Las shot, some white, the rest dirty red, whipped back and forth across a blasted landscape. Entire streets had been flattened by artillery fire leaving only sad, hollow structures and thick drifting smoke in its wake. The repeated infantry clashes that followed had only served to further ruin the once beautifully crafted of Grathosk. It's once gorgeous gothic arched bridges, tall colourful stained glass windows lay shattered and buried beneath scorched rubble and dust. Garthosk had stood as a shining beacon of the Imperium, a city of peace and quiet worship in the Emperors name. It was not a particularly rich city, indeed the planet itself was not as wealthy as some, its prosperity came from happiness of its people. They worked, they prayed, they had families and easy lives on a world that some would have deemed a paradise.

Then the Bleeding Redemption had come. An uprising on a world in a system close to the Gartox, had overrun the planetary defence force and spread their corruption. They conquered more worlds and recruited where they could until arriving at Gartox and making landfall in a tide of blood. Caught unawares the small PDF of Gartox were overrun swiftly but a transmission calling for aid had made it off world before communications could be jammed. It was answered in the form of the Ultion Imperial Guard an elite regiment returning from a warzone not too distant. They had thought it would be an easy fight, that they would find nothing but mad heretics and slave soldiers. Indeed that was exactly what they found but there was more to the Bleeding Redemption and it was not long before the Ultion guard were bogged down, fighting troops as tough and as well trained as they were. It seemed the Bleeding Redemption were far more than just blood hungry lunatics. It soon became apparent this was a fight they could not win.

Black trench coat whipping at his back, Sergeant Carsten Volken of the Ultion Elite Night Watch 42nd Infantry, darted between fox holes on no man's land, keeping his head down and his movements erratic. Sizzling red las shots blasted chunks of dirt at his heels, one tore through his coat, burning the lining and melting the leather. Carsten vaulted a chunk of fallen masonry and landed with his back to it, his breath catching in his throat. Next to him Sven dropped into cover, his left sleeve damp with blood. Behind his faceless mask Carsten couldn't see the other man's expression but he could guess it was one of anger.

"Bastards!" Sven spat, dropping a spent magazine on the ground. "I'll have their lives!"

Cradling his las gun in one hand, its black paint scratched down to the bare metal beneath, he reached up to touch the micro bead in his ear.

"Night Watch to base command! Enemy formation moving up our southern flank. Scout team's been eliminated, we're on our way back in, watch your damned fire, there's a vanguard unit right up our arse!"

"Copy that Night Watch, keep your heads down."

"Yeah no shit! Night Watch out!"

Carsten leant his head to the right, the bones in his neck cracking loudly. "On my go!"

Sven nodded wiping dust from his eye lens.

"Go!" Carsten yelled rotating his body to aim down the sight of his las gun over the masonry.

A dozen or so Bleeding Redemption troopers were in pursuit, Carsten could see two of them now, their dull bronze armour reflecting what little moon light made it through the smoke blanketing the sky. Carsten took two shots, one of the Renegades fell, his neck a ruin of scorched tissue and bone. The other was only winged, a puff of red mist venting from his shoulder. He dropped back yelling at his comrades so the other Redemption troops coming in would take cover. Carsten waited for another to show his head but none of them did, not while they knew Carsten was aiming at them.

"Go!" Sven yelled into his micro bead.

Carsten propelled himself off the rubble. White las shot from Sven's gun blazed past him but he didn't stop to check if he'd hit anything. Ahead he could see the Ultion lines, men and woman were mounting the firing step in the trenches. The Redemption vanguard were running into a wall of death.

Casten's vox clicked. "Night Watch down!"

"Sven! Head down!" Carsten cried leaping face first into the dirt as a barrage of hot las rounds sliced the air above him. It lasted only seconds, a constant stream of firepower pouring out of the trenches cutting down the traitors hot on Night Watch's tail. When the firing stopped Carsten was instantly back on his feet, his weapon muzzle searching for stragglers but he found none. Just a pile of twisted smoking corpses.

"Good riddance." Sven muttered getting to his feet.

"Come on." Carsten replied, shouldering his weapon, "Let's go report in."

