Josiv Ornill was a lieutenant in Vastus' fleet army. Six foot four inches, shaven head and pale blue eyes he had fought for his master for seventeen hundred years, kept alive by juvenant treatments and sorcery. His life had been saved by Vastus on Hydax IV when, as a sergeant in the Imperial Army, he had been brought low by a Hydax Battle Suit, it's 3 foot long energized blade slicing his left leg from underneath him. Lying in a pool of his own blood, he'd opened fire on the mighty machine as it towered over him. He'd emptied his clip then thrown the lasgun at the beast. Screaming his defiance, knowing he would die, he'd pushed himself to his remaining foot and drawn his sword-bayonet, slashing as he leapt. It had struck him aside and he'd blacked out. He'd woken minutes later to see Lord Vastus lead his terminator squad over the rubble, destroying the machine with one stroke of the chain bayonet attached to his bolter. Kneeling over the dying soldier, he'd clipped his homing beacon to Josiv's belt, the tugging sensation of teleportation pulling him through unconsciousness back to the ship. From that day on he had been indebted to Vastus, and had been invited to join his lordships personal fleet force. Now, seventeen hundred years on he led the army in his master's absence, his standard bodysuit augmented with adamantine plate in the style of the ancient europii of terra, and a great cloak of heavy velvet edged with fine fur.
He would head the attack on the vessel identified as the flagship of the enemy fleet, his hand picked squadron complemented by weapons servitors from the Legion Hammers dark workshops, hulking brutes with warp cannons fused to their arms in place of conventional weaponry, and lithe, willowy beings whose bodies bristled with blades.
He shifted impatiently as he waited for the teleport to power up, shifting his sword to rest more comfortably between his shoulders, it's hilt vertically behind his head. The ship shuddered in pain as it was struck by alien weaponry, and the walls screamed s the metal plates twisted.
/Teleport initiated, standby for translation/ the harsh canted binary of the dark Mechanicum erupted from a vox in the throat of one of their number /Initiating translation, favour of the gods be with you/ The cold, dead voice gave Ornill no comfort, but already he could feel the cold scratching sensation of the teleporter at the back of his eyeballs. He would soon be face to face with the foe, and he itched to gain more of his Lord's favour.
The dark Mechanicum were skilled in the use of teleportation devices, and had placed Ornill and his squadron exactly where they had wanted. The vox-mic in his helm buzzed as his warriors confirmed they had all arrived. *Fleet troops in position, begin torpedo assault my lord* the confirmation went by vox to Lord Yarrow and his Astartes, and while Ornill created havoc in the engine rooms and armouries their boarding torpedoes would slip silently through the gulf of space to breach to bridge and take control of the ship.
The cargo bay they had materialised in was empty, and appeared to be of similar design to the ships of the Imperium, but made of the same light sucking material as the ships exterior.
Drawing his sword, his troops following suit, Ornill set of in the direction his auspex showed to contain life signs.
Yarrow hated to travel by boarding torpedo, the inaccuracy of the transports was but one concern, as the fat tubes frequently drew a heavy rain of incoming anti-ordinance fire from ship defence weapons. Vastus had got around this by using human troops to teleport onboard a target ship and wrest control of the weapons bays before the torpedoes were in range. Right now the lieutenant commander of the fleet troopers would be leading an offensive on the enemy ship to clear Yarrow's path. But still Yarrow worried. His squad was down to six out of fifteen men, the rest having collapsed or straight out died as the enemy ships opened fire, many screaming about "The Dreamer" as they fell to their knees, faces twisted into grotesque mockeries of their former dark glory. Now he hurtled through space with the remaining troopers, their skin waxy and pale. Something is very wrong in this system, he thought to himself as he saw great cannons turn through the view ports, aligning themselves towards his position.