Hello single reader. Let's get the legal things out of the way first. Games Workshop owns Warhammer 40,000 and all properties related. I only own the original characters in this story.

This story is incredibly loosely based on a campaign that I was allowed to take part in. the long and short of it was that due to every fault of my own, and the eternal amusement of one of the best GM(storytellers) I have had the privilege of knowing, our group ended up being declared a danger to the very imperium of Man.

This shifted the campaign instantly to survival and shadow ops, while the inquisition gave chase. Unfortunately for them, between a combination of half-assed power gaming, cleaver planning, and luck our group proved insanely difficult to cleanse.

As our antics grew in both hilarity and audacity I simply had to wonder what the hell the people trying to stop us thought. They will be the main focus of this story. While our campaign often slid into random nonsense and comedy, I will be trying to play this straight in this story.

Finally thank you for your time. Please read and review.

They unloaded the wounded.

It was like a dam had broken. Hundreds of dying men and women were being carried to the medicae chambers. Inquisitor Locus Tems forced his acolyte Hekta Vernitum back onto her gurney. She was broken. Both her legs had been taken off just above the knees. The bones in her right hand were smashed to the point of being gravel. She also had been shot twice in the stomach. The most disturbing was her face. The left half of it had been burned out. The scorched flesh looked like melted red wax, and the empty socket where her eye should have been gaped up at him. Her mind wasn't in better condition. She wouldn't hold still, and tranquilizers were not having any affect. She also was screaming, disjointed phrases like "We are wrong! Eighty Years! It will break! The Saints!"

Locus was having trouble holding her down. He was only using his left arm. Despite his brain's insistence that he could feel it, his right arm had been burned off at the shoulder. The Doctor injected her with yet another needle of strange liquid. Hekta's eye dilated, and she finally went still.

"Do you need a medicae, my lord Inquisitor?" one of the doctors said. He seemed unsure if he was allowed to touch Locus.

"No," Locus said. He turned quickly and headed towards his chambers. He needed to inform his superiors. His failure couldn't be allowed to compromise the mission. He recorded his briefing on the pict recorder. He was completely honest. He spared no detail. He had made contact with his targets. He had lost one of his ships, thirty percent of his Imperial Guardsmen, and two thousand of the ten thousand Sisters of Battle, as well as seven of the twenty Battle-Brothers of the Deathwatch. And to top it all off, he lost contact with the targets. All in all it was a spectacular failure. He dispatched his report.

In less than ten minutes the response came:

Results…Unacceptable
Analysis….Resource misappropriation
Consequence…..Assign additional 1 Division Gaurdsmen
Assign additional 10,000 Adepta Soroitas, Order of Our Martyred Lady
Assign additional 25 Deathwatch Battle Brothers,
Headed by Captain Octavio
Assign Frigate class Ship: Golgolos
Assign Frigate Class Ship: Harpist
Assign Frigate Class Ship: Breccia
Assign Light-Cruiser Class Ship: Falconus
Assign Light-Cruiser Class Ship: Crescendo
Assign Heavy-Cruiser Class Ship: Balto
Directives…..Continue Pursuit
Terminate Targets
Suppress Information of events by any means necessary
End

Locus read it, and then reread it. He sighed. Suddenly all the pain, and exhaustion hit him like a ton of ceramite. He collapsed into a nearby chair. Producing a lho stick, he reached for his lighter. He fumbled about in his pocket for a moment before remembering that his right arm was gone. His mind refused to accept this fact. He fished it out of his pocket and managed to light the lho stick. He inhaled the smoke. With the smoke came a soothing feeling. He exhaled, and then inhaled.

He shook his head. He had been promoted.

He thought back on how he had come to this. Like most men he had been lead to this point of nigh imminent catastrophe because of his love of a woman. Not a woman, The Woman, Monica Tegres. The youngest daughter of his former mentor Inquisitor Francos Tegres. Over the past five years, and the few meeting he had with Monica, he learned that he loved her, and thank the Emperor she loved him back. He had been an Acolyte back then. Inquisitor Tegres had taught Locus almost everything that Locus knew. It was no secret that he was being groomed to be an inquisitor some day in the relatively close future.

