a friendship the bastard had spurned and scorned. His metallic fingers twisted around the hilts of his blades, the low rasping growl of metal on metal a poignant underline to the rage throbbing through his mind, the howling cries of the daemon for blood and vengeance setting his lungs on fire.

Lord Khorne reached out to him and he embraced the rage, embraced the hatred, enveloped himself with the visions of slaughter 

"My dear Ferrore."

The calm voice of Modeus lifted him from the bloody reverie that was flowing through his mind, twisted khornate fantasies of Vlad's dismembered limbs, the coward cut down, disembowelled and distorted.

His hands slid to his sides even as the eyes pierced him with soulful meaning 

"You already have many gifts and artifacts for you to use yet your bloody-minded god hasn't seen fit to bless you with any gifts or mutations so I have something that a tech-marine such as yourself will find most interesting." 

His hand brought a slither of metal, familiar yet foreign, glittering in the curious light of the silver lords gaze as he held it between them. Gently, tenderly he placed it against Ferrore's chest and with a deep thrust of his muscular arms he thrust it deep into his chest, a snap of armour and ribs rending the air and Ferrore let out a gasp of pain, switch to a gasp of awe. 


Around the great rend, the metal melded, rippling, running in thin flowing tendrils across his armour, reaching up with tender fingers to envelop the metal of his face plate, curving over his feert, the bionics of his arms and he raised hands of glittering silver in bewilderment.

"What" anger flared as his eyes flittered upon Vlad behind the giant's broad back and the fingers lengthened, sharpened shards forming claws of pure powerful silver before him.

"Enjoy this gift greatly as I think you shall find it most interesting." 

Even as the god moved on, the silver mask twisted into a long toothless smile.
_____________________________________________________

Gifts were bestowed, armour and weaponry, lords bowed before modeus, surrendered their service to him, yet the procession of fawning passed Ferrore by as he ran dexterous fingers over the new silver rivets of his armour, the metal melding and flowing at the whims of his mind.

It is truly alive, yet.... what trick of the machine spirit is this. The servo claw upon his shoulder probed and proded, gently harmonies soothed the machine spirit which roared and howled in pained delight, agony through ecstacy, new freedom, yet at a price. What bastardised substance had corrupted his armour, wrong, yet oh so right, so delightfully right.

"I have but one final question before you return to the battle-barge: what would you have us do now?" 

His reverie was distrubed by the oily voice of the coward and his features curled in disgust, to bear emotion once more, such a treat yet such a burden and he hardened the metal to deadened steel once more.

"We, we are going to begin a war. To tear down a tyrant and gain the warband it's rightful place. You will snivel and cower in the shadows as seems to be your custom"

He spat a goblet of oil, splattering at the shadowy figures feet

"I have a question. When did we begin accepting cowards into our ranks, when did we begin bestowing gifts upon those who see brotherhood as something to be cast asunder upon a whim."

He strode forward to meet Modeus head on ignoring the shadowy figure and meeting the silver lords gaze though his hands clasped at his side ready to reach for his blade

"I will tell you now that I will not fight with this dog at my side for he has proven that at the first sign of conflict he will be seen heading for the hills with his tail between his piss streaked legs"


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

As Vlad awaited confirmation of what Modeus would have the group do in his absence, the techmarine stood forward, spitting a great globule of phlegm at Vlad's feet. The Shadow-Lord hissed inside Vlad's tortured mind.

*"War is it, then?"* said Vlad, his voice remaining cool despite the rapidly heating atmosphere, until he heard the comment about the shadows. Vlad's face temporarily warped, his features twisting into a daemonic, feral snarl before smoothly rippling back to normal again, "*The shadows are not a hiding-place, techmarine,"* hissed Vlad, *"They are a means to an end, a realm from which to strike. Not all warfare is fought on the battlefield."*

Ferrero's insults, however, had not finished yet. The Shadow-Prince tutted to himself inside his mind, wondering what on earth Vlad could possibly have done to earn the ire of such a brutish individual. *"Our Lord Modeus bestows gifts upon those he deems worthy, dear Ferrero,"* said Vlad, a trace of mocking entering his voice, *"And worthiness is not only evaluated by how far one can spit."*

The techmarine's hand then went to his blade as he turned to Modeus, complaining that he would not fight alongside Vlad. The Shadow Daemon was annoyed now, the twisted soul that both consciousnesses inhabited groaning as Vlad cried out to be heard, his feeble voice suppressed by the infinite might of the Shadow.

*"I know not of what our friend speaks, Lord Modeus,"* began Vlad, *"But I assure you, whatever it was inside Vladimir Bo'reath'kor that made him commit these alleged acts of cowardice has since been shattered beyond recognition. Vlad is mine, and there is nothing he can do to alter that."* Vlad turned smartly to face Ferrero. *"The Vlad you knew is gone. Finished. Obliterated. All that remains is his shattered soul and his body; which, as you can see, I've made several improvements to..."* said Vlad, his black-metal arm running like liquid into a single, long blade, held at Vlad's side.

*"What I mean by this is that you should not trouble yourself with any thoughts of cowardice on my behalf. Fear and self-preservation are things I cannot comprehend."*


----------



## komanko

OOC: Not my best I guess, haven't wrote a thing in a long time, could have made it longer but meh, seemed kinda useless to make my post so long. 

The cursed lord leaned forward, lazily, slowly, what a pompous bastard he was… Yet still, though hate surely clouded his judgment in regards of that silver giant he was still a sight to behold. He seemed more menacing now, his silver armor shining outwards like miniature sun, reflecting all the light that was cast upon it. His hulking form was accompanied by a monstrous lightning claw, one that mere mortals would struggle to lift, one which he wielded easily. Yet that lightning claw was not enough, his weaponry extended also to gleaming silver sword which rested on the side of the throne.

Like in their previous encounter, Modeus’s face was shrouded in perpetual darkness, blocking any kind of attempts to see the features on his face, only two dots shone outwards in a mad scheme of colors, ever changing, maddening. Clearly the lord did not lie when he claimed to be blessed by the gods. 

Nerr’ak stopped in his tracks and stared at the monstrous figure of Modeus, it seemed even larger when Nerr’ak was out of his power armour. a small tingle of fear passed through his mind yet he quickly swallowed it, overwhelming it with burning ambition and treachery. It seemed that Modeus wanted to impress everyone, at least those who haven’t seen him yet. It was then that Nerr’ak realized that he was caught in this little trap as well, stunned in awe, vulnerable, susceptible. Quickly regaining his senses he decided that now was not the time to fight with Modeus verbally. He snorted at Modeus and with that walked aside, leaning on one of the close pillars which supported the massive ceiling of the fortress.

He made himself comfortable against the stone wall, yet it seemed rough, too rough, this made him realize that he spent so much inside his power armour that he nearly forgot how the touch of things against his skin really felt. So different, simple and yet, complicated. It seemed that even in the morbid worlds of chaos small shimmers of light still existed. He settled and looked at the lord who decided that it was his time to speak now.

He spoke of the gathering, the holy gathering which Nerr’ak spotted earlier, a favorable sign to some, the sign of destruction to others and Nerr’ak felt, he nearly knew, that he was not on the wrong side, the battle to come promised victory and glory. Yet plans had to be made, war cannot be one by brawn alone.

The lord continued his speech, pompous bastard, patronizing, feeling high and mighty over everyone, he did not realize that the favor of the gods was only temporary, one mistake, one wrong step and the scales will shift. There was never a state of equilibrium between the gods, one would always struggle for more power. For some reason it seemed that the terminator lord was glad for the company of his previous subordinates, maybe because he knew how to counter them better, it was a thought which sent chills down Nerr’ak’s spine, he could not allow the scumbag to read him like an open book, he would have to be unexpected. Nerr’ak sneered at Modeus when he said that they were at his side because of bonds and loyalty, humph, he had no reason to be there, only personal gain and power, his only bonds were to his god and they as well, were fickle and frail like his god’s favor.

The lord continued babbling and rumbling, such a waste of time yet in the process he decided to smash Nerr’ak’s throne, sometimes he felt so annoyed by the fact that he served chaos, rarely had he seen someone with normal manners, one can be cruel but there is no need to be barbaric as well, not all of them served Khorne after all. The throne crumbled to ashes and dust, Nerr’ak sighed in disapproval, it didn’t matter, he doubted that he would sit on that throne at all but still, it was an historical piece, and in a way it was knowledge and in a moment it was gone…

The lord strode down the steps of the throne, each step cracking under the massive weight of the terminator armor. It seemed like this room will not be useable after all. Finally Modeus stopped when he stood before them, he scoured each and every one of them, gazing into them, into their soul, or what was left of it. The lord then spoke again, claiming that large portions of Garrond’s forces already pledged allegiance to him, Nerr’ak could not know if the lord spoke the truth, yet what reason did he have to lie, there was nothing to be gained from such a simple lie and thus Nerr’ak decided to take the scum’s word for it.

Lightning quick Modeus’s arm shot towards Nerr’ak’s neck, it was the second time already and he did not even try to move, he willingly let Modeus demonstrate his power, he simply started back at the lord with a look of amusement as he spoke, he ignored the pain from the tight grip against his neck and when the lord finished speaking he spoke as well, his voice struggling to be heard and resembling the one of a choking toad. “I do not serve you, and you know it too, I serve Tzeench and myself and as Tzeentch showed his favor to you I shall act as your retainer. I am also not surprised that my suffering gives you great pleasure, as would yours give me if you were swallowed by a spawn of the warp. There is a reason you keep me around here and its simple, brutal force can’t win wars, it can win battles, and as your skull is too thick to think of any decent working plan you keep my here, to do it for you.

Quickly the lord dropped Nerr’ak to the floor and waves his hand, Nerr’ak rose from the ground slowly, struggling to take air slowly instead of gasping for it and looking pathetic while doing it. A blinding flash blinded Nerr’ak and made him cover his eyes, bright circles ran around his vision and when they finally disappeared he could see that three terminators appeared, two of the silver giant’s guards and another one, yet that one was an empty suit and it was colored in the scheme of the Night Lords, a sense of nostalgia filled Nerr’ak as his mind wondered back towards the day when he served under the terror inducing chapter. A worthy gift that was, a worthy gift indeed. Modeus quickly strode away towards the others, none of them were really important and though Vlad’s apparent return surprised Nerr’ak he decided that survivability has to come before knowledge. With that he stepped towards the armour and began the process of equipping it.

He acted slowly, taking his time with every part in order to get acquainted to it. He never wore a terminator suit before, he did not know what it was capable of. He would have to test it later. After he completely equipped the suit he stood up and picked up Xynx’s helm, an original thousand son helm, without another thought he covered his face with it, letting any corruption which inhibited it into his own body. Such an artifact was worth sacrificing sanity for.

When he was finished with the equipping and testing it seemed that Modeus was finished with babbling and gifting as well. Probably finally realized what a waste of time that was the lord stepped away from his “lords” and told them that he had to return to the battle barge to prepare his forces and asked if they needed anything of him, and Nerr’ak did indeed need something, he had to know if the lord has some sort of a plan and as such he asked this same question.


----------



## High_Seraph

Ridoranaa let out a rough bark of laughter as the Apothecary turned around and gestured to his own vehicle and asked if they should be gone. _"Whatever else you might be, bold barely describes it. Very well let us be off to the Fortress of Nerr'ak. Men! Move out, combat speed"_ at the last he heads towards his rhino with the body gaurd and Arcus as the rest move out in formation headed for the mountain.

As the rhino makes it's way onward Ridoranaa turns and looks at Arcus and says, _"Well in the upcoming battles and afterward in the politicking between members it would be usefull having someone in your corner right? Think about this and let me know your answer as we have appeared to hit the mountain"_ Hitting the release Ridoranaa walks unafraid towards the small escort reported by Nerr'ak. Following them through the winding hallways Ridoranaa wonders when they will reach the throne room. Reaching a set of doors Ridoranaa stepps forward and pushes them open revealing the room with Nerr'ak in a robe, the Tech-marine Ferrore, a Dark Sister, with a possessed of the Word Bearer's waiting around a giant throne. Walking towards the group Ridoranaa looks at the throne fully seeing what could only be Modeus sitting there the silver of his armour while his face was shrouded in darkness with only his eyes visible but ever changing. 

Folding his arms across his chest Ridoranaa as a shadow detaches itself from the area behind the throne before it resolves itself into another marine. Watching the reactions of the others Ridoranaa assumed that whoever it was wasn't much liked by the old warband. Wating as others interacted with the new arrival he waited as Modeus told this "Vlad" to stand by them as he talked about coming to them as signs of his favor towards his chosen Lords. Watching as Modeus presented gifts ot the others Ridornaa grew unpatient as the loss of so many men would set Garrond on edge and would likely get him to attack anyone within range soon. 

When Modeus stepped in front of Ridorana he was asked why he had swithced sides. _"I had served loyally for hundreds of years but had only risen to the rank of Champion. The commander of Garron's forces of Nurgle Targal had his favorites and I was not among them. So why should I stay where I am not appreciated for my actions because of lack of favor? That is why I am here."_ As he finished Modues stated that he had given a storm shield and man reaper to his second on the steps of the mountain. Bowing his head in thanks Ridoranaa echoes Ner'ak in asking wheter or not Modeus had a plan.

(ooc sorry for the wait. had no idea what to say)


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## revan4559

Urien: As you turn away and walk from the the halls of Targal you hear a buzzing in your ears and a chill run up your spine which seems to not be affecting your retinue and as you continue you sense what is happening, the unmistakable feeling of Sorcery but before you are able to say anything or turn to your guards a flash of light fills your vizors senses and a feeling of wieghtless-ness overcomes your body which is entirely unpleasant. After a few seconds you feel your feet touch solid ground again as your helmet filters out the change in light level to reveal that you are now standing inside of a great hall encircled by forty silver terminators and beside you stand a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers and one of the Warsmiths of the Iron Warriors who appear to be similary confused by then a voice echos out from the darkness surronding a throne at the far end of the hall which seated upon it in a terminator you know only too well from your meeting earlier but now he seems to be even more massive in person rather than the projection that you met earlier. "Dark Apostle, Warsmith, Sorcerer. Approach and listen well for I have great plans for you three in this upcoming battle." What are your reactions to being pulled from Garronds fortress to this unknown location with such ease, do you say anything to the Warsmith or Dark Apostle? (Note: This conversation will of happened after modeus left nerr'aks fortress.) Also see: The Seeker update below.

Ridoranaa: See Nerr'aks Fortress below.

Nerr'ak: See Nerr'aks Fortress below.

Hardal: As you turn away and walk from the hanger to the halls of undivided you hear a buzzing in your ears and a chill run up your spine which seems to not be affecting your retinue and as you continue you sense what is happening, the unmistakable feeling of Sorcery but before you are able to say anything or turn to your guards a flash of light fills your vizors senses and a feeling of wieghtless-ness overcomes your body which is entirely unpleasant. After a few seconds you feel your feet touch solid ground again as your helmet filters out the change in light level to reveal that you are now standing inside of a great hall encircled by forty silver terminators and beside you stand a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers and one of Lord Targals direct lieutenants who appear to be similary confused by then a voice echos out from the darkness surronding a throne at the far end of the hall which seated upon it in a terminator you know only too well from your meeting earlier but now he seems to be even more massive in person rather than the projection that you met earlier. "Dark Apostle, Warsmith, Sorcerer. Approach and listen well for I have great plans for you three in this upcoming battle." What are your reactions to being pulled from Garronds fortress to this unknown location with such ease, do you say anything to the Sorcerer or Dark Apostle? (Note: This conversation will of happened after modeus left nerr'aks fortress.) Also see: The Seeker update below.

Malphas: See: The Seeker Update below.

Aeron: The dead cultists lay dismembered at your feet as their blood creates large pools around their severed limbs and as you turn from them you are confronted by six marines of the Emperors Children, the so called 'chosen' of Slaanesh. Even thinking his name makes you want to spit in disgust but before you at the head of the group stands a warrior you have heard off who is a match for any World Eater: Command Helstrom. His shoulder length blonde hair is currently kept in a pony tail as his light blue eyes look over you with a mixture of annoyance and disgust but this is not the time to pick a fight with the lord of Garrond's slaaneshi forces as he is fully armoured and a great swordsman while you don't even have your power-pack to supply your armour with the power it needs for you to match his strength. After a few moments the Lord Helstrom finally speaks. "Tell me little world eater, why is it you are up here butching my servents like cattle and risking my ire when I clearly had plans for them? I know you Sons of Angron are butchers and madmen but do you really think it is wise to upset Lord Garrond by killing his sentries?". What answer do you have for the Lord of Slaanesh? Do you hold your ground and pray that Khorne gives you the strength to kill as many as you can should a fight break out? Or do you try to return to the hanger without upsetting the Slaaneshi Lord?

Kalus: You return to Garrond's fortress and see that there are even less Astartes and cultists manning the walls as it appears that more forces have gone to join with Modeus or have simply left not wishing to be part of this fight and will pledge their alliegence to who ever the victor will be after the bloody battle that will eventually take places within the next fourty-eight hours. As you re-enter the fortress the daemon within you senses the use of sorcery you wonder what the followers of Tzeentch are up to and wonder if you should go and invesigate or you could go in-search of Garrond and attempt to infiltrate the ranks of his champions by telling him all that you know of the forces pledging themselves to Modeus and when the time is right you can betray your 'Master' Garrond to your true Master Modeus which means you will then likely to be rewarded greatly. The choice is up to you.

Ferrore: Modeus turns his attention from the possessed marine to you as you step forward and voice your hatred for Vladimir something while Modeus merely tilts his head to the side by ohly a few degree's as he listens and then turns to look at Vladimir. "The 'gifts' bestowed upon Vladimir other than the jump-pack are not of my making or design. The belong to a creature of the void which I didnt know exsisted until now." Modeus's face contorts into something similar to a frown which quickly passes. "The Vladimir we knew is dead, in place there is only a daemon that lurks within a walking corpse that uses the remaining fragments of Vladimir's memories to determine its place in this warband. Try not to think of it my dear Ferrore and concertrate on the matter at hand." Modeus turns to look back at you as he places his left arm on your right shoulder but before he can say anything Nerr'ak interupts by asking whether or not Modeus has a plan and as you are directly infront of Modeus you see his lips curl into a smile that chills even your cold metalic bones. See: Nerr'aks Fortress update below.

Rachael: Need you to reply to previous update and also see: Nerr'aks fortress below.

Zarapheth: Modeus turns his attention to look back at you when you ask for a copy of the Book of Lorgar and an amused smile creeps across his lips. "I have a Dark Apostle under my command, one which you already have met. Once the battle is over then I shall have him give you a copy of your legions holy text." It appears that Dark Apostle you met earlier has already pledged his alliegence to the Relictor Lord and you shall be given what you ask for soon enough though you do wonder where the Apostle is currently for he is not gathered here with the rest of the followers of Modeus, and while you think on that you hear the other followers start to argue amongst themselves and protest to Modeus that some of the others are cowards and should not be allowed to live and serve though it appears the Silver Lord is unaffected by the arguements occuring around him as he listens to them and when he is asked by the Night Lord Sorcerer Nerr'ak whether or not he has a plan he once again smiles but something about this smile chills you to your very core as he explains what his plan is. See: Nerr'aks Fortress below.

Arcus: See Nerr'aks Fortress below.

Vladimir: After your little rant and counter of Ferrore's anger you see Modeus look upon you and explain to the tech-marine that what has happened to you and the gifts you have are not of his making and therefor Ferrore should not concern himself with it and then you hear the Night Lord Sorcerer Nerr'ak butt in with asking whether or not the Relictor Lord has a plan on how to take Garrond's forces. You watch as Modeus's lips curn into a smile that chills you to your very core as he explains what his plan is, though it is only the remnants of Vladimir's mind that quake and shiver at the plan as the Shadow-Lord who dominates the bodies mind seems to be delighted in hearing that plan as he reaches back into Vladimir's memories in search of what happened the last time such a thing was last used. See: Nerr'aks Fortress below.

Nerr'aks Fortress: Modeus removes his hand from Ferrore's shoulder and takes a step back as he looks over and each and everyone of you. "I do indeed have a plan on how to take Garrond's fortress my dear Nerr'ak and each of you will play you part in it as with your help we shall be recreating the greatest massacre of Astartes in history. Isstvan." Modeus looks over each of you as he lets that ancient name take ahold of each of you and you shiver at what that name means and what happened to those three loyalist legions on Isstvan V. "Within Garrond's fortress are three powerful Lords and their forces that are pledged to me and they shall soon learn of this plan aswell as they shall be the 'reinforcements' that are supposed to help Garrond when his own forces are weakened but as Garrond's forces pull back to regroup that is when they shall strike. As for your parts in this war we shall act as the Deathguard, Sons of Horus, The Emperors Children and World Eaters did back then by wearing down the other warbands to breaking point. Does that answer your question Nerr'ak or do you not remember the part your legion played in the Drop Site Massacre? If you wish to know more details about this plan then i suggest you talk with Zarapheth as I do believe he actually took back in the war of Isstvan. Now if you excuse me I must take my leave as I need to brief my forces within Garrond's fortress. Prepare your warriors for battle my brothers." With that Lord Modeus and his two terminators disappear in another flash of blinding light as they return to their battle-barge. What are your thoughts and feelings about this plan? What do you know and remember about Isstvan V? Do you believe this plan will work? Do not forget you must also prepare your troops so voxing your champions and lieutents will be a good idea aswell.

The Seeker: "Greetings Dark Apostle, Warsmith and Sorcerer and Lieutent of Lord Targal." booms the massive terminator seated upon a obsidian skull throne who then leans forward to get a better look at the three of you. "I have brought you here as each of you wishes to or already has sworn loyalty to me and it is time to tell you of what part you will play within the upcoming battle. My intention is to recreate a battle that you Warsmith, Dark Apostle and your Master Targal" Modeus says as he looks from each of you to the other "Are most familiar with, we shall be recreating the Drop Site Massacre of Isstvan V within the fortress with your three warbands acting as the reinforcements of the oh so beaten and bloodied 'loyalist'. Dark Apostle and Warsmith I already know you will know what to do when the time is right as the signal shall be exactly the same as when the Warmaster revealed his plan all those thousands of years ago." Modeus then turns his attention to look upon Urien. "As for you, your master will know what needs to be when you tell him of this but to better co-ordinate this plan you three and Lord Targal will need to keep in contact with each other and form your own war council. When I return you back to the fortress you are to meet with each other and discuss where you will deploy your forces and how you will convince the Usurper Garrond to deploy your forces there. Now do you have any questions?" What are you reactions to Modeus bringing you here like this? How do you feel about being part of Modeus's grand plan and what do you think of recreating Isstvan V? Remember Hardal and Malaphas you were both their so you would shiver slightly as you remember the number of Astartes deaths.

Note: If you have any questions or need abit of help then feel free to pm me.


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## Lord Ramo

Racheal followed with the marines, into the throne room of Nerraks fortress. The very heart of the huge fortress. Her men would remain in the courtyard, along with Ferrore’s men, Racheal confident that if they were attacked the two combined forces would easily repel Nerraks troops. She strode forward, confidently as the marines neared their destination. She knew that they looked down upon her due to her being a mortal, and not a genetically engineered warrior like they were. They completely underestimated her, and that would be their downfall.

Thanks to the blessing of the Prince of Pleasure, she had deamonic speed, able to move faster than a normal mortal, and would give her an advantage in a fight with an astartes. The fact that she had killed champions, each of which were astartes, as well as a Chaos Lord, spoke volumes of her own abilities. The astartes didn’t see it like that however; they saw the astartes she had killed as weak and foolish. As such they underestimated her too much.

As they entered the room, Racheal saw the huge, imposing figure that sat upon it, and standing next to him was a shadowy looking astartes, something seeming off about this astartes. However she didn’t really focus on him, Modeus taking her entire vision. He was a colossus, bigger than any terminator that she had ever seen. Surely he was 
blessed by the gods, he was huge.

As he stood the throne beneath him shattered, no longer able to take the pressure of the God-like lord that had once sat upon it. Rachel could tell she had made the right choice, he would lead them to glory, he would give her a chance to make a name for herself. He presented each of the champions in the room with a gift, something that would improve their abilities in combat. On a side note she also thought how it would show who he favoured, and who he didn’t.

When the gigantic lord came to Racheal, she had to bend her neck to look up to him. He dwarfed her, and Racheal knew if she ever betrayed him, or did not serve him well enough she would be squashed in an instance. 

He handed her a daemonic bolter, a weapon of immense power. It was far superior to her current bolter, and was styled befitting a follower of the Prince of Pleasure, screaming faces twisting madly over the surface of the weapon. She accepted her gift with a nod and a short, “Thank you Lord, I hope to prove that a mortal can be useful to you.”

She barely listened as Ferrore had an argument with the marine who had been with Modeus, obviously the two knew of each other, and she suspected that he was a former member of Modeus original warband, before she had joined. Once Modeus started to speak once more she paid attention, knowing it was not wise to incur the wrath of Modeus, if his power was anything at all like his size.

She could see the look on Modeus face. She felt chilled by this, the smile was eerie in its confidence. Nerrak had asked for a plan, and Modeus provided one. They would give battle to Garronds forces, drawing him out of the fortress. Then when he was out he would be assailed until he retreated for reinforcements. However the reinforcements would work for Modeus and Garrond would be crushed. Racheal, finding out this had happened in the heresy when she had first entered the warp was a little sceptical. 

“How do we know that the troops Garrond keeps back in his fortress will be the ones loyal to Modeus?” She asked, waiting for the inevitable condescending reply from one of the marines, already forming a counter insult at them. She pulled her helm on, opening a vox to her lts.

“Ready all the men, we will be giving war to Garronds forces soon enough, it will play out like the heresy did. Our combined forces here will give battle to Garronds, and force them to fall back to their fortress. However troops loyal to Modeus will be holding the fortress, forces that Garrond doesn’t even know about yet. When they retreat they will be crushed between us, earning fame and glory for us all.”

She received affirmatives from all her champions before she turned her attention back to the others. “Well then, we should prepare for the coming battle.”


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## Angel Encarmine

Standing on the wall of the fortress surrounded by dismembered cultists, Aeron breathed deep, letting the smell of blood, sweat, and death overwhelm his senses. Turning from the glorious slaughter, Aeron stops short as six emperors children march up to him. Spitting on the ground in disgust, he crosses his arms over his chest. Stepping up in front of the other emperors children, a warrior removes his helmet, and Aeron is startled to see Lord Helstrom, one who could easily match him in battle. 

After a few moments the Lord Helstrom finally speaks. "Tell me little world eater, why is it you are up here butching my servents like cattle and risking my ire when I clearly had plans for them? I know you Sons of Angron are butchers and madmen but do you really think it is wise to upset Lord Garrond by killing his sentries?". Enraged, Aeron reaches for his chainaxes, but stops mid reach. On any other day, he would gladly fight this Lord of Slaanesh, but looking down on his armor, he realized he would surely be killed. Perhaps there was another way...

_" These cattle are barely fit for death at my blade, and you say they are Garronds sentries? Where have the rest of his warriors gone?"_ He said, before stepping closer to Helstrom_ " you know as well as I that our warriors join modeus even as we speak!"_ he hissed at the emperors children. _" When the rightful ruler of this warband comes, he will bring glory to all those that are faithful. Even pitiful worshippers of slaanesh." _he spat, pushing through them and walking back to the hangar bay


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## Deus Mortis

Modeus turned back to Zarapheth at the mention of the Book of Lorgar. An amused smile crept across his lips. "I have a Dark Apostle under my command, one which you already have met. Once the battle is over then I shall have him give you a copy of your legions holy text." *So, the Dark Apostle is with us* Zarapheth thought to himself. He was slightly saddened at this news. Whilst he was a fellow bearer of the Word, his monstrous arrogance had made Zarapheth and Azauk want to correct his error at underestimating them. However, such sour thoughts quickly retreated in Zarapheth's mind at the sound of raised voices and petty squabbling. Clearly Ferrore had some grievance with the new arrival, Vladimir. Something about cowardice...

_But this mortal was not regular, like the others, Azauk noticed. Unlike other possessed marine like him and the flesh, even ones such as the metal one, this one was not one with his daemon. The daemon did not share the body, it controlled it. The flesh was merely a suit for this daemon, not a symbiote. Still, the silver one spoke, calming the raised voices..._

Modeus removed his hand from Ferrore's shoulder and took a step back. This was the deneumont of Modeus' plan. "I do indeed have a plan on how to take Garrond's fortress my dear Nerr'ak and each of you will play you part in it as with your help we shall be recreating the greatest massacre of Astartes in history." Before the name had been uttered, Zarapheth new it. It rang throughout history, resonating with everything that Chaos stood for. It had been the product of many decade's planning and manipulation. It was where he had first heard the call, where him and Argel Tal had butchered the Raven Guard and the Custodes. Where it all began "Isstvan." 

Zarapheth's lips curled into an evil smile. This was to be a total and complete annihilation. If it succeeded, which, judging by the forces inside and outside this fortress and the weakened position of Garrond's warband having lost two prominent members, it was likely to, there would be a mountain of corpses. All a sacrifice pleasing to the Gods. But, who were the traitors, the ones to play his part in the original massacre they were mimicking? "Within Garrond's fortress are three powerful Lords and their forces that are pledged to me and they shall soon learn of this plan aswell as they shall be the 'reinforcements' that are supposed to help Garrond when his own forces are weakened but as Garrond's forces pull back to regroup that is when they shall strike. As for your parts in this war we shall act as the Deathguard, Sons of Horus, The Emperors Children and World Eaters did back then by wearing down the other warbands to breaking point. Does that answer your question Nerr'ak or do you not remember the part your legion played in the Drop Site Massacre? If you wish to know more details about this plan then I suggest you talk with Zarapheth as I do believe he actually took back in the war of Isstvan. Now if you excuse me I must take my leave as I need to brief my forces within Garrond's fortress. Prepare your warriors for battle my brothers." 

_The flesh felt pride at being mentioned by their new lord, but Azauk did not listen. War, war was on the horizon. Not just war, war of an unprecedented scale. Such slaughter was brewing in the strands of the future in the warp that it was almost palpable on Azauk's barbed tongue. Not just a puny contest where you may kill and drain 3 or 4 mortal, but hunting with bloody abandon, free of constraints of regulations and propriety. No mention of order or semblance of restraint. Just butchery and enough flesh to sate his appetite for weeks. Through the warp, unheard to even the most keen psychic ears, Azauk let out a howl of joy, a howl of hunger, a howl of readiness. From far away a cry echoed back from his pack mates: "We await your call"._

Zarapheth smiled, a cruel wicked smile at the unfolding of this plan. It was to be a re-creation of Erabus and Kor Phearon's brilliant master plan, albeit on a smaller scale. Azauk had dealt silently with his meager troupe of possessed marines. They would be a small force in the coming battle, almost insignificant one would think, but they would cut a bloody swath through their former cohorts. Having nothing else to tend to he walked up behind Nerr'ak "I wager I still owe you, for not killing me on sight and all." Zarapheth smiled, but a different smile to the one he had worn at the thought of slaughter. "I'm happy to be at your service until our debt is settled. Is there anything I can do the be of assistance, as I have no troops of my own to attend to..." Zarapheth simply stood behind Nerr'ak for the time being, content to take in his contemporaries' reactions and actions and revel in the idea of the coming massacre...


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## Yru0

Arcus gazed at the strange weapon in his hand, the double bladed sword radiated with almost a loosely contained sense of bloodlust, but one dominated by control and sinister intelligence. _What sort of arm is this?_ The ancient plasma pistol gifted to him by the lord was holstered to the apothecary's hip, it's mighty power far superior to any weapon in Arcus' previous arsenal, yet the sword was an enigma, one that he would pursue given the oppurtunity. However, battle plans were been drawn, and the coming slaughter demanded his attention and the plan laid forth by Modeus was ambitious to say the least, suicidal at worst, and formulated by a psychotic megalomaniac at best; Isstvan V was a name that rang through history like a chilled wind, the massacare that occured on its bloodied soil claimed untold lives, and so many more mortals perished in the cross fire. The futile resistance by the loyalist forces had been, unexpected, on Istvaan, yet it was for naught, Chaos had won victory that day, as it surely would here if the Lord's plans came to fruition. Arcus frowned inwardly, he had no doubt that the lord's plan would succeed, but he feared what they might lose in the process, Istvaan V was left a desolate waste, with not a single bacterium left alive on its scarred surface, the apothecary inside of him weeped at the coming loss of potential and warriors of chaos that may otherwise be hurled at the gates of Terra. The false lord of Garrond would pay severly for forcing their hand in such a manner, for forcing the gods to slaughter their own so willy nilly; a blind man may claim this to be the greatest tribute to Khorne, but Arcus beleived that they mighty blood god would be enraged at his disciples, this would not be a victory, it would be a massacare, a _pointless_ one at that.