Grathosk had become a last stand. The Bleeding Redemption were, rather appropriately, bleeding the Ultion's dry. First they would throw thousands of crazed men and woman at the Imperial lines, these were the fanatics, the ones too far gone to be of any use in the Redemptions proper regiments. These flagellants were used as cannon fodder to soak up ammunition before the more organised and heavily armoured units moved in. It was working, the Ultion Guard had been forced to give ground or die and many of them had died even if they had chosen to back off. They were outnumbered by an uncountable amount of bodies. So far the Ultion's last line of defence had held the longest, throwing artillery shells across the Grathosk river and into the Redemptions forward lines, keeping their advance at bay. It seemed that it wasn't going to hold them for much longer. Ammunition was becoming scarce but what the Night Watch had discovered only served to make the situation a lot worse.

Carsten stood in the command tent at the rear of the Ultion trench line, barely half their original number remained out of the original landing force consisting of dozens of regiments including the elite Night Watch. Commander Vinzenz was already in a bad mood and Carsten's news wouldn't make him any happier.

As if on cue the man swept into the tent, his adjutant, Torsten, at his shoulder. Carstan saluted smartly, awaiting permission to speak. At first Vinzenz seemed to ignore him, removing his gold trimmed long coat and hat before settling himself into the chair behind a desk littered with data slates and papers. He took a deep breath, straightened his thick moustache with his fore finger and thumb then looked up at Carsten. His eyes were weary and there was new lines in his face.

"I hear a rumour Carsten, of trouble on our southern flank. Tell me it isn't true."

"Apologies commander..."

"Bollocks." Vinzenz muttered.

Carsten continued, "... Night Watch spotted an enemy column advancing from the south, they seem to have come down from the mountains sir, bypassing our shelling."

"So they keep us distracted in the North and the West so they can outflank us." Vinzenz fingers made a steeple, his elbows resting on the desk. "What sort of forces are we looking at?"

"The usual sir. Cannon fodder front and centre with the real troopers behind." Carsten replied.

"When will they reach us?"

"Midnight sir, give or take."

"At least they can't come in from the East." Vinzenz said more to himself than anyone else.

It was true at least, to the East lay the ocean, Grathosk sat atop the cliff side, the river flowing down from the mountains to form a spectacular waterfall into the sea below. It meant however that the Ultions had their backs to the wall, figuratively speaking.

"Torsten." Vinzenz leaned back in his chair, the plastic groaned, "What forces can we muster to defend the South?"

"Not much sir. If we divert any more troopers from the front we'll lose it." Torsten replied tersely.

Vinzenz grunted. "We'll lose it regardless if they break us in the South. Well it appears this our last stand gentlemen." Vinzenz rose from his chair. He took something from his desk drawer.

He offered his close palm to Carsten.

"Sir?"

"Take it."

Vinzenz dropped the items into Carsten's open hand. They were Lieutenant's pins.

"Field promotion, it seems the Night Watch need a new commanding officer. They're yours now. I'm sorry your command will be so short lived. I should have done this a long time ago Carsten."

"Thank you sir!" Carsten saluted once more but in truth his heart wasn't in it.

"Right then!" Vinzenz exclaimed clapping his hands. "Let's get to it lads. Spread the word the enemy will be on the doorstep sooner than we thought. Let's at least go down fighting eh? For Ultio!"

"For Ultio!" Torsten and Carsten chorused.

The first wave of flagellants hit the Ultion barricades at dead on midnight. Carsten lead the Night Watch in the defence, cutting down swathes of them with disciplined volleys of las and heavy weapons fire. The flagellants wore little to no armour, save for robes and bizarre spiked cages drilled into their collar bones and shoulder blades. They came screaming and roaring in numbers beyond count, waving chains, clubs, knives or pretty much anything they could get their hands on. Only a few of the Ultion elite died during that assault, the amount of fire power pouring from their ranks halted the flagellants in their tracks but unfortunately they did their job and wasted the Ultion ammunition reserves to basically nothing.

"So." Sven said about twenty minutes after the assault had finished with the death of the last flagellant.

The Redemption troopers marched towards the Ultion battle line and would be upon the Night Watch soon. Reports were coming in from across the whole front that the enemy was bearing down. In less than an hour the Ultion 42nd and its supporting elements would be fighting their last stand.