That was when he asked for Inquisitor Tegres's blessing to marry Monica. Locus had never been so terrified in his life. To his surprise Inquisitor Tegres had said, "You will have my blessing, after you have successfully completed your first mission as a full Inquisitor."

Locus had expected to be stonewalled after that. He thought his time of grooming was over, and that he would never ascend past his current station. This had not been the case. In less than a week he had been made a full inquisitor. What's more, he had been placed in control of a light Cruiser, and two frigates. He was to command 150,000 imperial guardsmen, 10,000 Sisters of Battle, and four Deathwatch Kill Teams.

At first he feared that the sheer volume of the resources handed to him would overwhelm him. Thankfully he found that he was surrounded by competent individuals. He had made it a point to delegate, and quickly found that most day-to-day tasks handled themselves.

He was just about to allow himself to collapse from exhaustion and pain, when a knock came at his door. Locus had decided against having a door man. He instead had opted to only spend his time on people at the top, and those that had proven themselves worthy of attention. This had led to him being well informed on nearly every issue of his fleet as well as have the person best suited to solving the problem immediately at hand. Unfortunately this had also led to him being disturbed at nearly all hours. Fortunately it was always for something that could not wait, or someone that he could let wait.

He opened his door and found himself face to face with Sister Helena. She was tall and had a harsh face made all the harsher by time and battle. She was still carrying her signature Chainsword and Hand Flamer. Both of which were holstered, but she had forgone her power armor for her robes, which were most certainly armored. Her white hair was short, but several chunks had been ripped out, leaving scabbed patches on her head. Her lower lip was swollen and split, and her left arm was cybernetic. She had survived her fair share of battles.

"Lord Inquisitor, do you have a moment?" she asked politely. It clearly wasn't so much a question as a demand, but the courtesy was always appreciated.

"Always for you Sister," Locus said stepping away from the door. "May I offer you a drink?"

"Caff please," Sister Helena Said. "Only if you have some prepared."

Locus started making a small pot of Caff. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself, but he was loath to rely on even the mildest of stimulants. He promptly quashed Sister Helena's objects on the very true grounds that he had every intention of making the majority of the Caff for himself.

He handed her a plain metal mug of Caff. He knew far better than to offer her any cream of sweeteners. Sister Helena was far more acetic in nature than he was and despite her polite nature she was unable to hide all of her contempt for pointless luxuries such as sweeteners.

"I worry about your Acolyte, the witch-I mean Hekta," she said. While she was still being polite he knew this to be her business tone, and that she was not afraid to argue the point, even with him, when it came to the routing of corruption, and that fact that Hekta was a Psyker was matter of great concern to the sisters, and most Emperor Fearing citizens. "She is damaged, and at this point quite dangerous. Her mind is quite broken, and in this state she could attack us, or become processed by… dark forces. I must insist that if her state doesn't improve in three days' time that we put her out of her misery."

"I agree Sister," Locus said. His voice was very tired regardless of the simulants being fed into his system.

"Inquisitor?" Sister Helena asked. She had clearly expected to have to convince him of this, and having the answer she wanted given so easily had clearly thrown her off balance.

"My area of expertise is in the hunting and eradication of Xenos," Locus said. "I am well aware of how grevious Hekta's injuries are, and have no wish to allow her to suffer unnecessarily. What's more you have a much deeper knowledge of the possible threats to her and us, and I have no reason to doubt your expertise. Now let us get to the second reason that has brought you here."

She snorted quietly. She was well aware that she never darkened his door with less than two issues. She quickly straightened her face then said. "Since we have encountered the forces of chaos, it is entirely possible that some of us have been corrupted. While it is not the fault of the individual they must be found and purged before the corruption can spread any further. I can assure that the sisters under my command will be inspected thoroughly, but I fear for the Imperial Guardsmen, and the Ship crews. They and their commanders are not trained to recognize and fight the corruption of Chaos as we are."

