THE COMING OF THE RONIN
Just inside the Eye of Terror lies the forge-world Nessus, a planet laid waste by a combination of warp energy, unabated technology and industrialization, and relentless conflict. Under a crimson sky, and speeding at nearly three hundred miles an hour through a frozen wasteland nestled between jagged mountains of black ice rising like spires against the landscape, Ralgor can not help but show his displeasure at being forced to ride the Warpcoil. The void-tainted serpent-like mechanical monstrosity slithers along the rocky terrain without ever making contact with the ground below. From a distance an unknowing onlooker could mistake the Warpcoil for a locomotive of some sort but any closer reflection would immediately show the horror of the chaos creation used for speedy ground transport along difficult terrain.
Ralgor glances briefly outside the window but is scarcely able to discern any features of the landscape around. Even a veteran Word Bearer Sergeant lacks the ability to maintain his perception at the speed of the Warpcoil. The Chaos Space Marine thinks to himself that the inability to see his surroundings is likely for the best as this unforgiving land around him has little that can help his mission. As he looks over at the prisoner her thinks to himself how truly precarious their situation is. Although the female prisoner with her slender build and with her head safely locked in a metal psychic inhibitor hood hardly seems like a threat right now, Ralgor and his nineteen fellow space marines know first hand how dangerous the prisoner is as they were thirty six in number when they boarded her ship. The other prisoner with her was inconsequential, he knew, as he was here to help keep their bounty stable. He would be ended the moment that he outlived his usefulness. Now more than halfway into their journey to the Malefactorum in Karnak, the capital, Ralgor can almost breathe a sigh of relief that this extremely dangerous mission where none expected to return is almost over, and as a resounding success no less. His ascension to power would be assured, it would now be only a matter of time.
Just as he begins to walk toward the front of the unadorned metal compartment where he and six of his men are standing and the prisoners are chained to the floor in the rear, Ralgor catches the briefest glimpse of an unknown burst of energy toward the front of the Warpcoil that he could scarcely discern. Before he can even think to react, everything around him explodes into a maelstrom of fire and metal. The entire chamber and its eight occupants are thrown across the compartment as the dying machine rolls over and over on its side.
Once his world comes to a halt, Ralgor, having been severely burned and with one of his hearts having failed after being penetrated by a molten metal fragment, attempts to get up to regain his bearings. He can see that a few of his men are also attempting to stagger up but many will never rise again. Ghauul, one of Ralgor's squad leaders is up and about and seems to be the closest to combat ready. As the Sergeant begins to bark an order to his squad leader, his body is riddled with a blue bolt of energy that engulfs his entire body and rattles him until he fall to his knees. Less than a second later, the unforgettable hum of a chainsword comes into earshot as a crimson-armored space marine descends from above, decapitating Ghauul in one fell stroke.
As Ralgor uses every ounce of his remaining strength to rise to his feet, he sees and hears several others all around him eviscerating his men using various means. Now surrounded by these unknown assailants he sees that they are all wearing the same crimson armor though badly battered and with no chapter insignia recognizable. The overall look of the space marine armor with the metallic horn-like protrusions from the helm look vaguely familiar but Ralgor can simply not remember from where. Now knowing that he is going to die, the chaos space marine can only think of one thing to mutter, only one thought that permeates his mind,
"Who are you?"
One of his iron-clad assassins, this one seemingly their leader, raises his hand for the others to cease their attack as he unsheathes his chainsword. As he releases the latches on his helm and he begins to remove it he begins,
"Who are we chaos pig? We are the ones who fight for a God that destroyed our world and against our Father who gave us our very lives. We are the ones with no home, no Chapter, and no Primarch. You would never understand but we fight to regain the honor that has been taken from us and to destroy those who have corrupted our brothers."
"Who are we?" He continues, "we are all that remain of the beautiful planet of Prospero that was decimated by the Space Wolves. We are the last of those whom you call the Thousand Sons that still fight for the Imperium. We are the Red Ronin, and we will see you and all you kind burn before we are through here."
As the speaker removes his helm Ralgor can see the faded Lieutenant's insignia on the space marines chest and can only fixate upon the dark energies seething behind his enemy's eyes. With a wry grimace as he leans forward Ralgor exclaims,
"You fools are already dead. My homing signal has been activated since the beginning of the attack on the Warpcoil. Even now an entire contingent of Lorgar's finest warriors are on their way here to retrieve our cargo and destroy your pathetic band, no matter who you think you are or what you choose to call yourselves."
Ralgor then suddenly leaps forward at the Lieutenant screaming,
"You I will rip the flesh from your bones myself!"
As if expecting the assault the Lieutenant positions his chainsword to anticipate the Wordbearers leap, painfully impaling him on the sword now churning within Ralgor's chest. As the chaos space marine is held in mid-air, his body limp and choking on his own blood and saliva but still aware of his surroundings, the Lieutenant adds,
"Oh and as for your homing beacon we know. Let them come that was our plan all along. Ronin, formation Bravo 2-6. It begins..."