"How do we know that the troops Garrond keeps back in his fortress will be the ones loyal to Modeus?" Arcus tore his gaze from the enchanting sword and finally took notice of the Mortal amongst them; he looked over the dark sister and her gift from the lord, she was a weakling, that much was obvious, weak in the flesh and undoubtedly weak in the mind, far to fresh. However, she had also risen rapidly in that short time, and the way she carried herself indicated that she was willing to fight any and all of the gods in the room around her, she was confident in her abilities, and that meant that they were considerable, or that she was a fool. "We do not. We must simply take the Lord for his word, yet I scarcely beleive that we are all the forces the lord has a massed, so it is reasonable to guess that he speaks truthfully. Whether or not our allies do to is another matter." Arcus stood up and turned to Ridoranaa with a slight nod of his head, he would need allies once the fight is done, and the Nurgle Lord would be a powerful one to gain, "Either way they shall perish before our might, sister. Of that you can be assured." Arcus turned away from the group to vox the plans to his men, and prepare them to deal death to their foes on behalf of the gods.


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## Midge913

Humming quitely to himself he turned his back on Targal and scurried out of the Plague-Commanders chambers. He was unsure why he did not feel some sort of ire at the way things had played out with the Son of Mortarion, but some voice in his head, an echo of his own voice told him that things had come to pass for the betterment of Nurgle's servants. That the Plague-Commander still held favor with his god, and that should the time ever come where that was not so, that Urien would rise to fill the place that Targal would be forced from. 

He collected seven of the fourteen plague marines that stood outside of Targals chambers, and grabbing several cultists in the hallways issued them instructions to fetch the sorcerers that Targal required for the ritual he planned to perform. He strode off down the hallway, his retinue of warriors surrounding him, and he felt the power of his newly acquired position settle about his shoulders. A rictus grin split his rotten face as he enjoyed the glory that had been bestowed upon him. He giggled inwardly at his good fortune. Though as he walked he began to feel that something was off. A tinny vibration started to ring inside his head, and a horrible chill ran up his spine. He hastily began to ready his psychic defenses but it was to no avail, as he turned to shout to his retinue they disappeared in a flash of light that momentarily blinded him as the sensors in his helm rushed to compensate. He was weightless... floating through the ether, unable to alter his course or stop whatever force gripped him. Just when he thought the sensation would not end, he felt his feet touch solid ground and his vision began to return. He found himself standing in a large open room, a great hall, surrounded by forty terminators in gleaming steel armor, next to him a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers, Malphas if he remembered correctly, and Hardal an Warsmith of the Iron Warriors. He began to gather his power around himself while reaching for his plasma pistol, just in case this was some sort of ambush. But as he looked upon his unwilling companions he found that the appeared to be as confused as he was. He opened his mouth to speak to them, but Urien's questions died on his lips as a voice echoed through the hall. Urien turned towards the source and found a massive terminator, seated on a throne of gleaming metal. This warrior, who could be none other than the Lord Modeus himself, spoke to the newly arrived trio, _"Dark Apostle, Warsmith, Sorcerer. Approach and listen well for I have great plans for you three in this upcoming battle."_

Urien was leary of Modeus. Their last contact had not gone at all in the manner that Urien had hoped, but Modeus did not display any signs of anger, quite the contrary, he seemed pleased to see the group that he had obviously summoned. _"Greetings Dark Apostle, Warsmith and Sorcerer and Lieutent of Lord Targal,"_ Modeus boomed, his voice echoing around the hall. _"I have brought you here as each of you wishes to or already has sworn loyalty to me and it is time to tell you of what part you will play within the upcoming battle. My intention is to recreate a battle that you Warsmith, Dark Apostle and your Master Targal are most familiar with. We shall be recreating the drop site massacre of Isstvan V withing the fortress with your three warbands acting as the reinforcements of the oh so beaten and bloodied 'loyalists'. Dark Apostle and Warsmith I already know you will know what to do when the time is right as the signal shall be exactly the same as when the Warmaster revealed his plan all those thousands of years ago." _ Urien felt the weight of Modeus' gaze settle solely on him as he continued,_ "As for you, your master will know what needs to be done when you tell him of this but to better co-ordinate this plan you three and Lord Targal will need to keep in contact with each other and form your own war council. When I return you back to the fortress you are to meet with each other and discuss where you will deploy your forces and how you will convince the usuper Garround to deploy your forces there. Now do you have any questions?" _ 

The entire time that Modeus spoke Urien could not help but wonder at the method that this Warlord was undertaking to unseat Garrond. To recreate the massacre of Isstvan was a significant thing. Could it meant that he too shared the same favor with the gods that Horus had all those years ago. Things were about to get interesting and if Urien had anything to do with it, the forces of Nurgle would come out of this battle with the lion's share of the glory.


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## High_Seraph

As Modeus moved his hand away from Ferrore's shoulder he walked a bit away before tunring and saying, *"I do indeed have a plan on how to take Garrond's fortress my dear Nerr'ak and each of you will play you part in it as with your help we shall be recreating the greatest massacre of Astartes in history. Isstvan." * After saying that he looks over each of you as he lets that ancient name toke ahold of Ridoranaa he shivered at what that name means and what happened to those three loyalist legions on Isstvan V. The sheer massacre that left one Legion without it's Primarch and decimated two other Legion's. Before more could surface in Ridoranaa's memory Modeus continued, *"Within Garrond's fortress are three powerful Lords and their forces that are pledged to me and they shall soon learn of this plan aswell as they shall be the 'reinforcements' that are supposed to help Garrond when his own forces are weakened but as Garrond's forces pull back to regroup that is when they shall strike. As for your parts in this war we shall act as the Deathguard, Sons of Horus, The Emperors Children and World Eaters did back then by wearing down the other warbands to breaking point. Does that answer your question Nerr'ak or do you not remember the part your legion played in the Drop Site Massacre? If you wish to know more details about this plan then i suggest you talk with Zarapheth as I do believe he actually took back in the war of Isstvan. Now if you excuse me I must take my leave as I need to brief my forces within Garrond's fortress. Prepare your warriors for battle my brothers."*

Hearing that one amongst them had actually fought on that deadly battlefield sent a jolt of nervous anticipation through him. Before he could ask who was to play the part of the other "traitors" Modeus and his men teleported back with the sharp crack and blinding flash characteristics. Blinking his eyes to clear them Ridoranaa looks over thhose closest to him before voxing his men, _"Hardariel gather the men we go to confront Garrond at his base with the rest of the forces here. Modeus has taken a plan from history that will see us victorious. Also I have been told you have something waiting for me there."_ finishing he dissconnected the link as the Apothecary Arcus was saying something to the mortal about those perishing befor he turned and nodded towards him. Nodding back slightly Ridoranaa thinks to himself, *Well this has turned out not at all like what I had been expecting. At least I have one shaky alliance with Apothecary Arcus, assuming I read the nod correctly. A formal relationship with the sorceror Nerr'ak and simply on the side of the others. Though to re-create the dropsite massacre! He must surely be touched by the gods to have even contemplate such an action. Though it is good to know that I am one of his Lords and not some Champion toiling away with no recognition.*


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

Hardal Dantion, Iron Warriors Warsmith, stalked away from the hanger of the halls of the undivided in his full-power armour. Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound in his ears, which sent chills through the adeptus astartes' spin, chills that seemingly didn't affect any of those who were gathered around him. The Warsmith recognised the all-too familiar sorcery as his body lost a sense of weight, and he could feel himself floating skyward. _By Perturabo's Balls - What Is Happening to Me?_, the Iron Warrior thought, not knowing what was happening other than the fact that he guessed Modeus had something to do with.

His helmet vision was obscure, and he couldn't see out. Trying to take it off, he felt the sorcery taking its hold. It was simply too strong for him, no matter how powerful the Iron Warrior was. Suddenly, in a change of the light level, the visor become clear again, and the Warsmith knew that he was now back in control of his body. Just as he was about to kill something in frustration, Dantion glanced around, taking in the warriors who were stood by him. _Yes_, he thought. _Lashing out in anger whilst there is forty Tactical-Dreadnought Armoured Warriors, a Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers Legion, A Sorcerer is probably not the best idea if you want to stay alive._

He was about to ask one of them what was going on, when he noticed they were all looking about as confused as the Warsmith was. Suddenly, from the throne ahead, the Iron Warrior recognised a voice that he had already heard from his meeting with Modeus earlier. It was obvious who was running the show now, and who was his ally. But before he could voice his concerns, the voice - that came from the massive Terminator, clearly in command, seated on the throne, spoke, addressing all of the traitors, not only from the Emperor but also from Garrond's legions, with an air of command and authority. "Dark Apostle, Warsmith, Sorcerer. Approach and listen well for I have great plans for you three in this upcoming battle." 

"I have brought you here as each of you wishes to or already has sworn loyalty to me and it is time to tell you of what part you will play within the upcoming battle. My intention is to recreate a battle that you Warsmith, Dark Apostle and your Master Targal," The Terminator said, glancing from one Astartes to the other. 

"...Are most familiar with, we shall be recreating the Drop Site Massacre of Isstvan V within the fortress with your three warbands acting as the reinforcements of the oh so beaten and bloodied 'loyalist'. Dark Apostle and Warsmith I already know you will know what to do when the time is right as the signal shall be exactly the same as when the Warmaster revealed his plan all those thousands of years ago." 

Modeus then turned his attention to look upon the one that Hardal's helmet recognised as Urien, the Sorcerer. "As for you, your master will know what needs to be when you tell him of this but to better co-ordinate this plan you three and Lord Targal will need to keep in contact with each other and form your own war council. When I return you back to the fortress you are to meet with each other and discuss where you will deploy your forces and how you will convince the Usurper Garrond to deploy your forces there. Now do you have any questions?" 

Dantion was left speechless by this latest mission objective. To Re-create Isstvan V, with traitor versus traitor again. It would be one of the finest battles that the Iron Warrior had taken part in - and now he would get the chance to watch the look of surprise on adeptus astartes' face. _This_ was why he had signed up with Modeus. The Iron Warriors under his command, would fight Garrond's forces, similar to the way that they fought those of Ferrus Manus, Corax and Vulkan, the loyalist Primarchs, on Isstvan V. 

"Yes," Dantion spoke up after two minutes of silence, causing every eye in the room to look at the Iron Warrior as he uttered his next words, choosing them carefully. "What are the forces under our command? I presume you gathered us here because we control the most forces, but I wish to know what we have under our command."

He then paused, before adding, somewhat reluctantly. "Sir."


----------



## deathbringer

Words bit back from a corrupted tongue and Ferrore sneered, talons clasped around the hilts of his blades, the silver mask contorted into a snarl even as the daemons anger bested it.

Their eyes locked and Ferrore sensed rather than saw the hand slithering around the ebony blade, adrenaline rushing as he tensed in readiness, two predators held upon the poise of murder.

The daemons words lingered, a subtle taunt shrouded by shadow, his friends fate a horrifying realisation, this was not a symbiotic relationship, a seemless amalgamation of man and daemon. This was an abomination, a soul dominating another, seizing his body, vlad but a screaming soul entrapped in darkness.
He had longed for revenge, for death or pain yet this, this eternal torment, damnation in the hands of a daemon of shadow, this....

He growled yet Modeus stepped between them, the silver lord's eyes boring eyes filled with import even as disgust briefly contorted his features

"The 'gifts' bestowed upon Vladimir other than the jump-pack are not of my making or design. The belong to a creature of the void which I didnt know exsisted until now."

He would not stand for this, not allow his friend to be enslaved by a daemon, he would seek his release whether it be through death or reclamation of his body. He would find a way, nobody deserved such torment, nobody should suffer it.

Mentally he lashed out at the daemon within himself, his anger manifesting itself as slashing knife cuts and the warp spawn twisted away with a low chuckle

_"Temper Temper"_ 

He would never become that, he would master the daemon, or die before allowing himself to be entrapped or enslaved.

"The Vladimir we knew is dead, in place there is only a daemon that lurks within a walking corpse that uses the remaining fragments of Vladimir's memories to determine its place in this warband. Try not to think of it my dear Ferrore and concertrate on the matter at hand."

A giant hand clasped his pauldron and Ferrore met the soulful gaze with grim determination, his mouth opened to speak yet Nerrak tore his attention elsewhere to the battle soon to come, to the bloodshed and murder.

Istavaan was recalled, a plan that sent Ferrore's lip curling with distaste, recreating anothers plan, bah. Modeus was not Horus, the situations were different, twas all very well to have forces on the inside, but Istavaan. He would not have chosen such a cowardly method, he would have gone for a more honourable plan.

Others fawned praising their lord, his use of anothers masterstroke seen as a vision of genius. Ferrore turned away and strode from the room, mind still preoccupied upon the daemon held within Vlad's shell, the great dreadnaught wheeling and turning away with him, they strode away, the fleeting sounds of Zarapeth's words to Nerrak another needling irritation to his mind.

The warband reformed and his allies were few, his enemies and rivals numerous, plus 3 lords, powerful lords unknown to him, did they hold forces to rival his own.

The low rumble of brother drakhar echoed through the room even as they strode away

_"Your choler is up techmarine, you stand poised on the edge of battle with a face like a smacked arse"_

"Istavaan," snarled Ferrore hands thrown up in exasperation "does he believe he is the prodigal son of chaos? Power ripples from him, yet he is not a primarch. The tactics dont even fit. Istavaan relied upon the late arrival of allies, does he believe garrond is too blind to notice 9f a small chunk of his forces conveniently miss."

He spat upon the floor, even as the dreadnaught goaded him further

_" And you could do better?"_

"Perhaps. I would have withdrawn my full strength but for a few squads, khornate if i could have arranged it. Beserkers to cause havoc in the ranks, to leave warriors wondering if his neighbour will turn his blade upon him next, break moral."

_"You believe you know better than your lord"_

"A picture is always more faded than the real thing, to imitate a plan...."

the booming voice interrupted him

_"Have faith little one, the gods favour him, it is the reason you stand with him. You should be more worried about your standing within the warband, your position declines, enemies swarm, i doubt you have forgiven the sorceror for all your diplomacy."
_

Ferrore smiled a nonchelant chuckle even as he turned to face the dreadnaught his voice dropping to little more than a whisper

"You know me too well brother, yet you are wrong. I have forgiven but not forgotten."

"You would have to go through the possessed"

The silver face broke into a long smile the long silver fingers growing into thin deadly talons

_"Nothing would give me more pleasure"_


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Vladimir remained screaming inside his shell as Modeus continued talking, finally satisfying Ferrero that Vlad would not turn coward. The Shadow-Lord hissed to himself at the mere thought of displaying cowardice. It was not something he could conceive; he would not display undue acts of heroism, but when risks were worth the reward, they would be made, regardless of the danger. When withdrawal is the only sane option, a withdrawal would be made. Vlad's daemonic arm seethed and shifted, the shiny black surface criss-crossed with little flaming veins as he flexed the metallic muscles. Vlad had almost stopped paying attention, when one word reverberated through his skull.

Isstvan.

Vlad screamed, but the Shadow-Lord did not scream. On the outside, no emotion was shown; Vlad simply nodded. But within his shattered conciousness, Vladimir was crying, begging for release. The Shadow-Lord, on the other hand, cackled.

The Shadow-Daemon had been at Isstvan. He had fought in the shadows, his blades striking but remaining unseen. He had strode through the battle, invisible, lending his aid to one warrior's sword-stroke, before pushing a victory into a rout with his ability to manipulate the mind. Oh, what fun he had had at Isstvan. How he had missed that fun. But now, if what Modeus had said was true, he would have that fun again.

*"Excellent..."* breathed Vlad, his voice vacant as the Shadow recollected his exploits in the Heresy. For a moment, one tiny instant, Vlad resurfaced, Vlad took control again; his hand moved slowly towards his bolt pistol, unholstered it, and brought it up, trembling, the barrel pointed directly at his own face. The Shadow realised what was happening, however, and snapped out of his reverie, re-asserting his control by crushing the bolt pistol in his hand completely, Vlad's armoured gauntlet destroying the weapon utterly. Vlad's voice was stormy when he spoke:

*"I take my leave, then, Lord Modeus,"* hissed Vlad, drawing his cloak up around him and following Ferrero out of the chamber. Vlad wanted to check up on his forces, but thought he would first follow the Techmarine and have a word with him. The Shadow-Daemon was lacking in knowledge, and needed that memory fully intact so he could manipulate the circumstances as much as he was able. Vlad waited as Ferrero spoke angrily with the Dreadnought; he did not listen to their conversation, for he did not care to. When they had finished, however, Vlad moved, almost completely cloaked in darkness, appearing from practical complete blackness close to Ferrero as he spoke:

*"Techmarine,"* said Vlad, his voice sinuous and sinister, *"It has come to my attention that Vlad knows you. More than just knows you, it seems, for I have never felt one struggle quite as deliciously as this one..."* Vlad trailed off a little, *"He really has a surprisingly strong mind, you know. I have kept it scattered, but it has not been completely torn asunder; its constituent parts are very much whole, I just stop them from communicating. Divide and conquer, if you will,"* chuckled Vlad, the laugh cold and grating, *"It seems our Lord Modeus has had a similar idea, to divide and conquer, what with this imitation of Isstvan. I was there, you know; Vlad wasn't, but I was. Most fun I've ever had."*


----------



## komanko

The stench of death and blood battled its way down his nose, he forgot that the helm he was wearing now was still fresh with blood from the dead Thousand Son. Without delay he took the helm off, it felt awkward being with a helm, he got used to walking without it, trusting his senses over the mechanized creations of old. He slowly moved his limbs taking in how strange it felt, the weight was different, the balance too, it would take him some time to realize how to utilize this magnificent piece of armor to its best, and the battle ahead would make such a fine testing ground, it would be a change for him, heading first into battle, yet life… Life was full of changes, so did his lord command, and as such he was not surprised by this sudden change. After all one who follows Tzeentch should embrace change, not fear it.

He studied the faces of his comrades as Modeus unfolded his pathetic plan, such a coward and a fool, a plan used more than once is vulnerable, this… This… Disgusting mimicking of an old plan was foolish and uninspired at best. New changes demanded new plans yet he should’ve expected Modeus to stoop so low, he didn’t prove to be capable earlier and as such Nerr’ak shouldn’t have trusted him to have a decent plan of his own. Pathetic that was… If the plan was to succeed Nerr’ak would have it to be adjusted to suit his needs… And of course the needs of Modeus.

Before he could add anything Modeus announced his departure and within a moment he teleported away, along with his terminator bodyguards. Still, Nerr’ak will have to contact the terminator lord, some adjustments had to be made, some new tricks added and some old ones refined. He listened as a quick debate started around the peers in the room, the dark sister forever innocent and fresh asked her question, an interesting one yet one that Nerr’ak did not pay any attention to, it was a legitimate question yet even Nerr’ak believe that Modeus is not stupid enough to try and commence such a plan without having secured forces inside of Garrond’s own base for it. Before he could reply another barged into the conversation, it was the apothecary, so self confident of his lords abilities, a pathetic display of blind faith, a leader, as good as he is, must always be doubted or he is doomed to fall, and sadly it seemed like Nerr’ak was the only one to realize it considering the faces around the room, some of awe, others of agreement. Stupid buffoons.

Those idiots were not worthy of his presence… Before taking his leave he turned to the Apothecary Arcus and said, “One should not follow blindly like a sheep, have a mind of your own apothecary, you might have to use it sometime…” He snorted in contempt and walked away though he soon was joined by the possessed marine Zarapheth. It seemed that the marine felt that he owned Nerr’ak, that was good, another ally, one he could trust more or less, a Gal Vorbak, not one to be underestimated. He spoke and his words gave Nerr’ak an idea. “My dear friends.” He said, addressing both the daemon and the person which shared that body. “You owe me nothing, you are a piece of a magnificent history and it was good to lay eyes upon a mighty relic like you and as such I have a small gift, if you might call it one, for you. You mentioned that you lack troops. Feel free to make use of my possessed marines, I name you their leader as long as you serve me first before all… Would you accept my fine proposition?”

He left the room afterwards, he had to communicate with Modeus. Reaching out with his mind he tried to contact the blessed lord, he had to discuss the plans with him. To enhance them. His heavy footsteps resounded from the walls around, the heavy ceramite boots cracking the ground below him. Such a bulky piece of armor yet with enemies like the thrice demand techmarine he would need as much protection as he could muster, his fingers danced erratically as ideas darted across his mind and with a determined anticipation he marched forward, awaiting Modeus's answer.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Nerrak turned around and seemed almost pleased to see Zarapheth. Good, so he had established a measure of trust, for good or ill, with a prominent warlord. This was good. _ “My dear friends.”_ Zarapheth smiled at the recognition, bust the daemon merely acknowledged Nerr'ak as an foreign ambassador. _“You owe me nothing, you are a piece of a magnificent history and it was good to lay eyes upon a mighty relic like you and as such I have a small gift, if you might call it one, for you. You mentioned that you lack troops. Feel free to make use of my possessed marines, I name you their leader as long as you serve me first before all… Would you accept my fine proposition?”_ The Gods did indeed smile upon him today. Zarapheth's lips curled into a shark-toothed grin. "We accept, gladly. Now, if that is all, we will go ready our troops and report when they are ready" Zarapheth dropped forward an inch or two, a mark of respect. The Sons of Lorgar were always skilled with diplomacy. 

Nerr'ak walked off in search of something, someone, whatever it was it occupied the majority of his mental capacity. Zarapheth walked the opposite way, round the winding corridors. He didn't know where he was going, but the daemon would lead him to kin, and that was all he needed. It wasn't long before he came into what appeared to be a barracks, or an anex of the barracks. Either way, those gathered were mostly daemonkin. Zarapheth could tell those of senior rank, they looked at him. Those of lower rank knew that the alphas of the pack would deal with new-comers, and so did not require their attention. Three possessed came to meet him. One large marine with all the markings of a Night Lord, perhaps an old comrade of Nerr'ak's. The second was a slightly smaller but no less intimidating astartes stood to his left. This one reeked, and his skin was a most unhealthy pallor. He was clearly possessed by a Nurgle daemon. 

At the head of this unholy triad was the largest of them, and curiously one bearing the markings of a Blood Angel markings. His eyes were that of his primarch. His pale skin was pulled tight across his skull. His hair was the only thing on his body whiter than his skin. This one was the leader, the alpha, the commander. _"Well, well, well, whose this one?"_ The larger one laughed mirthlessly 
_"He's got the markings of one of these Sons of Lorgar, sir." 
"Fresh meat"_ his two wing-men offered.
_ "Well?" _the larger one stared at Zarapheth...

_Azauk stared back, and his eyes blazed. Two voices spoke "We are your new pack leaders, and you will show some respect." The flesh added at the end. The largest one growled, this was a challenge. 
"Says who?"
"Nerr'ak" was the humourless response.
"Really? Well, sir..." the commander said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. This was going to end in confrontation, and Azuak liked the idea of that. "...around here, I make the orders, so you'll be challenging me for that role. Azauk growled, and was met by a similar growl from his opponents throat..._

Him and his opponent stepped into the cage. In days gone by, the two would have stripped to the waist, grabbed swords and fought until first blood. Problem solved. Case closed. But not now. By this point Zarapheth's armour has fused to his very skin, his armour couldn't be removed without extreme pain, and Zarapheth guessed that his opponent would suffer the same. No, this would be settled with a lot of blood. "What are the terms?"
_"Til submission, or death"_ his opponent said with a smirk.

_The two began to pace like lions ready to fight. One was a giant hulk of muscle, his mouth became a circular well of shark teeth, his tongue forked and dripping acidic saliva. His legs bent at an unnatural angle and his feet turned into something resembling the talons or a harpy, not an angel. Even his opponent monster could appreciate the irony of this fallen angel who snarled and fought for supremacy of a daemonic cohort.

At once it began, the larger beast launching himself at the smaller monster, thinking smaller was intrinsically weaker. The smaller one wove under the brutal tackle and raked it's claws on the under-belly with his lightning claws. The large one span on his heel and snarled and being avoided. The smaller man-beast forces his dis-proportionate mouth into something resembling a sneer, which was quickly lost when a row of his large opponent's teeth, dripping in acidic venom, flew towards him. A neat circular ring of volatile fluid coated bone shards struck the smaller one's chest. The skin-armour bubbled, burned and absorbed them, the regeneration coping the damage, but not the pain. In an instant the larger one was upon the smaller monster, howling victory as it drove it's claws into it's opponents flesh.

Suddenly, a whimper. The third arm struck the harpy like a scorpion's sting, piercing the flesh and shattering the collarbone. Daemonic strength imbued the alpha-beast's arms, but the ferocious strike was locked in the vice grip of a steel tentacle, the smaller one using the large monstrosities own momentum to spin 180 degrees and launch it by it's arm, which made a sickening tearing and popping sound as the limb tore free from the socket, into the cage wall, which buckled under the force of the impact. The harpy could no heal like the smaller one could, who by now looked like it had sustained no damage at all. Its arm hung limply from its side, and the other one would be on him in a moment. The alpha, desperate to retain control of the pack, lashed out with a savage slash of its claws across the man-beast approaching it. Flesh parted and blood came out briefly, but his opponent drove his own claws into his only good limb now. One more time, the poisoned maw let loose a deadly payload, and lodged itself in the smaller ones shoulder, with a few scraping the chest and spine. More bubbling, cracking and finally, melding flesh, and a slight flicker of pain. But the challenger was too close to victory to be deterred but the pain for burning poison._

Zarapheth's tail shot up and hooked inside the Angel's rib-cage and pinned him against the crumpled cage wall. The daemon growled and screamed to drain the blood out of him. *Let him submit. If not, drink him* Azauk restrained itself. Another growl came out of the pair's throat, one of challenge. The Angel grunted in response. So he submitted. Zarapheth pulled the tail out of his ribcage, and Azauk snarled *Patience, there will be plenty of blood to come.*"I'm not just a Word Bearer, Angel." Zarapheth spoke to his now groaning opponent "I am the Gal Vorbak, chosen of the Gods." All heads turned to see this shift in power. Azauk spoke to the daemons, Zarapheth to the mortals which housed their essence
*"Daemonkin, Nerr'ak has named me your leader, and by winning this challenge, my leadership is final. We are about to participate in a slaughter on a scarcely rivaled scale. The Gods demand our service, and we will be ready. Prepare yourselves, I will not be failed!"* At once the barracks was thrumming, even more than before either with men preparing, or honing some last minute battle skills. All accepted his rule without question, like a good pack would. Zarapheth opened the cage and spoke the the two whom hadn't fought him "Get him an Apothecary, I want every Astartes ready to fight." And so, Zarapheth watched his pack bear it's teeth and test it's muscles. He opened a vox to Nerr'ak "The possessed are ready to move, on your command..." and adding his new symbol of allegiance "_...my lord_"...


----------



## revan4559

The Seeker: Modeus looks up the three of you and listens to your questions but it seems only Hardal has something to ask so Modeus answers him. "You already know what forces are under your control but you do not need to know what is under mine as you will see the forces I have gathered to oppose Garrond with soon enough and you shall feel relief that you sided with me and not Garrond as the forces gathered would strike fear into even the hearts of those loyal to the corpse-god. Now im returning you to Garronds fortress where you shall gather your forces and place yourself on the second wall while telling Garrond that yor forces would best be suited there as your siege engines, Warsmith, would not be affective if they were at the first wall. Your forces are there, Sorcerer, because even though the deathguard and marines of nurgle would best be suited to bear the brunt of the attack it means that later on in the battle Garrond would not have a force that could act as a tide breaker 'should' the first wall wall. Finally Dark Apostle, you shall be on the second wall before that is where you choose to be and the gods have decreed you must be there. Now if you excuse me I have my own personal forces to gather." With a dismissive wave of his lightning claw the three of you are hurled back through the warp to you original locations within Garronds fortress where you return to what you were doing.

Ridoranaa: Leaving the inner keep you head back out into the court yard and see the almighty forces of you and the other warlods gathering and entering their transports while tech-marines, tech-priests, enginseers and other adepts of the machine god and dark mechanicum give the larger tanks and weaponary a final check over before they head off to be used into battle. Looking out over all the forces that are gathered you cant help but be awed by the sheer number of astartes and humans that have gathered to join Modeus in his fight against Garrond and after that his crusade across the stars to carry on the old war started by the Warmaster all those thousands of years ago. Moving from your position infront of the large gates you make your way over to one of the rhino transports with its ramp open and enter it to see that four of your chosen terminators of nurgle are awaiting inside though due to their sheer bulk they make the compartment of the rhino seem tiny. Oh what you would give to have a couple of land raiders at your disposal.

Nerr'ak: Marching fourth from your keep you leave for through main gatehouse and look upon the forces gathered outside and stop dead in your tracks as you see thousands of Astartes, Cultists and War Machines gathered to do their lords and Modeus's bidding and something makes you wonder what if Modeus decided to order all of those below to fire upon you and your keep, You would be completely oblitirated if they did so but you still 'serve' Modeus and are one of his generals along with his right hand so he would not dispose of you so quickly which means you have time to make your own plans for the future. While you look upon your own forces gather you hear the voice of Modeus ring inside of your head as he answers your call to him: "You wish to speak to me then Nerr'ak? What is this about as I am currently holding court with three esteemed guests that are to lay inwait within Garrond's fortress and strike when I need them to along with their forces. So be about your business quickly and order your troops to hurry up and embark upon their transports."

Aeron: Lord Helstrom merely allows you to leave before he turns to look out into the city from his position before donning his helmet and moving off with his honour guard to what ever he was previously going to do. Upon returning to the hanger you find that the tech-marine has finished with your armour and that it now even has a fresh coat of blood red paint upon it and the icon of the world eaters has been re-rendered in brass upon your left pauldron. After re-equiping your armour your temples start to hurt as the song of death and war calls you to the outer wall to await the arrival of Modeus's forces which must mean that Khorne is preparing you for a truely great battle.

Ferrore: Leaving the darkness of the fortress and entering the light of day outside you see a hive of activity as all the forces that are within the fortress gather their strength and set about preparing for what could be an imitation of Istavan or merely a drawn out siege but what ever will happen there will be plenty of death and fighting to fuel the four dark gods especially Khorne. Turning your attention from Ancient Drakhar you look open your own forces and your voice almost sticks in your throat as you gaze at the awe inspiring sight of hundreds of Astartes, thousands of cultists and hundreds of siege-machines prepare for battle, looking over your forces you make out the many distinct shapes of: Dreadnoughts, Predators, Leman Russ variants, Defilers, Oblitirators, Medusa, Basalisks and many more powerful tanks but your thoughts are interupted when the daemon-possessed Vladimir appears at your side and goes off own a little rank about how Vladimir screams into the warp as the daemon controls his body. You will have to think of a way to free Vladimir from the daemons clutches but for now there is another matter to deal with one which you are all too familar with...War.

Rachael: Modeus does not give you a reply and merely moves onto the other champions and lords within the room and gifts them with equipment before teleporting back to his battle-barge to prepare for the upcoming battle leaving you and the others alone for now. After donning your helmet you vox your champions and they tell you that your forces are prepared to fight and are assembling in squads within the courtyard and are mounting up within their transports awaiting your return and the orders to make their way back to Garrond's fortress to lay siege to it and kill in the name of the Prince of Pleasures. Making your way back through the fortress you return to the courtyard to see that your followers have moved away from the others and are still embarking upon their transports while your champions turn and bow to you before moving onto their own. You then decide to stand and wait for the other forces within the fortress to gather their strength before you make your way to Garrond's fortress.