A second Knock came at the door. Locus had been expecting this. He rose from his seat and opened his door. To find the large and broad figure of General Brok Datrig. Locus had been more than surprised on his first meeting with this mountain of a man. The first thing was that he had never heard of an Ogryn General in all of his studies. The second surprise was to find that the man was by far a greater giant in the mental arena than he was in the physical. He was a General for one reason, he deserved to be. While he played at the political game as all officers of such rank did, he did it with such finesse that Locus had started to wonder if he too had fallen into the all too common tap of assuming the massive man of lesser intelligence than himself. What's more he a tactical genius that Locus had found himself praising the Emperor for having him. That said he was still an Abhuman, and Locus was always slightly concerned of the General's heritages and whether it could become a liability in an hour of need.

"Hallo Inquisitor," he said. "Is she telling you how I can't do me job properly yet?"

"Just getting started General," Locus said. "Please come in. Can I interest you in some Caff?"

"You most certainly may…Inquistor," he added quickly. He pulled a bottle that only appeared small in his massive hands. "I brought something to mix it with."

Locus took the bottle and poured it's contents into both his, and Datrig's mugs. "You should be nominated for saint hood." He turned to them both as he handed the mug to the General, "Yes, the Sister mentioned that she wish to assist in the inspection of the Guardsmen for the presence of any taint of Chaos. What are your thoughts on the matter, General?"

"With all due Respect to the Sister," He said. "I believe it could hurt moral for the men to think that they need help from outside the guard to fight any foe, especially an internal one such as possible Corruption."

"Are you saying you don't want the help of the sisters?" Locus asked.

"Hell no," Datrig nearly shouted. "I'm saying I'll need you to be discreet." He straightened up quickly. "If it is possible, Inquisitor." He added quickly.

Locus took a deep breath then sighed. "I feel compelled to reiterate my policy again. Within the confines of this room, I do not care in the slightest about Rank, about proper social order, nor about any other political issue that exists. I want you to simply tell me the truth, and what needs to be done. We will have plenty of time to pay proper attention to rank and file out in front of the masses. So please tell me what you want me to do Brok?"

"Tricky matter that," General Datrig said and then emptied his mug. "I think we could swing the sister's being part of the purging. It is just what tune we dance to when doing it. If we could portray them as helping bring about a glorious rekindling of the faith, or some such thing. I believe that would cause the least turbulence."

"That could waste valuable time," Sister Helena said.

"I would rather lose some time, and a few extra soldiers, than allow any doubt to enter my ranks," He said back. "As you have no doubt pointed out already, the Imperial Guard is not as well trained in dealing with Chaos as you Sisters of Battle. That said casualties are a fact of life. During this revival of the faith training accidents, friendly fire, and a few attempted deserters can quietly occur until we have cleansed the ranks to your satisfaction. I can explain casualties. I can't go about telling them thing that I doubt I should know."

"Surely they would take heart with each heretic purged from their ranks," Sister Helena said.

Before the argument could circle around a second time Locus intervened. "I must agree with the General. This must be done quietly, just like every Inquisitorial operation. While I am certain the General will welcome every bit of assistance you can offer in the detection of Chaos among the guardsmen, I must leave the actual cleansing to him and his people. Pending whether you sign off on his status as clean."

"Inquistor?" both of them said. They both stared at him incredulously.

"I must ask that General Datrig be tested immediately for any taint or corruption, and that he submit to monthly examination until this matter is handled. So long as he is clean he is allowed to handle his men as he sees fit. I will leave the details to you two to work out, but I must insist that he be tested now in front of me."

"I will have to go and collect some instruments," Sister Helena said.

"Please do," Locus said. "Bring what you need to test the both of us."

"At once Inquisitor," she said. She quickly rose to her feet, and left the room.

