Prologue: En route to Calderis, aboard the Strike Cruiser Armageddon.
On the outer edges of the Calderis system, where no ork attack craft would ever go, space and time became distored. At first there was nothing, save for a ripple upon the Warp, barely perceptible to anyone but a Navigator.
A few hours later it became apparent that something was amiss, and an unnatural purplish glow seeped into space from the unreality of the Immaterium. Something was happening that was beyond the graps of most mortal creatures.
The fabric of reality twisted, and suddenly the mad, purplish black abyss of the Warp exploded into Realspace.
Twisted daemons covered in eyes, tentacles and slavering orifices howled with insane voices as they burned in the coldness of space, their forms twisting into wierd dimensions and disintegrating as the laws of Nature resisted the taint of the Warp.
The blunt prow of a starship burst forth from the depthless abyss of nightmare, a reassuringly sane sight in the wake of such madness. Its hull was deep red, intricatly carved with golden eagles, winged skulls and black ravens inlaid with ruby drops of blood. Gargolye-encrused turrets scanned the space around the Warp rift, looking for any would-be attacker.
The bridge of the heavy strike cruiser Armageddon was wrought into the likeness of a temple, carved with golden images of the Divine Emperor, God of Humanity and Father of the Astartes. False stained glass windows depicted ancient heroes of the Blood Ravens Chapters while incense gathered at the top of the great chamber.
The brige was filled with rows of cogitator stacks crewed by Chapter Serfs, and servitor stations were embedded in the walls. Elite Serf storm trooper squads and weapon servitors patrolled between gothic columns covered in prayer strips, ever vigilant even in this most secure of spaces.
The great sealed portals to the main elevator opened as Commander Azarius strode into the gloomy bridge lit only by the holographic interfaces and display monitors. Holographic torches burned with a red flame, proclaiming the battle stations every ship enforced while travelling trough the Warp.
His razor keen eyes could see as easily as if it were daylight, and he could have easily read the name tag of a serf a hundred meters away if he wanted to.
Seated on the command throne was Martellus, Techmarine assigned to the 4th company strike force heading for Calderis. His mechandendrites were meshed with the throne, allowing him to directly interface with the Machine spirit of the revered vessel.
"Greetings, commander. Praised be the Omnissiah, we emerged from the Warp without any complications. Our tech augurs detect no vessel in our direct vicinity, but from the fragmented data we are getting from Calderis suggest that a few smaller ork raiding vessels remain in high orbit. I'll summon the system map for you."
The air before the throne shimmered, and the map of the Calderis system appeared. The Armageddon was a little red icon on the outer edges of the system, while the ork ships around Calderis were green dots representing unknown contact. The range was too great for any positive indication on their design, save that they were escort sized.
"Praise be the Emperor, Brother Martellus. It seems that the greenskin fleet is a splinter from a larger raiding party. What are the chances of favourable outcome in a long-range space battle?" Azarius was a competent commander for his age and knew well the fearsome array of lances, bombardment cannons and weapon batteries that covered most of the ship, but none knew machines better than a priest of the Machine God.
"98,274 per cent chance that our shields will be impervious to their attacks. It will take us seventeen hours to reach effective weapons range." Even with the mechanical voice of the Techmarine, it was clear that he was proud of such a mighty machine. Azarius supressed a smile, for he could already picture the burning wrecks of the ork ships disintegrating in the nuclear firestorms unleashed by the massive broadside cannons of the Armageddon.
"Take us into maximum combat range. We should not allow the orks close to our ship. With their wretched tech-heresy might teleport onboard. I shall join my brothers in the rites of battle. Death to the xenos!" He made the sign of the Machine to Martellus, who made the sign of the Aquila in return.
"The wretches shall die today, commander." Azarius turned around and headed for the elevator, nodding to a nearby squad Serf troopers who bowed low to their master in return.
**** Note : Sorry for the title, but somehow the system does not allows me to make it more separate for unknown reasons. ****