Zarapheth: After asserting your dominace over the other possessed marines you make yourway outside with them in something akin to how a hunting wolf paces around his hunting grounds and once you are side you stop dead in your tracks as you see the entirity of the force that Modeus has under his command and is ready to unleash in the name of the dark gods. Astartes, Mortals, Ancients(Dreadnoughts), Daemonkin, Possessed, Daemon-Engines, Siege Machines and many more make their way from within the fortress and down the slope of the mountain towards Garrond's fortress and to where a glorious battle shall be fought in the name of the Dark Kings(chaos gods). Following quick behind you see a Land Raider bearing the colours of Modeus slide to a halt infront of you and the side door ramps crash into the earth before a silver armoured marine waves you and your pack inside obviously intending to give you a ride towards the battlefield so you can preserve your strength for the battle ahead. Once inside of the Land Raider the assault ramps close back up and the cabin is filled with a deep red glow from the lights within and should you look around you can see five Relictor marines sat at the far end of the land raider checking their bolters and chainblades.

Arcus: Like the Dark Sister you leave the throne room and return to the outside of the fortress and can see all of the armies gathering for battle and marching into their transports and those without forming up into groups, it really is a sight to behold as at the moment you count around fifteen-thousand warriors not including the ancient Dreadnoughts, transports and tanks. You then recall what little forces you command are still back at Garrond's fortress and have no idea where you have gone or what the plan is but can you really risk voxing them and letting them know incase there is a traitor amoung them who could warn Lord Garrond so you deem it best to wait for the other lords to gather for now.

Vladimir: After talking with Ferrore you make your way to where your forces are gathering as it is clear to see who they are due to their midnight coloured armour covered in symbols of skulls and lightning as your raptor forces embark upon their thunderhawk transports ready to drop into the fortress from above along with giving fire support to the ground forces and engaging any of Garrond's own fighters. Making your way over to one of the thunderhawks you hear some of the raptors cackling amoungsts themselves and when they see you they drop down onto all fours and abase themselves before you before scambling inside of the transport. It seems that Vladimir had quite afew troops himself before you took ahold of him and that his forces havent quite realized that their leader isnt who they remember, today is going to be a good day for a battle.

Nerr'aks Fortress: From within the depths of the fortress march forth the forces of those warlords opening allied with Modeus and make their way through the courtyard and down the slope of the mountain backtowards the city and Garronds own fortress. The feet of thousands of Astartes crush stones under their ceramited boots while insane cultists shout and scream prays to the dark gods while heavy siege equipment such as Basalisks and Medusa rumbling alongside the troop transports of Rhino's, Razorbacks and Land Raiders. Stomping inbetween these transports are the hulking forms of delifers on their multiple legs awhile the smaller and more box like forms of Dreadnoughts are chained to the backs of transports while being observed and venerated by tech-priests and acolyptes of the Dark Mechanicum. While the army marches and rumbles along the ground winged chaos spawn sore overhead in the company of Thunderhawk transport carrying the deadly cargo of Daemon Engines and the air-born assault troops known as the Raptor Cult, all in all it is an inspiring sight that any Lord of Chaos would be glad to have under his command but while the army marches forth to its destination high above in space the Choas Lord Modeus prepares his plans of assault that shall be shared with his generals when the time is needed.

Garronds Fortress: Deep within Garronds fortress sits the Chaos Lord himself upon his silver throne with his daemon-axe in hand as he listens to the reports from his generals with barely contained fury as they say that Modeus forces are now on the way and they have already started preparing for battle. Once his generals finish making their reports Garrond howls with rage that echoes throughout the entirity of his fortress making all those within its walls stop and listen to the anger and hatred of their lord before returning to their work. Pushing himself from his throne Garrond strides down the steps leading to his throne and beheads one of his leaders of his undivided fortress to ease the anger seething within him before turning to his other generals. "Prepare my forces and have them stationed on each of the walls, have the voice shields raises and have all fighters fueled and ready for take off. Check ammunition stocks and have the gene-seed vaults sealed from both the inside and outside." Garrond then goes off giving orders to his generals telling them where on the walls they shall be stationed and to take their men there and he then listens to the Dark Apostle, Lord Targel and Hardel tell him they shall be on the second wall preparing for long ranged fire support which Garrond merely grunts at and heads off to his personal chambers with his terminator bodyguard to change into his own suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armour.

Outside of Garronds Fortress: After an hour of traveling the thunderhawk transports touch down just outside of Garronds anti-air cannon range and start to unload the daemon-engines locked within as the rest of the army grinds to a halt just outside of the giant armaments ranged located on the walls of Garronds fortress and the fortress's giant towers. After you disembark your transport to you turn to see the heavy siege engines and tanks under the command of Ferrore start to take up positions ready for shelling and then turn back to look at the fortress as you here a buzzing noise emit from Garronds fortress just as the void shields are erected to protect the fortress and walls from the heavy bombardment that will soon begin. Looking at the fortress you remember that you have three tiers of walls to battle through first all of before you enter the gigantic fotress itself and then fight from room to room from the lowest dungeon to the top of the highest tower to destroy the forces of the usurper lord. Somewhere within Garronds fortress is stationed those three lords that are loyal to Modeus and though you dont know who they are it seems you will not be told at this point in time. 

As Modeus forces move into position to begin their shelling of the void shields and first wall of Garronds fortress there is a flash as a teleport beacon is used and Modeus appears surronded by his fourty terminator bodyguard and he strides forward to stand infront of the vast army gathered under his banner while silver thunderhawk gunships split the clouds above and disgorge cultists and astartes wearing the symbol of the Relictors to mingle in with the warband while vehicle carries deposit more siege equipment onto the ground before they join the artillery battery. Raising his lightning claw Modeus voice echoes out throughout his warband summoning his commanders to him. "Ferrore, Nerr'ak, Rachael, Vladimir, Arcus, Zarapheth, Ridoranna. Attend to me and we shall discuss how the first stage of his battle shall be conducted." The silver Terminator lord then stands there and awaits those he has called to come and attend to him.

Garronds Fortress (Hardal, Aeron and Urien): You three are stood upon the second wall of Garronds fortress which stands taller than the first but shorter than the third and look over the army that has been arrayed to lay siege to Garronds fortress and kill all those who oppose the Relictor Lord and pray to the Dark Gods that everything goes according to plan as if you are deemed to be the enemy then there is no doubt that Modeus forces could crush you own should he so ordered it but you are on the second wall and will get to watch the battle for the first wall unfold with relative safety, though Aeron would most likely wish to charge into battle straight away. You three then watch Modeus own personal forces decend from the heavens to join his warband and have no doubt that Modeus is amoung then holding a war council with his generals so for now it is the calm before the storm. This gives you a chance to talk amoungst each other and prepare for the battle that is to come.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

Hardal Dantion, Iron Warriors Warsmith, stood upon the second wall of Garrond's Fortress, alongside two others, Aeron and Urien. The wall stood taller than the first, although it couldn't match the third in height. Looking across at the forces arrayed in front of him, Dantion caught sight of many renegade forces, a sea of flesh and blood arrayed in rank and file. There was some from warbands that he did recognise, like the World Eaters, Relictors and even renegades from loyalist Chapters, such as the Crimson Fists, and there were many more from many warbands that he did not, he could not identify.

It didn't matter. They were all here for one purpose. To kill. 

And that was what the Iron Warriors Warsmith did best.

Dantion might have considered praying to the Chaos Gods, showing his devotion to the Ruinous Powers in the hope that they might grant him and his allies some sort of victory, but he figured that he need not bother, for many of his unholy allies were already doing the same. And, on top of that, the Iron Warriors Warsmith was never a big fan of the Dark Gods anyway, and the same could be said for most of his legion, the Iron Warriors.

_Everything should go according to plan_, Dantion believed. _There will be no mistakes_. _Garrond will fall_. 

Every one of the three Chaos Space Marines arrayed across the wall knew that Modeus could crush their own forces if he wished, even with the addition of the Iron Warrior's fearsome Titans, but Dantion didn't have any doubts about being backstabbed. As far as he was aware, Modeus needed all the forces that he could get.

He watched as Modeus' personal forces descended from the heavens in their thousands, smiling at the slaughter that he knew would come. Being on the second wall, Dantion knew that he could just sit back and watch the Battle for the First Wall unfold with relative safety,and that didn't seem like a particularly bad idea. Then, he could do one of either two things, depending on which side was winning. He could either backstab Modeus and align with Garrond's forces if Garrond emerged triumphant (Dantion didn't particularly like that idea, but in order to survive, it might be necessary), or let his forces wait until Modeus' forces had been weakened, and then unleash his mighty warriors to steal the glory right from under the nose of his own Master.

Modeus was no doubt among his personal forces, probably holding a war council of some sort with his generals. For now, reflected Dantion, it would be the calm before the storm. For now his troops would have to hold their battle-lust in, and hope for the best.

He could talk amongst his fellow commanders, but he decided against it, allowing them to make the first move, giving Dantion better time to prepare for the upcoming slaughter, in which blood would be spilled and lives would be lost.

And it would be glorious.


----------



## komanko

(don’t blame me, I didn’t write anything for like 2 months I think, so it might be crap)
As he marched forth awaiting any acknowledgement from Modeus he finally found himself near the gatehouse of the fortress, from there he laid his eyes upon the forces which were gathered outside, they were no small force, the combined forces of two lords, with masses of siege equipment, anxiously Nerr’ak noted the fact that they could easily crush his fortress into dust as he had mostly infantry at his disposal. To think that Modeus could order the forces slowly massing outside to simply annihilate Nerr’ak and his small fort, it would be a shame, to end his life like that, yet he knew that it won’t happen, Modeus needed him, he was his right hand, the only capable brain in all of this small army.

He thought about letting Zarapheth have the control of his possessed marines, he seemed loyal and thankful for such a gesture, yet he was a possessed after all, he had a daemon inside him and all daemons were cunning and deadly, a force to be reckoned with and never underestimated, one that could be used to turn the tides of war. One that Nerr’ak intended to use.

As he scoured the forces laying before his fortress he heard Modeus voice ringing inside his head, amplified tenfold, it felt like the lord was drilling through his head with a damn chainsword. It seemed like the lord was just as anxious as Nerr’ak, they both awaited with eager uneasiness to see the results of this battle. “I thought I might suggest a little change to that fancy plan of yours. I intend to help this battle as far as I can but I don’t believe that my place should be on the front lines charging towards the keep like a maddened berserker and being gunned down in a moment, no, I have a far better plan. You see, in my spare time I began practicing new forms of sorcery, one of which was daemonacy, what I offer is, using your teleporters you can teleport me through their defenses, into their fortress with a small squad to help me, from there I shall summon daemons forth to overrun the fortress from within and then I shall follow and wreak havoc inside as well, if we would be lucky I might be able to convert some of the unfaithful apprentices that were loyal to Xynx as well. Do you think this might work? I think it is worth trying in order to secure a less costly victory. If you were able to lend some of your terminators as well it would be magnificent indeed. A glorious slaughter.”

Time was upon them, clad in his new terminator armor Nerr’ak floated above on his daemonic disk of tzeentch, he watched as the skies were filled with the screams of engines when thunderhawks flew by filled with a deadly cargo of bloodthirster raptors, he saw the terror inspiring spawns flying nearby, awaiting their chance to descend to the ground to rip and tear, below him waves of cultists, screaming with ecstasy and joy passed, each marching towards his certain doom without even realizing it, after them marched the Astartes, they walked with unison, their march causing the earth to tremble below them as their ceramite boots split the stone below them. All around them transports moved, each filled with a different deadly cargo, mighty dreadnoughts strapped to large transports moved around the battlefield each filled with a dark hunger. Medusas, basilisks, rhinos, razorbacks and land raiders, they were all there, all ready to split the fortress in two. Yet more imposing then those was the sight of the ungodly defilers, stomping the ground below them with their many limbs, each one of those was different, each one terrifying and deadly. This was an army of the dark gods, one which combined each and every aspect of the essence of chaos. A mighty sight to behold.

Finally they arrived, all were readying themselves, even Modeus appeared demanding that his generals will come to him, with a whim of his mind Nerr’ak’s daemonic mount touched to the ground and Nerr’ak stepped off it, he felt the earth shatter beneath him and his mighty weight. It was a powerful suite indeed, and combined with his psychic prowess he would be nigh unstoppable. With those thoughts he came closer to Modeus, to see him unravel his plan.


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Vlad marched swiftly towards where his forces were gathering; their midnight-coloured armour gleaming dully. As Vlad approached, he gently allowed the shadows to slip off him, until finally one of the Raptors noticed him. The warriors immediately began prostrating themselves on the floor, in supplication to Vlad. Vladimir laughed to himself at the foolishness of the warriors; if they even noticed Vlad's flowing, black arm, they made no sign of it. It mattered not; J'ketha, the Lord of Shadows, would take any and all followers.

Vlad continued to walk towards the Thunderhawks as their engines reached a high-pitched whine. As he reached the Command Ship, a mighty pre-Heresy Stormbird, Vlad turned to the assembled warriors.

*"Some of you may notice there is something different about me,"* roared Vlad over the engines, *"Those perceptive few are quite correct."* Vlad had paced back and forth as he spoke, and had reached a Raptor, kneeling before him. Vlad formed his black arm into a bladed limb, and slammed downwards, the daemonic metal making no sound as it tore through armour, flesh, and bone. The Raptor collapsed without a noise.

*"These changes make no difference," *continued Vlad, *"I am your master, and you will always obey me, no matter the orders I give you, no matter the situation I put you in, no matter the danger I send you to face."* Vlad paused. *"Whom do you serve?!*" he roared.

_*"Vladimir! Vladimir! Vladimir!"*_ came the reply, Vlad's name echoing in the throats of hundreds. The Shadow Agent sneered under his helmet, his eyes burning a molten white through the visor as he turned and embarked the Stormbird.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vlad's warband had been flying for many hours now, but it seemed they were finally approaching Garrond's fortress. As Vlad raised his helmet to look out of the Stormbird's cockpit, his head spiked with pain. Vlad turned away immediately, staggering back into the troop bay, clutching his helmet.

"Are you all right, Lord Vladimir?" asked one of the Raptors. Vlad's metal arm flared, the fiery veins running along it burning white-hot in intensity as he lashed out, cutting the Raptor's head clean off in his rage. The rest of the Raptors remained silent as Vlad finally took back control; it appeared that the real Vlad within the Shadow Agent, had made a concerted effort to supplant control; when he had seen Garrond's fortress, the last place he had been before J'ketha snatched him away, each piece of his shattered mind had risen at once. This was dangerous; whilst the Shadow Daemon could separate the pieces of Vlad's mind, he could not destroy them utterly; Vlad's spirit was too strong for that. This shouldn't be a problem, as individually the pieces of Vlad's consciousness were easy to suppress; even united they stood little chance. But when all of the pieces surged at once, combined with situational stimuli... it was dangerous. Vlad resolved to suppress the true Vlad's spirit more strictly, before noticing the Raptors all around him, looking at him in horror.

Vlad quickly reshaped his bladed-arm into its normal state, the veins dimming, as he addressed the troops: *"I was merely... over-eager to begin battle,"* said Vlad, his voice confident and showing no sign of weakness, *"This Raptor happened to be the first living thing I could kill without jeopardizing our flight... killing the pilots would not have been a good start,"* joked Vlad, prompting a chuckle from some of the more sycophantic Raptors, and setting all of them at ease that their commander hadn't gone insane; at least, by Chaos standards anyway.

Finally, Vlad's forces touched down, as Modeus' troops began the first stage of the siege, artillery bombarding the void shields. Vlad sent an order out to his troops via secure vox-link, telling them to hold position and not to engage until he gave the command, as well as ordering all Thunderhawk transports attached to his warband to remain on the ground until he said otherwise. Modeus himself then teleported to the field, and summoned the Lords of the warband to attend him. Vlad activated his new jump pack, it's triple-jetted fitting roaring into life as Vlad flew over the warriors beneath him, before slamming into the ground next to Modeus, kicking up a shower of earth as he landed.

*"My Lord Modeus,"* said Vlad, dropping to one knee for a moment, before standing again, *"I have already considered my warriors' role in this battle, but I shall hear what you would have me do before I give you my own strategy."*


----------



## Yru0

Arcus surveyed the vast array of Lord Modeus' war machine laid out before him, such a demonstration of the chaos gods' favour in itself was something to be in awe, that so many warriors could be gathered together was astounding, that they were all being lead by a single man was even more so. Arcus knew how each of the original commanders below Modeus still beleived that they were accomplices of the lord, loyal to him yet still the masters of their men; it did not take a fool that it would not be this way for long, Arcus could see how the soldiers witnessed how the lord called their leaders to him like servants, or how he commanded such power that he could crush anyone of them in the heel of his boot, no, it would not be long indeed until the men before him were chanting a single name instead of so many others. Yet this was inconsequential to the apothecary, as it was he had little troops of his own to loose, and if Modeus indeed delivered on his promise to deal such a painful blow to the traitorous Imperium of Man, then Arcus would gladly lay his life at his feet, if only to witness the fall of their hated foes. 

The transport arrived as the army was already beginning to amass its mighty artillery, the distinctive hum of ancient technology vibrating across the air as Arcus disembarked; the void shield defending Garrond's fortress was most certainly an inconvenience, but not an insurmountable one, although it did greatly increase the likelihood that Arcus' services would be required in the coming battle. The three mighty walls would be a bloodbath, where the two massive armies would clash on the field of battle, but it would be inside, where the close quarter fighting of the room-to-room extermination of Garrond's forces takes place, that the true horrors would occur, that the wrath of Khorne will truely be felt. At the sight of the sudden blue flash, Arcus discarded his idle thoughts, knowing that the Lord would want an assessment from his lords, the apothecary did not command the forces to be able to alter the lord's plans, but that freed his mind to consider other necessities of battle, _and besides_ he thought idly to himself, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he felt the confident weight of the lord's gift on his back, _ the lord will have enough on his hands_, yes, Arcus could follow Modeus willingly enough, and if he were to gain an army of his own in the process, then who was he to complain?


----------



## Lord Ramo

Modeus did not give a reply to Racheal and merely moved onto the other champions in the room. Racheal bristled with barely contained anger, she knew Modeus was powerful and had the blessings of more than one God unlike her. It was obvious that he and the other Astartes Lords looked down on her all because she was not genetically modified like they were.

She however had proven herself killing several powerful champions and Lords that were all Astartes. If they did not respect her now they never would, something that they would regret later. If they did not respect her they would underestimate her. If she wanted to make a move none of them would expect it. She smiled at the thought though she remained quiet as Modeus handed out the remaining gifts and teleported out.

Racheal donned her helmet, the symbols that were once blessed for the Corpse Emperor now were dedicated to the Prince of Pleasure. She turned on her heels, walking away from the other champions in the room as she started to vox her champions. "Excso give me a status report. Are the men ready to fight? They better be, I won't be shown up by these dogs." She said into her vox unit.

"They are ready and are assembling in squads now as we speak Lord." Came the curt response. She moved quickly through the fortress, she was unsure about Nerr'ak, he was a follower of the Trickster and could even try and kill her and cease her forces. She doubted it, if anything he would try and turn several of the lords against each other, and would probably only take the undivided forces that she possessed if she died.

Her forces stood apart from the others, 1150 Cultists, 300 Marines dedicated to Slaanesh (OOC: Pm'd Revan and they are Noise marines) and 700 undivided along with dreadnought land raiders and vindicators. Racheal moved to her fortress, climbing onto the hull of one of the land raiders, looking out over her troops. She needed to keep as many of them fighting as possible and couldn't allow herself to become weak in case the other lords saw a way to take advantage.

She waited on top of the Land Raider looking as the other forces assembled, it was a mighty host but while they followed Modeus they were not loyal. All sort to set himself out from the rest, and she was sure that she would also.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After an hour of travelling the combined might of Modeus forces arrived outside of cannon range of Garronds fortress. Racheal stepped out of her vehicle, moving forwards as daemon siege weapons were prepped, as well the forces moving into position. She could tell most belonged to Ferrore, the Blood Gods puppet did have his uses after all. She turned back to the fortress as she heard a buzzing noise emit from it, the void shields that protected the fortress had obviously just been raised to try and stop the army from entering. 

She remembered the layout of the fortress well, three walls, three walls they would have to fight through before they could begin to clear the enemy forces out of the inner workings, the rooms, dungeons and towers. It would be a momentous task, though at the end of it the rewards would be outstanding. 

Relictors thunderhawks peeled from the sky, obviously Modeus had arrived. In a flash of light Modeus and his bodyguard of 40 terminators appeared out of the warp at the head of the army, Modeus voice echoing through the warband as he summoned the champions to hear the final plan. Racheal moved quickly, best not to make her Lord angry.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth watched the possessed become battle ready. Weapons were pulled from handles, mag-clipped to waists. Swords, pistols, all manner of instruments which were capable of delivering death to their foes. In a matter of moments, a legion of possessed stood organised before him, neatly arranged into their squads. The two second in commands naturally flanked him. The only one missing from this assembly was the Angel. He would not partake in this fight, but Zarapheth didn’t mind. This was his opportunity to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a capable leader to those who were surely watching him, and not just the mortals.

“Gentlemen…” Zarapheth addressed his men “…We stand on the eve of an almost unprecedented scale of bloodshed. Zarapheth’s lips curled into a sick curve “I’m sure many of you are pleased to hear that.” That got a chuckle from all the assembly. He was his father’s son. “So, we have no time to waste. As I understand it, Nerr’ak has a compliment of transports for you. Go to them my pack, and we will tear the diseased heart from Garrond’s rotten chest and offer it as an offering pleasing to Nerr’ak, Modeus and the Pantheon. My brothers, tonight we hunt and we shall have our fill blood! Daemonkin, to battle!” Suddenly the room was a chorus of noise as men moved to their battle stations.

“You two, attend me” Zarapheth said over his shoulder to the two marine’s flanking him. They walked through the serpentine corridors of Nerr’ak’s fortress until they reached the gate. His two lieutenants opened the gate, and Zarapheth stood in the full light of day. The scene which unfolded was something that nearly stole his breath. For too long he had not seen such a massive force assembled. This was an army to level mountains and conquer worlds with. Garrond would be crushed, and his bones ground to powder. Something stirred within Zarapheth…

_Azauk pushed his way to the surface, and both flesh and daemon pulled their lips into a savage grin. *Beautiful, isn’t it?* the flesh marvelled. Azauk sneered. *I have seen Gods muster for war. Legions of legions of their immortal hosts march and the ground crumbles under them. Only then will I weep for beauty. But, for a mortal leader, his army is impressive* Azauk exerted his will on the flesh’s cells, and they warped into familiar shapes. Long ago, on the original scene of betrayal, the flesh had screamed and writhed as his cells warped into unnatural positions and compounds. Now, they shifted without resistance. At least the flesh was supple.

“My lord.” One of the powerful daemons spoke. Azauk turned around, eyes ablaze with promise and anticipation. These hand-men were powerful, the Angel of Blood had chosen well. But once this was all over, Azauk would be attended by his chosen octave which he had collected. Still, they would serve for now. A sliver behemoth of metal ground the earth behind them. Its maw opened like a ravenous beast. “Our lord awaits us” Azauk’s mouth moved in an awkward way, since the jaw had warped into a vice designed for crushing limbs, not communicating eloquently…_

…Zarapheth stepped into the land raider and sat on one of the free seats. His tail coiled like a sleeping serpent on the adjacent seat. Modeus men were checking their bolters and swords, and Zarapheth wondered for a moment if Modeus had let these men ride with him to keep an eye on his assets. Zarapheth issued a low rumble that passed for a greeting. The sergeant turned and inclined his head. 
The majority of the time they rode it was in silence. By the time that they got to Modeus’s meeting point, Zarapheth was feeling claustrophobic. This was taking too long, he could feel the daemon writhing to be let loose and sink its claws into moist flesh, and Zarapheth was starting to feel the same. He was the first out of the land raider and stretched to his full height, and his tail hung loosely in the air. _"Ferrore, Nerr'ak, Rachael, Vladimir, Arcus, Zarapheth, Ridoranna. Attend to me and we shall discuss how the first stage of his battle shall be conducted."_ Zarapheth walked over to where Modeus’s voice emanated from, his lieutenants in tow, waiting to hear when and how first blood would be shed…


----------



## deathbringer

Darkness shrouded his vision, snapping their conversation to an abrupt conclusion, the blackness seeming to ooze over his senses, the dreadnaughts tremendous bulk fading into deep cloying blackness. Sight was denied him, his hearing stolen away. A stab of thought switched his bionic eyes to thermal vision yet nothing flared with heat within the darkness.

He was blind encased in a void and he let out a low growl, the daemon within suddenly stiffening, tasting the air it seemed to whirl within him, low laughter chilling his sense as they both reeled amongst the unnatural blackness.

A sensation gripped him, a deep unease, a feeling of powerlessness as a voice he knew so well, the warmth of familiarity somehow warped, tainted and twisted, seeped from the blackness, a poisonous ooze that made gnawed at his bones.

"Techmarine," the voice was greasy ringing with self satisfaction, enjoying the power, relishing the domination and Ferrore let out a savage snarl, plasma gun twitching in the darkness as vengeful frustration manifested itself in the tiniest of ticks.

Temptation to draw his blades flooded him, yet he witheld the urge and stood silently, mastering the emotion that ran, a tsunami of fear and unease tearing his insides asunder.

"It has come to my attention that Vlad knows you. More than just knows you, it seems, for I have never felt one struggle quite as deliciously as this one..."

Confusion broke the sudden stillness and ferrore paused, his features hardening to prevent emotion breaking across his face. What was the creatures motive, why come to him, why take this risk? Curiosity held him, even as fires of anger burned a flaming inferno tearing bloody streaks across his vision.

"He really has a surprisingly strong mind, you know. I have kept it scattered, but it has not been completely torn asunder; its constituent parts are very much whole, I just stop them from communicating. Divide and conquer, if you will," 

A chilling laugh cut across his mind, like the crack of a whip, the taunting of the daemon making him quiver with indignant rage. He would not allow his friend to suffer, he would not allow this daemon to make a fool of him. Vlad may have left him, yet he would not do the same, never abandon his friend in his time of need, he was no coward.

_"I see him"_ hissed the daemon within his soul and wariness bit against the rush of excitement _"his soul gutters like a fading candle, dim against the warp daemons spirt"_

"Where is he?" shot back Ferrore, as he readied himself, the words of the daemon flowed round him, barely penetrating the surface

"It seems our Lord Modeus has had a similar idea, to divide and conquer, what with this imitation of Isstvan. I was there, you know; Vlad wasn't, but I was. Most fun I've ever had."

_"Watch" hissed the daemon, the essence flowing from his mind to the plasma gun upon his hip. It circled slowly twitching behind him, to his left, pausing for a fraction of a second, and Ferrore leapt with a low snarl. Springing like a cat, his hand reaching out to clasp around the daemons throat with a cry of triumph. Pistons burst into life as the shroud thinned away a cry of surprise bursting from the daemons lips even as he was thrust up against the wall, metallic features twisted in rage thrust close to those slight features he knew so well, even as they contorted.

The daemon was struggling writhing in his grip and he thrust him against the wall again slammed him bodily into the cold stone, even as Zartharon giggled with twisted glee. His voice was low and growling, a softness within his words, looking through the daemon to the soul within

"You are not forgiven Vladimir Bo'reathkor, yet my qualms are with you and you alone, not with this vile abomination of the warp. I will not leave you in these daemoic shackles not while i draw breath."

His gaze fixed firmly upon the features contorted by anger, a savage contraction of his arm thrusting him against the wall with a low growl

"Beware daemon, Vlad's mind may be iron but I am steel, stubborn and far more vengeful. You have imprisoned a friend of mine daemon and I do not forget grudges. Now, speak your business weakling or slink back to the shadows like a good dog?"

The daemon paused emotions contorting across those familiar features, anger and hatred, irritation and annoyance, perhaps even fear lingered in the shadowy creases. Then it faded into a nauseating smile which began to fade away, the throat within his fingers seeming to ooze into powdery smoke, the distant rumbles of a triumphant sneering giggle drawing a snarl from his lips as his fingers closed upon emptiness.

He paused for a moment, staring upon the empty wall were his friends features had once resided, thoughts running through his mind failing to connect with his consciousness even as he turned away and began to stirde purposefully towards the outskirts of his fortress.

Keying into the vox, he heard preparations, the alpha legionnaires code emitting a mass of instructions and commands, terse responses of ascent coming from his troops and he wandered onwards trying to correlate his own response, to prepare his mind.

He was rattled, the daemon's words leaving his mind distracted his thoughts frayed, a sentence half finished. Slaughter would restore his mind, restore his consciousness, yet would be consigned to a desk job, to leading from the back. No that was not his style, yet he had to protect his troops, his tanks, his dreadnoughts. They would be the first targets, they had to be protected even amongst the madness....

It was a sight to steel the breath from his very lungs, a flotilla of thunderhawks, of gunships and troops transports, like a city above the fortress, an armada of bewildering proportions, defying the very concepts of probability, weaving and interweaving, as tanks and troops were relayed to the battlefield. The armies of Modeus moved for war.

Without breaking stride, warriors and machines parting like a wave before him, he strode up the ramp escorted by Drakhar to take his place at the head of the ancients, his techmarines weaving and bobbing as they secured their sarcophagi in place. Slowly he began to place the cables and cording around Drakhar's gleaming body, his metallic features contorting into a small smile as he heard the legionnaire give a slight purr of content.

"It has been too long little one"

The smile widened even as Ferrore gave the slightest of nods, it had been too long since he had drawn blood

_____________________________________________________

He stood upon the edge of the void shields, surveying the scene before him with a grim smile. The fortress seemed twisted, grimmer and darker, the cannons and charged weapons of its fortress seeming ever more menacing upon his return.

"Ferrore, Nerr'ak, Rachael, Vladimir, Arcus, Zarapheth, Ridoranna. Attend to me and we shall discuss how the first stage of his battle shall be conducted." 

The dreadnaught stood at his side, casting his features into shadow even as he turned to look at the great behemoth on his left

"How does one tell his lord he thinks his plan is beyond foolish" murmured Ferrore, eyes once more gazing upon the fortress shrouded by the crackling void shield

"With great delicacy and tact" riposted the dreadnaught, it's rumbling voice suddenly grave "you could ruin everything here little one, everything you have worked for,"

Ferrore through a despairing hand up

"This is a fortress, Istavaan relied upon the traitors being fully exposed and surrounded, blindsided on all sides. I cannot stand by and let him waste my troops on a folly"

"You all have a part to play..."

"but I have everything to loose" roared Ferrore with a low snarl whipping on his heel he strode towards the group forming around Modeus, fawning around him, none with the guts to inform him of the truth. That the plan was flawed, dulled by time, unadventurous and stilted.

Fuck it, he would tell him, even if none of them had the guts too.

"Your plan is flawed, the scenarios are entirely different, most importantly, you are not Horus, Modeus. Others may be content to kiss your ass but I will not stand by and risk my men to a pathetic immitation."

He stood apart from the others facing Modeus, half tempted to go for his weapons

"It is my risk, my warmachines that will be targetted by the wall defences. It is my forces that will take the heaviest losses and consequentially..."

he paused meeting Modeus right in the eye

"I want control during this attack."_


----------



## Midge913

As he hurtled back through the warp at a flick of the Relictor Lord's hand, Urien immersed him self in the sickly pulsing energy that surrounded him. The voices in his mind chattering, the intensity of their volume grown a hundred fold with in this realm of chaos, and he found himself laughing, cackling madly along with them. As his feet it the floor of the hallway he had been walking in, he smiled. It seemed like very little time had passed since he had been snatched away by the might of Modeus' sorcery. His retinue of plague marines stood stoicly where they had been, waiting his command. Cackling to himself he went about gathering the sacrifices that Lord Targel had demanded, the voices, now whispers in the corners of his mind, telling him that death and glory awaited him. 

------------------------------------------------

Standing in Garrond's throne room, at the right side of Lord Targel, Urien could not help but gloat inwardly as the Chaos Lord stormed and raged at the current situation. The steady drone of Astartes voices washed over him as Garrond's Generals reported that Modeus' forces had mobilized and were now heading toward the Fortress. Urien watched as fury consumed Garrond, his howls of rage and hatred music to his ears. Death..... Death would be coming. As always on the eve of battle maddness gripped him, images, voices, past and present assailed him. His mind broken, yet whole. Anymore the maddness made him more dangerous, capable of anything. In his mind he saw things more clearly than he ever had in sanity. He was not a fan of Modeus' plan, but he desired the fall of Garrond more than anything now. It was obvious that the Chaos Lord's strength had waned, he was no longer favored, the voices in his mind had said as much.