"That what it takes to be in charge of me men?" Datrig asked smiling. "You are progressing well, if you don't mind me sayin. You make it a point to get the job done, step on as few toes as possible, and playing opposites against each other. You will definitely have a long career in this work."

While Locus was touched by the old ogryn's approval he didn't have time for complements of any kind. "What are your thoughts on the …" he paused. Orks didn't seem like the right word, "enemies we encountered?"

The smile slid off the general's face. "I have spent well over a hundred year fightin' Orks. They are always a little different, but this. They weren't Shootas, Chopas, mech boyz, or even fast boyz. Hell, they even had drastically fewer than normal weird boyz. No these were armored, well equipped, and well organized soldiers. Their warboss has to be something else. He has to be that blend of violent, and cunning that we hoped would never crop up."

Locus considered telling the General the truth, but quickly decided against it. The General was now aware of the threat they faced, and the 'Warboss' and his companions were Locus's responsibility.

"Their tactics puzzle me more than anything," Datrig continued. "They completely ignored us until we fired upon them. I have hundreds of reports telling me that the Orks were engaging the chaos forces to protect the planets people, and that they immediately ceased hostilities towards us when we were forced to engage the heretics. I have never heard of Orks picking targets before in me 'ole life. We are already searching and detaining the survivors for any sort of Xeno taint. Haven't found any yet. They seem to have been actively trying not to spread their filthy spores on the planet." he paused for a moment, "Or maybe they didn't want us to be able to study this new strain-"

Sister Helena arrived and spent the next few hours rigorous testing them for any and all possible forms of corruption imaginable. After proving that he and General Datrig were completely clean of possible corruption, they departed. Both immediately began arguing tactics of the purge even before they left the Locus's quarters.

Locus debated what to do next. Obviously the first order to be given were to rendezvous with the new ships, before resuming pursuit. It was obvious that his quarry would soon be appearing on another planet on the edge of the imperium, that was under siege by Orks. There were a few exceptions to this pattern, but that had been constant.

Locus looked up at the door expectantly. The knock came less than a second later. Locus opened the door yet again. If General Datrig was a large man, then the man in front of him was a defacto Giant. He ducked his head and turned his massive frame sideways to fit his massive frame through the door that at the moment looked quite tiny.

"Bother Sargent," Locus said to the Space marine, "You honor me with your presence." Bother Lignarius was a First Sargent of the Deathwatch, and the de facto leader of them in combat. They were an elite group of space marines-Locus still had trouble with that concept-that specialized in fighting Xenos. Brother Lignarius while clearly well over two hundred years old was still vital and blatantly strong. His silver hair and beard were trimmed short, and exceptionally thick. His blue eye almost burned with fire. His simple robes would be bilious on anyone else.

"You will follow your own rules on candid speaking or I will flood you with such a wave of polite, yet pointless titles and niceties that we will be here for days," the space marine said in high gothic. He sounded close to confrontational, but Locus could hardly blame the 'man'.

"Sorry Brother Lignarius," Locus said. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Certainly," he said as he observed the Inquisitor. "Strength is a virtue, but after our talk you simply must seek medical attention. If you wait much longer you will appear fool hardy, rather than hardy."

"You speak wisely," Locus asked in high gothic. He wasn't completely comfortable with the tongue, but in the presence of one of the Emperor's angels of death he truly felt compelled to try and elevate both his words and his actions. "I understand you had casualties."

"Seven of my battle brothers are dead," Brother Lignarius confirmed, "And it is Doubtful that Mitchellus and Leandros will survive the hour."

"You and your brother fought bravely," Locus said.

This was true. They had torn through the ranks of the heretics like a knife through the most tender of meats. They had stopped the witches from summoning Daemons, and slaughter several dozen lesser creatures of the warp before turning their attentions upon the Orks. The space marines had killed a hundred of the beasts for every one the guardsmen killed. This was when Brother Porthos had died breaching the walls so that all of Locus's forces could enter the last hive that the targets had been hiding in. reports of him enduring hundreds of rounds of bolter fire as he strangle two nobbs to death were already popular among the men.

