Varangians of Terra.

Introduction.

Remus rose slowly and pushed the dead corpse of the Xeno coldly off the Seax blade he had thrust through its scaly abdomen. Sliding the short blade free, the wretched body fell to the dark earth of Aradia Prime, soiling its sandy earth with a pool of dark blood. Gazing round, Remus's sharp eyes focused on his fellow battle brothers, each engaged with opponents of their own. Efficiently and without breaking his observations he smacked another round into his weapon, before shredding the nearest enemy apart with a brutal spray of hell- fire, its alien strength as nothing compared to his holy Bolt pistol, the Emperors Kiss. None of his brothers needed aid in dispatching the enemy, they had been utterly bred for war, and no amount of overgrown lizards would stop them from attaining victory.

He hated everything about the Tyranids, the way they spread over the planet like a cancer, the way they moved, clambering all over each other in a frenzy, the way they sounded with their primal hissing and clicking, but Remus especially hated the way they fought; all carnivorous instinct, claws and teeth, no thought of finesse, nor honour or bravery. He pondered for a brief moment that In a way they too were born for a sole purpose, the savage hunt, to prey on the universe, but like all xeno's there was something they lacked, something indescribable that only humanity possessed. The only thing Remus liked about them was the way they died.

A few more burst of fire and the remaining xenos were felled, Remus made mental notes of how his troops had conducted themselves in the skirmish, strengths to praise and weaknesses to eradicate in the training pit. He was a seasoned captain and knew when men were ready or wanting. He was distracted from his thoughts by the sharp bark of vox crackle in his ear "9th squad, enemy approaching from the north vector", Remus rallied at the news, steeling himself for the impending attack.

"Lo Varangians, form up on me", the words spewed from his mouth, sharp and authoritarian, but had the desired effect as his fellow marines rallied around him, forming a triangular wedge, a killing spear tip, pointed down a large street to their north. "Emperors mercy they're even more hideous to look upon than captain Remus is" gibed Astartes Quintor from amidst the pack of men "perhaps they die so easily because they looked upon their reflection this morning and thought what's the point", a laconic laughter murmured through the band and beneath his helmet even Remus let a faint smile encroach upon his harsh face. He approved of humour in battle even if he was the butt of the joke, it brought men closer together, stifled any doubt in their hearts. Quintor was a new member of the 9th squad, and though still young and inexperienced his conduct on the battlefield and easy way had ingratiated him well with his new brothers and Remus had formed a strong bond with him, though he would pay him back for the joke next time they sparred together.

The spearhead of Astartes were poised for the kill, eight super-human warriors waiting for the foe to show themselves. From the far end of the street the first Xeno's appeared, crawling along at unnatural speed. The marines watched them gather in the distance, gaining numbers and momentum. The sound of scurrying was interrupted by the dull bang of one Astartes armoured hand against the hard shoulder guard of their fellow Astartes power armour. The marine responsible repeated the action over and over, the sound echoing out across the derelict street. This was the taunt of the Varangians chapter, their invitation to their enemies; no great battle cry or impassioned delivery of moving words was needed for them to ready themselves, just the rhythmic thump of metal on metal. The other marines began to join, until the sound became a clamour like that of the banging of shield walls from Terras ancient history. Remus lived for this, to meet the enemy alongside his brothers and to defeat them utterly; it was his true calling, his place in the great scheme of the Emperor.

As if responding to the taunt the Tyranids began shrieking and hissing, bearing towards the Astartes with murderous intent. Glinting claws raised and fangs bared for the attack, they sped down the street at breakneck speed. As they closed with the marines they saw only prey to tear and rip, they knew not that on this day they faced the Varangians; but they would soon learn.

EXTRACT FROM A TERRAN HISTORIAN FOUND IN THE ARCHIVES OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE ON TERRA: "The Varangian guard were a ancient band of foreign warriors sent far from their homes and chosen to protect great kings in far flung lands. While these kings men were corruptible and had a price the Varangian guards were sons of loyalty and oath, and once they gave their word only death would remove them from their Lords side"