Garrond's sudden movement brought his attention back to the moment. The Chaos Lord began to direct his forces, his panic and anxiety clear in his voice, the man was afraid. He covered it well with his anger and rage, but Urien knew. The man was a weakling, to secure in his position, lazy. He no longer deserved to lead. Soon he would not.
Urien listend to Targel suggest that he and his Nurgle forces stay back on the second wall, just as Modeus had commanded, and was surprised when Garrond assented without arguement. Surely this was a sign that all could see. Garrond wasn't thinking, he was reacting out of fear. Pathetic...... 

----------------------------------

Standing on the walls, Urien was severely impressed with the might of Modeus' forces arrayed in the field in front of Garrond's Fortress. He smiled. He had made the right choice. Garrond and those loyal to him would be ground to dust. He longed for the battle to reach him. He resented the fact that Modeus had chosen to recreate the battle of Istavaan. Though the tactic was sound the glory would be lessened by his imitation. 

"Patience Urien," the voice of his madness whispered in his mind,"Glory will be had and the Dark Gods will be pleased."

A slow smile played across his rotten face..... Glory indeed.


----------



## Akatsuki13

Malphas stared out upon the mighty fortress of Garrond from his vantage point atop the second wall. He watched as the warriors of Garrond scurried below like the weak vermin they were, reading themselves for the battle and slaughter that was upon them. All around the Apostle stood the devoted warriors of the Word. Many wore the true colors of the Legion while others wore the colors of splinter warbands that had remained true the Lorgar and the Word despite their different allegiance. Some of his fellow Apostles viewed them as traitors of weak faith and some of them rightfully were but there were many that still held true to the Primarch and the Gods despite their change in colors. To Malphas that was all that mattered. Who they currently served, the colors of their armor, the name of the army they fought for, all meaningless, only faith mattered.

The Apostle of the Word had waited patiently for this moment since this little feud started. Visions from the Gods had racked his mind for hours on end, showing him the glories and triumphs that were to come, the conquests and victories that were before them, Garrond’s fall and Modeus’s ascension. This battle would see the end of the weakling Garrond and the rise of a stronger, worthier leader. It was rather poetic that this campaign against Imperium would begin with a battle styled after the opening battle of the Horus Heresy, the beginning of the righteous war against the False Emperor.

Isstvan V… The mere mention of it brought memories of righteous combat against those fools still clinging to the False Emperor and the joy of finally discarding the cloak of lies and falsehoods the Legion had worn until that day. Malphas had been but a mere battle brother back then, delivering fury and vengeance on the loyalist weaklings with blade and bolter. It would also be the last battle he and his brothers wore their old colors, the last vestiges of an age of ignorance. It had been one of the most glorious days of his life.

All around him his fellow warriors readied themselves for the battle to come. Bolters were loaded, swords readied, warriors knelt in silent in prayer to the Gods. He had told them what was coming and what the Gods had decreed. When the time came there would be no surprise, no hesitation and no mercy for foolish weaklings that stood in the way.

"From the fires of betrayal unto the blood of revenge we bring the name of Lorgar,” Malphas called out, reciting from memory a passage of the Lorgar. It was a prayer to the Gods and their Primarch for glory and victory. “The Bearer of the Word, the favored Son of Chaos, all praise be given to him. From those that would not heed we offer praise to those who do, that they might turn their gaze our way and gift us with the Boon of Pain, to turn the Galaxy red with the blood, and feed the hunger of the Gods…"

By vox and by sorcery his words were carried across the fortress, strengthening Astartes and driving mortal men into a zealous frenzy. Garrond may be doomed to fall this day but Modeus still needed to prove his worth to the Gods as well and after all, conflict breeds strength.


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## revan4559

Outside of Garronds Fortress: As for gather around the silver armoured Relictor Lord you are able to see in the true light of day just how much of a behemoth of an Astartes he is, while those armoured in the Tactical Dreadnought Armour are taller and bulkier than their power armoured brethren Modeus himself stands even taller than those forty silver armoured terminators he calls his brothers. As you approach Modeus turns to face you and as always he remains unhelmed so you can see his face which even though his chapter was created from the gene-seed of both the Ultramarines and Dark Angels Modeus himself clearly shows more the Dark Angel side with his high cheek bones, shoulder length raven black hair and pale skin. Before any of you are able to say a word after Vladimir drops to his knee and asks what Modeus's plan is as the Tech-Marine steps forth from one edge of the circular gathering and declares this plan of the Relictor Lord is foolish and inevitably will be costly for all of those attacking the fortress. Ponderously the behemoth form of Modeus turns on the spot to face you and the others that are gathered while his ever-changing colored eyes roam over each and every one of you before he inhales a deep breath before letting it out slowly obviously trying to remain calm due to Ferrore's outburst.

"With all due respect, Ferrore Tech-Marine of the Salamanders, Genetic Descendant of the Primarch Vulkan, Lord of the 18th Legion, You do not lead this warband. While I admire your honestly and will listen to what ever advice you and my other generals have to give in the end it is my decision how we execute the plans of war. While you all have been amassing your troops ready for this siege I have been thinking upon my original plan to recreate Isstvan and like you have come to the conclusion that such a plan will not work here. The void shields of this fortress are too strong for even the combined strength of all the artillery that has been gathered for the siege, given time the void shields would fall to continual shelling but I want to get these dispute between myself and Garrond dealt with as quickly as possible as while we squabble amongst ourselves the Imperium of the Corpse-Emperor rebuilds what it can after Lord Abbadons last crusade. So I have revised my battle plan and we shall hit them hard and fast, driving a burning spear tip into the heart of our foe and to do this I shall reign death and destruction upon Garrond and his followers from the sky." With that the Terminator Lord raises his right hand towards the sky to point directly upwards before he clenches his armoured hand into a fist and when you hear the grating sound of ceramite on ceramite your entire world erupts into blinding light and deafening noise as the heavens are split open by the devasting fire power of Modeus's fleet in orbit.

From your position next to Modeus your helmets start to filter out what they can of the background noise and blinding light from the lance strikes being reigned down from orbit by the battle barges and strike cruisers that have joined Modeus's warband though it does make you wonder where exactly Garrond's fleet is if it isnt trying to stop Garronds enemies from bombarding his fortress. Perhaps Modeus's fleet is larger than Garronds or maybe Garrond's is just lying in wait ready to ambush the Relictor Lords fleet. As you stand there with your fellow generals and Modeus you watch the lance strikes hit home each time against the fortress's void shields which thunderous explosions that shake the very ground you stand upon and it seems that Modeus was right, if the lance batteries are having trouble bringing down the void shields then the artillery pieces gathered would of taken even longer and you remember that there are Iron Warriors within Garrond's fortress who would surely use the time to dig in even deeper than they already have.

Garronds Fortress (Hardal, Aeron, Malphas and Urien): The four of you look out upon the warhost gathered against Garrond and wonder why Modeus's forces haven’t attacked yet but all soon becomes clear when the skies above the fortress are split asunder by the fury of lance batteries being fired from Modeus's fleet from orbit. As you watch the blazing spears of light fall forwards the fortress you are rooted to the spot as the lance beam meets the void shield with a thunderous sonic explosion which engulfs your world in light before your helmet filters out the excess light and allows you to see again. Looking up you can see that the bombardment is continuing and that it is mainly focused around the first wall and the fortress itself as it seems Modeus knows you are positioned on the second wall though why the lance batteries aren't firing upon the third wall you do not know. Turning your attention from the void shields around you and your comrades you look back out across the first wall and into the horde beyond trying to look for Modeus and as you see a silver armoured giant amongst a troop of individuals clad in different colored armor showing their allegiance to different gods and warbands you hear the voice of Modeus within your head (Aeron for you this is rather unpleasant as you don’t like Psykers). 

"Aeron, Warsmith, Dark Apostle, Urien. When I give the order I want you to divide your forces in two with half remaining on the wall waiting for those of the first wall to fall back and the other half preparing to assault the third wall, my plans have changed and re-creating Isstvan will cause problems that can be avoided, so when the first wall is breached I want you all to begin your assault on the third wall and by the time the Warsmith breaches the third wall the main force will be reinforcing you. Is that clear?" Modeus awaits your mental answers before his presence within your mind lessens but doesn't wholly vanish as it seems he wants to keep an eye on each of you. (Split your forces, ill pm you with what you have so you can decide who stays on the wall and who assaults the third wall.)

Outside of Garronds Fortress: As you stand with Modeus watching the orbital bombardment of the fortress's void shields you start to get reports from your squads and followers that they are forming into their units/squads and embarking on their transports ready for when the first wall has been breached, In vladimir's case his thunderhawk has touched down behind Modeus's land raider currently situated behind the group gathered around the terminator armoured lord. Shifting his massive bulk around to look at each one of you again he focus's his attention on Vladimir, Ferrore and Nerr'ak: "Tech-Marine, Sorcerer, Raptor. You three are my oldest brothers within this warband save those that remain of my once beloved chapter and I know now that I made the right choice in appointing you as my generals, once this battle is finished I ask that you re-affirm your loyalties for the coming wars that will make the Imperium bleed and burn. If however you choose to try and take the position of leader of this warband from me then the company of the Great Four will be nothing compared to the pain I will inflict upon you and all those sworn to your service now I believe the void shields shou...." Modeus instantly then turns on the spot to look up at sky above the fortress as the vox unit in his armor screams into life with reports, shouts and curses that would make even an Ork blush. Should any of you ask what is wrong you soon get an answer but not from Modeus himself by a vast shadow appearing over the fortress which only picks up speed as it descends and while you stare at the descending blackened shape Modeus shouts across all the warbands vox networks "Everyone scatter! find cover! and brace for impact!" and in a couple of heartbeats you see why the Relictor Lord shouts this order.

Descending from orbit is a strike cruiser in the color of silver grey of the Relictors chapter plummeting prow first from space downwards to meet the hard earth of the planet below like a blazing silver sword hurled from the heavens by Khorne himself to strike down all in the name of blood and glory and while you scatter to search for cover you look back to see that it is only the front quarter of the ship falling down towards the gathered warlines of Modeus's warband with the rest of the ship following shortly behind the shovel shaped prow of the cruiser but unlike the frontal part of the Astartes ship the remaining hull stands to break up into large chunks and hurtles its way straight down towards the Garrond's fortress and its waiting void shields.

Garronds Fortress (Hardal, Aeron, Malphas and Urien): As you order your men to split up into squads all the sky above the fortress becomes dark which draws the attention of all within the fortress and those outside as you and they watch a strike cruiser of the Relictors break up as it enters the atmosphere of the daemon-world and before you know it the rest of the ship shortly follows descending straight towards the void shields above you head. Snapping out of your awe struck state you take stock of what is happening around you and you see that everyone on all three walls are scattering and trying to either get themselves into the tunnels beneath the fortress or inside of the fortress itself as it has more layers of void shielding than the walls, while you shout orders to your lieutenants over the vox network to find safe places to get to, you inturn hear them shouting their orders to the squads they lead while the crazed Daemon Engines seem to be oblivious to the danger descending upon them. Turning from your position you stand to make your way off of the wall with all the speed you can muster while lashing out with bolt and blade at anyone slow enough to get in your way as you pray to not only your patron god but the entirety of the Great Four that you get out of this alive so you can slay in their name.

Ridoranaa: Breaking away from the meeting you sprint straight towards the gaping maw of a rhino and barrel your way inside while turning to help Astartes from other parts of the warband inside swell though the cultists that try to entire the rhino are swiftly dispatched by you and the other Astartes already inside as the life of an Astartes is worth a thousand of the low-born and cowardly mortals. Once the rhino's capacity reaches ten marines including yourself you slam your fist into the "close hatch" button on the side of the wall and bark orders for daemon-servitor to take you straight towards the main fighting arena as you guess that of all the buildings in this damned city it has the toughest walls and there you can shelter until the dust settles before the assault is renewed after that ever devastation is wrought by the falling ship.

Nerr'ak: Sprinting as fast as your terminator armor can carry your massive weight towards the opening hatch of Vladimir's thunderhawk having decided that it will be the quickest way to escape the falling ship and as you make your way towards the inside of the thunderhawk you slam your fists into both Astartes and Cultists alike to shove them out of your way as your daemonic mount floats over your head and settles in the back of the thunderhawks transportation compartment. Shortly followed by your daemon is the form of Vladimir as his lets loose with his jump pack and soars over head of all others before dropping onto the boarding ramp and looking back across those running inside, as you set foot onto of the assault ramp you feel the heavy and thunderous footsteps of the Alpha Legion dreadnought that spends most of its time in the company with Ferrore as it shoulders its way inside where two tech-marines that got inside ahead of you start to secure the dreadnought chassis to the cargo hold. When you finally enter the thunderhawk you look around to see that other than Vladimir, your daemon, and the dreadnought only twenty other marines managed to get inside before Vladimir closed the ramp and strapped himself into one of the harness's, over the vox network you can still hear the shouts and curses of other marines though you soon push those thoughts aside as you focus on praying to the changer to allow you to survive this.

Ferrore: While the rest of those gathered around Modeus scatter to try and secure themselves some transport so they can escape the devastation that will soon follow from the falling chunks of starship, you remain standing by Modeus as he looks up at was one of his strike cruisers with a look that appears to be somewhere between burning rage and curious amusement. After several more moments Modeus turns his hulking mass to look directly at you before motion for you to follow him as he makes his way towards his land raider as it appears other land raiders gather around it to form something akin to the eight pointed star of chaos. “Traveling by Thunderhawk would be the quickest way to get out of the destruction zone but judging by the speed that cruiser is falling at we wouldn’t get far before the shockwave catches up with us. I take it you’ve been deployed by teleportation before when you were a loyalist Ferrore?” Finally reaching the land raider Modeus hauls himself upon it before looking down at the other land raiders gathered. “Try to stay still Ferrore this could be rather unpleasant and I would hate to lose you in the tides of the warp.” You curiosity takes the better of you and you stop where you are as Modeus raises both of his arms and raises to float two feet above the land raiders hull as multi-colored lightning earths itself off Modeus and the other land raiders before there is a blinding flash and the sense of dislocation as you are pulled through the warp to where ever Modeus is teleporting you. When the feeling of dislocation subsides and your optical implants readjust to normal light levels you look around to see Modeus has brought you to the city arena where the blood tournament was held. Slowly floating back down so he stands ontop of the raider’s hull Modeus’s ever changing eyes look upon you as he smiles. “Now all we do is wait.”

Rachael: Turning from the group you sprint as fast as you can towards a waiting rhino which already has marines dedicated to the Dark Prince making their way inside as one of them turns to you and stares at you with his red eye lenses before making his own way inside leaving the rhino side doors open as the engine starts to growl into life and turn on the spot looking for an escape passage. You manage to catch up and throw yourself into the rhino transport just as its tracks whirl into life kicking up dirt and dust behind it as the Astartes transport grinds its way through tightly packed cultists in its attempt to escape the falling pieces of star ship. Pushing yourself up off your chest and onto your fleet you look around the transport compartment and notice that all the marines inside are part of your warband though the transport they are in is not meaning they obviously stole it in their attempt to get away though one of them is not apart of your warband as you see it is infact an apocathery that has recently joined the warband. Perhaps you could persuade him to join your forces as you recall none of you marines have the skill of an apocathery when it comes to dealing with battle field injuries or even collecting the fabled gene-seed that is what makes an Astartes an Astartes.

Zarapheth: Upon seeing the falling strike cruiser you let out a howling laugh as all those within are condemned to the embrace of the Great four before you turn on your heels, drop onto all fours and start to run as fast as your super human demonically infused body can carry you towards a thunderhawk in the colors of the Alpha Legion where you can see your ‘pack’ members already hauling themselves inside while throwing out any cultists they can find within along with two rather unfortunate Iron Warriors who managed to get into the center of the cargo hold before being torn to pieces for taking up valuable room with their servitors that follow them. As soon as your talons/hands scrape against the assault ramp you bellow orders at the pilot to take off and head back to Nerr’aks fortress which will be so much quicker to get to in a thunderhawk and your hoping as it is part of a mountain it will shield you from the shockwave that will be created by the falling star ship.

Arcus: As soon as you see the shadow of the strike cruiser falling your first instinct is to pivot on the spot and look for an available transport to take you somewhere safe and as the rest of the warband scatters trying to find what shelter they can you see one such transport in the form of a Rhino situated not that far from your position. Sprinting towards the rhino transport you see several members of the Emperors Children carrying strange weaponry make their way inside of the rhino and each one of them turns their head to look at you when they enter and gaze at you with mildly disinterested eyes. Not bothering to introduce yourself as the narthacirum upon your left arm marks you as an Apocathery meaning that you will be vital to saving them should any of them get injured or needing to extract their gene-seed should any of them fall in the coming battles. As the transport lurches into life you hear a heavy thud and clank behind you and as you turn you see one of the dark sisters laying face down on the floor behind you before she pushes herself up, quickly sifting through your memories you remember that this is one of Modeus’s generals and is the main commander of the forces of Slaanesh meaning it is entirely possible that she commands these marines 

Vladimir: Staring up at the falling strike cruiser you wonder what kind of terror those still alive on the ship are feeling as their world literally burns around them, as you are one of the sons of the Night Haunter(if I remember correctly) and terror is your greatest weapon. Turning from the burning wreck of a falling star ship you see all others around you scatter to try and get to what ever transport they can so they are able to get away from the destruction falling from the heavens, as you look at the thunderhawk in the colors of the Night Lords you activate your jump pack and hurtle through the air towards it passing over the fleeing Nerr’ak who is making his way to your thunderhawk as well as the Alpha Legion Dreadnought who is usual seen in the company of Ferrore. Landing on all fours in the true style of one of the Night Lord Raptor cult known as the Bleeding Eyes you push yourself back onto two feet as you do not wish to join their ranks at all(or yet, we will talk about it?) and you turn to look out across the scenes in front of you see that Modeus and Ferrore are making their way to a land raider surrounded by another eight of them but before you find out what your Lord is doing Nerr’ak and the Dreadnought push their way passed you to head into the cargo hold. Seeing that Modeus, Ferrore and the land raiders have now disappeared you press the button on the side of the cargo hold to bring up the thunderhawks assault ramp as you hear the whine of the engines and the entire aircraft jolt as it takes off, with the help of the gods your thunderhawk should be far enough away from the destruction soon to be wrought upon the face of the planet.

Aeron: After seeing the strike cruiser break up into pieces and hurtle towards the fortress even you and your fellow brothers who follow the Blood God realize that standing out in the open is not the best idea, therefore you look around to see that the others around you are sprinting off in different directions to try and get to a safe place. Your main focus however is the Warsmith Hardal who is making his way to one of the towers which will lead to the catacombs beneath the fortress which should provide enough cover from the falling pieces of star ship, and if anyone knows how much punishment a fortress can withstand then it would be one of the sons of Perturabo. Sprinting to catch up to the Warsmith Hardal you look back to see that the Nurgle worshippers Lord Targal and his lieutenant Urien are having a rather leisurely stroll towards one of the bunkers located at the far end of the second wall which could mean that Lord Targal knows something the other commanders do not but you have made your choice to stick with the Warsmith and enter the tower with him before descending into the depths of the catacombs with him and his warriors. (Also see Hardals update for info on the catacombs).

Malphas: Looking at the falling strike cruiser you cant help but laugh when you notice that it is in the colors of the Relictors chapter and you wonder if this is some form of sign that the from the ashes of the Relictor chapter, a new stronger warband will be born from its gene-seed or perhaps its just Garronds fleet focused all their fire power on one of Modeus’s ships to prove a point. After a few more moments you snap out of your little world to look around you to see that your faithful still stand with you but they are looking for escape routes so they can get away from the falling chunks of star ship that will inevitably knock out the void shields. “Dark Apostle, please come with us to safety” says one of the Word Bearers to your left before they motion to one of the bunkers build into the second wall which if you remember from looking over details about the fortress some of the bunkers themselves have their own minor void shields which could protect from the smaller parts of the star ship. Turning to face the bunker you make your way at what ever pace you decide to set with the rest of your chosen following both behind you as you are more important than they are as are the Dark Apostle, and upon reaching the bunker two of your chosen enter before you before they start literally throwing cultists back out of the entrance and into the dirt so here is more room for you and your Astartes.

Urien: Staring up at the falling starship your attention quickly shifts to look at those gathered around you as you hear a thick gurgling laughter that also sounds like tomb stones being smashed together and you quickly realize that it is Lord Targal laughing as his back is arched and his shoulders shaking before he speaks in his phlegm filled voice. “ Marvelous, just marvelous so much death and despair. Father Nurgle will be pleased indeed” and for some reason you and the other plague marines can’t help but laugh along with your current master but after a few more moments he stops and slams the butt of his man-reaper into the ground silencing you and the others. “Now my brothers we must read to the relative safety of the catacombs where we can enact the next stage of the plan. We shall make our way through the catacombs from this wall to the third wall and assault it through each of the towers. Urien you are coming with me.” With that the hulking corrupted terminator form of Targal ponderously turns on the spot and heads towards one of the wall towers which leads down into the catacombs. Ordering the remainder of your men to follow you can’t help but feel giddy at the fighting and slaughter that is to come. Following behind Targal you enter the tower and descend the stars into the waiting darkness and the deeper you go the darker it becomes until some of your warriors turn on the lamps attached to backpacks and helmets illuminating grand architecture of some forgotten civilization though looking at the sculptures it seems that they are all similar to those of the cursed Eldar that fell from grace over 10,000 years ago when they created the Prince of Pleasure from acts of murder and excess. “Oh well” you think to yourself as you follow Targal through the winding tunnels.

Hardal: As the shadow of the falling strike cruiser descends upon the fortress you look across the entirety of the second wall trying to think of some form of escape plan of how to get out of this very dangerous situation and remember that several of the wall towers have stairs that descend into the catacombs situated deep beneath the surface of the planet which lead from wall to wall and eventually into the lower dungeons of the fortress which will also help you with your new orders from Modeus as it means you can assault the third wall from under Garrond’s own feet. As you make your way to one of the wall towers you are joined by the Khornate berserker Aeron who seems to have gotten the idea that you know where the safest part of the fortress is as you are an iron warrior, a son of the master of siege craft: Perturabo. You, Aeron and those followers of yours who haven’t scattered to go into the other towers enter the closest of the watchtowers on the wall and descend the stairs down into darkest and deepest levels of the catacombs where you should be safe from the falling star ship debris. Activating your backpack mounted light you shine it around and look upon the ancient architecture of the Eldar race that once lived on this world until their race was almost destroyed, you can barely contain your disgust at the statues and other artwork built into these catacombs as they aren’t defensive at all. Ignoring the walls and other Eldar artifacts scattered around the place you make your way with your warriors towards the catacombs located under the third wall ready to prepare your assault and while your on the way you get vox reports that Lord Targal and his sorcerer Urien are in the catacombs with their warriors aswell along with that your warriors have done what they can to put your siege machines in the safest place they can in the short time they were given.

All: As the burning wreckage of the strike cruiser ‘Night of Mourning’ hurtles its way form the upper atmosphere of Drakkashi downwards Garronds fortress several more elements of the main ship break off from its hull and slam into the surface of the planet several miles away from both the city and the fortress though the resulting collisions send great sonic booms that can be heard for hundreds of miles around along with shaking the very ground itself though while these elements of the ship caused untold destruction to the surrounding area it is the prow of the ship falling like a sword thrown by the gods straight towards the fortress that will cause the most damage. As the blazing prow of the ‘Night of Mourning’ is coming it at an angle it is likely to burn up the ships before striking part of the city and it does just that. As the blazing prow of the ship strikes the void shields surrounding the fortress and walls there is a blaze of light as the shields try to absorb the force of the impact but as the ships prow screeches its way along the void shields towards the city the tech-marines and tech-priests within the fortress itself do what they can to try and stop the shield generators from overloading but before they can reconfigure the shields the remaining hull of the ship collides with the shields above the first and second wall overloading the void shields completely which results in the generators themselves exploding sending razor sharp pieces of metal scything through the air into the servitors, tech-priests and tech-marines that were trying to maintain them.

With a sound much akin popping sound the void shields fail and the ship debris is free to fall straight onto those structures that were in their projected path. The prow of the ship crashed directly into the first walls main catch with stone shattering force pulverizing the obsidian stone into dust and tearing the adamantine gates to shreds before it crashed into the ground several hundred meters away and gouging a deep crater that stretches straight into the city crushing ancient buildings into rubble until it finally settles half a mile into the city as its still burning hull starts to cool. While the force of the prow hitting the planet was bad enough to shake the very cities foundations resulting in ancient towers, buildings and masonry that is millennia old to shake itself into dust and rubble and even forcing all those within the city already in their shelters or within their transports to grab a hold of anything they can least they be forced to their knee’s due to the constantly shaking but the force of the prow of the ‘Night of Mourning’ is nothing compared to the following destruction about to be caused by the rest of the ship.

The remaining hull of the strike cruiser slams straight down into the hundreds of meter gap between the first and second wall sending a thunderous sonic blast to echo of hundreds of miles around and with the force of an atomic warhead going of almost levels the first wall completely as it has already been weakened by the prow of the ship slamming into it. The hull punches straight into the very catacombs under the fortress resulting in the shockwave resonating throughout the entire catacomb system knocking all those within no matter where they are straight off their feet and bringing rubble from the ceiling down ontop of many unlucky cultists and marines while sealing off some tunnels completely. Above ground the pillar of dust and debris that was thrown into the air due to the impact explodes outwards to form a wall of swirling sand, dust and rocks that sweep into the city as if there wasn’t anything barring its way, while the wall of dust hits the second wall of the fortress and while some of it is stopped it passes straight over it and into the third wall before finally reaching the fortress shattering windows and blowing open heavy iron doors.

Within the arena at the center of the city those taking shelter their see the wall of dust go roll over each of the arena pits while like at the fortress blasting open heavy iron doors and shattering windows allowing the dust storm to roll inside and those within helmets, which is mainly the cultists and mutants, start to choke on the heavy particles of dirt and dust in the air while those marines without their helmets on quickly don them in order to not suffer the fate of the mortals. While anyone inside of a transport merely find that the ride has gotten a lot worse even though Astartes transports weren’t famed for being comfortable anyway, those inside of aircraft find that their pilots are doing what ever they can to stop the transport from crashing into buildings or the ground though thanks to the dust storm it is making it very hard to complete that task with some raptors deciding it best to get out of their thunderhawks and take their chances outside in the dust storm. As the ground slowly starts to stop shaking and the dust and dirt starts to settle the falling pieces of the ship finally find their resting places on the planets surface those that have survived the falling star ship exit their shelters and look around to see what is left of the fortress and the city beyond it and quickly reform into their squads and await orders from their squad leaders and masters.

Modeus Warband: After the dust settles and the warband stands to gather you all hear Modeus’s voice ring out over vox units and through your head due to his psychic powers. “All Warriors are to make haste back to the fortress and prepare for the assault. The falling strike cruiser has been an odd blessing by the gods as the void shields of the fortress are down and the first wall has been breached. All units make haste to the fortress! For the Glory of the Dark Gods!”.


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Modeus Warband: After returning back to the fortress you can see the devastation that has been wrought by the strike cruisers prow and main hull as the first wall has been almost completely demolished with the occasional wall section and tower still standing thanks to their own separate void shielding. After disembarking your transports you look around at the gathering warband and see that most of it is still intact though quite a few squads have still failed to report in and some of the thunderhawks are missing. Joining your squad you prepare for the assault and await the arrival of Modeus though you do not have to wait long as you see the terminator armoured standing ontop of his land raider with the salamander tech-marine Ferrore standing with him and once enough of the warband has gathered the Modeus voice rings out once again. “Brothers and Sisters. Now is the time to bring glory to the gods in the fires of battle, kill, maim and slaughter to your hearts content! Kill all those who stand in your way and do not stop until the fortress is ours and the false champion of the gods, Garrond, is a lifeless husk! Forwards! Blood and Glory await us!”. With that Modeus land raider lurches forward as he carries him and his warriors within the raider straight towards the walls and while most of Garronds forces are still making their way out of their shelters and the fortress itself some have managed to get back to the first wall and are now bringing their weapons to bare in and attempt to stop you and the others from attacking the second and third wall and than after that the fortress, it seems that now the really battle begins.

Ridoranaa: Within your rhino you stand at one of the firing points with your bolter aimed out of the slot firing at those of Garronds forces that stand up out of cover as your rhino speeds its way to the wall of rubble that was original the gate house of the first wall. As you manage to pick off three Astartes with clean headshots despite the rough ride of the rhino transports and as you get closer to the wall of rubble you mag-lock your bolter back to your thigh after reloading it and pull your power scythe out of its sheath on your back and pick up your storm shield and make your way to one of the hatches of the rhino while bellowing orders to those marines in your rhino to follow you even though they aren’t part of your forces. The rhino then jolts to a stop as it is unable to make its way up the wall of rubble the access ramps slam open letting day light float in along with several bolt rounds aimed from the defenders though luckily you had your storm shield held up so the bolts harmlessly bounce off, sprinting out of the rhino and up the rubble you are confronted with a renegade sergeant from Angels of Iron chapter who quickly drops his bolt run and rushes down the slope to meet you in combat with his chainsword roaring into life along with the power field of his chainsword. (Do not kill him though you may wound him, I leave the opening of the fight up to you.)

Nerr'ak: Luckily for you and Vladimir the thunderhawk you were in managed to touch down in your own fortress miles away from the falling starship so you and those within are unharmed along with the thunderhawk and upon receiving the order from Modeus to return to the front lines you have no choice but to as it is Vladimir’s thunderhawk. Looking around you see that Vladimir and his raptors are preparing their jump packs while the tech-marines unlock the harness holding down the dreadnought as it gets ready to enter battle more though it is very likely you will be doing a jump pack assault though you are in terminator armor and will not be able to do such however you do remember that your disk of Tzeentch can easily carry your massive wait and float down towards the fortress. Turning to stand ontop it you look around at those gathered again and feel the thunderhawk start to judder and shake as it is targeted by anti-aircraft weaponry that is still operational on the fortress itself, whispering a pray to Tzeentch you watch the assault ramp of the thunderhawk descend as Vladimir and his raptors throw themselves out of the thunderhawk and into the skies above the fortress to join the battle. You shortly follow upon your disc and look down to see that you have deployed very close to the second wall and that you could easily find somewhere to begin the ritual of summoning daemons but first of all you have to deal with a sorcerer from the warband known as the Scourged as he spots you upon your disc and starts hurling lightning bolts at you.

Ferrore: After being hauled ontop of the land raider by Modeus himself he pats you on the shoulder and it rumbles its way back to the fortress of Garrond. “Well Ferrore it seems the last act of this tournament is about to be played out in a bloody battle that will at least appease the Dark Gods thirst for death and destruction if only slightly. I hope you will stand by me brother as this will be glorious!” With that Modeus starts to vox orders to all of the squads in the warband while receiving and dealing with reports that are coming from the fleet above the planet as they engage Garronds fleet in orbital warfare. As Modeus’s land raider thunders its way through the city you remain quite as you listen in to him give orders and he occasionally turns to look at you with those eyes filled with knowledge, wisdom and madness before looking back up at the heavens, finally you reach the edge of the city and see the devastation down by the fallen star ship and your hearts ache to see such a wonderful and ancient machine be brought so low.

After hearing Modeus’s small speech the land raider jerks forward again and heads straight towards a small gap in the wall of rubble though you do feel slightly exposed ontop of the land raider but Modeus seems not to care as he draws his power sword and the blades of his lightning claw extend. As the land raider crashes into a smaller pile of rubble and the front end of the land raider points upwards Modeus stands bolt upright and hurls himself off of the land raider and into a group of Chaos marines with his sword and claw flashing out. This leaves you ontop of land raider as it grinds to a stop in the just beyond the wall of rubble you have time to dismount just as three crazed Khorne berserkers come charging out you screaming to the Blood God in order to gain his favor and it seems the terminators inside of the land raider are going to leave you to deal with them as they head off to meet up with their master Modeus. (Leaving it up to you deathy on how you deal with these 3.)