"So?" Carsten replied, counting his ammo packs. He was down to two.

Sven was leaning against the firing step his weapon held in one hand. "Vinzenz gave you the Night Watch? About time." They duo hadn't spoken since Carsten had returned to the Night Watch. This was the first quiet moment for a few hours.

Carsten chuckled humourlessly. "It's gonna be pretty short lived."

"You really think this is the end?" Sven asked quietly.

"Doesn't everyone? The Redemption has been whittling us down slowly but surely ever since we got here. We've had no reinforcements and now they're marching on us in force and we have no ammo left. How long do you think we'll last?" Carsten retorted.

"I don't need ammo." Sven snarled drawing his combat blade from its sheath at his back, its hyper sharp blade glinting in the torch light.

Carsten too had a blade, all of the Ultion trained with them but the Night Watch scouts were the most proficient. Despite his misgivings Carsten had to admit it was likely the Night Watch would be the last men standing when the end finally came.

"Contacts front!" One of the watchmen yelled, at last breaking the eerie quiet that had fallen upon the trench line.

Carsten sighed, "Alright everyone on the firing step, short disciplined bursts. This is it ladies and gents! For Ultio!"

"For Ultio!"

Carsten stepped up and rested his las gun on the sand bags in front of him. Down the his iron sights he could see the first row of bronze armoured troopers advancing over no man's land still littered with the bodies of fallen flagellants.

Carsten activated his vox channel, "Snipers when they're in range you are weapons free, see if you can target their leaders."

"Rodger that sir."

No sooner had the order been given, a hail of needle thin las beams cut across the landscape. At the front a few dozen Redemption soldiers collapsed, some decapitated, others with gaping holes where their hearts had been. Carsten tried to slow his breathing, lower his rapid heartbeat but to no avail. He was afraid and did not mind admitting it. Soon his body would join the many thousands already clogging up this world, the thought brought with it a strange sense of freedom however. At least he would take as many with him as possible before the end, make sure his death hurt them as much they had wounded himself and his men. More traitors were falling to the snipers guns but the line did not falter, for every trooper that fell to the dirt another man would step up and take his place, often trampling the corpse as he did so. These men had no fear of death, their function was to kill or die both provided a perfect sacrifice to their insane God. Carsten's grip tightened on his trigger, they were coming into range.

The Bleeding Redemption troopers wore thick bronze armour over heavy combat fatigues the colour of old blood. They had helmets moulded in the image of a snarling demonic goat with horns that protruded obscenely form their foreheads. Their las weapons too were bulky and decorated with all manner of trinkets from chains of teeth, to metal icons that made Carsten's eyes hurt to look upon. Some of the bigger troopers went bare armed, their dirty skin glistening with sweat and blood as they lugged heavy stubbers or rocket tubes into battle. Amongst the rank and file were the officers, distinguishable by their double headed axes and loops of chains and hooks wrapped around their arms.

"Night Watch you are weapons free!" Carsten sighted a heavy weapons trooper and squeezed the trigger.

The man rocked, his armour taking the brunt of the first shot but the second and third punched through into his flesh. A mist of blood sprayed from the wound and the traitor fell flat on his face. Return fire speared back from the enemy lines, kicking up clods of dirt and plumes of dust where they impacted the sandbags. On Carsten's right a Night Watchmen was thrown back off the firing step, a shot to the face punching a hole clean through his mask and out the back of his skull. A rocket wailed over Carsten's head leaving a trail of greasy grey smoke in its wake and slammed into a snipers nest blowing in apart in a shower of wood and corrugated metal. Carsten loosed off another volley, killing two more traitors, one with a shot to the neck and the other through the eye hole in his mask. A shower of las shot spat back and the Lieutenant ducked down, feeling the heat on the back of his neck as they whipped by.

"Keep them back as long as you can!" he Voxed to his squads. "When you run out of ammo switch to your combat blades, we'll kill this bastards up close!"

He glanced up to see an auto cannon emplacement hit with a Frag grenade, the weapon was blown off its mountings and its crew shredded into a fine paste. Nearby Sven was screaming incoherently, as he cut down a few traitors with well placed single shots to the head and neck. Another Watchman was knocked apart by a storm of stubber fire. Chunks of his torso tumbling into the trench, the coppery stink of his blood strong even through Carsten's mask filters. Muttering curses the Lieutenant vaulted back onto the firing step, quickly snapping off a few shots and downing three more traitors. Still they kept coming.