During the final push into the last ship port off planet, Brother Achilles died in the defense of the med evac ships. Literally tens of thousands of men owe their lives to him. He managed to shoot down no less than a gross of enemy ships before the vantage he had chosen was simply leveled.

The warboss and his cohorts had killed the rest. Locus had lost his arm to the warboss's powa klaw. The warboss then proceeded to gun down hundreds of guardsmen and sisters of battle, while killing two battle brothers. His 'guard' killed the other three battle brother and held the remainder at bay while slaughtering thousands of men.

Hekta had tried to tap into the warboss's mind to only have hers shattered. That was when the Warboss took her legs. The massive power field of the terrible weapon had burned her horribly. If not for Dovvick pulling her to safety, and Lignarius fighting the warboss to a standstill she certainly would have died.

It was at that point that the Orks and their leaders withdrew, along with that last of the now heretic survivors. Locus had tried to peruse only to find that the system had been sabotage, and the remain ships destroyed.

The remainingBattle Brothers had carried Locus Hekta, their fallen and several other through a second bloody swath they carved into the corrupted horde. If not for these Angels of the Emperor Locus knew he would be dead.

"I would prefer for them to have fought well," Lignarius said.

Locus knew there was no right answer to this so he remained silent.

"Two of our squads were freshly assembled, but to waste their lives on arrogance and refusal to ignore chapter differences was unforgivable." The space marine said. He turn to the inquisitor. "I swear that the next time we encounter these beasts will be quite different."

"Yes it will," Locus said finding safe words to speak. "You will be with more of your brothers shortly."

Lignarius raised an eyebrow, "Pardon?"

"More forces have been assigned to me," Locus said. He watched careful for any hints of offence. While he was an inquisitor and thus of much higher rank than the space marine, he was well aware of their differences in power, and he truly wish to be on good terms with the man that had carried him to safety, "including twenty five more members of the deathwatch."

"That is good news." Lignarius said. "I will go and prepare to welcome and inform them of our enemy." He rose to leave. He stopped at the door. "Words can not convey my gratitude for the discretion you have shown in this matter. I am truly sorry for failing you." He left before Locus could say anything else.

Before the door could close Dovvick Reddirt entered the room. "Iz now a goodt time Lord of me?" he asked in a very thick accent.

"Dovvick," Locus said collapsing into a chair. "We served Inquisitor Tegres as equals. You taught me everything I know of swordplay, we have saved each other lives countless times, and when I asked you to follow me on this insane venture you followed me without question. In public I may be your lord, but in reality we are brothers."

Dovvick was a tall thin man with long dark hair. His beard was thick and unkempt his green eyes were wild and cunning. He jaw was so thick that it often reminded Locus of an anvil. When he smiled, which was often, his canines were obviously longer than normal. He wore thick leathers over sinthskin, and a camo cloak. This lead to him being nearly invisible this didn't stop him from constantly rubbing dirt all over himself to hid his smell.

While Dovvick was only thirty-one years of age Locus often had to remind himself that he was Dovvick's senior. Dovvick had a manner that implied wisdom beyond truly considerable years, many more than Locus's forty-five. What's more he had married and raised a daughter who had recently turned sixteen. He had proven himself to be a loving father, loyal acolyte and fierce warrior in such a short time. This might have to do with the fact that Dovvick hailed from a feral world and was considered venerable by his people's standards at twenty.

Dovvick pulled a small wooden box from inside his large coat. "I vill stitch you op now or take you to menders."

It was not a request, and Locus doubted he could stop Dovvick. He quickly disrobed to his undergarment. He was surprise to find that his left arm been grazed several times. He had also almost taken a round to the kidney. Instead he had a dark red chunk taken out of side. While he was scarred, he was still slightly surprise just how close he had come to being obliterated. The pain was increasing as he focused closer on his wounds.