Rachael: Drawing your power sword your prepare for what ever opponents there are as your rhino rumbles its way along to the wall of rubble that used to be the first wall of Garronds fortress and two of your noise marines are stationed at the rhino’s firing points unleashing their strange sonic weaponry upon the enemies with screeching tunes and deep base notes that shatter stone and pulverize bone. As your rhino grinds to a stop at the foot of the small sloped mountain of rubble the access ramps lower allowing you, your marines and the apocathery to leave the rhino and join the battle and as you step outside into the rather small hailstorm of flying bolter rounds you get a good look at Modeus’s force making its way from the city edge towards what was the first wall and it is magnificent as transports rumble their way forward, marines and cultists sprint their way to engage in bloody brutal battle, thunderhawks saw over head and the daemon engines and dreadnoughts stomp their way forward. Turning from the forces assault the wall you turn to look at those defending it and see a group of Astartes from the Brotherhood of Darkness warband directing cultists to bring some salvaged heavy auto-cannons and las-cannons to bare on the transports. It would be best to take out these marines and cultists so that none of the transports or daemon engines are brought down as they will be needed to assault the second and third wall, rushing up the slope with ease thanks to your daemonic speed you leap off of a boulder and land in amongst the group as the Astartes turn to face you with bolt pistols barking and chainblades roaring into life. Now is the time to reap souls in the name of the Dark Prince.

Zarapheth: Clinging to the inside of the alpha legion thunderhawk you look around at the members of your pack and see they are doing similar things as the transport tries to remain airborne during the shockwave created by the hull of the strike cruiser slamming into the planets surface and after several minutes of your stomach trying to relocate itself in your throat through the turbulence the thunderhawk finally levels out and you receive orders from Modeus order you all back to the fortress to begin the assault. Letting go of the cargo holds hull, which leaves deep claw marks in the metal, you stand back up on two legs and look around a the pack as some of them revert back to their more humanoid forms and make their way to the assault ramp while waiting for the order to attack. Making your way over to the ramp you take your place at the head of the group and stare straight ahead while wondering what kind of prey you will have to deal with first of all, you wouldn’t mind fighting another possessed to prove your daemons superiority though it is more likely the possessed of Garrond are still within the fortress so you don’t mind slaughtering cultists and ‘normal’ Astartes for now. After around ten minutes of waiting the assault ramp lowers which allows the howling wind to fill the cargo hold with almost deafening noise and as you look down you see that you are still a good forty meters above the second wall where members of Garrond’s warband are starting to take up defensive positions as Modeus’s warband starts its assault on what remains of the first wall. Hurling yourself out of the ramp your daemonic side takes over as you slam into the second wall creating a small crater upon impact as the rest of your pack follows suit with some landing upon groups of cultists trying to prepare heavy weapons and as you look for an opponent one finds you in the form of a hulking terminator of the Apocalypse Company levels his twin-linked bolter at you and unleashes a hailstorm of bolter rounds that start to ping off and impact against your armor and as you charge towards the terminator you see that clutched in his right hand is a screaming daemonic obsidian axe. This should be interesting indeed. (No 1 post killing him)

Arcus: Luckily for you the rhino that you have taken shelter in survives the shockwave created by the falling starship and you have now received orders from Modeus to return to Garronds fortress and prepare for battle. While the rhino transport makes its way back to the front line you make sure all the accessories on your narthacirum work much to the discomfort of the noise marines within the rhino as they watch you use the tools for extracting gene-seed from the corpses of Astartes. After several minutes two of the noise marines take up positions at the firing points of the rhino and unleash their strange sonic weaponry upon those defenders that have managed to get to the rubble that was original the first wall of the fortress with shrieks and deep bass notes which by the sounds of it are shattering stone and pulverizing bone. It seems though you wish to prove yourself to be a capable warrior and champion you will have your work cut out for you extracting the gene-seed of both sides and healing the warriors of Modeus. Drawing your power sword and infernus pistol you await the access ramps of to open before watching the dark sister and her noise marines exit and join the battle, stepping out of the cover of the rhino’s interior you look around to see that Modeus’s warband are making their way straight towards the wall of rubble. As bolter rounds start to slam into the side of the rhino you look up to see three marines of Deathmongers firing down at you having identified you as an apocathery and they intend to take you out before you can get on with your sacred task. (How you deal with the three is up to you.)

Vladimir: Your thunderhawk manages to touch down in Nerr’aks mountain fortress before the shockwave manages to catch up along with the wall of dust and dirt that was thrown into the air and pushed along by the shockwave. After waiting within your thunderhawk for several minutes the dust storm finally stops and you receive orders from Modeus that all forces are to start their assault on the fortress your thunderhawk takes off again and you receive several reports that some more of your thunderhawks have survived and are now following behind yours though nine of your thunderhawks have failed to report in out of the original thirty of them. As your flotilla of thunderhawks arrives at the end of the city the assault ramp of the thunderhawk lowers and your raptors drop onto all fours and crawl their way to the edge and await the orders to descend from the skies screeching like birds of prey upon the fortress of Garrond, moving forward to join your raptors you look back to see Nerr’ak standing ontop of his daemonic disc while the two tech-marines unlock the harness holding down the Alpha Legion dreadnought. Looking back out through the opening assault ramp your raptors pick their targets and hurl themselves out of the thunderhawk at their intended prey upon the second wall and you follow suit though if you decide to follow in their example as they shout the battle cries of the night lords legion; “Ave Dominus Nox!” and “We have come for you!”. You activate your jump pack to slow your descent before slamming down ontop of a group of cultists crushing them underfoot and turn around to look for a worthy opponent seeing a chaos champion of the Pyre armed with a pair of lightning claws turn his terminator armoured bulk to look at you he raises his hands into a challenge like salute before stomping his way towards you.

Aeron: As you, Hardal and his forces make your way through the catacombs you detect movement up ahead after you travel for five minutes and after activating the light on the side of your helmet you see that there are several marines of Garronds own forces up ahead and without further instructions from anyone else, seeing as you do not take orders from Hardal or anyone else other than Modeus. You activate your chain-axes and charge forward shouting praises to the blood god as you crash into the group of marines and lay about with your axes cutting into ceramite armor and removing limbs until something large slams into you knocking you off your feet and onto your back. Quickly pushing yourself back up you see the unmistakable form of the continually mutating form of a chaos spawn in front of you that appears to have been a champion of Khorne at one point due to the symbols branded onto its flesh. Grinning like a madman at this worthy opponent you charge forward to meet the monstrous spawn head on while allowing Hardal and his forces to deal with the rest of the marines accompanying the spawn. (Remember that this is a chaos spawn and won’t be able to be killed in 1 post.)

Malphas: As the bunker stops shaking your warriors open the sealed hatch and stop out to look at the devastation wrought by the falling strike cruiser and you see that the first wall has been turned into a pile of rubble and that the main hull of the strike cruiser has buried itself between the second and third wall like some strange statue. As you exit the bunker you see marines exiting other void shielded bunkers as your own forces start to fall in and gather around you waiting for your orders(choice of orders are up to you). After giving orders to your forces you look upon the third wall and start to make your way towards it getting ready to assault it and eventually the fortress after the wall has fallen and seeing as Garrond’s forces do not know you are a traitor just yet they allow your forces through the gate and into the space between the wall and the fortress. Making your way up one of the towers and onto the third wall you see that Lord Commander Helstrom of the forces of Slaanesh within the fortress is already here along with his chosen noise marines though he ignores you completely as he focuses on the battle that is now being fought for control of the pile of rubble what was the first wall. Turning your attention from the Emperors Children you look over to see that the other section of the wall is being garrisoned by hundreds of the Reborn and you start to hear whispers from the daemons of Slaanesh that you can leave Commander Helstrom to his own devices and focus your attention on slaying the Reborn. Taking your terminator bodyguard known as the Anointed (word bearers omnibus) towards the Reborn one of them turns to look at you as the power field of your accursed crozius he shouts orders to his men to turn their bolters upon you as the warrior then thrusts his hand out to you sending a gout of orange flame. Sorcerer…..This should be interesting. (Leaving this up for you decide what happens.)

Urien: Following Lord Targal through the catacombs you still look around at the ancient Eldar sculptures and architecture until the proximity to Lord Targal forces it to darken and fall into dust and pieces clearly your Lord and Master is still blessed by Grandfather Nurgle and you just wish you could have been one of the original Death Guard so you could of met Targal’s gene-father the Great Mortarion. As you continue to follow Targal he doesn’t say a word as he listens to the sporadic vox reports from all other parts of his and your forces about the destruction that has been wrought on the surface of the planet and that Modeus’s warband has now begun its assault on the fortress and after spending give minutes wondering aimlessly you round a corner and are confronted by members of Garrond’s own warband though you do not know what the name of that warband is. Turning to face you they raise their bolters before they recognize Targal and lower them, “Lord Targal we are pleased to see you, the forces of the usurper Modeus are attacking the fortress and Lord Garrond requests your assis...” The warrior’s voice is then cut off as Targal’s man-reaper parts his head from his shoulders in a fountain of corrupted blood as the plague-lord continues to strike forward and to some unknown destination as his voice then fills your head. “Urien deal with these insects and then assault the third wall before meeting up with Lord Modeus. I am going to seek out Garrond and take his head as a prize to present to our new lord. You are in charge until I return.” As you watch Targal disappear into the shadows ahead of you the forces of Garrond open fire upon your warriors and you though your terminator armor can not be penetrated by bolter rounds but there is something strange you sense as a blue lightning bolt strikes a Death Guard terminator to your right and you realize a psyker is among them and you are easily able to find his location. Standing to one size he wears the dark blue armor of his warband/chapter and in his right hand is a black daemonic weapon with glowing blue runes of Tzeentch, it seems that Father Nurgle wishes to pit one of his sorcerers(you) against one of his brothers. (Leaving this up to you but no 1 post killing him.)

Hardal: After making your way through the catacombs with the berserker Aeron and your personal iron warrior forces you listen to the static filled vox reports coming in from your surface forces that Modeus’s warband has already started its attack and that they were able to save most of your war machines with several of your Lieutenants asking if you want your two war-hound titans brought in to help break open the fortress though they would help deploying the titans would be time consuming and it is likely that the battle would be over before they ever have a chance to set foot within the fortress grounds. After giving your men your orders you turn your attention back to the Khorne warrior with you as he charges forward with his chain swords roaring into life as he crashes into some of Garrond’s own personal troops and starts hacking into them mercilessly before getting knocked onto his back by a hulking shadow that could only be a chaos spawn. Turning their attention from the Khorne warrior to you and your troops Garronds men open fire with their bolt pistols, bolters, and heavy bolters and by the sound of several auto-cannons which turn one of your warriors behind you and to your right into a cloud of ceramite, blood, and flesh as he explodes from the high caliber shells. It would be best to engage the heavy weaponry in close combat getting to them without the hailstorm of bolt rounds will be hard but luckily for you there is a loud stomping sound as one of your ancient dreadnought brethren stomps up from behind your forces and shields you with his armoured bulk but even he wont be able to hold out against the auto-cannon long. As you bellow your orders at your men to engage the enemy a shadow drops down from the ceiling straight onto you and you see that it is one of Garrond’s raptors as he tries to choke the life out of you with his hands clearly ignoring the weapons attached to his waist. You should deal with the raptor first of all and then engage Garronds forces in close combat, remember that as you are a Warsmith of the Iron Warriors you have a servo-arm attached to your back pack.

Taurus: You stand with Lord Commander Helstrom of the Slaanesh forces within Garronds warband as he looks out from across the third wall to observe the battle for what is left of the first wall unfold, you look upon your current master and can’t help but see the similarities between him and your gene-father Fulgrim before he became a daemon prince. With shoulder length silvery white hair and a noble looking face you may aswell be looking at a slightly smaller version of your Primarch though not as breath taking as Fulgrim, Lord Helstrom is still an impressive sight in his highly customized artificer armor with his power sword sheathed at his side and his storm bolter slung over his back with his storm shield attached to his left arm. Turning his cold blue gaze to look at you the commander smiles at you: “Taurus, take forty of your brother noise marines and head east along the wall to join up with Tyreal and attack Garrond’s forces from the Punishers warband to stop them from being the turbo-laser turrets online. Once you have completed this task inform me at once for your next objective.” Heeding your lords orders you gather forty of your brother and sprint along the wall towards where the Punishers tech-marines are trying to bring the turbo-lasers online as their Astartes brethren look for any signs of treachery and as they see you they bring up their bolters and start to fire upon you but as the bolter rounds ping off your armor harmlessly you manage to get within striking distance and lash out with your daemonic claw severing straight through the elbow joints of one of the marines before one of the Punishers possessed marines snarls a challenge to you before barreling straight towards you as his spike tail flicks out to punch the side of your helmet. (No 1 post killing.)

OOC: Sorry for the long wait and if I missed anyone out let me know.


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## BlackGuard

He stood upon the battlements of the third wall looking out over all the events that transpired far away, his gene-forged eyes taking in every detail. It was all bland to him and rather unexciting. He almost loathed that he was here at all and constantly kept finding himself eyeing his comrades taking into account their movements and ways even more. It was all so bland to him … and he hated it. For at staggering ten thousand mortal years he had fought for one cause or another. With this Black Crusade or that raiding party with barley contained anticipation that the next slaughter would yield a greater high. He was sorely disappointed when it yielded only part of the joy or pain he’d hoped for. This led him down the path of self-mutilation which ended in nothing more than a grey area. His power-pack on his back had been reworked and remodeled by an old Tech-Marine comrade of his from the Legion, long since dead he’d figured, to include a number of combat stimulant injectors and they had, for a few decades, kept him satisfied. Though his damned gene-enhanced body has slowly but surely made itself immune and callous to its ministrations – once again the universe was a grey, bland area.

He was counting the exposed points in fellow Noise Marine’s armor when a cry pierced his greyness with its sheer outrage. He looked around, finding all eyes on the sky, and looked up to see what only made him grin. A ship was falling out of the very sky, or rather a piece of a ship, plummeting to the ground like some cold unthinking comet. Even as many of his so-called comrades began to brace themselves he did not. In fact he released the seals around his deformed helm and removed it so that he could experience the entire ordeal first hand. There was a chance he could die but he was likely going to die someday but he wasn’t likely to see a starship crush him anytime soon. The sounds of havoc and panic filled him for a moment as they pressed against the greyness of his existence but did little. He had heard much better torment from the cries of mortals before he sent their flayed souls screaming into the maul of the Dark Prince – a place he knew he too would one day visit. He took note that the dust storms from outside of the first wall meant that his erstwhile allies probably had something to do with this. He shrugged as he thought of the betrayal they might suffer. His plotted the course of the broken starship and was confident that it would strike and probably crush the first wall. Though there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t detonate or be carrying other, more lethal, cargo. They could all be killed in an atomic explosion or eaten alive by a rare strain of the Life Eater virus. No one could guess the madness of the followers of the Dark Gods. He was one such creature and the thought did nothing to lessen his resolve or increase his anxiety – death would almost be a welcome. 

The crippled piece of starship smacked into the void shields and he heard the familiar pop as they immediately ceased their resistance. Despite himself he felt his hands grip hold of the walls and his mind signal his armor to auto-lock to prevent him from being thrown dozens of meters below. His training, despite all these years, was still bred so fiercely into him that he could not ignore it. The sound of the burning piece smacking into the ground was akin to the sound of an apocalypse. A wall of dust and a shockwave of force came over them like a clap of a Dreadnaught strike. He growled a little at the pressure caused no pain whatsoever his armor’s built in shock-absorbers dissipating most of the force. The explosion and shockwave, however, had unlocked his senses and for a brief moment caused him pain which his mind translated into undiluted pleasure. He gasped in relief as he felt it and heard himself chuckle a little. 

When the dust began to settle and he unlocked his armor and began to take account of the situation. Indeed the first wall was crushed into relative nothingness with only a few pieces of it remaining and the odd tower. Lord Modeus’ forces would be making a quick break for the first wall trying to quickly overtake the tattered remnants and make a hard strike on the second wall. He turned to his commander, Lord-Commander Helstrom, looking for orders on how to proceed from here. In the last wafts of dust and ash he could only admire his current patron, if only because he looked so much like him. He felt a pain of regret and loss as he remembered his primarch, Fulgrim, and took notice of just how much like their gene-father he looked. Of course Fulgrim hadn’t been seen in over ten thousand years and it was likely he had abandoned his sons to their own fate – a probable fact not lost on him. While he admired his primarch and would die for him a thousand times over, if he ever saw him again he would salute him with the sign of Unity just before gutting him with his prized chain-axe of his callous actions. 

Helstrom glanced over at him with a smile, “Taurus, take forty of your brother noise marines and head east along the wall to join up with Tyreal and attack Garrond’s forces from the Punishers war band to stop them from being the turbo-laser turrets online. Once you have completed this task inform me at once for your next objective.”

He stood silent for a moment rather unsettled by this sudden trust placed in him by his patron. He had fought with Lord-Commander Helstrom for years but his paranoia had always pushed him away from the mantle of command rather preferring to keep a distance from the leadership – it made his eventual betrayal easier to conduct. The responsibility was his and he knew that to reject it as such a critical moment would be viewed in a very poor light and it was something he could ill afford at the moment.

“Yes my lord,” he replied trying to keep his emotions from his voice. He was satisfied that he did a fairly well job for Helstrom showed no immediate signs of registering his unease. He turned abound to face his so-called brother Noise Marines and nodded, “For the Dark Prince, with me!”

He stood at the head of the formation as thy began their rapid stride to the east along the wall. There was no real command structure for the men at his back rather disproportional bands of semi-aligned warriors fighting together. Many of them had fought together for decades while having no real loyalty to one another. It was a sad state for their Legion, betrayal and disloyalty was something that afflicted them all and he knew it coursed through his veins more than most of his brothers. He silently admitted to himself that some small part of him longed for the days of old when the Legion had stood united in service to the False Emperor and accomplished compliance on worlds within months when every critic said it would take years. He pushed such thoughts from his mind as he noticed their march was not ignored. He passed by a number of Astartes in a variety of war-gear but they mattered little to him. Though he knew his hand had moved over to rest on the hilt of his power-sword Sunbreaker just in case. With all the confusion he hoped that they would only consider them a reinforcement detail being sent further forward. 

This worked for the most part until his band of warriors began to approach the tech-marines of the Punishers who were guarded over by their kinsmen as they attempted to bring the turbo-lasers online, no easy task in and of itself. He knew they would not get within striking distance of the Punisher’s without them realizing their intent – the exits to proceed to the lower levels of the walls had been passed up some five hundred feet back and they no doubt were on the lookout for treachery following the crashing of the crippled starship. Before he could even shout a warning or a battle-cry several bolters from the Punisher’s rose up and unleashed themselves. He did not flinch in the slightest for he knew with supreme confidence that his armor was designed against even Astartes weapons and the bolt-rounds harmlessly exploded across his chest plate. The combat-stimulants built into his power-pack suddenly flooded his blood-stream with their exotic contents and he felt his world suddenly come alive once more – colors could be seen and sounds could be heard that his mind had kept closed out while he lived in the grey. His muscles sang to him and his mind spoke of infinite truths and possibilities once more he felt his hearts leap up to keep up with his heightened state of awareness.

‘Rejoice thin-bloods,’ he screamed, his voice amplified by his modified vocal chords, ‘Your service is at an end!’

Within moments they were amongst the Punisher’s who, for their part, were doing well at keeping them from their vaunted Tech-Marines. Bolt rounds splashed across his armor in a futile attempt to find a weak spot but his would not be dissuaded from his task. He came upon one of the Punisher’s assault-marines who roared at challenge and raised his chain-sword to take a swipe. His own senses were heightened well beyond that of even a first-born legionnaire and no thin-blood’s skills could compare to his own. His daemonic claw lashed out in an instant severing the elbow-joint of the Punisher’s armor and watched at the arm fell. The corrupted Astartes used his other hand to reach for his combat knife but that arm too was severed long before it could be of any real use – the Punisher fell back, trying to gain distance between himself and the crazed Emperor’s Children. 

He would have had him too if his senses had registered the existence of a far more potent threat. He turned to face him in just enough time and used his daemonic claw to block the incoming tail strike at his head. The possessed marine’s tail was spiked and one of the spikes had ripped into his gifted arm, he gave a gasp of pleasure as the pain was delightful. His mind grew even sharper as more lethal-levels of combat stimulants rushed into his system giving him even more energy to draw from. In a single fluid motion he brought forth his power-sword Sunbreaker and went to swing it at the Neverborn spawn only for the creature to quickly remove his spiked tail from his arm and move out of range. He quickly moved in to strike at the Neverborn again yet finding nothing but air. 
The Possessed struck back by swinging its tail at him several times, each of them was barely avoided with the last actually digging into his chest plate by a few centimeters. He stumbled back and parried the next few strikes with Sunbreaker hoping to give himself some time to think on a proper strategy as his mind raced constantly, trying to find the most pleasurable way. He creature stepped forward using a tail-swipe to shadow his sudden advance as he reached out with daemonic claws of his own attempting to grab the son of Fulgrim. He reacted instantly but swinging his sword in front of him a crazed arch putting the Neverborn at unease no knowing the method to his madness. He followed the crazed arch strike with a devastating armor-encased punch into the Neverborn’s fang-filled maul. The creature stumbled back and he could swear he heard something along the lines of a curse rumble out of its mouth. 

He grinned and raised his sword in mock salute, as if this were merely another sparing match in the practice cages. The two then charged at one another, the Neverborn swinging with his daemonic claws and tail while he parried a many of the attacks as he could with his own claw and using his power-sword for strikes of opportunity.


----------



## Angel Encarmine

Standing atop the second wall and staring out at the vast force Modeus had arranged against Garrond, Aeron could almost hear the cries of battle, could almost smell the hot vitae of his enemies as it splashed onto the ground, their wounds leaking their very lives out of them. The warhost of Modeus looked fully assembled, and he began to wonder why they hadn't attacked yet as his question was answered with the sound of the air screeching apart as the warships in orbit pounded the fortress with their weapons, the pain that almost blinded him was agonizingly sweet white before it impacted the void shields with a boom that shook the very ground, the focus of the shots clearly being on the first wall.

Squinting his eyes in order to see farther, Aeron thought he could make out Modeus when the warsmiths voice erupted inside his head. Snarling at the invasion of his mind, Aeron heard modeus speak. _"When I give the order I want you to divide your forces in two with half remaining on the wall waiting for those of the first wall to fall back and the other half preparing to assault the third wall, my plans have changed and re-creating Isstvan will cause problems that can be avoided, so when the first wall is breached I want you all to begin your assault on the third wall and by the time the Warsmith breaches the third wall the main force will be reinforcing you. Is that clear?"_

Feeling a presence in his mind, clearly Modeus awaiting an answer, Aeron responded. "_All on the third wall shall perish under my blades. _" before unsheathing his chain axes and roaring in battle lust. Turning to make his way to the third wall, he began seeing many around him pointing into the sky, several breaking and running. Looking up, Aeron began laughing, his maniacal laughter booming from every surface for all around him to hear as he saw the strike cruiser heading directly for the fortress.

Watching the plummeting ship Aeron began looking around for cover, knowing full well that dying in this crash was completely unacceptable way to end his long service to Khorne. Seeing the warsmith Hardal making his way to one of the towers that led into the catacombs of the fortress, Aeron sprinted to follow, knowing full well that Hardal knew the best place of shelter in an event such as this. Before they descended, Aeron caught sight of Urien and several of the worshippers of nurgle calmly walking to the bunkers, jeering at the starship that would surly crush them. Shaking his head, Aeron descended. Drawing even with the warsmith, Aeron simply nodded to him, before the continued down into the deep.

Feeling an enormous impact, Aeron staggered into the wall, smashing through what appeared to be an Eldar statue as he struggled for balance. Thinking that was the only impact, he was immediately thrown from his feet as the rest of the ship came crashing down, his autosenses shutting down briefly to save his hearing. Getting to his feet, and greatly angered by the fact that he was thrown to the ground like some whimpering child, Aeron smashed his fist into a wall before activating his helmet light and continuing along the corridor with Hardal and his men.

Travelling for several minutes down the catacombs, his fingers twitching in anticipation of blood to be spilled, they came across marines that he soon identified as loyal to Garrond. Unsheathing his mighty chain axes, he hit the activation switches on both while revving them up to full speed, the axes emitting high pitched screeches almost as if they were alive and wailing for blood to be spilled. As the mark of his God Khorne blazed on his chest under his armor, Aeron let loose a terrible warcry, the words running together and making no sense as he charged the enemy his rage overtaking his sanity as it had in the past uncountable times.

The first marine, a devastator holding a heavy flamer, was granted a sideways glance at his own body as his head was severed by a chainaxe, the back swing of the blow tearing through armor and sending another marine crashing to the floor. Turning to another marine raising a bolter, Aeron brought both axes down on his shoulders, cackling madly as he severed the marines arms. Before he could finish the pathetic fool who had let him take his arms, Aeron felt a massive blow smash into his chest sending a shockwave of pain through his body.

Staggering to his feet, he gritted his teeth and banished the pain from his recent wounds that were not fully healed. Taking a look around the room, he saw that Hardal was taking care of the rest of the marines, so he turned and looked over his newest enemy . What greeted his eyes was something forever changing, a Chaos spawn that at one point appeared to be a champion of khorne judging by the glowing runes in its flesh. Spittle dripped from it's mouth as it snarled at him, clearly anticipating the kill to come. Removing his helmet and maglocking it to his side, Aeron licked the blood off one of his axes, relishing the pollutants as they washed over his lips. Grinning insanely at the spawn he raised his weapons and charged.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

The four corrupted astartes observed the warhost gathered against Modeus and his army. Hardal wondered briefly why Modeus' forces hadn't attacked yet, but all doubt was clenched from his mind when the skies above the fortress erupted into fire, light descending from the skies towards the fortress as though the heavens themselves had emptied their arsenal against Garrond's underlings. 

Finding himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, the Warsmith could only watch as the lance beam met the void shield with a thunderous sonic explosion, briefly engulfing Dantion's world with light before his helmet filtered out the brightness, allowing him to see again. Switching his gaze to the heavens, the Iron Warrior watched as the unrelenting bombardment of Garrond's fortress continued, a grim smile forming on his battle-scared face. Realising that the bombardment was mainly focused on the first wall as well as the fortress, Hardal noted that him and his companions had been spared from the bombing - there would be no 'friendly fire' incidents today. If Modeus was going to win, he would need everyone that supported his cause.

Turning his attention from the bombardment, Hardal and his comrades sought their gaze back across the first wall, and into the horde below. All eyes were scanning for Modeus, their leader, however Hardal's search stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a silver armoured giant amongst a troop of individuals, their armour proudly displaying their allegiance to all of the four Ruinous Powers, Tzeentch, Khorne, Slaneesh and Nurgle. Hardal frowned as he heard the voice of Modeus broadcast into his own head, not from the usual vox-casting method which he and his astartes used, but through the power of the warp. _'Show-Off'_, thought Dantion as he listened to the transmission, absorbing every word.

"Aeron, Warsmith, Dark Apostle, Urien. When I give the order I want you to divide your forces in two with half remaining on the wall waiting for those of the first wall to fall back and the other half preparing to assault the third wall, my plans have changed and re-creating Isstvan will cause problems that can be avoided, so when the first wall is breached I want you all to begin your assault on the third wall and by the time the Warsmith breaches the third wall the main force will be reinforcing you. Is that clear?"

"Aye," responded the Warsmith as soon as the message had ended, and noticed that one by one, his allies responded through various methods. He noticed that Aeron, the Khornate warrior had boasted that all under the third wall of him and his forces. "Good hunting," Hardal spoke, voxing to all of the four of the traitor astartes.

As the Iron Warrior ordered all his men to split up into squads and to form a battle line in preparation for the siege, the sky above the fortress descended into darkness, drawing the gaze of everybody from within the defending fortress. Any advantage that could be gained from this distraction was overturned when Hardal found his gaze shifting skywards, observing a strike cruiser bearing colours of the Relictors Warband descended from the heavens, breaking up into pieces, being blown apart by something. Grimacing, the Warsmith watched the event unfold before him. As he realised what was about to happen, the Iron Warrior snapped out of his awestruck gaze, and saw that everyone on the three walls around were scattering for shelter, trying to get into the catacombs beneath them, or even the fortress itself. Bellowing orders to the lieutenants, Hardal lead the descent into the catacombs below, his personal bodyguard, extra armoured, Chaos Space Marines, untainted by the Gods of the Warp and sporting various Marks of Power Armour, followed the Warsmith into the tunnels beneath the fortress, as his men and his armoured units began to get below ground as quickly as possible, with orders to establish a foothold and engage the first enemy that they encountered.

Realising that now he was in the perfect place to assault Garrond's wall from under his own feet, the Iron Warrior began to make his way towards the catacombs, before being confronted by the Khornate Bezerker Aeron, who seemed to have gotten the idea that the Warsmith knew where the safest part of the catacombs were. Receiving a nod from the Bezerker, he watched as the Khornate warrior descended into the deep. Suddenly, the Iron Warrior felt an enormous impact, being thrust down a couple of levels of stairs, and regaining his composure by balancing himself on an Eldar Statue. Knowing that this wouldn't be the last impact, the Warsmith was still caught unawares when he was thrown from his feet across the floor, having completed his final descent to the bottom of the towers, hitting the floor once he reached the catacombs. A brief check of the HUD display informed him that the majority of his army had made it down to the catacombs in one piece, with help from the Lord Targal and Sorcerer Urien, and was now establishing a beachhead against possibly enemy attack. They had yet to encounter any resistance, and Hardal could see why, once his backpack's mounted torchlight had been powered into life. Through its powerful gaze, the Warsmith could see that there was now a large array of Eldar relics, and the statue that he had encountered earlier, along with Aeron, had not just been the only one. It was a whole cavern of Eldar relics, and with a look of disgust on his face, he ordered what Iron Warriors he had with him forward, to link up with the rest of his army as quickly as possible.

After making his way through the catacombs, fighting side by side with the Bezerker Aeron, using his Bolt-Pistol to destroy what was out of range of his Power Fist which he now boasted instead of his favoured Combi-Melta, he was quickly separated from the Bezerker in the melee that had outbroken, and he and his Iron Warriors were left to mop up Garrond's forces that the Bezerker hadn't already killed as he made his way through the carnage.

"Modeus... started... attack," voices from various sources began to filter in throughout the vox. In the background of each, he could hear sounds of a battle, and not just any battle, a full scale one of epic proportions. It wasn't long before Hardal received a vox from his Lieutenants, all asking the same thing - whether he should deploy the Titans, or not.

No, decided Hardal after a brief moments thought. No, he would not deploy the Titans. They would only waste time, and by the time that they arrived, _The God-Breaker_ and _Perturabo's Wrath_, there would be no less killing to do. "No," he ordered into the Vox. "We will not call forth the Titans unless things get bad. We are Iron Warriors, we can do this without Heavy Support. Iron Within!"

"Iron Without!" the battle cry echoed back across the vox in response, his men forming battle-lines as Garrond's own personal troops charged to meet them. Turning his gaze back to Aeron, the Bezerker, Dantion could only watch as, with chain-swords roaring, the astartes that bore the iconography of the Blood God charged headfirst into the enemy lines, before being distracted by a foul, disgusting creature that was a Chaos Spawn. Both sides held their fire in a truce to watch Daemon and Bezerker trade blows for a moment, before the truce was broken with a roar of weapons fire from Garrond's forces, breaking the stalemate with a wide variety of heavy weaponry primarily employed in defensive strategies. If they wanted to play a siege, Hardal thought, a smile forming on his lips, then a siege they would get. "Ancient Vhal," the Iron Warrior spoke into his vox communicator once more. "Give them hell from Perturabo."

A loud stomping sound followed Dantion's arrival as the Chaos Dreadnought swung forward into battle, its weapons spraying death amongst the ranks of the enemy, and bellowed as it killed, *"For the Glory of Perturabo! Fear the wrath of the fourth Legion! These catacombs will be your end!"*

However, even he wouldn't be able to hold out against the auto-cannon that was in possession of Garrond's forces long, and whilst Vhal was providing a good diversion, the Warsmith knew it would not be for long. Giving the order, the Warsmith watched his troops advance in perfect unison, bolter fire unleashing death to the enemy of Modeus.