"We won't be able to hold them back!" Sven yelled over the din. "Even if we had unlimited ammo they'll be on us with bayonets in minutes!"

Carsten gritted his teeth, Sven was right. He could see the rows behind the front with blades fixed to their weapons, some carried trench shotguns. They'd heard mixed reports about close combat units in the Redemption but until now Carsten hadn't seen any for himself. He made a decision.

"Night Watch!" he Voxed crouching below the lip of the trench. "Heavy weapons teams and snipers keep up the fire! Everyone else, on my go toss your grenades, five second timers then switch to your knives! They mean to fight us face to face, it will be their downfall!"

Affirmatives filled his ears.

Sven chuckled, "You know how to light a fire in their hearts."

"That's good because I'm convinced we're all going to die."

"Still, I can't think of anyone I'd rather die with at my side." Sven replied, readying his grenades.

Carsten nodded, "Me either."

The Lieutenant pulled his grenade pouch from his belt, he had three left. "Three, two, one!" he yelled and pulled the pin on one of them, tossing the entire pouch over the lip of the trench and into the Redemptions front line. There was a series of explosions, Carsten saw bronze armoured bodies ripped apart or tossed into the air to land heavily and lie limp and broken in the mud. He drew his combat blade. With a roar the Redemption charged. Carsten vaulted up on the lip of the trench. Despite his cynicism and his fear of death he was an Ultion soldier, a Night Watchman, he would die proud and defiant. He lifted his combat blade above his head realising the rest of the Watchmen had followed his lead.

"For Ultio and the Emperor, fight hard and die well!"

For the first time since he'd arrived on this Throne forsaken world, Carsten met the enemy at close range. As his combat blade slid into the neck of the first trooper that attacked him he realised just how far gone these men were. Beneath their masks their faces were a mess of ritual scars and piercings. Their eyes burned bright with zealous hatred and combat drugs. Ending their lives was a pleasure. Carsten turned away a bayonet strike and cut the hands from its wielder, he stepped around the man to block another attack, kicking the trooper in the crotch before driving the combat blade down through his shoulder. Ultion combat blades were more like short swords than knives, it usually gave them an edge over enemies using traditional bayonets and the men and woman of Ultio trained with them as soon as they were able to lift them. Carsten preferred to use a las gun, it required less thought and effort for an efficient kill but in this case his instincts took over. In this swirling melee he became a machine, drained of emotion, just the drive to make his death worth while keeping him going.

He met another trooper head on ramming his shoulder into the traitors chest, using the man's bulky armour against him to throw him off balance. Carstan kicked the traitors legs from under him and gutted him, slipping the blade under his cuirass as he lay in the dirt. Wrenching the weapon free he turned to see an Ultion ripped in half by a shot gun blast, her innards spilled out onto the already blood sodden ground. Carsten yelled a wordless cry and leapt upon the traitor. The gun was aimed at his head but Carsten kicked the muzzle aside and it discharged harmlessly to his right. He drove his fist into the troopers exposed neck crushing his windpipe then swiped down with his combat blade cutting the troopers fingers off and causing him to drop the shotgun. Carsten caught it in his left hand, sliding back the fore stock one handed he then tossed it into the air once more to catch it by the grip. He pressed the muzzle to the troopers face mask and fired disintegrating his head in a halo of brain matter. In his momentary distraction a bayonet slipped through his guard, tearing the flesh on his ribs. The Lieutenant rammed his elbow into his attackers head then decapitated him with a swift follow up. He paused, the melee still raging around him. He check the wound, his fingers came away slick with blood.