Dovvick forced a jar into his hand, "Drink zhis. It vhill numb zhe pain."

Locus took three great swallows of the dark viscous liquid. It tasted absolutely foul, and burned his entire body, "is this one of your people's medicines?" he asked. He had used this strange concoction several times while in the field when he was an acolyte but had never found time to ask.

"Naw," Dovvick said downing the rest of the liquid before slamming it down, "Iz me speshul blend. Mostly alkeehol, and soom odder stuff." He rolled up his sleeve and slapped his hands together to knock the dirt and dust off. Dovvick produced a pair of goggles that magnified his eyes. He examined Locus's missing arm and said. "Vhelp zhat's gone. Can't fix zhat. He poured some more of the thick black liquid from a second jar onto the burned stump. It stung ferociously and Locus almost shouted in pain.

Dovvick proceed to salt Locus's cuts and rinse them with still more of the black liquid. By this point the drink was doing its job. Dovvick could have slowly crushed his fingers in a vice, and Locus wouldn't have felt it. His head was clear though, "How is your daughter?"

"She killed many," Dovvick said proudly. "Vhen ve found zhe green vhones she vas able to take itz head. She iz a varrior like her modder und me papa. She iz even getting scars."

"She is alright then?" Locus asked.

"Ov course," Dovvick said. "Dovva is even more strong zhen me. Soon she vill find a husband and drag him avay to a nice qviet place und start a family. After zhe mishun ov course."

"Did I make the right choice Dovvick," Locus asked abruptly. "Was I right to hide the truth about our targets? You walked in there blind like everyone else. Should I have told you the truth? Should I have told Sister Helena, Brother Lignarius and the other Battle Borthers, and General Datrig? Would telling them have changed things?"

Dovvick put the needle and thread down and sat down across form Locus. He stared into Locus's eyes for at least a minute. When he spoke, he spoke in high gothic. His thick accent vanished and so did all trace of levity. "The Inquisition is not in the business of trust, Locus. If you had trusted the General, the Sister superior, or even the Space marines, they too would have confided in others because they trust them. Then those people would share the secret and so on until it was no longer a secret. The last truth you must learn to be a true inquisitor has nothing to do with tactics, or combat, or intrigue. You must understand that my life is not important, nor is Dovva's, or any hundred score of the imperial Guardsmen, or the same number of sisters of battle, or even space marines. You are not here in this seat of power to save lives, nor even planets. You are to protect the Empire, and to do that sacrifices must be made. Only when absolutely necessary, sacrifice what is needed to keep the Imperium of Man clean. That is your responsibility."

"How did you get so cynical?" Locus asked.

"I'm old man," Dovvick said in his thick accent. "Comes vith age. Tomorrow, you best get metal arm. Good sleepin brodder." He gathered his things and left.

Locus thought wistfully of sleep, but knew it was an ideal dream at best. He decided to record as much data about his quarry as possible while it was fresh in his mind. He locked his door and turned on several of the devices that prevented anyone outside from listening in. after he had checked and double check that it was impossible for outside sources to hear him, he meticulously scanned the room for any living being or listening device. When this proved him to be truly and absolutely alone he accessed his notes.

He began recording, Inquisitor Locus Tems log 999.M41 while I have managed to make contact, I was unable to stop the rogue Space marines formerly of the Deathwatch. The endgame of these men is still a mystery and probably best left unknown even to the inquisition. While it was originally believed that the whole group had begun to raise Orks, I can confirm this to be untrue. Only one of them is interacting with the Orks in any meaningful manner, although it is obvious that none of them are preforming their duty of slaughtering the xenos.

I will discuss the ultramarine first he has abandoned the black of the deathwatch for his original ultramarine color scheme of his armor. He is currently equip with a Astartes Stalker pattern Bolter, Astartes Bolter, and astartes combat knife. He is clearly a notable marksman even by Astartes standards. That said he has exhibited an uncanny ability to avoid fire. I would assume him to have some force field, but no outward sign of it had been noted. It is worth mentioning that before his defection he was honorably nominated to serve the deathwatch base on his stellar record, and had a more than satisfactory service record while serving with the deathwatch.