Before he could cry another order, Hardal noticed something lurking in the shadows above him, seconds before his new foe dropped down, causing the Warsmith to dodge the attack of the newcomer, who boasted a jetpack. Its iconography informed Dantion that it was a Raptor, one that worked for Garrond, but before he could react further, the Chaos Raptor thrust his power armoured arms towards the Warsmith's neck, grappling them in an effort to choke the life out of the Iron Warrior. "Servo Arm, activate," ordered the Iron Warrior, and his servo arm powered into life, the metallic arm moving around the back of his body, before thrusting forward and tearing both warriors away from each other, flinging his counterpart away from Dantion, sending the Raptor to the floor. Dantion was the first up, bringing his Power Fist to bear as he charged towards the Raptor, his brothers engaging in combat all around him. "Now you die, bastard," spat the Iron Warrior viciously, as the Power Fist met power armour with a sickening crunch.


----------



## Farseer Darvaleth

Vlad stood silent as Ferrero was berated for questioning Modeus' plans so openly; the berating was perhaps not as severe as one Vladimir himself would inflict if he were Modeus, and Modeus even contradicted his own battle plans in front of the group. Whilst Vlad was sure he had already made this decision, the fact that he changed it just after Ferrero damned the original plan made Modeus look weak, something which was hard to do when armoured in massive terminator armour.

Vlad remained silent as lance strikes bombarded the fortress, J'ketha the Shadow Daemon purring softly at the sight of such death. Vox reports told Vlad that his forces were preparing to engage the fortress, when Modeus addressed him, along with Ferrero and Nerrak. Modeus talked of loyalty and how any attempted coup would be crushed.

The true Vlad, for once, was in alignment with the Shadow Daemon. A coup would be neither beneficial nor, in this case, successful. Vlad would do better just behind the figurehead, and therefore just behind the shots of assassins, rather than taking the limelight for himself. Vlad was unable to voice this affirmation of his loyalty, however, as suddenly a cold feeling spread rapidly through his veins. Vlad hissed and looked up, seeing the silver prow of a Relictor warship plummeting downwards a second before the vox-calls came screaming through.

Vlad wasted no time in scattering, activating his jump pack and plunging next to his Command Thunderhawk before climbing the ramp.

*"All Thunderhawks, scramble immediately, I repeat, scramble all Thunderhawks!"* roared Vlad down his vox, turning as Nerrak, the Sorcerer, and Ferrero's Dreadnought piled into the Thunderhawk. Vlad wasn't going to wait any longer; he slammed the button and the ramp raised, the pilot wasting no time in taking off and flooring the accelerator.

Vlad turned to Nerrak, eyeing the Sorcerer who had used Vlad's Thunderhawk to escape.

*"Nerrak."* said Vlad, stiffly. The Shadow Daemon had fragments of Vlad's memory concerning the Sorcerer, but otherwise knew nothing. Not knowing what else to say, Vlad turned to the cockpit, ordering the pilot to land on Nerrak's mountain fortress before the dust storm created by the huge ship caught up with them. The sight of the warship falling to its doom was magnificent; huge blocks of adamantium planting smashed into the fortress, its void shields failing almost instantaneously. The cries of thousands of souls filled the air, the Shadow Daemon drinking deep from their fear and despair. Outwardly, Vlad fell to his knees, raising his arms in supplication to the bountiful feast of fear before him. It was unlike anything the Shadow Daemon had ever felt before; it was the gene of the Night Haunter.

J'ketha now knew why Vlad was so compatible, why he was the most important instrument of his will, now more than ever; his legion, the Night Lords, preyed on fear, torturing their enemies with psychological warfare. Amplified by his daemonic powers, the fear of mortals was like decadent succour to the Shadow Lord; Vlad would have to capitalise on this. He would have to re-embrace the Legion he left, and become a Night Lord once more.

When Vlad stood again, he was different. The unlocking of his genes had shifted the dynamic of his daemonic balance, and the relationship had re-synthesised; it was more mutual, more beneficial, even, for both parties. A portion of Vlad's mind clicked back into place, his memories spilling back to him as once more Vlad resurfaced, once again controlling his own body. He felt his spirit roar in triumph inside him, but the roar was mingled with the ecstatic shouts of the Shadow Daemon; no longer was Vlad a mere puppet to J'ketha. Vlad was now a valued servant, and J'ketha would not restrict his abilities any longer by controlling him so strictly. The Shadow Lord would allow him to act freely, and would empower him with daemonic might, so that in return he may feed off the sheer terror Vlad will sow in his name.

Vlad turned back to Nerrak, recognising the Sorcerer properly now.

*"Nerrak, dear friend, the Night Haunter is with me. I am in control of my own destiny once again; but it is a different destiny. A far, far greater one..."*

The Thunderhawk made it, and touched down before the wall of dirt buffeted its armoured flanks. Vlad waited for the storm to pass before the order came to return to the front.

*"Back to the fortress!"* roared Vlad, the Thunderhawk whining as it took off once again. It soon neared Garrond's ruined base; out of Vlad's original thirty Thunderhawks, twenty-one had signed in. Unperturbed, Vlad ordered the flotilla to attack at once; the Thunderhawks screamed overhead, their Raptors leaping from the back of the gunship transports whilst the heavy weapons provided fire support.

Vlad ordered his Thunderhawk closer to the second wall, as the Dreadnought's harness was released and Nerrak left the vehicle upon his Disc. Vlad turned to the ramp, and jumped.

As Vlad fell, so did the Raptors from all twenty-one Thunderhawks, free-falling for a few precious moments. Vlad roared as he felt the waves of fear coming from the troops below, before unleashing a Night Lord's battlecry:

*"AVE DOMINUS NOX!"* 

The entire Raptor strike force took up the battlecry, engaging their jump packs as they came screaming onto the fortress walls. Vlad slammed straight onto a group of cultists, sending out a shockwave of pure darkness as he landed. The shadows near Vlad were whipped up into a frenzy by the Shadow Daemon, striking out at enemy marines and lashing at them with immaterial malevolence. Their impact was limited, but they sowed terror amongst the enemy soldiers, strengthening Vlad. Vladimir cackled as he cut down cultists, his power sword, Stormblade, cutting a swathe through their number, whilst his other arm reformed into a daemonic bladed limb and added to the slaughter.

As Vlad turned, he saw an opposing champion, housed in mighty terminator armour and wielding a pair of lightning claws. Vlad met his salute with another cry of *"Ave Dominus Nox!"* and leapt into combat.

The terminator was fast, faster than Vlad expected, the champion's lightning claws slicing towards him. Vlad parried with his daemonic bladed arm, the black metal completely uncompromising even when faced with power weapons. Vlad's other arm, holding Stormblade, twisted around to slice at the terminator's shoulder, but its energy field deflected the blow. Vlad spun out of the way of a reprisal attack, jabbing with his daemonic arm and cutting a deep score along the armour. Vlad narrowed his eyes as he stepped back, avoiding the lightning claws again; his daemonic arm ignored the energy field, but couldn't penetrate the armour, whilst his power sword couldn't make it through the field, but could surely penetrate the armour...

Vlad snapped out of his reverie as a lightning claw skidded off his shoulder-pad, cutting through the metal at the joint to Vlad's arm. Hissing, Vlad launched a series of blows with his daemonic arm, before finally there was a loud bang and the energy field dissipated. Vlad took his chance, lunging with his power sword and cutting one of the terminator's arms clean off. A second later, however, the energy field reactivated, and Vlad cursed as Stormblade was deflected once again. This time the terminator stepped in using its bulk to block Vlad from escaping. Vlad parried with his daemonic arm, but he was slowly being backed up to the edge of the second wall; Vlad turned around to look for a brief moment, mere inches from falling off the sheer rampart, when the terminator lunged forward, sending Vlad cascading off the wall.

The terminator stood back, lifting his one arm in triumph. All around him, Raptors fighting Garrond's soldiers and cultists looked on, suddenly struck by the loss of their leader. One by one, however, they began to laugh, brutally finishing off their combats before coming to kneel towards the terminator, crying "Ave Dominus Nox!". The terminator, confused, turned on the spot just in time for Stormblade to pierce his helmet, blood splattering the hovering Vlad, his jump pack roaring as he touched down on the wall. The Raptors continued their warcry, kneeling in supplication to their master.

*"ONWARDS!"* roared Vladimir, raising Stormblade above his head in triumph, *"ONWARDS, TO GLORY AND CHAOS!"*


----------



## Akatsuki13

Beneath his helmet Malphas grinned as fired off his bolt pistol at the charging warriors of the Reborn, behind him the Terminators joined him, their combi-bolters and autocannons roaring as they cut down Reborn after Reborn. Behind them stood their leader, a sorcerer, throwing eldritch fire upon the warriors of the Word. Brothers were struck and incinerated by fire while others fell to bolters, all in service of the Gods and the Primarch just as their enemies were. “Onwards brother!” he roared, taking aim at the sorcerer. “Through the fury and tempest of war, through the blades and fire of our enemies so that we may offer up to the Gods their souls!”

He fired off a few rounds, striking the sorcerer in the chest. With a degree of satisfaction Malphas watched the sorcerer stagger back a step but remained standing. Weak foes made weak offerings. The sorcerer looked up at him and their eyes met. “The sorcerer is mine! Kill the rest!” Malphas commanded, holstering his bolt pistol so that he could wield his Crozius fully as the Reborn reached them.

The Reborn fought well but they lacked the zeal of the faithful. Malphas swung his Crozius in a wide horizontal arc hitting three of the enemy Astartes, the crackling energy surrounding the weapon tearing through armor and flesh as though it were paper. But these warriors were not his quarry, merely obstacles in his path. He pressed on wildly swinging his blessed weapon, cutting though the warband. Armor was rent open, bones crushed and flesh torn as forged his path in blood. Behind the Apostle his warriors were adding to sacrifice with blade and bolter. It did not take Malphas long to be free of the fighting, nothing standing between him and his chosen foe. “Come brother,” he called out as he ran towards him. “The Gods demand a sacrifice and we shall not keep them waiting.”

“No!” the sorcerer snarled from behind his rusted orange helmet. “I will slay you and offer your soul to the Gods!”

Lightning leapt from his fingers but Malphas was faster, stopping his charge while raising his Crozius as he chanted out a litany to the Blood God, eternal enemy of sorcerers. The lightning the head of his Crozius, energy wildly surging around it but none of it hit him. Malphas feel tears of blood trailing down his face and the taste of copper in his mouth. In exchange for this protection Khorne wanted the sorcerer’s skull. The Apostle would not disappoint him. “I am an Apostle of the Word of Chaos!” he roared as he took a step forward followed by another and another. “Who are you to question me?”

“I wield the power of Chaos itself! You and your sermons are nothing to me!” the sorcerer screamed, stopping his spell and drawing a power sword.

Both swung their weapons, the blade striking against the shaft of his Crozius. A lesser weapon would have snapped against the sword’s power field but the Crozius had been blessed and consecrated long ago on Sicarus itself. It would take more than a mere power sword to destroy it. He pushed the sorcerer off balance and followed up with a downward blow, narrowly missing the Reborn sorcerer. His opponent didn’t waste any time, thrusting his sword into his left shoulder. The blade cut through the armor but did not touch his flesh. “Burn weakling!” the sorcerer howled, hurling fire his other hand.

The fireball hit him with the force of a tank, throwing Malphas from his feet and crashing to the ground, his Crozius landing several feet away. The Blood God’s protection shielded him from the worst of fire though, scorching his armor but doing little in the way of real damage. “See! What could you hope to achieve in the face of my power?!” the sorcerer proclaimed.

Malphas’s response was fast and simple. He drew his bolt pistols and fired. Round after round slammed into the sorcerer’s torso until one pistol, already half spent ran dry. Only then did he stop and his enemy collapse. “Fool,” Malphas spat, rising to his feet. The man was still alive solely because of his superhuman physiology. But even then it would not help him for long. The bolts had torn through his abdomen, shredding his organs and spine. “Your power over the Warp is meaningless to my own,” he continued, pulling the power sword from his lifeless hand.

For a moment the Apostle studied the weapon before placing upon the back of his helmet. “My power is born from faith and the Gods themselves!” The sword rose into the air. “The Gods favor me to serve them! But you…you can still die for them!”

The sword descended…


----------



## High_Seraph

Standing amidst the other Lords Ridoranaa chuckles to himself at the audacity of the Khornate Tech-Marine Ferrore demand command of the attack. Though before anyone could either denounce or praise him Modeus, taking a deep breath and blowing it out trying to remain calm, slowly said *"With all due respect, Ferrore Tech-Marine of the Salamanders, Genetic Descendant of the Primarch Vulkan, Lord of the 18th Legion, You do not lead this warband. While I admire your honestly and will listen to what ever advice you and my other generals have to give in the end it is my decision how we execute the plans of war. While you all have been amassing your troops ready for this siege I have been thinking upon my original plan to recreate Isstvan and like you have come to the conclusion that such a plan will not work here. The void shields of this fortress are too strong for even the combined strength of all the artillery that has been gathered for the siege, given time the void shields would fall to continual shelling but I want to get these dispute between myself and Garrond dealt with as quickly as possible as while we squabble amongst ourselves the Imperium of the Corpse-Emperor rebuilds what it can after Lord Abbadons last crusade. So I have revised my battle plan and we shall hit them hard and fast, driving a burning spear tip into the heart of our foe and to do this I shall reign death and destruction upon Garrond and his followers from the sky."*

*So he doesn't want to hand the reigns over but still decides to change his plans? What inconsistancies this man has. I'd expect it from a servant of Tzeentch not one blessed by all Four.* Though before he could think anymore Modeus reaches his right hand up and clenches it into a fist as the world suddenly fills with light and sound. From his position next to Modeus Ridoranaa's helmet filters out most of the sound while his lenses darken in reaction to the lance strikes. Though why Garrond's fleet hasn't responded yet is a mystery to him as Mmodeus' fleet continues to rain barrages against the shields. Looking on at the pounding being delivered Ridoranaa recieves word that his most men have embarked on in their transports and are waiting upon the word to attack. Gazing upon the barrages Ridoranaa only hears the sound of ceramite plates and servos straining in portest as Modeus' suit comes to life with vox reports and curses that rather pleased the follower of Nurgle. Though that pleasure is short lived as Modeus barks out through the entire warbands vox network to take cover and prepare for impact. Looking up as a shadow crosses over the meeting place Ridoranaa sees a strike cruiser painted in the markings of the Relictors descending almost gracefully prow first to strike the ground.

Quickly breaking away from the other Lords, Ridoranaa spies the open maw of a rhino transport. Barreling his way inside Ridoranaa quickly turns around bringing his bolter up and helping Astartes aboard while cutting down the cowardy mortals who would dare seek shelter within. Counting the numbers entering the rhino Ridoranaa hits the ramps button closing it. Ordering the demon-servitor to the arena as it most likely has the strongest walls to survive the coming storm of debris and men that will follow the ships crash while protecting him and those with him for the counter-attack in the silence that follows it. Voxing his men about thier situations Ridoranaa waits for the inevatable storm of derbis. Getting reports that the ship has split into two seperate pieces with the first crashing into the city and burrowing it's way into the first wall. Before anymore reports could get through the vox it closes down as the shockwave from the first planetfall cuts Ridoranaa off from his men. Reaching out with his left arm to grab hold of the side of the rhino Ridoranaa locks his armour as the rhino starts shaking violently as the force of the crash hits those inside the arena. As the tremors reced Ridoranaa hears a faint popping sound coming from the direction of the exits before another shockwave and tremor sets the rhino shaking once again threating to overturn it before that one subsides as well. 

Odering the demon-servitor to return to the meeting place Ridoranaa says a silent prayer to Nurgle for blessing the rhino with endurance and himself as well. Noting that some members have gathered Ridoranaa hears Modeus' voice over the vox declaring the attack to commence. Quickly moving to a fire point Ridoranaa yet again orders the demon-servitor to take them to the walls. Coming upon the broken first wall and the devastation wrought by the fallen ship Ridoranaa takes aim with his bolter and fires a short burst hitting three targets in the head despite the bouncing of the transport. Reloading his bolter Ridoranaa mag-locks it to his right thigh before securing his storm shield on his left arm before reaching behind him taking his scythe out of it's sheath. Moving towards the ramp Ridoranaa bellows oders to those marines within to follow though they are from different warbands.

As the rhino hits the rubble Ridoranaa shifts the storm sield in front of him hitting the hatch button with his elbow before storming out of it as the ramp barely touches the ground. Feeling bolt rounds bounce of his shield immediately Ridoranaa waves his scythe forward urging those with him to kill the weaklings. Sprinting up Ridoranaa is confronted with a renegade Sergeant from some loyalist chapter who swings down with a chainsword in his right hand along with a powersword in his left. Blocking the powersword with his shield Ridoranaa swings downwards with his scythe hoping to end it quickly but is disappointed as the man slides across the rubble away from the point of the scythe while scissoring his two weapons hoping to break the shaft. Swinging his scythe sideways Ridoranaa thrusts with his shield hoping for some space and judge his opponent.


----------



## Midge913

Standing on the wall, watching the might of Modeus' army move, ever so slowly toward the fortress, Urien took a moment to take in his companions, none of which he knew much about. Aeron, the bezerker, in service to the Blood God. Urien couldn't help but smile. Adepts of Khorne were worth nothing more than cannon fodder. They didn't think, they didn't plot, they new nothing of subtlty, the simply killed for the sake of killing. His armor a patch work of reds, vivd red paint covered in the darkned stains of aged vicera and gore. Malphas, the Dark Apostle, his presence bringing a sneer to Urien's rotten face. The Word Bearer's were a preachy lot and Urien despised them for their constant meddling. Thinking they were above reproach because they believed they held the favor of all the Dark Gods. Deluded they were in Urien's opinion. He knew were his power came from, he knew where he held favor. To him those who worshipped Chaos Undivided were weak in conviction, praying that one of the gods would look on them in favor, mewling at the feet of the Gods, hoping for some scrap to fall from their table. Hardal, the warsmith however, held Urien's respect. He did not know much of the man himself, but his Legion, Urien held a great deal of respect for. Their staunch, steadfast determination, one that he had always found use for. The four them, surrounded by their troops, in turn surrounded by thousands of the enemy, if something did not go to plan, they would be left to fend for themselves. Though, Urien thought to himself, fending for himself was something that he specialized in.

The wait was killing him though, gnawing on his nerves like a rotting canker. The attack should have started by now, something should have broken the stalemate. This lack of activity was causing crazy notions to jump into his head, his desire for bloodshed beyond restraint. A catastrophic explosion, the noise like a peal of thunder magnified a thousand time, drew his gaze skyward. Blazing columns of light broke through the cloud cover over the fortres, and with a grin that almost split his face in two, Urien realized what was happening. The lance batteries on Modeus' ships were firing. Sending their deadly payloads directly into the void shields surrounding Garrond's fortress. Watching the lance beams colliding with the the shields was a beautiful sight, colors exploding in Urien's vision. It seemed that the operators on the ships, had been told not to target the second wall, something Urien was incredibly greatful for. The voices constantly whispering in his head had said nothing of dying to an orbital bombardment. He would hate for them to be proven wrong, just about as much as he would hate missing the action that was inevitably to come. 

Gazing out across the fortress to the plains were Modeus' command tent lay, Urien could see the silver armored form of his 
Lord, pacing amongst the other generals gathered about him. Urien felt pressure in his mind, and bracing himself for the 
contact he shielded his thoughts, not wanting to give Modeus more than he needed. Sure Urien had sworn fealty to the man, but oaths were meant to be broken, especially if a time came that Modeus turned out to be less than he claimed. Urien thought it only prudent to keep his options open. Modeus' voice rang out in his head, "Aeron, Warsmith, Dark Apostle, Urien. When I give the order I want you to divide your forces in two with half remaining on the wall waiting for those of the first wall to fall back and the other half preparing to assault the third wall, my plans have changed and re-creating Isstvan will cause problems that can be avoided, so when the first wall is breached I want you all to begin your assault on the third wall and by the time the Warsmith breaches the third wall the main force will be reinforcing you. Is that clear?" Interesting. Perhaps some sign from the gods had swayed Modeus away from the folly that would have resulted from the recreation of Isstvan. Urien had never held much love for his lords plan, and the change to it was welcome. "understood my lord, it shall be done," Urien responded, the silence over the communication conveying his Lord's desire for a brief communion, and as the others answered in kind, Modeus' presence in his mind evaporated. 

Turning to his Lieutenant, a rotten corpse of a Marine, Urien began to bark orders, "Nareem, start splitting the men, I want all of the raptors, Plaguebearers, and armor heading for the thrid wall. Leave 3 of the Obliterators here, along with 300 marines, 600 of the cultists, and all of the lesser Daemons they will be little use in the siege that will inevitably come." His train of thought was interrupted by an increased amount of chatter from the twister parts of his mind and turing about to see what it was that had caught his attention, his gaze wandered once more to the sky. The lance batteries had stopped and in the relative stillness, the sky had darkened. Urien gasped in awe as from the tortured sky, a strike cruiser, bearing the mark of the Relictors, broken and battered, fell. Urien only had time to muse on the fact that the ship, a once proud vessel, had cracked in half, and one of those halves was now screaming towards the fortress, apparently brought down by Garrond's fleet that protected the planet's orbit. 

Snapping from his reverie, taking stock of the situation around him, Urien found that everything was in Chaos. The sheer anarchy that now gripped the once stoic members of Garrond's defenders, now lost in the harrowing fear brought on by the sight of the massive starship falling towards them. Urien revelled in it, a humming song escaping his lips, pleasure stemming from the discord that permeated the air around him. The Vox was filled with the sound of orders being shouted from frenzied lips, and into that cacophony of sound Urien muttered his orders, simple and unhurried. "Nareem, Menvosa, Laren, and Freinze get my forces undercover." As his voice, rasping and gurgling around the wad of plague ridden phlegm that had collected at the back of his throat quieted, another voice, a laugh that sounded like the grating of tomb stones being smashed upon one another rang out on the way beside him. Urien turned towards the sound and found Targal, pure joy contained in his posture and voice, "Marvelous," Targal whispered, " just marvelous. So much death and despair. Father Nurgle will be pleased indeed. His joy, his overwhelming pleasure at the despair that gripped so many of the cultists and even marines, palpable on the air. Urien couldn't help but share it and a bubble of laughter, thick and mucous ridden, escaped from his throat, joining the hundreds of Plague Marines that joined in. It took Targal banging his Manreaper on the ground several times to bring his men to order and silence but when he did his voice rang out in a light hearted yet to the point tone. "Now my brothers, we must re-locate to the relative safety of the catacombs where we can enact the next stage of the plan. We shall make our way through the catacombs from this wall to the third wall and assault it through each of the towers. Urien you are coming with me." Urien inclined his head, the deference he felt at this moment just as natural as the disdain he had felt for his lord hours earlier, and as he walked off, following the hulking form of Lord Targal, he voxed his lieutenants, "You know what to do boys, reap and so the gifts of Nurgle. Bring all to their knees before him." Without a backwards glance he took his place at Targel's right side and ducked into the tunnel that lead down into the catacombs from the tower in the second wall, the remainder of the men he had not ordered to stay on the wall, falling in close behind them. 

Elation at the prospect of finally wetting his blade in the blood of Garrond's loyal sheep did nothing to mute his curiousity at the change in architecture and decor of the walls the further underground they travelled. The darkness grew, pressing in around them, but Urien welcomed it. The voices spoke clearly to him in the darkness, revealed secrets to him about the past, the present, and the future. His twisted mind, drinking it all in, each horrid whisper fracturing his thoughts into a thousand pieces. One or two of his men activated lamps, bringing a hiss of displeasure to his lips. But the new light reflected off of the walls and grandiose architecture of the tunnels around him. Scenes of battles fought 10,000 years ago, sculptures unfamiliar and alien, others resembling the damned Eldar. Now it belongs to the Dark Gods and their disciples. 

Turning his attention back to the present, Urien listens as the forces on the surface relay information about the horrific damage dealt to Garrond's fortress by the impact of the strike cruiser. Urien's Lieutenants all reported in indicating that his forces had been dealth no casualties. They also informed that they had begun the assault on the first of the walls that lay in their path. His attention was so consumed by the Vox traffic, that Urien was caught by surprise as they rounded a corner, only to find themselves staring down the barrels of a dozen bolters, wielded by those Urien knew to be loyal to that dog, Garrond. Urien's mind reached out, gripped the power of the warp at the speed of thought and readied a strike that would bring the stinking filth to their knees. Though it appeared that the strike was not needed, the muzzles of bolters dropped as those wielding them recognized his Lord, Targal's presence putting them at ease. "Lord Targal we are pleased to see you. The forces of the usuper Modeus are attacking the fortress, Lord Garrond requests you assis..." However the man was going to finish the sentence was lost in a fountain of blood as Targal's Manreaper flashed, taking the speaker's head in a heartbeat. Surging forward, Targal was quickly lost to Urien's sight as the Plague-Commander pressed the advantage of his surprise attack. 

Though Urien could not see him, Targal's voice filled his head,"Urien deal with these insects and then assault the thrid wall before meeting up with Lord Modeus. I am going to seek out Garrond and take his head as a prize to present to our new lord. You are in charge until I return." Almost as if the termination of his psychic connection with Targal was a cue, Garrond's lackey's opened fire. Twisting to one side, Urien threw himself out of the path of the explosive projectiles, one round still bouncing off his pauldron. His plasma pistol was in his hand in a heartbeat, three rounds fired before the enemy had time to react, three warriors falling dead from shots to the head or chest. From his left hand, bolts of forked warp spawned lighting danced, disentigrating sevral more marines, armor and flesh liquifying at its touch. He began to press his advantage. From behind him bolter fire from his own marines began to slam into the line of disoriented foes and with a host of Death Guard Terminators, regal and deformed, at his side the enemies firing line quickly crumbled. Urien was about to lament the ease of his victory when, from somewhere in the back ranks of the enemy, a bolt of blue lightning, vibrant and deadly struck the Terminator to his immediate right. 

"So," Urien giggled to himself, "one of the tricksters servants wants to play does he." His suspicions confirmed as the Sorcerer, clad in blue and black, a weapon of pure evil, pulsing with blue light, covered in runes and sigils belonging to the Lord of Change, gripped tightly in his right hand. " Come then, " Urien shouted at his foe, "come dance."

Twirling the staff of his Force Scythe he caught the first blow from the Sorcerer's sword, batting it away from him, and smashing the Tzeentchian pysker in the side of his head on the backswing for his troubles. Laughing, mania buring in his eyes and echoing in his voice, he twisted, agitating the hive of bulbous black flies that lived on the rotting flesh of his back, the tunnel ahead of him filling with the loathsome insects in the space of a thought. He watched on in glee as the Servant ot Tzeentch, cursed and swatted at the creatures, his movements sluggish as the corpulant bugs clogged the joints of his armor, and burrowed into the soft ribbing at the backs of the knees and crooks of his elbows. Lashing out with fire and lightning his opponent fought his way clear only to be forced backwards as Urien swung his scythe, its blade bathed in a sickly green light, its rusted surface calling out for his foe's flesh. 

A flash of light, a heavy impact rocked his head, as a rock, the size of a mans head collided with the side of his helm. Thrown with a thought, speeding like a bullet, its weight cracked the rotten ceramite that encased his diseased flesh. crumpling it into the side of his head. Stepping from the cloud of plague ridden flies, his enemy, this half assed sorcer of Tzeentch, fixed his gaze on Urien, vicotry radiating from his stance, as he looked on thinking Urien beat. Laughing, quietly at first the sound escaped his lips, building to a high-pictched furious cackle, Urien removed his ruined helm. his elongated tongue flashed out, poisonous spittle dripping from it in coagulated blobs, as he stood full once more. Eyes blazing in frenzied madness, he raised his hand, drew on the power of the warp with a silent prayer to the God of Decay, and clenched his fist. Pure ectasy coursed through his frame as his opponent began to scream, clawing at the lenses of his helm, hand clawing fruitlessly. As the Sorcerer's eyes liquified, forced decay wrought on them through the power of Urien's spell, a foul smelling discolored sludge began to run out from the lenses of his oppoents helm. Urien almost skipped forward, a quiet song passing over his foul lips, as he raised his Scythe do deliver a killing blow to his helpless opponent. Lord Targal's words echoed through Urien's mind, his head nodding in agreement, Father Nurgle would be pleased indeed.


----------



## komanko

OOC: Feels like years since the last time I wrote anything, though it did take me about 3 months  Anyway, glad to be partially back. Hope I am not completely rusty with my writing.

They gathered, like the advisors of a king, around the gleaming silver clad form of the terrible relicator lord Modeus. His enormous size stood out more than ever. Even amongst those who wore terminator suits Modeus stood out, his size, by far, bigger. As the closer “advisors” got closer they could take a look at Modeus, his Dark - angelian features easily seen even though his chapter shared the geneseed of the ultramarines as well. The pale skin, like snow on ice filled soil, the high hawk like cheekbones, the shoulder length dark hair, falling down smoothly. 

A quick move, a dance in the shadows, and as quickly as Nerr’ak caught sight of it, it disappeared. In front of Modeus appeared Vladimir, kneeling, his daemon tainted soul burned with bloodlust and knowledge, and as Nerr’ak looked at him he realized the power that he could harness be controlling such individual. The daemonic Vlad asked for a plan and before getting an answer the bulky form of techmarine Ferrore stepped forward, declaring the plan to be a waste of time and entirely foolish. It was then that Modeus turned around, his eyes piercing into the souls of his companions, a slow and steady stream of air traveled from his enhanced lungs as he tried to calm himself down due to Ferrore’s outburst.

Modeus answered the Techmarine’s words, his tone pompously fake and poisonous. Like a true son of the changer he warped his words around not letting the Techmarine or anyone else understand what his true emotions were. Yet as he scolded the techmarine and at the same time praised his intelligence and companionship it could be easily seen that he had a plan forming in his head. As such it came as no surprise to Nerr’ak when Modeus announced that he would drop his previous plan, with relief Nerr’ak let out a stream of air escape his tightly shout slit of a mouth. It was a ridiculous plan, more centered about glory and recognition then true tactical plan.

It seemed that Modeus’s plan was no by far more simple and direct, as he clenched his hands the sound of ceramite striking ceramite was muted by a tremendous roar from the sky, it was like fire erupting from the havens as far above the world’s sky the flotilla began bombarding Garrond’s fortress, a strong force amassed while Modeus was travelling and gathering strength. While not the strongest it would be enough to break open the fortress, it had to be enough because otherwise they will have to sit here for days, besieging this wretched hell hole while the filthy Imperium gathered it strength.

It seemed that even the might of strike cruisers and battle barges weren’t enough to bring down the Fortress’s void shields quickly, it made Nerr’ak wonder how much longer they would’ve been here if they resorted to regular artillery, though, the use of ships eliminated the option of trickery from the ground and brought up the option of Garrond’s treachery, where were his ships, why was no counter attack mustered, it was alarmingly strange. Stepping even closer to Modeus, slightly leaning on his bedlam staff, Nerr’ak whispered, “Modeus, my lord, treachery will live this day. Our prey sits in silently and awaits our approach, this does not bode well.”

Like Modeus, Nerr’ak was blessed by the ever changing flame of Tzeentch, no longer were his eyes black as the void of space, and as he watched, a smile of destructive glee spread across his face. It was a magnificent sound and yet a blinding one. Opening his third eye he let himself tap into the world of warp energies, everything seemed orange, or at least that was Nerr’ak’s concept of warp energies, the color orange, he did not know if others, blessed as he were, saw the world through the same colours as he did. It was an interesting thing, yet he had no time to explore this subject now. He saw movement in the currents of the warp, the stirring of events, a small sight into the future yet not an understandable one. In the simpler waves and currents he saw the stirring of soldiers and beasts, ready to take the fight, their spirits soared, their bloodlust roared, It would be a fine day to be a Khorne worshipper. The crows will feast.

Soon. As Nerr’ak saw in the currents, reports began flooding the vox channels, squads and battalions were getting ready, transports were being filled, a full scale war began. The final note was played and Modeus gathered his trusted advisors for one last speech, promising great pain for those who betray him and yet showing slight affection towards his battle brothers who with him built this warband from nothing. The word warband, it seemed brutish, barbaric, uncanny. They were no longer a simple warband with a sole purpose of looting and pillaging, they had an agenda, they had a plan, they were no longer a warband, they were something greater. They were a force of change. Suddenly the lord’s speech was cut, screams and screeches sounded from the vox channel, a sound as defaning as a lightning strike, the croaking of engines, the screeching of pistons, the shouts of the panicked and panicking, the first casualties of the war. Chants for the dark gods were heard, curses of unimaginable filth, the acceptance of death. A colossal shadow was dropped upon them, as vast as the abyss which surrounded space. And as the shadow descended towards them, it picked up speed, heading towards the fortress. 