Carsten heard a familiar yelp, Sven fell to his knees ahead of him, two Redemption troopers piercing his back with their bayonets. Carsten let out a cry of anguish and ran towards them but they kept stabbing until Sven fell face first to the ground his eyes glazed and empty. The Lieutenant fell upon the duo with a flurry of strikes, driving them back away from Sven's corpse, he wounded one but the cut in his ribs was paining him and slowing his movements. He could feel the heat of his own blood running freely down his leg. He ducked and parried the bayonet, dropping to his knees he cut the legs from the traitor and left him there to bleed to death. Turning his attention to the other trooper Carsten flipped the blade into a reverse grip and plunged it down through the gap between the traitors chest piece and helmet, down into his major organs. The Lieutenant took grim satisfaction watching the light die in the other man's eyes but it was the end for the Ultion troopers, the enemies sheer numbers were driving them back. Everywhere Carsten looked his men and woman were fighting to their last breath, killing multiple enemies before being driven into the dirt and hacked apart by a dozen blades. Carsten was proud of them and he regretted he had not spent more time as their commander. His vox link clicked, the voice that spoke was Torsten's, that meant Vinzenz was probably dead. "All Ultion forces still active! Our forward lines have been broken, we are overrun, we have no contact from the North. I repeat we are..." the line was cut dead in a burst of static. As Carsten predicted his men were the last left. He had no off the cuff rousing speech to make, no uplifting words. They would all die now but he could see in the eyes of all of those still fighting, determination and acceptance.

A bellowed challenge drew the Lieutenant's attention back to the enemy. A Redemption officer was striding towards him, his axe and the chains on his forearms soaked with fresh blood. He had obviously recognised Carsten's shoulder pins and wanted to personally kill the Ultion's last commanding officer. With a grimace the Lieutenant shook out his shoulders and readied his blade. The axe came in a slow horizontal strike, Carsten blocked it easily but the impact sent shock waves up his arms. He returned the attack, stepping inside the traitors guard and driving the combat blade for the man's throat. With a crack the traitor head butted Carsten before the blade could find its mark. Multi-coloured stars exploded across the Lieutenant's vision and he stumbled, his guard dropping. A heavy booted foot struck him high in the chest forcing the wind from his lungs, followed by a spray of bloody bile that clogged the filters in his mask. Carsten hit the ground hard, his breath ragged and wheezing he tore off his mask and tasted the acrid air of Gartox. The traitor stood over him, his axe at the ready, a deep resonating chuckle spilling from the goats mouth. He raised the weapon and finally Lieutenant Carsten Volken would die on this world.

White light bloomed behind the traitor and the entire world seemed to explode as a huge plume of dirt was thrown into the air. A titanic crash of noise and debris rolled over Carsten's body, shaking his bones and leaving only a droning whine in his ears. The Redemption officer turned, one arm covering his eyes from the storm of grit that assailed him. Then he burst apart in a bright crimson arc, a series of miniature explosions blossoming from his groin to his chest simply ripped him open and fanned his pulped organs across the ground. Blood rained on Carsten and he threw his arms over his face, unwilling to get any of the traitors blood in his mouth now that he was no longer wearing his mask.

When he opened his eyes a huge figure loomed over him, over two metres tall and broader than any man Carsten had ever seen it glared down at him with eyes that burned hot yellow like the sun of Ultio. Carsten wiped grit from his face and blinked convinced he was hallucinating but the figure did not disappear. He heard a distant murmured voice but the ringing in his ears prevented him from discerning any words. The gigantic figure knelt before him and as his vision cleared he saw the deep midnight blue of its armour and the silver Aquila emblazoned proudly upon its breast plate. It reached out to him, its left gauntlet painted crimson.

"Can you stand?" Carsten's hearing was returning.

"Y-yes." even his own voice seemed so far away.

The massive hand engulfed his own and he worried it would crush his bones but he was pulled surprisingly gently to his feet. Carsten looked past the huge warrior and saw dozens more storming the battlefield, they disembarked from huge teardrop shaped craft that fell from the sky like flaming meteors. One stood nearby, its hull blackened and smoking, Carsten reasoned that it had been the source of the explosion that had nearly deafened and blinded him. His mind began to un-cloud and his senses snapped back into focus with a jolt as he realised that he was in the presence of the Adeptus Astartes.

"You are wounded?" the massive Space Marine asked his face hidden beneath his battle helm.

"I'm fine." Carsten replied, quietly both terrified and in awe of the warrior before him. "I owe you my life you have my thanks..."

"Brother Avilius, Crimson Fists." the Astartes replied, rising to his full height once more.