The second member is an Iron Hands Techmarine. He is heavily armored in what is obviously augmented artificer armor, and cybernetics. He will be impossible to take down without heavy ordinances preferable Astartes heavy ordinances. He is currently equiped with an Astartes bolter, and Conversion Beam, as well as his standard cybernetic Implants. He was clearly responsible for the tampering with the Hives internal defenses, which attacked us, as well as sabotaging the launch beckons that rendered tracking there escape ship impossible. While he has clearly gone rogue he has shown extreme restraint when it comes to the development and use of heretical technologies at this time he has shown no use of them at all. He was volunteered to the deathwatch on the need to meet quota for the Iron Hands, but his service record with the Deathwatch clearly states he was a fine soldier.

Next is the Dark Angel Apothecary. He has chosen to keep his deathwatch colors of black and grey. He is currently equipped with his Narthequim, Astartes Bolter, Astartes Bolt Pistol, and an Astartes Chain sword. It was mentioned that he asked to serve the Deathwatch after failing to recover the Geneseed of three of his fallen Battle Brothers due to circumstances beyond his control. It was mentioned several times that his service to the deathwatch was zealous and unfailing. Yet he went rogue, and is believed to be responsible for a large portion of death the former kill team has inflicted on the imperial troops.

After him is the Storm Wolf Librarian. He too has chosen to retain the colors of the deathwatch that he has abandoned. He was assigned to the deathwatch with no further notes attached. His service records have shown that he was prone to over use his powers often to detrimental consequences. That said his loyalty has only been called into question by black Templar battle brother who lodged their complaint before meeting him on the grounds that his psychic powers were evil. While observing him in battle it was obvious that he was powerful with his psyker abilities, but he show no outward signs of corruption, nor did he use any known sorcerer powers or techniques.

Next is the Salamander Devistator. He was a former member of the first company and was allowed to retain his Terminator Armor upon joining the deathwatch. He has reverted back to the Salamander's trademark green colors. He is currently equiped with an Astartes heavy Flamer, and Astartes Thunder Hammer. The reason for his assignment to Deathwatch mentions a wish to fight tyranids, further details are scare and probably unreliable. His service record with the deathwatch was exemplary, it was noted several times that he bore an almost implacable urge to slaughter heretics. His defection makes the least sense.

While details are scarce for all of these traitors, either due to intentional purges, purges to avoid embarrassment, or simple lack of information all of the previous space marines have left a trail that proved their existence. On top of that when question their superiors in their respective chapters were openly shock and often incredibly distressed upon hearing there brothers had turned traitor.

That cannot be said of the last space marine. This is mainly do to there being literally no avalaible information on this man. Several older and more experience inquisitor have offered to try and acquire information on my behalf, upon finding nothing they have asked that I not mention their names in these reports. Suffice it to say if there was any information to be known these men and women would have found it.

The information that I have acquired is to my knowledge the only information that exist on this man. His name is Willis. He was clearly trained to be an assault marine. It is highly probably that he was from the blood angels or one of their later foundings. This assumption is based off of his red and gold colored armor. He is equip with Astartes Artificer Armor it is currently unknown how such a relic could be issued to anyone without note much less this nonentity of a space marine. He was also equiped with an Astartes Storm Bolter, Astartes Power Sword, Astartes Combat Shield, and two further weapons that I will expand upon.

This Willis was the Warboss that I was sent to neutralize. At this time it is completely unknown how he is able to influence the ork hordes. He is also been accused of stealing a freshly constructed Heavy Cruiser from Mars, and there are unsubstantiated claims that he was seen on Holy Terra. Since that time he has been seen conquering several rival ork warbosses. As his influence and follower grow they have also grown more organized. This is common of Orks. The fact that they have begun to wear power armor and effectively use Astartes weapons and tactics is extremely troubling.