Like a battering ram the damaged strike cruiser descended. With the speed of warp engines, it roared like a caged beast, a magnificent sight to see, and a deadly one to be close to. It seemed that the sight made Modeus break the curtain hiding his emotions, it seemed that for a slight moment the lord panicked as he shouted orders through the vox. Like a firestorm from the havens the strike cruiser began falling, its tip like a blazing sword of a dark angel, its hull like a rain of death. A blessing from the gods it was, a tide of change, and as the world shook, and as everyone scattered it was Nerr’ak who stood, watching, unbelieving, he did not realize how true his thoughts were, he did not realize that they truly were blessed by the changer, truly a force that will bring tides of change to the Imperium and as they ship came closer a smile spread across his hawkish features, his tiny slit of a mouth twisted into a crooked smile. 

This was a dangerous place to say at as symbolic and destructively beautiful as it was. With a wave of his hand he created a psychic shield around himself, forcing any shrapnel or intruders away as he sprinted across the ravaged field. His huge form easily seen from distance yet still moving with unimaginable speed, his eyes were set upon Vlad’s thunderhawk. With insane laugher he made his way through the crowed. His psychic shield he used as a battering ram as he slammed away Astarte and cultist alike from his path, his form enough to intimidate most and his strength great enough to push away those who will not bulge. He raised his burning eyes skywards, catching a glimpse of his daemonic mount, his trophy prize. Dropping his shield he slammed his fist into a cultists nearby smashing every bone in his body and killing him instantly while making him rocket sideways into a trench, to rot with the rest of his filth caked brethren. With a mighty leap Nerr’ak landed inside the Thunderhawk, sending slight tremors along the craft. Vladimir came from the sky, landing slightly before him and entering his thunderhawk. The sound of thunder split his ears as he saw the alpha legion dreadnought who usually accompanies Ferrore, makings its way through the crowed, stomping anything in its way. Techmarines quickly came out strapping the chassis of the hulk to the transport cruiser and quickly backing inside so they won’t be left behind. The boarding ram closed behind them, letting everyone who were left outside to know of their upcoming death. The shouts and curses still fill the Vox as the marines and cultists left outside can see hope taking off from the ground and away from them. “Brethren” he voxed on an open channel for all to hear, “Though our sacrifice is great, we shall breach the gates of our enemies, and even in death we shall crush and stomp down the futile resistance of Garrond. Your sacrifice is not in vain!”

Nerr’ak watched as Vlad acknowledged him, he watched as the man ordered the vehicle to take off. Vlad was a real mystery, yet not his origins or past, the present, the symbiosis which he took upon himself, it was something interesting, he saw the man raising his hands skywards, engorging himself on some hidden desire. It was then when Nerr’ak realized that something changed, when he put down his hands Nerr’ak saw that it was no longer the same, not a puppet on strings barely able to stand without the will of its master. Something changed at this moment, some sort of light returned to the man’s eyes, an inner fire lit. 

It did not come as a surprise when Vlad turned and recognized Nerr’ak, speaking as his former self again, while it might be a trick of the daemon inside it did not seem like one as he had nothing to gain from it. He claimed to be in possession of himself, claiming the night hunter to have returned to him and speaking heresies against the glorious name of Tzeentch. Nerr’ak’s voice thundered from within, like the sound of thunder he bellowed, “Destiny is not for you to control insolent cur. Nor you nor I can claim our own destinies, we all play part in the greatest of all woven pictures, we are lines that are being weaved nothing more, only the greatest can break free, and I doubt that someone like you who sacrificed his own mind to a daemon would break free from the tapestry of Tzeentch.” It was rare when Nerr’ak would show his god-fearing side, it was only him who was allowed to speak heresies against his god as it was he who was blessed by him.

The thunderhawk shook, cutting off anything else which Nerr’ak had to say. Slamming his legs into the floor Nerr’ak stabilized himself as great sonic waves hurtled the less fortunate inside the thunderhawk, yet none was harmed… Too severely. Nerr’ak looked outside and saw how the mighty strike cruiser smashed into the void shields, creating an aura of yellow light around it, making it look quite angelic. Yet the void shields only slowed the cruiser down as it continued plowing onwards until a distant explosion sounded and the void shields dropped. The yellow aura disappeared quickly replaced by the color of orange and red as the fire engulfed cruiser crashed like a meteor into the fortress. 

The prow of the ship, which was detached from the hull, smashed into the forward wall of the fortress, vaporizing it under its sheer weight. The obsidian walls crumbled sending clouds of black obsidian filled dust skywards. The prow continued forward, eliminating ancient buildings and towers, gouging a crater in the ground of Drakkashi, one that would be filled by the scum of the city quickly enough, after of course, pillaging and salvaging whatever was possible from the remains of the prow. Yet the prow was not the entire cruiser, and as its name suggested. It was going to be a night of mourning for Garrond and his subordinates.

The hull and the rest of the Night of Mourning crashed through the gap in the first wall, slamming straight into the second wall, destroying it completely, leaving nothing alive nearby and tearing a whole large enough for an entire army to pass by and if it was not enough the hull continued forwards, crashing so hard into the ground that it tore it asunder and dug deep into the catacombs beneath the fortress, raising a dust storm so enormous that it engulfed the entire area, shattering windows and doors at Garrond’s fortress. It seemed like the battle just turned hugely in their favor. 

Orders were sounded from the lord of the warband, calling for everyone to retreat back to safety, into their base of operation, and so they did…

They landed, the force gathered once again, it was then that Nerr’ak could actually see the full scale of destruction brought by the crashing cruiser. Yet it seemed that his eyes have tricked him, it seemed that while the first wall was nearly entirely leveled to the ground the second wall was not harmed as he thought it was. He cursed slightly, seeing that they have two walls to pass through, muttering he went forward towards the easily spotted form of Modeus. 

He watched as the warband began arriving slowly, squad after squad, yet some still failed to report in at all. It was obvious that many were caught under the sheer size of the cruiser yet the question remained, how many? Yet as time passed the answer presented itself and it seemed that most of the warband survived except from the occasional missing squad or vehicle. It did not matter, they had a mission, a cause, and a glorious one at that, and no matter how wounded they were, they would see it through. It is the will of the changer after all.

When everyone finally gathered, everyone who survived more correctly. Modeus spoke, his voice ringing in people’s ears and heads, though those like Nerr’ak who knew the powers of the warp easily blocked the attempt to access their minds. Modeus called for them to slaughter their enemies, for glory and for chaos, a speech that would easily be fit for a berserker as well, if the berserker knew how to form words that is. As he finished his speech the land raider stirred, lurching forward towards the walls of Garrond’s fortress. Quickly many followed, on foot or on vehicle and some even took to the sky with the remaining thunderhawks yet none remained behind. They all followed Modeus, to lead him to his glory without even realizing it. From where he stood he could see Garrond’s defensive forces slowly mustering trying to cover the holes in the first wall and hold on as much as possible against the incoming tide of bloodlust driven men.

Seeing that the forces are moving forward Nerr’ak moved back to Vlad’s thunderhawk, it was by far the safest and easiest way to get inside the battle at the current time. It seemed that Vlad and his raptor brothers were preparing for a descent, a jump pack assault, Nerr’ak watched as they prepared their jump packs. Their armor shining in the colors of the Night Lords. A black death would fall upon the enemy. “May your sword strike true shadow brother.” Nerr’ak said. Moment later Vlad and his entire squad jumped, battle cries on their lips as they free felled towards the ground.

Nerr’ak whispered, a whisper which was heard across the warp, calling the servant to him. In a moment’s notice his daemonic mount appeared, waiting for its master to step on it. He quickly taking position on the daemonic mount and ordered it forward, following Vlad’s footsteps yet reaching places where he could not get. His mount floated onwards through the sky, his form barely visible against the clouds of dust and so insignificant in comparison to the chaos which reigned below. 

He floated onwards for a while until he could see the second wall close by, the guards here were lacking, most of the force continued forward to bolster the defenses on the first wall and as such it would be easy to find a hidden spot to begin his ritual at. A dirty little plan which would promise to turn the tides of battle even further and sow complete chaos amongst Garrond’s troops. Yet as always plans were met with other plans, the lord of change would never let him go unnoticed, it was time for a test of his mettle and skill. 

A lightning bolt flashed nearby as a sorcerer standing on top of the second wall missed it. It was a Scourged marine. Not entirely impressed Nerr’ak simply dodged several more of those bolts. Yet it was a risky maneuver, falling from such height would not do good to his bones. As the sorcerer cast another bolt Nerr’ak popped up his psychic shield deflecting the bolt sideways and those several ones who followed it. When the disc hovered above the wall Nerr’ak jumped. His heavy armor dragging him downwards quickly as he crashed into the obsidian floor of the wall, making it crack beneath his weight as he landed. “Children like you should not interfere with my plans.” Nerr’ak said, “Now… You will simply have to pay mongrel.” He said with a cold and dangerous tone which would have sent shivers down a men’s spine.

Without giving his opponent time to answer or prepare himself Nerr’ak unleashed a fire ball towards him, enhancing its speed with a psychic bolt which he released after it in close proximity. The impact should be disastrous if it hit. Holding his staff in one hand Nerr’ak took out his plasma pistol and fired a few shots through the blazing fire towards the whelp infront of him. “For a good measure I shall add a little of this as well.” He spoke softly and calmly as he unleashed his warp lightning towards the poor sorcerer. It would be interesting to see how he would fair with that.


----------



## Deus Mortis

Zarapheth listened in physical silence to Modeus as he revised his plan of how to assault Garrond’s fortress. Zarapheth would be the first to admit that his forte lay with word-smithing and rending individuals and that he was not the most experienced here on the art of siege warfare. It didn’t bother him, he simply accepted it as fact and was content to let Ferrore and Modeus have at it over how they would assault Garrond’s fortress. All he hoped was that it would start soon. Both he and Azauk were getting anxious to spill blood. Instead, Zarapheth took in, for the first time really, the stature of his new commander. This Astartes was a true behemoth, towing above even those of he own chapter in terminator armour. In fact, Zarapheth wondered if he would be as tall as Lorgar before he had ascended. Probably not, but he was easily as tall as Kor Pheron, probably taller still. Zarapheth was pleased that he would likely never have to face the Relictor lord in combat. Zarapheth listened as Modeus finished off his speech _“…So I have revised my battle plan and we shall hit them hard and fast, driving a burning spear tip into the heart of our foe and to do this I shall reign death and destruction upon Garrond and his followers from the sky."_ A blinding flash erupted across the sky, and Zarapheth unconsciously roared in triumph…

_…Azauk roared with the flesh. The light was blinding to mortal eyes, and the sound deafening, but neither worried about that. The daemon’s supernatural hearing and sight easily compensated for that, and both watched as the heavens rained burning sulphur on the unworthy. Azauk let the flesh reveal in it in his own pious way, but he simply took joy in the foreknowledge of the slaughter which would follow. The other mortal here, the one who seemed to be radiating chaos, had been right though. These shields erected to protect the weak prey inside the metal hive were difficult to break, even with this display of firepower. However, Azauk could feel the gentle ebb of fear from the fortress, lapping at his warp senses like a warm ocean and he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of fear and anxiety amongst those they would soon rend whilst the cacophony played like a sweet overture…_ 

Zarapheth and Azauk spoke into the warp “My pack. Be ready to drink your fill of blood, for soon the only protection the weak fools have will fall and we will tear their souls from their bodies.” The chorus of a hundred voices and howls echoed through the warp back at him. Zarapheth’s teeth shone with an unholy radiance, bathed in the light of the orbital lance strikes. Shifting his massive bulk around to look at each general here again Modeus focused his attention on Vladimir, Ferrore and Nerr'ak: _"Tech-Marine, Sorcerer, Raptor. You three are my oldest brothers within this warband save those that remain of my once beloved chapter and I know now that I made the right choice in appointing you as my generals, once this battle is finished I ask that you re-affirm your loyalties for the coming wars that will make the Imperium bleed and burn. If however you choose to try and take the position of leader of this warband from me then the company of the Great Four will be nothing compared to the pain I will inflict upon you and all those sworn to your service now I believe the void shields shou...."_ Suddenly Modeus’ vox unit erupted in a scream of static and curses. “Fuck” Zarapheth muttered under his breath. It would be terrible if on the precipice of such a bloody sacrifice to the Pantheon Modeus’ leadership faltered. Still, so far everyone within Garrond’s fortress thought he was dead, so if this went badly he could always make it back to Garrond, and…well he would have to improvise then. Suddenly Zarapheth saw what had made Modeus’s vox unit scream at him…

_…The mortal shouted in something that constituted fear, but something not quite fear. It was like fear, but more akin to confusion, like something in an incredibly intricate plan had gone wrong and his mind was frantically trying to compensate for it. His voice reached Azauk’s ears "Everyone scatter! Find cover! And brace for impact!" As other mortals moved, Azauk and the flesh stood and watched the strike cruiser fall from the heavens. It’s path blazed across the sky and Azauk thought it similar the Skarbrand falling from Khorne’s pleasure an age ago. Thousands would be obliterated in the explosion of the ship and those in the doomed space-craft were as good as dead already. Azauk let out a savage laugh-howl of pleasure. *Azauk, we need to move.* The other half pulled at the chords of muscles in their body and Azauk realise he was right. Both pounded towards the closest thunderhawk only to find it being swiftly ‘emptied’ by half of his pack. Good, exactly how they should. Most were merely simple cultists, mere thralls with weak spirit not worthy of glorious service. Two Astartes were being ‘disengaged’ also. One was already torn apart by his pack, and the other one was already missing an arm when they threw it from the thunderhawk. Azauk would not miss the chance to drink blood. He jumped and dug his tail into the mortal’s chest. The blood flowed freely and in a panic into the symbiotic body. The dry corpse landed a second before Azauk and the flesh did. The vitea gave fresh energy to Azauk and his eyes opened wide ad he howled and leapt for the ramp of the thunderhwak…_

…“Move” Zarapheth snarled through congealing acidic spittle and his claw palm slammed to hatch close button. At least half his pack was in this thunderhawk, and the other half would have done a similar thing. They should be fine. “Where to, my lord?” The mortal pilot asked with as much courage as a man watching a star ship fall could muster. He obviously heard the snarling and grunting of the pack gathered here, but dare not look at it. So many unnatural forms in one confined area would hurt mortal eyes and strain their minds as they tried to make sense of the nonsensical. Zarapheth push his way to the door of the cockpit as he spoke. “Nerr’ak’s fortess. The mountain should shield us.” He stood in the doorway as the pilot took off. The falling star-ship looked familiar…

_…Azauk was certain they had watched this happen before. When and where had they been? It was after the Great Betrayal, when daemon had become flesh for the first time. It was after the apotheosis. But they were still new. The transformation still hurt and was not natural. Warriors of blue and gold had fallen to his talons. *Calth* the flesh spoke. Now Azauk remembered. *After Campanile struck the orbital station, the Antrodamicus fell from the sky and demolished Kalkas Fortalice.* The flesh laughed inwardly at the irony of those events. Betrayal, slaughter on a planetary scale. So many things reoccurred here a millennia later. Azauk could not help but feel that this repetition of tactics reflected the Great Game in a marvellous way. The scene of the falling star-ship was majestic even as it struck the void shields protecting the prey…_

…As the void shields burst from the impact of a falling strike-cruiser, Zarapheth gripped the archway of the cabin, still unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him. The prow of the ‘Night of Mourning’ burst the void shields in a blinding flash of light and a sonic boom with rocks the thunderhawk. The pilots haven’t moved any further, because if they did then the successive blasts would hit them and likely throw them into the mountain. The best they can do is watch the scene unfold and try and compensate accordingly. The next thing that happens is the prow of Modeus’ strike cruiser cuts a clean hundred meter wide gouge out of the first wall, the impact resonating across the giant wall, causing large sections to crumble. The walls are visibly trembling, probably much like the warriors within them, Zarapheth suspected. The strike carves a line through the ancient city, demolishing buildings and uprooting whole sections of the town in its wake. Dust and particular matter blew up into the air and flew at the thunderhawk at such a velocity, it cause the air-craft to turn until the pilots countered the effect of the dust-storm they were now caught in. Next the hull slammed like a hammer into the gap between the first and second wall. Zarapheth reckoned that that hit would cause seismic tremors for miles, and from the looks of the first wall, which was now crumbling to dust and the second wall breaking apart in places, he was right. Another dust storm hit the thunderhawk, but this one contained whole pieces of wall and other rubble created. A few shards hit the window, causing spider-web thin fractures to spread along it…

_…Azauk was prepared for the glass to break, but it didn’t. The dust continued to swirl, he held on to the walls with all his might, feeling the metal buckle and tear beneath his grip. The mortals in the cabin desperately tried to keep this metal bird flying despite being thrown every which way at random intervals. Eventually the rubble-storm died down, and the craft started the level out. The Modeus’s voice rang over the vox and in their minds. An odd blessing from the Gods. Azauk snorted at the idea. It might have been a blessing, but it only occurred because something in this mortal’s meticulous plan had not gone right. Still, a good commander of any forces, mortal or otherwise, took advantage of what happened, and Modeus was certainly capitalizing on this one. They were going back to the fortress. They were going in for the kill. This thought made Azauk smile in anticipation. Finally, the battle he had so long awaited was now at hand. There would be blood, and blood in abundance. Azauk made his way to the front of the pack. They had all heard the leader, there were no more words to be spoken. They all knew what was coming and the battle lust was as palpable as the visible transformation the pack was undergoing to be in battle-state was. The craft still shook, but not like after the ship hit. The ramp opened to reveal a scene of carnage and destruction below. They were just above the second wall. The fight was already going on below, and Azauk could not wait any longer. He jumped, mouth wide open, howling for joy…_

*…The beast falls out of the sky and lands on the head of an unfortunate Astartes who was herding mortal warriors. He is transhuman, but the monster is trans-transhuman. The impact drives him to the floor, and the man-monster is still howling over his head as he tries to get up from under it. Its acid lined teeth close around his head. The two mandibles in the beast’s cheek fire on sinew driven pistons through his helmet and skull and mush his brain. They then open like terrible flowers and harvest the grey matter inside. The beast swallows bone and brain and blood whole, delighting in its taste. Even as the sky rains more monsters, the first, the alpha move on to his next target. He pounces into a group of mere mortals and separates eight of them at their waist with one swing of his bladed tail. The rest fall to his claws and fangs. Every blood splatter seems to be drunk but the monster’s very skin. Strengthening it, empowering it, driving it. 

Two more Astartes run toward the man-which-is-not-a-man, swords drawn and bolt pistols firing. One’s sword plumes black smoke and the other one crackles with blue lightning. The alpha beast hears them, smells them, sees them. They are eager for the kill. Almost as eager as it. With its clawed hand, is grabs the remains of a mortal and hurls the one with the metal sword. The force of the carcass knocks the marine down, his shots going wide. The second, the beast bounds towards. He fires three shots, two which land in the incredibly fast monster approaching him. They detonate, and the beast’s flesh blooms out. But it’s too strong, its thirst too great. The flesh folds back into its original position, and the marine fears he has lost. The monster is upon him. He tries to swing his sword, but the beast grabs it with his own claws of lightning, seemingly impervious to the blade. The other metal tentacle bursts through his chest and out the other side, destroying both hearts as it passes through. The other has just regained his footing when the other when the man-monster leaps on him, forcing him to the ground again. He tries to use his hands to force the snapping jaws and powerful arms away from his body. The tail spears him through the face guard. The monster drinks his blood quickly, rejoicing in it. 

In its feeding, the beast is momentarily off-guard. A quick salvo of bolts slam into its side. It rides the kinetic impact of the bolts, rolls once and then skids round to look at where the bolts came from and who challenges it. The challenger is a giant of a man, a terminator. In his right hand it the baleful bolter, and in the left is a black axe which screams with warp energy in ways only the daemonic can hear. The monster howls a challenge. The brute, understanding the intention behind the howl, offers back a deep guttural roar and fires again. The alpha is fast, but some bolts still impact against his warp-blessed skin. Some are deflected harmlessly, and those that do open wounds swiftly heal. A moment later and the monster is upon him. His right arm comes up to block the beast, but the force pushes him back, leaving groves in the rubble and dust. The monster’s jaws bite hard into the forearm. A bone fractures and some flesh parts, but most of the damage is absorbed by his thick adimantium skin. The beast savagely rakes its claw across his chest plate, leaving deep groves in the markings there, but not causing deep damage. The brute responds by hammering his axe into the monsters shoulder. Warp power meets warp power, and for a moment both are neutralised. The skin around the wound becomes normal, but the blade is simply a blade. Only the kinetic force and the razor sharp edge drive it into the beast’s shoulder.

The beast recoils in pain, and the two break apart. The terminator realises he can harm it cleanly with his axe, and the beast knows it too. The brute tries to gain the advantage by lunging forward with a side-wards swing of the axe. The beast is faster and grabs the arm of the terminator in a two clawed grip. The terminator tries to stab the beast with the blade on his combi-bolter, but the beast’s tail fends it off. The man-monster uses all of its bruising strength to push with one hand and pull with the other. The terminator’s elbow shatters and bends the wrong way. To his merit, the brute doesn’t howl in pain, but merely grunts. The pain does force him to drop the axe as his hand flares open. The beast jumps away and sizes up his opponent once again. One of his limbs in nearly useless, flopping by his side. The terminator drops his gun and pick up his blade, wagering it is a better means of offence. The beast displays what counts for a smile and lunges once again, this time going for the kill…*


----------



## Lord Ramo

Rachael stood with the other Lords of Modeus army, awaiting to hear the final plan from him as men around them prepared for the attack to start. Ferrore was the last Lord to arrive, the second he did he did not wait for anyone to speak before condemning Modeus plan and demanding to be given command of the attack, as he believed that his forces would take the brunt of the defenders fire power. Rachael agreed with him that the plan would not work but would not defy Modeus seeing how she had only just been accepted into his fold and made a general. 

Modeus spoke, saying that he had changed the original plan and that whilst he respected the honesty from Ferrore he would not let him lead the attack. Rachael was glad that the plan had changed, and awaited Modeus to tell of the new plan. He simply stated that he would use his fleet to bombard the enemy before they moved in and destroyed the fools that opposed them. 

Rachael’s helmet quickly compensated as lights surged from the sky before 
impacting on the shield in front of them, blinding flashes that lit up the area. She wondered briefly about Garronds fleet. He was no idiot, she knew that of Garrond, and she was sure that his fleet was waiting for the opportune time to strike at Modeus’s fleet, most likely soon as it was busy firing down on the planet.

She ignored Modeus as he started to address Ferrore, the sorcerer and the raptor, warning them what would happen to them if they tried to take the control of the warband from him, intent on watching the barrage. She was not stupid, she was not powerful enough to take on her new Lord, or a few of his generals. For now she was content with her place in the grand scheme of things, eventually she would rise higher and higher but for now she needed to keep her ambition in check.

She was drawn back to it as she heard shouts and screams over Modeus’s vox, turning to regard him she sawing him looking up at the sky, and she followed his looks to see a dark shadow in the sky. For a moment she thought it was Garronds ship and it would fire upon them and wipe them all out. However at a second glance she realized that the ship was crashing. "Everyone scatter! find cover! and brace for impact!” Modeus yelled down the vox, and immediately everyone sprang into life once more as the ship descended towards them. 
Rachael quickly voxed her champions, “Get as many astartes back as you can, use the transports we came in. The Cultists are not as important, any try and get into an Astartes rhino kill them.” She said harshly to her men before heading for one of her own rhino’s.

She rushed to a rhino that was full of Emperor’s Children, the last one turned and locked his lenses onto her before disappearing inside leaving the door open for her. She leapt inside, the marine slamming the door behind her before the rhino sped back away from the walls. She cursed to herself as the rhino moved away at speed, the plan was ruined. Modeus could lose most of his forces here, and if he did then he would be easy prey for Garrond. 

She had no doubt if that happened then he would go to immense lengths to ensure that any who strayed from him were punished, including her. She stood, holding onto the Rhino as she looked over its occupants. The marines inside belonged to her, Emperor’s Children dedicated to Slaanesh and ready to bring forth his pleasure to those that opposed him. One occupant got her attention as she noted he was not in her warband, and would be a prized occupant for anyone’s warband. The apothecary sat in silence in the rhino, even as Rachael addressed him.

“I don’t believe we have met apothecary, I am Rachael, leader of Modeus Slaanesh warband here. I hope your ready for the coming battle. Your job will be the hardest.” She stated simply before the Rhino shook violently from the Strike Cruiser hitting the ground obviously. Rachael managed to keep her footing, holding onto a handle with all her might until the shockwave passed them.

The rhino slewed to a halt and Rachael voxed her champions, content to know that most of her astartes had made it out alive. She soon received word from Modeus to head back to the walls and prepare for the assault. “As you wish my lord.” She responded before hailing her warband.

“Brothers, head back to the staging area. It appears that our assault on 
Garronds fortress will go ahead as planned. Let us bring the word of Slaanesh and bring him pleasure in the deaths of our foes.” She cut the link as the rhino made its way back to the staging area.

The rhino slewed to a halt as they arrived back at the Staging area, Rachael disembarking to see the devestation and destruction before her. It appeared that the cruiser had broken into two pieces, but she could see that the shield was down as well as a sizeable portion of the first wall. There would be no more waiting she realized, it was the time to attack.

She saw Modeus was standing on his land raider, Ferrore with him, as he addressed the warband once more. “Brothers and Sisters. Now is the time to bring glory to the gods in the fires of battle, kill, maim and slaughter to your hearts content! Kill all those who stand in your way and do not stop until the fortress is ours and the false champion of the gods, Garrond, is a lifeless husk! Forwards! Blood and Glory await us!”

With a cry of victory the army surged forward, behind Modeus land raider and towards the walls. Rachael moved back into her rhino yelling, “Take us in to one side of Modeus and his men. We wreak havoc now.” She grabbed hold of a handle once more as the Rhino took off after Modeus’s land raider, moving faster than some of his forces. She held her powersword in one hand, prepared to leap from the rhino and claim souls in the name of the Dark Prince.

Two of her marines carrying the heavy blasters and strange sonic weaponry that the Emperor’s Children utilized stood from their seats, moving to the two firing points she could hear their manical laughter over the vox as they unleashed their weapons with horrifying effect. The rhino halted and the ramp descended, Rachael leading her squad out, the two heavy weapons bringing up the rear as she turned to see the host of Modeus’s forces charge towards the fortress. It was an amazing and horrifying sight at the same time.

The defenders would be horrified by the coming storm, she only felt pleasure. She turned her attention back to the enemy and saw a group of marines directing Cultists to bring up heavy weapons. She turned to the marines with heavy weapons. “You two take down those cultists, ensure that those heavy weapons are destroyed and can’t harm the advancing force, the rest of you, bolters and blades with me. Let us claim lives for the Dark Prince!”

She turned and sprinted with the rest of the Emperor’s Children behind her towards the Astartes, even as the sonic weapons boomed out, tearing apart the cultists and their weapons. She voxed her champions as she ran, “Once all our forces are reunited, hold the breach in the wall.” 

She leapt into her foes, ducking down as a round from a bolt pistol barked and detonated on the stone behind her. With a roar her astartes leapt over the stone and crashed into the astartes, skilfully cutting down those that opposed them. Rachael weaved in and out of the combat, her speed helping her out considerably. Her blade and claw cut down those foolish enough to try and claim her life, and she laughed at the slaughter, feeling pleasure in claiming more and more lives for the dark prince. She stabbed her blade into the gut of one marine, using him as a shield from two others who fired their bolt Pistols at her. 

She leapt to oneside, the marine she had previously been using as a shield fell to the ground. She leapt forward, her claw cutting through the first ones pistol, arm and chest, killing him pretty much instantly. The other raised his blade to be blocked by hers, before she swiped his head from his shoulders with her claw.


----------



## Yru0

As Ferrore finished his outburst Arcus noticeably winced beneath his helm, he felt a grudging working respect for the warrior, after all, it was the Techmarine and the Apothecary which kept the armies of Chaos on the warpath; only these two entities had the capabilities and the skill to repair torn flesh and mangled metal, or even to create it anew if need be. Modeus' reply was swift, brutal and predictably clear on the consequences that would befall any of them if they dared question his orders or attempt to usurp his command. Arcus did feel a momentary pang of regret at hearing that they would not be recreating the fabled tactics of those great pioneers who first blazed the trail of Chaos all those years ago; however, the Apothecary's logical mind quickly stepped in and quashed those thoughts, it would be a needless bloodbath and would have delayed their end goals. It would have been glorious though.
Arcus was torn from his daydream as Modeus' fist clenched, beckoning the heavens to release their fury upon Garrond's fortress, and the wrath of the gods made itself known in the form of the molten lead and fire of Modeus' fleet. As soon as his helm compensated for the titanic forces that were assailing his senses, Arcus gazed into the fire that consumed the fortress, clear evidence of the power at Modeus' command and the favour placed in him by the gods of Chaos. Quickly however, some part of Arcus' mind remained rational, analysing the sudden change in situation and drawing disturbing conclusions, Garrond had maintained a significant fleet, and it was far more difficult for an entire vessel to change sides than an individual warrior on the ground, therefore it was unlikely that Modeus' navy could've garnered control of the space around the world in such a short space of time. This left numerous alternatives, by far the most likely of which was that Modeus was leading his vessels into a trap. 

The cries echoing from Modeus' vox was all the answer that the Apothecary required, and even before the great shadow fell across the land, Arcus had turned and made haste towards the waiting transports, shoving aside any Astartes that were captivated by the sight, or the emotions, of the cataclysm, and trampled the skulls of any cultists that dared obstruct him. Unfortunately, Arcus could not simply utilise one of his own vehicles for an escape, for he had little in the way of forces yet under his command, regardless, being an Apothecary did come with certain..._privileges._ Noticing an available rhino transport, Arcus covered the distance in a matter of moments with the aid of his modified physiology, by the time he arrived a number of Emperor's Children had boarded the vehicle, not bothering to introduce himself, the Astartes seemed to accept Arcus' presence as an Apothecary, probably seeing him as an opportunity to increase their own chances in the coming battle, although even Arcus doubted that he had as many forms of drugs in his Narthecium as these Slaaneshi did in their systems. 

Turning back to look out of the Rhino's door way, Arcus breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed that the majority of the falling vessel was in fact on an impact course with Garrond's fortress, perhaps even now the gods were smiling on the Relictor Lord, the other most obvious fact was that the prow of the doomed vessel was getting ever more closer to the assembly of troops. Preparing to yell at the driver to evacuate the scene as quickly as possible, Arcus was cut short by a sudden _thump_ impacting the Rhino's floor. He turned to find a Dark Sister picking herself up from the ground as the vehicle finally whirred into motion to make good its escape. Taking his seat, the Apothecary racked his brains to recall any details on the Slaaneshi, he recalled that she was in fact the commander of the followers of Slaanesh under Modeus' command, a remarkable feat, particularly for one as...disadvantaged...as herself towards her competition. As she finally seemed to take notice of the out of place figure in what was most likely her rhino, Arcus nodded his head as introduction. 
*“I don’t believe we have met apothecary, I am Rachael, leader of Modeus Slaanesh warband here. I hope your ready for the coming battle. Your job will be the hardest.”* Arcus took the simple statement as confirmation of his earlier thoughts, "It always is." that was true enough, as committed as the forces of Chaos were, blood and death followed in their footsteps as true as war and violence, a Dark Apothecary was always kept busy.

Arcus grinned at the Emperor's Children who had been taking occasional glances at the Apothecary as he tested his Narthecium, the Apothecary took great pleasure in the emotions running through the Astartes, perhaps he could not feel fear, but if anything could make an Angel of Death come close, whether they may be loyalist or otherwise, it was the sight of an exposed Narthecium in the hands of an Apothecary, almost no other handheld device could so easily pierce the defenses of a Marine and render him, for all his genetically imbued superiority and might, a helpless patient. As Modeus' orders arrived through the vox, Arcus replaced his helm upon his head, he had always trusted his own eyes when preparing the tools of his office over any technology, even that of his armor. The air was suddenley saturated in the piercing screams of unlucky souls beyond the rhino, and the maddening noise from the Slaaneshi weapons which cut them down. Arcus gazed at the Emperor's Childrens' weapons with interest, his natural curiosity causing his mind to wander, yet as the transport rumbled to a halt he forced himself to the task at hand. 