" Serg... ah I mean, Lieutenant Carsten Volken, Ultion Night Watch, 42nd Infantry. Very recently promoted." he added, unsure of why he'd done so.

The Space Marine nodded, behind him his battle brothers were butchering the traitors with bolter and chain blade, leaving the surviving Night Watch to stare bewildered at their saviours.

Avilius cocked his head slightly, "Captain." He declared seemingly to mid-air but Carsten knew he would be talking into a vox unit. "I have located the Imperial Guards commanding officer, they are Ultion 42nd," he looked down at Carsten, "Night Watch, a veteran regiment by the looks of it." he paused no doubt awaiting a reply.

Carsten began cleaning the inside of his mask.

"Understood." Avilius declared. "Lieutenant, gather your forces and follow us, we'll lead the assault into the heart of the enemy, you and your troopers will mop any that remain." the Astartes turned to walk away then paused and glanced over his shoulder, "If we leave any alive."

"Are we the only ones left?" Carsten asked even though he knew the answer.

"You are."

"And our fleet, it was small but where are they?"

Avilius shook his head. "Destroyed."

Carsten gathered what little remained of the Night Watch, only a dozen or so squads. Barely one hundred men and woman, all battered and bloodied yet surprised to be alive at all. As ordered they followed in the wake of the Crimson Fists advance picking off any traitors that still lived, though in truth there were few and most of them were wounded beyond saving, the Ultion figured that allowing the men to live and suffer for a little while longer was a more deserved fate. Instead they followed in awe at the destruction wrought by the Astartes advance. Space Marines did not pause or falter in their charge. Any resistance met was smashed apart by Bolter fire or ripped to shreds by the chain blades of soaring assault units. Carsten had never seen a Space Marine before now nor had he witnessed the aftermath of their assaults. He had heard stories from men who claimed to have borne witness to both and often shrugged off the tales as fanciful exaggeration. He saw now that his cynicism was entirely unjustified. He saw them take barrages of las and hard shot rounds and simply shrug them off like rain water. One Crimson Fist was caught too close to a rocket explosion that sheered his right arm off. Roaring in anger the marine picked his Boltgun back up in his un-damaged hand and gunned down more than twenty traitors before stomping off in search of an Apothecary.

The Lieutenant did his best to stay in sight of Avilius, for what reason he did not know, easily distinguishable from his battle brothers by the multitude of miniature bolter shell pendants hanging around his neck and from his wrists. Carsten wasn't certain of their meaning but he suspected it represented some kind of battle honour perhaps for marksmanship, Avilius was the only battle brother in his unit with a scope fitted to his Bolter and his accuracy even by the standards of Astartes surpassed anything Carsten had ever witnessed.

"Hold!" One of the Crimson Fists raised a hand, an Auspex unit in the other. "We're getting interference."

"How bad?" Another asked this one had no battle helm and allowed his battle scarred flesh to be exposed to the smoke thick air. His left gauntlet was a brutal looking power fist. Carsten guessed he was a sergeant but the Astartes did not wear ranking pins or badges that he recognised.

"Total blackout and I can't tell what's causing it."

Above them the skies flashed once, then again with red bolts of lightning and dark clouds began to roll in.

"A warp storm?" one of the Fists asked.

"A portal." The sergeant replied his tone grim.

A grumble of thunder rolled across the sky, reverberating in Carsten's chest it was so deep. Lightning flashed again and the clouds slowly turned dark red. Carsten stared up at them, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. He felt wet warm drops fall upon the exposed flesh of his face. He wiped at his forehead and his fingers were damp with what looked like blood. A massive booming crash echoed nearby and the heavens opened releasing a torrent of hot, fat, red droplets. What kind of madness was this? Carsten cursed, he checked his weapon magazine. He'd retrieved a few more from those that had passed but he was still low.

"Traitors on the right flank!" Someone yelled. "Berserkers!"

"In Dorn's name, where did they come from?"

"It matters not, kill them all!" the Sergeant replied his power fist encased in crackling energy.

As one the Crimson Fists turned their Bolters rising.

Carsten followed their gaze and looked upon this new enemy in abject horror.