Much like everything else about him, we know nothing of Willis's end goals, although he and his team have, rescued several edge planets, and have been connected to the destruction of several pirate bands. At this time his horde is estimated to be roughly four thousand strong, and he is in procession of four ships.

As stated before Willis has shown that he is capable of influencing the ork horde if not having complete control. He has also shown to have the ability to use several pieces of ork tech. the first was an ork squawk box, the second was a powa claw. The method for how he was able to integrate these xenos technologies with holy artificer armor is unknown at this time. When I inquired with a wiser member of the machine cult he informed me in no uncertain term that the tech spirit of such armor would absolutely reject such blasphemous tech, or shut down if xeno tech were somehow forced upon it.

Sadly it is his last weapon that is most troubling. On his back, Willis wore a Great sword that sister Helena informed me was of Daemonic nature. Little is known of the blades capacities, but it is believed to be extremely powerful. I have made several inquiries into known daemon weapon that could turn a space marine traitor, and that blade is not mentioned in any list. When I inquired with several other inquisitors they were either called away on important matters or warned me about speaking of such things.

End log."

Exhaustion finally overcame Locus. As he fell asleep his mind drifted to the battle and the death of thousands. He fought to stay awake to stave off this part of his memory, but he succumbed and dreamed of war.

/

Not so far away in a dark ship that was filled almost to bursting with the grotesque and twisted bodies of Orks, Willis stood and watched his ship sail through the ever twisting landscape of the warp. He was considering removing his armor. While nigh indestructible, the battles on the planet had left it in desperate need of maintenance. He had removed and cleaned his weapons all but the Great sword that still rested on his back.

He heard the sound of an explosion and shouts of both joy and rage from the Orks. This was to be expected. The fight seldom ended even when the battle was over when it came to Orks. That was fine. He had taught the Orks through violence and personal might that weapon were to only be used in the cargo hold. From the sound of it, though, he was going to have to rip a few heads off. That didn't matter, there were always more Orks. Always.

He watched the Warp move past the small window.

"Doesn't violence exhilarate you?" the Daemon asked.

"I am a Space Marine," Willis said. "War is what I am."

"You could be more," the Daemon cooed.

"I will be more, Daemon," Willis almost snarled, "don't you dare doubt that."

"You know if it wasn't for the witches distracting them, the Inquisitor and his minions might well have stopped you and your band," the Daemon hissed snidely.

"And yet they didn't," Willis said. "I suppose you will be taking credit for that?"

"I played a part," the daemon said. "You know more will come."

"More always come. That is part of the plan," Willis said contemplatively. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for the loss of life?"

"Oy Boss," one of the Nobbs said as he entered the room. "I counted tree times, and we're down ta twenty-fer-undred."

"Two-thousand-three-hundred-eighty-two, by my count," Willis said.

"Wotz da plan," the Nobb asked. "Da boyz was curious…and-"

"The planet we are heading to at this very moment is under siege by Orks," Willis cut across. "When we get there we will slaughter a bunch of the weak ones, I'll murder their sorry excuse for a Warboss, and we'll replenish our ranks with the biggest and baddest that survive. Tell the Boyz, would you?'

The nobb opened the door never taking his eyes off of Willis, "Y'ah boss, sure!" he quickly dove out of the room leaving Willis alone.

"You know you loved that," the Daemon said.

Willis grinned slightly, "I would be lying if I said I didn't, but there is so much more to do. So many of them to find.

"So many to kill," the sword said.

"That goes without saying," Willis said still grinning.

That was chapter one. If you have made it this far I must thank you for baring with my on my blatant failure to use the correct terms. I can't honestly claim that this will improve, but by all means tell my in a review of pm.

Please review. Tell me that you hated it. Point out what I did wrong in regards to continuity. Tell me of any writing mistakes I made. I hope to improve my writing with this story as well as entertain. Also feel free to say what you liked.

Thanks again for reading.