As the hatch fell to the floor and the Astartes within the rhino were exposed to the raw nerve of sensations that encompassed the battlefield, the Dark Sister lead her troops straight into the fray. Moving to follow the warriors, Arcus was forced to pull himself quickly back into the protection of the Rhino as Bolter rounds detonated mere inches from his armour. Roaring in rage at being forced to cower, Arcus identified the three Deathmongers who were firing at him, no doubt seeing the Apothecary as easy prey for their wanton destruction. Arcus readied his power sword and infernus pistol, deciding that the long blade gifted to him by the Relictor Lord would be too restricting in the battle within the fortress, and charged across the field, anger clouding his vision of all but the foes who dared tear him from his sacred duty. Bolt rounds ricocheted from the ground at his feet, but it was not long until Arcus began to return fire, his infernus pistol by far making up for its reduced range with a vicious punch, the blast, designed to pierce the skin of vehicles, tore through ceramite, flesh and bone, felling one Deathmonger where he stood. His brothers howled in their rage, drawing their own blades and preparing to meet Arcus on the field, grinning manically beneath his helm, Arcus allowed himself to be overwhelmed by the adrenalin, the biological concoction that flooded his bloodstream in the heat of battle, there was no feeling like it. He deftly parried the opening blows of the Deathmongers, returning with a swift swing which severed one's arm which was too eager in its attempt to strike, the man grunted in pain, only to have his legs severed beneath him as Arcus once more swung his blade. The second Deathmonger, by this point, had launched into Arcus with a flurry of his blade, Arcus couldn't help but laugh as he felt himself enthralled in the battle, it had been far too long since he had been in one of such magnitude, he would be very busy indeed. His menacing voice still boomed out as he suddenly withdrew from the combat with the Astartes and brought his pistol to bear, leaving the headless corpse to tumble to the ground, the only remains above the neck an already cauterized wound.

The Deathmonger was slipping in an out of consicousness, even his advanced body couldn't survive the sever bloodloss he was suffering from his severed limbs, he found himself trapped in his own form, unable to move himself, but fully aware of his surroundings. As he took note of the battle still raging around him, he saw the Apothecary raise from one of his fallen brethren, "Ahh...thank you for joining us one last time before you leave. Perhaps in this way, your death could be more useful, your life was simply..._wasteful_." The Deathmonger couldn't hear the words of the Apothecary, already passing out from blood loss for the last time, but the last thing he would see was the bloody Narthecium drawing ever closer.


----------



## revan4559

Ridoranaa: Your shield knocks your opponent back several steps and he almost loses his footing on the rubble currently making up the slope you are stood on but he is an Astartes and quickly recovers. Circling your opponent for a few moments with him doing the same the sergeant thumbs his chainsword back into life before hurling it at you end over end as he reaches down to his waist and pulls out his plasma pistol, with a single fluid movement he raises his pistol and unleashes shot after shot towards you but your manage to get your stormshield up in time to absorb each ball of plasma which would surely do irreparable damage to your armour and body as not even Astartes can withstand plasma weapons. As the sergeant lowers his now overheated pistol he launches himself from his position in a flying leap before bringing up both of his feet and slamming them straight into your stormshield pitching you straight off the mound of rubble and onto your back several feet below where you were standing. Pushing yourself up the sergeant lands infront of you and starts hacking down at you with his power sword in both hand with all the strength his power armour can lend him putting you on the defensive as you have to keep your shield up to defend yourself. (Going to leave what happens up to you as im sure you will think of something imaginative, and a good way to defend yourself before going back on the offensive.)

Nerr’ak: With a simple pop of displaced air the sorcerer teleports straight through the warp with his psychic powers and appears behind you and lashes out with his staff which connects with your shoulder guard but the ancient suit of terminator armour turns away a lot of the damage that would have been done, it seems that Modeus giving you this suits of armour will be useful after all. Turning on the spot, which is no mean feat for terminator armour, you lash out with your own force staff but find your opponent has once again teleported away from you and now stands infront of you as he lashes out with a lightning bolt that connects with your chest and disperses across all of your armour, this will get annoying as while you are affectively a walking tank in your tactical dreadnought armour the constantly teleporting of your sorcerer will make it hard for you to get a good shot at him, either with your psychic powers or with your plasma pistol. Twisting left and right each time your opponent teleports you try to get a lock onto him but you can’t and you start to get very frustrated but you then remember that you know the art of daemon summoning, perhaps if you summon a few lesser daemons so you can find out from which direction he will attack then you can counter? (This if your first chance at daemon summoning so enjoy is, also you CAN kill the sorcerer in this post but make it descriptive, slam his head against the wall repeatedly if you want to.)

Ferrore: OOC: Refer to previous post Deathy.

Rachael: OOC: Like we discussed over msn, we shall discuss your further course of action for securing the breach over the next week.

Zarapheth: As you lunge forward the terminator’s right boot comes up and meets you head on crashing into your chest plate cracking it and hurling you backwards until you land on your back and then roll onto all fours while snarling in annoyance and pain, underestimating a warrior armoured in tactical dreadnought armour is a very bad idea as their entire body becomes a weapon not just what ever is in their lands. While you can target the weaker parts of the terminator armour it is practically impenetrable but what you gain in protection you lose in speed, so if you can get onto the back of your opponent you could almost leisurely start to pry open the warriors armour as if you wear opening a tin can. The only obstacle between you and your opponents back however is that demonically possessed axe and the warrior himself so if only you had some form of distraction to keep him busy while you execute your plan, it is at this point you remember that you have other possessed with you and under your command. (Command your possessed and then work on dealing with the terminator, im leaving it up to you how descriptive you are in dealing with him so make it good. If you call then the blood angel and black legion possessed will heed your call.)

Arcus: As you dance around the battle field extracting the gene-seed of the fallen you seem to be pretty much ignored save for the occasional cultist who runs screaming at you with their pitiful blades raised but you casually dispatch them with a flick of your wrist which snaps their neck or severs their head with your power sword. After removing the gene-seed from a fallen Khorne Beserker you stand up to look out into the battle and decide that now you’ve retrieved all the gene-seed in sight so far you better make your way into the fortress somehow to make sure that your apocathery brothers inside and defending the vast stocks held within, though to get inside you will have to fight your way in first of all. Turning from the corpses behind you, you start to sprint towards the second wall when a possessed marine in the colours of Garrond’s own warband or chapter, you have never been too sure, comes screaming towards you with both of his arms ending in giant crab like pincers, this will be an interesting test of your skill and will allow you to see what possession does to Astartes gene-seed. (Feel free to kill the possessed in your post if you want, but it needs to be a good length post and descriptive.)

Vladimir: As the terminator clatters to the floor you order four of your Raptors to carry it to a safe landing zone where your thunderhawk touches down for you to scavenge and salvage later for personally use in combat zones where jump packs would be a problem. Turning from your men you hear the roaring of jets and turn to see chaos raptors wearing the colors of the flesh tearer’s chapter come screeching towards you with one of them slamming straight into your chest and pitching you off the wall as you struggling against each other with jet packs roaring into life trying to stabilize your decent but instead merely making you and the raptor spin through the air faster onto you manage to kick off of the raptors chest and rebalance yourself in the air if such a thing is possible and look at your opponent fly towards the ground before landing on all fours and draw two chain axes before hurling up towards you as his raptor brethren engage your raptor brethren in aerial duels and you can’t help but wonder if this is what battles between the Night Lords and Blood Angels at the siege of Terra was like as both are famed for their love of flight and aerial assaults. Shaking your head you twist your body into a decent and hurtle straight towards your opponent with the lightning wreathed stormblade ready in your right hand. (Be descriptive in your fight with the raptor as he is an aspiring champion.)

Aeron: Charging forward the spawn changes into something akin to a giant scaled ape with the head of a hound and a tail of a scorpion (think Scyla from fantasy) and you charge towards it to meet it head on with your dual chain axes roaring in praise to Khorne and the spawn roars its own form of challenge as the two of you slam against each other with thunderous force as spawns forehead crashes into the center of your chest plate cracking it and lifting you off your feet as your axes bury themselves in its shoulders where they then start to tear out chunks of mutated flesh while covering you with the spawns bloody. While this wounds the spawn however it keeps charging forward straight into a pillar using you as the main battering ram which shatters the pillar completely before it veers off towards another pillar as it repeats the process of slamming you into each pillar it can find as you hack chucks out of it before the spawn finally shakes its head dislodging you and flinging you back towards the fire fight giving you a few moments respite before it charges you again. (ill leave the rest of the fight up to you but no killing it in this post, be as descriptive as you can.)

Malphas: As the sword descends the sorcerer’s corpse twitches and shakes violently until it bursts apart in a shower of ceramite, blood, organs and bones with the sorcerer’s skull and helmet landing several feet away before rolling off of the wall onto the ground below. Infront of you now stands a daemon of chaos bearing all those similarities to those in servitude to the master of decay as it turns its plague ridden and rotting face to retard you with a toothy grin and hearty phlegm filled chuckle but you did not summon. As its rushed coated blade lashes out and connects with your crozius you see another sorcerer of the Reborn several feet away with his hand outstretched towards the daemon but unlike his brother sorcerer this ones armour is rusted and falling to pieces in some places and emblazoned upon his chest is the symbol of Nurgle. It seems now you not only get to test your skill against yet another sorcerer but also a daemon of the plague father aswell, but two can play at the game of daemon summoning but do you anger Father Nurgle by calling upon the Changers daemons to aid you? Or do you call upon the Lord of Pleasure’s? of God of War’s? (Entirely up to you what you do for the summoning and fight, but make it descriptive! You can do it!)

Urien: The Tzeentchen sorcerer erupts into multi-coloured flames as he pushes himself to his feet and the eye emblazoned on the center of his helmets forehead opens to stare directly at you with blue pulsing light as the sorcerer’s left fist lashes out and connects with the chest plate of your terminator armour and somehow, though you guess through psychic powers, hurls you back ten feet where you crash into one of Garronds men and crush him and his armour beneath your massive bulk. Pushing yourself back up onto your feet, which is no easy task for a terminator armoured warrior you see the Tzeentchen sorcerer striding towards you still engulfed in multi-coloured flames with steam rising from the joints of his armour as he incinerates those flies that were inside of his armour and all those that get anywhere near him, this fight has become very interesting indeed however the gods are fickle when it comes to granting their sorcerer’s power so if you can make him seem worthless in the eyes of his god then perhaps you can get the pathetic changer to punish his servant in a way you would find hilarious, though simply killing him would surely bring you more of Father Nurgle’s blessings. (Up to you how you fight this now flaming sorcerer, like the others make it description! If you want to run some idea’s passed me you have my msn or pm me.)

Hardal: Your power fist cores out the raptors and he collapses to the ground with the only sound being that of ceramite clattering onto stone and as you turn away from him something lands on your back and starts scratches at your helmet seals trying to wrench them off. By the dark gods there are more raptors here either skulking in the shadows or crawling along the ceiling and now one of them is on your back pinning your servo-arm in place so you are unable to reach it while your power fist would be unable to reach back far enough to get a hold of your opponent so you have the idea of slamming yourself backwards into a statue dislodging the raptors, who then activates his jump pack to send himself back up onto the ceiling before he looks down at you and then drops back down onto the ground level with a screech emitting from his helmet grill which even your helmets sound dampers have trouble blocking all of it out. As the raptor lands on all fours infront of you it rears up back onto its hide legs and lightning claws flick out of their casings before the energy fields activate as the marine launches himself at you. (Giving you free choice in how you deal with this opponent, all I will say is you killed 1 raptor, only 2 more to go xD).

Taurus:  Each time your power-sword lashes out the possessed marine dodges back knowing that it is the most dangerous of your weapons that can actually hurt it, while defending with your daemonic claw and attacking with your power sword your opponent is continually using his tail to give him the reach advantage over you keeping you on the defensive but without your drug filled mind you come up with a way to even this fight out and as the possessed marines tail lashes out at you once again you bring up your power sword and sever tail about a third of the way down from the spiked tip which elects a shout of anger and pain from the possessed marine which sounds like a beautiful melody to you. Smiling you watch the possessed marine who lunches at you with both of his claws extended aiming for the weaker parts in your armour joints so he can sever your arms thus rendering you weaponless and easy prey but you easily move to the side and bury your blade straight into the throat of the possessed warrior and move away from his twitching body as he collapses to the floor vainly trying to stem the blood flowing from his throat. Moving from the possessed marine you turn back to the Punisher tech-marines who are still bringing the defense lasers online one of them with a complete Servo-harness turns to face you and pulls his bolt pistol out of its holster and starts to fire at you. (Finish off the possessed marine if you want, then move onto fighting the tech-marine.)


----------



## High_Seraph

KNocking his opponent back a few steps and almost making him lose his balance Ridoranaa stalks in a mirror circle waiting for a chance to attack while measuring his opponent. The sergeant thumbs his chainsword back to life then quickly locking it on he throws it directly at Ridoranaa who swings his scytheat it connecting and shattering it depriving him of one weapon. Seeing a plasma pistol aimed at his face Ridoranaa barely manages to get his stormshield up in time to block the ball of plasma flying towards him. *Lucky for the shield. Those plasma shots would have otherwise killed me very quickly, even with the blessings of Nurgle.* Feeling the impacts stop Ridoranaa looks over the edge of his shield to se the sergeant flying towards him with his feet coming up to slam into the shield. racing himself as best he can Ridoranaa is none the less thrown backwards from the force of the impact landing several feet down the rubble.

Pushing himself up Ridoranaa sees the sergeant already swinging his powersword with both hands, dropping his scythe Ridoranaa braces both hands against the back of his shield. Feeling the impact Ridoranaa quickly braces himself for the next attack already forming a desperate plan as for the most he has been on the defense of the fight. Feeling several more impacts as his opponent still uses a twohanded swing jarring his arms with every hit. Looking at the sergeant Ridoranaa sees him pull back for a strike with everything hoping to get around the shield Ridoranaa steps backwards as the sword comes closer before hitting the sergeants armswith his shield knocking him off balance and forcing him to turn in order to keep his weapon and expose his back.

Grabbing his bolter Ridoranaa fires on full auto watching as nearly all bolts are deflected by the armour but forcing his opponent away as each bolt forces him further down the rubble finally forcing him from his feet as his bolter runs dry. Mag locking it to his thigh once again Ridoranaa picks up his scythe before charging down at his opponent holding his shield in front of him like a batterinh ram. Swinging his right arm backwards Ridoranaa lets the scythe slide until he holds the last quarter of the shaft before slamming into the sergeant who had regained his feet swinging his scythe towards the exposed back splitting the armour around the gouges from his bolter along the left side elicting a scream of pain and rage. Watching his opponent spin from the force of his attacks Ridoranaa pulls his scythe back before it could be knocked out of his hand. Deflecting a pitful return attack Ridoranaa swings his scythe towards the left leg of his opponent hoping to wound him even further before finishing him.


----------



## Bane_of_Kings

The Raptor was no match for the mighty Power Fist belonging to the Warsmith, as it struck through the renegade's stomach. Letting the corrupted astartes collapse to the floor, the Iron Warrior heard only the sound of ceramite clattering on stone. As he turned away from his defeated opponent to join the battle that had erupted around him however, something crashed into Hardal's back, trying to wrench the helmet seals off him, to expose his face to the surroundings. 

_By Perturabo_, cursed the Warsmith silently, his helmet suite informing him that there was more Raptors out there, either lurking in the shadows or clinging to the ceiling. His servo arm was pinned in place by the large Raptor that was wrestling him to the ground, and his Power Fist would not reach his latest foe. Then, an idea cam to him, and he hauled himself to his feet suddenly, slamming backwards into a statue, dislodging the Raptor from his back. Hearing a loud roar, he hurled himself forward just as the Chaos Space Marine kicked his jet pack into life and accelerated towards the cavern roof. Thanks to his HUD, he could tell that the enemy was looking down at him, although he could not tell what facial expression the Raptor wore as he was concealed by a helmet. 

A loud screech emitted from his target's helmet grill which even Dantion's helmet sound dampers had trouble blocking all of it out. Suddenly, the Raptor leapt towards the surface, landing on all fours in front of him, allowing the Iron Warrior to take in his battle scarred Mark VI power armour. As Hardal fixed his Plasma weapon on his prey, two lightning claws flicked out of its casings before the energy fields activated. The Marine then launched himself at Hardal, lightning claws thrusting in front of the Raptor's body.

He fired his plasma pistol, twice in quick succession at the enemy charging towards him, causing the Raptor to slow down and duck to the floor in order to avoid the bursts of electricity. He avoided the first shot by inches, but with the second shot - he was not so lucky as the Plasma impacted his Jetpack, frizzling his flight systems and rendering the Raptor incapable of escaping.

"Let's see how well you fare when there's nowhere to run, bastard," spat the Warsmith coldly, bringing his Power Fist up to meet the rebuttal by the Raptor, who had recovered ground and brought up one of his lightning claws. 

"I will end you," the Raptor retorted, the first word that Hardal Dantion had heard him speak. It was low, deep and the intent was clearly to terrify his opponent. However, the Warsmith's enemy had forgotten one thing: Fear didn't work against Astartes. Astartes, especially those that had turned renegade, _were fear_. There was an old saying that you should fear nothing but fear itself, and that was what the Chaos Space Marines were, quite literally - fear itself. The Warsmith knew that scare tactics would not work on him - but they also wouldn't work on the enemy. They were even in that matter, but not on the battlefield. 

Dantion already knew who had won on the battlefield, of course. Sending the Raptor sprawling across the floor with the strength of the Power Fist, the Iron Warrior leapt forward towards his prey, and used his foot to keep the Raptor down on the floor. Knowing that if he didn't end his prey soon, the Chaos Space Marine would force the Iron Warrior to lose control of his stranglehold. So, he had to act quickly. Bringing his plasma pistol to bear for one more shot, the Iron Warrior leveled it at the traitor's face.

"No..." pleaded the Raptor, his dark voice making the desperate response sound like a growl. Then, adopting some sense of false bravado, he spat in the Iron Warrior's face. "There are more of us! You will never defeat us all, Warsmith! I am the second, but there are still more to come, more that are-"

Whatever the Raptor was going to say next, Hardal Dantion didn't let him finish. One short burst from his plasma pistol was enough to pierce the battle-scarred helmet of the Chaos Space Marine, ending his life once and for all. His soul was the playthings of Gods far more powerful than the Iron Warrior would ever be, now. _But_, thought Hardal, _At least the Raptor had been useful. There are more Raptors lurking out there._

The Iron Warrior didn't get the chance to plan his next moves in his head, for several loud screeches could be heard, and two more Chaos Raptors dropped from their positions to the floor, landing on all fours like Hardal's last victim had. Both of them lacked helmets, exposing their horribly mutated, fanged faces to their latest prey.

"Iron Within," chanted the scion of Perturabo silently, the warcry giving him a courage that he didn't need as he prepared to face the foe that outnumbered him. "Iron Without."


----------



## BlackGuard

The melody of damnation played behind his skull, filling him with the urge for death and mutilation. Were he not in combat right now he would gladly have pushed his post-human to its very limits with different chemicals and stimulants. Now though he would have to endure the borderline boringness of this current encounter. He had slain possessed marines before some of them even possessed by the very god her worshipped. To Slannesh loyalty wasn't entirely something the Dark Prince was interested in and he'd banished just as many deamonettes as he had bloodthirsters. It did not matter to him for he was upon the path of ectasy -- the path set before him by his Primarch Fulgrim. A path that his former master had followed to its completion and where he now rested experiancing the greatest of pains and the purest of pleasures. Once again he cursed Fulgrim for not showing his Legion the way and promised to dig his blade deep within his chest. If only to feel the blood seep between his gauntlets and the heady aroma that must be released from the blood of such a perfect being as a primarch.

All that thinking nearly sent him to join the Dark Prince before his desired time as the possessed marine made a bold swing of his spiked tail, parried away by Sunbreaker he felt the dizziness of his mind as the chemical-injectors on his back were activated by the pang of desperation in his movements. He growled openly as they injected what felt like molten copper into the back of his skull, boiling his brain. A fire began raging behind his eyes as the entire world exploded in color and sensation. He smelled the warp-taint of the possessed marine's flesh, the acrid smell of gunpowder, the burning ozone of lascannon discharge. He looked upon the possessed marine as if seeing him for the first time. Its skin was deformed beyond reason and hatred covered its daemonic face as it leered at him. Its every movement promised nothing but horrible pain before death.

Taurus smiled, openly, 'Come ... feast upon my flesh daemon-thing. Give me the release I desperately crave. Work your claws into my spine, rip it from my multilated body and gnaw upon it.'

He stood with arms out and his eyes staring directly at the possessed marine who for a moment, twitched and rotated its head to the side sniffing at the air. It suddenly darted forwards attempting to bring both claws down to rip him to shreds. For a moment, a long-agonizing moment, something within him almost held him in place. Something ancient ... something that had not stirred since the Heresy. That moment passed and he smoothly avoided the claws but the enemy was ready and swung his tail around parrying Sunbreaker and attempting to strike out with its claws. They were batted away by his daemonette claw. Both post-humans began to exchange a series of blows back and forth across the wall. A furry of tail-swipes and claw-rends, neither warrior would quite overwhelm the other one. Though Taurus was beginning to force an eventual conclusion. Each swing made by both of them was faster than the last with more power and force behind them. 

The moment for conclusion finally came. Both had hit their maximum velocity with their swings and movements. Both had thought to lure the other one into a move that would be disasterous. As Taurus avoided the possessed marines claw he came in under his his foe's guard but the move was a feint as his foe suddenly took a step forward and slammed his claw into the pastel-pink chestplate of Taurus. Metal bent and shredded from the claw but as the first signs of possible death entered his mind he found a state of natural awarness he did not believe himself capable of. Everything slowed down to his mind and pushed back and to the side with all his strength and skill -- the claw shredded a gouge across his chestplate defacing the already desecrated Aquilla forged there. As he stepped back quickly, his foe had once again been one step ahead has his tail came around to seal the deal.

Taurus smirked ... a feint within a feint. It was a clever tactic that might had worked except he had hoped for this outcome. Without seeming to even notice the tail, he saw the smile (or something akin to it) upon the daemon-things face. It faded the instantly Taurus brought up Sunbreaker, and the power-sword's distortion field burned away the scales protecting the tail and cutting straight through the meat within easily. The foe roared in anger as it staggered back. He pressed the advantage without remorse as he swung forward with Sunbreaker gouging across the foe's chest, as a liberal spew of blood came forth. As it hit the stonewall it hissed. He took another step forward to strike again but the possessed struck out with both of his claws in a rabid series of animalistic swipes. 

He calmly took ten paces back as mind reeling against the neutrality he suddenly felt in his bones. The injectors on his back poured forth lethal amounts of chemicals into his mind in an attempt to break it. He smiled -- for once he enjoyed this calmness, perhaps he had reached his point of total ectasy and nothing could push him further so there was only one way to go -- down. He held Sunbreaker loosely in his hand as he saw the desperation in the enemy's eyes. It was out of options with its tail now severed, the limited protection it gave it was now gone. It snarled and launched itself forward a last desperate attempt to overwhelm him with its superior strength.

With a fluidity of movement he was sure even that bastard Lucius would have appreciated he stepped out of the way and brought Sunbreaker up at the last moment -- the possessed was unable to stop his own momentum and its skull slid onto the blade. The crackle and pop of boiling blood filled the air for a few minutes as somewhere in the warp a monster roared at its demise and a Chaos Marine's soul screamed in agony as it was torn to shreds. Such was all their fates he knew. Life and existance meant nothing.

He pulled Sunbreak out and allowed the twitching corpse to flal to the ground. He turned to the Punisher Tech-Marines as they noticed the death of one of their defenders and the subsequent hole it left in their defensive line. One of them in a full-servo harness moved forward pulling out his bolt pistol. 

He walked onwards with no fear in his movements, 'Life is pointless machine-slave. The only thing worth your attention is your own pleasures.' 

He lifted Sunbreaker in a mock salute, 'Allow me to show you the fuility of all things.'


----------



## Deus Mortis

*The beast thought he could already taste the flesh of the brute he had faced on his tongue already. Victory was assured. But at the height of arrogance, the monster was brought down. The iron-hard boot of the terminator came up and sent the monster back the way it had come with a sickening crack of bone. The monster howled in pain as he skidded along the floor before flipping to snarl at the man of stone. His prey dared him to come back at him. Even as his caved in chest snapped back to it's original place, he knew he had forgotten something in his ecstasy. The hunter does not hunt alone. Reaching out with his warp-sense, he felt his original pack close to him, by accident or design. The terminator loosed his shoulders and waited for the beast to pounce, confident in his on abilities to crush the alpha. The alpha cocked his head coyly for a moment, and took note of how he would feast on this one's flesh.

Serpentine words flowed from the monsters lips, its mis-shapen mouth easily forming the unnatural syllables which would echo through the warp. Across the battlefield, those whom he called came to him. In a matter of moments, a pack of a dozen had formed. They were the alpha's chosen, and they recognized his voice and followed. The pack paced the giant in the middle of them, teeth bared. They hissed and spat at it, and the axe in its hand hissed back. The alpha laughed as one half showed the other that the current scene looked like flesh hounds hunting a juggernaut. The alpha barked, and the pack moved as one.

The mayhem was quick and ordered. One or two attacked one side and then another would peel a piece of the giant's metal skin away. The shoulder guards came off, as did the shin guards. The helmet was one of the last things to come off, wrenched backwards by the alpha landing on his back and tearing it from him. Each separated piece brought additional pain as the skin which had been long fused with the armour was torn off. After mere seconds of ordered chaos, the brute was left raw and bleeding and held down by members of the pack as the alpha peeled the last pieces of skin from the ripe fruit beneath him. His armour was scattered around hap-hazardly, as if an internal explosion had torn him apart. The armour was mostly intact and would make for a good scavenge for those machine whisperers.

The alpha stood triumphant over his prey. He lay broken and bloody, his axe long since torn from his grasp. The prey didn't beg for release, much to the monster's displeasure. The fear was almost as satisfying as to blood and flesh feast. The monster-which-was-a-man spoke awkward human words to the prey "Make your peace, for death is upon you." Still he spoke not a word. The monster's claws easily punched through the soft meat of his chest and grabbed the heart. Not the second heart he was given, the true heart. With a violent pull, the bloody sack of muscle came out still beating, having not yet realised the blood it was pumping was only flowing over the beast's claws. That got the brute to scream once. The man-monster bit through the soft flesh slowly, enjoying the taste of it. It was gone in two bites. The pack took it as a sign and devoured the rest of his flesh. The battle-lines had moved a good 200 meters whilst they have taken down the terminator. The alpha waited the seconds it took for his pack to consume every morsel of their kill before bounding forwards with them, howling praise through his still wet lips...*


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## komanko

“How utterly unpredictable.” Nerr’ak muttered to himself as his attack missed, the treacherous little cur seemed to have mastered the art of teleporting, a school of sorcery which Nerr’ak always wanted to perfect yet never had the chance to. Yet even though this lesser second grade sorcerer showed some potential with his use of warp travel and swift attacks he was nothing but an annoying pest. Each strike that connected with Nerr’ak’s tactical dreadnought armor only made him more angry, he barely felt it, yet the paint was beginning to wear off, and after all, it was a brand new suit. Nerr’ak chuckled at his own humor as those thoughts passed in his mind. Another swift arc of lightning hit Nerr’ak in the chest and while it did not hurt him it certainly posed an annoying nuisance, one which he would have to remove in order to continue his plan.

Still trying to guess where the unworthy wielder of sorcery would appear next Nerr’ak shot with his plasma pistol blindly, hoping to hit something, one of his shots would’ve melted the sorcerer if he did not teleport in the last moment appearing behind Nerr’ak and trying the same trick from before, yet this time Nerr’ak was ready, “What do you take me, for a fool?!” Nerr’ak spat in annoyance as his armored ceramite fist connected with the petty sorcerer’s helmet, sending him reeling backwards with a bent inwards helmet, yet before Nerr’ak could use this to his advantage the sorcerer teleported away again. Appearing quite a distance away from Nerr’ak, the sorcerer threw off his helmet, revealing a disfigured corrupted face, the strain of the warp could be seen in the sorcerer’s orange eyes, they glimmered with determination and ambition, he wanted to earn the favor of the gods by killing Nerr’ak, this was not going to happen though the sorcerer did not know it yet. His face twisted into an expression of mockery and amusement as he teleported again and sent another lightning bolt towards Nerr’ak. He did not know if the sorcerer was simply stupid or just an idiot, his petty attacks provided nothing but short time delay for Nerr’ak. Unless he brings something more serious into the fray it would take him years to crack Nerr’ak down.

“Though this is an entertaining fighting I must end it my dear fellow sorcerer. The tapestry of Tzeentch calls me, and it is time to weave my fate.” Nerr’ak said emotionless. It seems that he would need help from the outside. He will not be able to catch this pest alone. He would have to utilize more advanced skills in order to catch him and though it might make the other sorcerer look a bit more difficult to kill Nerr’ak knew that he would not be able to beat him alone. He would need some creatures that would be able to chase down the cur. He did not have his possessed marines with him, he was far ahead of the rest of the forces, and he did give all of his possessed marines to his new ally to use. No, he would have to resort to other measure. A simple drop of blood is all he needed, taking out a ceremonial dagger he cut his own check and let the blood drip on the ground. Focusing his mental strength he began channeling the warp into this drop of blood. 

Astonishingly this small drop of blood began expanding into an ocean in comparison, a large circle was formed with the symbol of Khorne inside. It glowed with an eerie and evil red glow. The sudden appearance of this symbol made the other sorcerer stop his attack while he tried to understand what was happening. Silently Nerr’ak muttered words of prayer and binding enchantments, afterwards channeling his will into the circle and his mental strength into the warp. He was calling for daemons of Khorne, he was promising them the death of a sorcerer, a tasty soul which was worth more than the normal souls of petty humans, and when his call was answered he caught the strangers from beyond, binding them, chaining them. With a thunderclap the circle of Khorne disappeared, instead a pillar of red light appeared and with a roar of anguish and anger three bloodletters teleported unwillingly into the once circle and now pillar. They were angered by the trickery yet when Nerr’ak’s will was enforced on their lesser minds they could do nothing but obey, and oh, did they obey when they saw the tasty meal which Nerr’ak prepared for them. The sorcerer gathering his senses began throwing bolts of lightning at the 3 bloodletters yet like the sorcerer himself, they knew how to walk through the warp, they were creatures of the warp after all. 

It was now a game of cat and mouse, the sorcerers was not able to last long against the relentless pursuit by the three bloodletters and their master. Each time Nerr’ak sent out a shot from his pistol the sorcerer was forced to teleport, and each time a bloodletter was waiting for him, forcing him to teleport away again or be cleaved by their two handed swords. Each teleport was greeted with a snarling twisted daemonic face and the longer it went the more terrified the sorcerer was becoming, and it was common knowledge for the most that terrified opponents make for poor opponents which are prone to mistakes.  Quickly looking around, his panicked features scanning the area the sorcerer quickly teleported to an area which seemed to be clear of the red forms of bloodletters, and that was exactly the mistake Nerr’ak waited for as the sorcerer did not look where he teleported to and it seemed that he teleported directly into Nerr’ak reach who grabbed him by the neck the moment he materialized. “Hello mouse, going somewhere?” He said venomously. Without mercy Nerr’ak lifted the sorcerer and then pounded him into the ground followed by a psychic spike to smash him even further into the obsidian ground. The breath was torn away from the sorcerer’s lungs and his eyes widened as Nerr’ak’s grip tightened. Spitting on the ground nearby he lifted the sorcerer again. “Scum.” he muttered as he threw the sorcerer over the ledge of the wall, incinerating and blasting him dozens of meters away with a flaming psychic spike. The smell of roasted meat reached Nerr’ak’s acute senses as he watched the dying sorcerer fall into the abyss below, until the thud of crashing came and the sound of cracking bones was heard.

It was time to move further on… He was delayed too much by that pest anyway. Greatness awaits.


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