They were dark twisted parodies of the Astartes he stood with but their armour looked ancient in comparison. Their battle plate was dull crimson and trimmed with dirty bronze. Every surface was inscribed with black carvings of stylized skulls that made his stomach churn and his head swim. They howled and screamed, brandishing chain axes, swords and bolt pistols, as they charged towards the Crimson Fist flank. As one the loyalist Astartes opened fire cutting some down in their stride but each took several shots before he fell. Only Avilius made all of his kills with one shot each. Every round he fired struck a traitor in the head, it seemed the only way of making sure the berserkers stayed dead. Carsten saw some of them rising once more to their feet despite huge chunks of flesh and armour missing from their bodies.

"Get behind us!" Avilius yelled at Carsten, "You cannot fight these monsters!"

The Lieutenant obeyed as did the rest of the Night Watch. Carsten watched the front ranks of Crimson Fists meet the traitor marines head on, most of them died, arms, legs or heads severed by screaming chain blades. The Fists Sergeant roared in anger blocking a strike with his power fist and blasting the traitors skull apart with his Bolt pistol.

"For Dorn and the Emperor!" he yelled smashing another to a bloody pulp with a mighty punch.

More Fists were coming in from further down the line to support, Carsten heard a report that the captain was on his way. The Ultion Lieutenant heard screaming behind him, the berserkers' were charging down a shallow hill to the rear.

"Avilius!" he yelled, "Contact rear!"

Avilius twisted round, his weapon discharged three bolter shells and three traitors were slammed backwards, facemasks blown out in eruptions of armour chips and blood. The fourth barrelled into Avilius and the pair of them tumbled to the ground. Carsten barely had time to leap aside before he was crushed by the grappling giants.

With a grunt of effort Avilius propelled the traitor off him with a heavy kick to the chest, his bolter rose ready to kill but the berserker was quicker than he'd anticipated. Laughing manically the traitor knocked the weapon from his grasp and buried the axe in Avilius' breastplate. The churning blades cut deep into the ceramite and Carsten saw blood staining the silver Aquila. Avilius fell back into the dirt, drawing his combat knife but the traitor stomped hard on his wrist crushing the armoured gauntlet and likely the bones within. Avilius grip loosened and the knife fell into the muck. Still laughing the Traitor removed his battle helm to reveal what appeared to be a fleshless skull beneath. There were no ears, no nose just a pair of beetle black eyes glinting beneath a scarred brow. With a hideous, lipless, grin he lifted his weapon.

Carsten did not think about his next action, he saw only the warrior that had saved his life about to die and honour demanded Carsten returned that favour. He lifted his las rifle and opened fire. Most of his shots splashed harmlessly against the warriors shoulder pad but as it turned to face its new attacker one shot ripped through the left side of his face, gouging a deep trench in its pallid flesh and exposing the raw bones and muscle beneath. The traitor reeled away from Avilius a hand reaching up to its ruined jaw. With a disgusting gurgling chuckle the berserker turned on Carsten, its tongue reaching out to lick away the black blood dribbling from its newest wound. Carsten lifted his rifle once more but the weapon clicked empty. He would not have time to re-load before the traitor was upon him. His limbs moved of their accord, all emotion or feeling had fled his body, he was numb, he thought briefly of Sven and of the beautiful mountains on Ultio where the village he had grown up in was nestled. Carsten drew his combat blade there was no fear now. The berserker charged, Carsten threw himself forwards but the traitor had vastly superior speed and strength and his chain axe swept down in a low arc under Carsten's guard. He felt brilliant hot white pain flash through his body as the churning teeth ground through his pelvis, then as they exploded from the other side he was numb once more.

From Carsten's perspective time slowed to a crawl. He was dead or he would be in a few seconds. Only two thoughts entered his mind before his soul left his body. The first was of satisfaction as he watched the traitor marines head explode in a shower of brain matter. Some distance behind him, Avilius was on his knees, Boltgun raised in his undamaged hand, a single shell fired into the back of its skull with Avilius' usual level of deadly accuracy. If he had been just half a second faster he may have saved Carsten a second time but it didn't matter. Carsten did not mind and that brought Carsten to his last thought as the cold embrace of death took hold.

Looks I'm dying on this world after all. See you soon Sven.