The battle for the Forge went on through the night. The three were an awesome sight to behold on the battlefield, even shocking the Tech-priests. The unknown Xeno assailants were fighting for their lives against the carnage unleashed by the resistance. Alexander had studied their combat style and statue. He assumed they were Xeno were Eldar, but as soon as one was stuck down, they teleport out, not leaving a body behind. They could only wonder what their enemies actually were.

Ike felt alive, Ragnell in his hand, Judgment slung over his side, he only felt this way when he led his Mercenaries into battle. While he still wished for his Mercenaries, Alexander and Pork Chop proved more than worthy of his respect. Pork Chop provided more than accurate cover fire, working the bolt on his rifle as if it was second nature. More than once had Pork Chop provided the accurate shot that saved their lives. Ike noticed as Alexander wields the Power Sword as an extension to his own body. It was quite clear he had been trained to use a sword at a very young age.

While he used Ragnell most often, he had used Cyrenean Judgment, and was amazed at the sheer raw power. It had a nasty kick to it, but it reduced his enemies to nothing but bloody ribbons. Ike brought Ragnell to his side, and then followed in a counter attack against his opponent. Blood showered Ike in its grand crimson radiance, but he had little time to rest, as a new challenger came next to him. A dagger slashed at his side, cutting through his armor, and puncturing his skin, drawing blood. The attacker was too close for Ragnell to be used properly, so Ike wrapped one of his arms around his attacker's neck, with the other on the attackers head. With one fluent movement, he jerked his arms opposite directions. A sickening crack became audible, and the attacker became still. Then it became nothing but air as it disappeared from his grasp.

Ike ran over to Alexander, who was under attack from two of these strange beings. The plasma gun had to be given back to the Tech-priests, as the proper rites had not been done. It was fortunate that this was done; it could very well have exploded in Alexander's hands. The figures were practically dancing around him, and it would only be a matter of time before they wore him down.

Ike slammed Ragnell down into the ground and swung Judgment around, bringing it up to his shoulder. He aimed down the sights, lining up the shot. He sighted one of them, calmed himself before taking the shot. He pulled the trigger, the bolt exploding from the barrel. About a second later the primer in the bolt activated, sending a second shockwave, and a red tail blossomed from the bolt. It flew to its target, hitting the figure square in the chest. It became nothing more than a ragged corpse when the bolt exploded with in its target. Alexander turned to see Ike, who in turn threw his combat knife at him.

The knife flew by Ike's head, by only an inch though. He heard the sound of metal digging into flesh behind him. He spun and saw a Xeno with a knife sticking in its shoulder. Ike pulled Ragnell free from the ground and brought it up for a thrust. The Xeno brought its swords up and parried the attack. Ike grunted and bashed his fist across its jaw, hearing bones brake in both his hand and the jaw. He gritted his teeth in pain, but continued through with the attack, bringing up one of his feet, connecting it with the thing's face. He finished his attack with cleave from over his head parting the Xeno's chest from right to left. The waves of the attackers began to thin, and with that Ike hoped that the battle would be over before long.


"Each foe slain is an offering on to His alter!" Alexander boomed, slamming his fist into the nearest assailant, following by a quick chop with his swords, severing its head. "The Emperor guides my blade, who guides yours?" The figure disappeared in a flash, and Alexander readied his blades for the next foe.

A cloaked enemy came and attacked Alexander, with two curved blades. Alexander parried, and then the figure blasted him with psyker ability. Alexander was hurled back, but landed on his feet. He felt a few of his ribs brake under the concussion from the blast, but showed no pain on his face."Where is your precious Emperor now, human?"

Alexander charged, screaming. The figure stepped to the side, but Alexander saw it coming. Alexander twisted his body and brought the blades sweeping across. The attacker was sliced in half. "THE EMPEROR IS WITH ME, AND I SHALL NOT FEAR!" Alexander screamed above the din.

Blood poured from his wounds, but Alexander refused to yield. He brought his power sword down, gutting yet another of the Xenos. "Each swing of my blades is an exaltation of His power!" His brow was drenched in sweat; his arms aching in pain, Alexander blocked another sword brought down by the Xeno. They began to speak a strange language, and before Pork Chop could run his bolt, they all disappeared into thin air.

"Praise the Omnissiah!" The Tech-priests shouted, their arms rose in jubilation.

"Thank the Emperor indeed." Alexander breathed. With the rush of combat leaving his system, Alexander slumped down, his body exhausted. Ike followed in suit. While they won, their victories had not come without a cost. Ike himself had been run through about three times, fortunately avoiding him main organs. Pork Chop had been burned by blasts of flame magic. Alexander probably bore the worst of the injuries, at least five deep gashes upon his frame, and several ribs were broken.

Alexander spat some blood out, revealing red stained teeth. He then raised his hand to his vox. "Harkon, come in, this is Aquila."

There was some delay, then Harkon's voice came, it was quick and rushed. Something wasn't right. "Aquila, praise Terra you answered. Rebel resistance is increasing sevenfold across the city; many of the squads are being forced back. The Second Company is encountering resistance coming this way. They won't be able to come until they deal with the threats. I have sent out a call for aid, and I can only hope that someone acts on the call. Orders?"

Alexander placed his chin in his hand. He was right, there was little in this city that was worth fighting over, and he wasn't about to throw away lives just to prove it. "Order a fall back of all squads to the base. We'll make our stand there." He then cut the vox.

He looked over to Fabricator, "You have a ship that can fly?"


Harkon breathed in the air, it was different from the highlands of Moor, but it was somewhat clean. He thanked the Emperor that he was able to find a base outside the city, the air would have harmed his patients as well as his own health. He looked at the city, the city where it would possibly be his grave. His Standard Issue Guardsman Uniform was stained in his fellow soldier's blood, but his hands were drenched in it. The deluge of casualties, both civilian and Guard, were far from what he expected. The way intelligence looked, it was only one large cell of malcontent, but the figures he and his other medics had to deal with was staggering.

H had operated on everything that had come through the doors of his makeshift hospital. He had saved the lives from the infant to the elderly, operated on everything from a slug in the arm to third degree burns. It was always the first day of the Campaign that was the most unsettling, the one that takes the most time to get readjusted to.

He sat on a piece of rubble, overlooking the city. He ran his hands over his stained uniform, trying to get as much blood off as he could. He always spent some time wondering why he signed up to the Guard. He wondered what would have happened if he had stayed in Moor, working as a surgeon, fixing broken bones from accidents and falls then placing kids organs back into their chest from autoguns emplacements.

He shook his head, and then reached for a cup of recaf, finding his familiar mug. He heard a pair of footsteps from behind him. Far too heavy to be a human, the grunting also gave the identity away. Morn, the company's smartest, if there was such a term, Ogryn plopped down next to him. "Hello, boss."

"Hello as well, Morn. Been one long night." Harkon replied, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

"Where is Little Alex?" The Ogryn asked, laying his Ripper Gun across his lap.

"Alex is out in the middle of the city, Morn. He led a charge; I only managed talked to him a few minutes ago. He's coming back."

Morn found the response reasonable, and grunted. Harkon smiled slightly to himself. The Ogryn was one of the few stand alone soldiers in the Moor Overlanders. There were other Ogryn in the regiment, but for the most part they were assigned to be shock and awe troops with the infantry.

There was the sound of revving engines in the air. Harkon and Morn looked up, seeing a large transport in the distance dodging anti-aircraft fire. It was hard to tell who or where it belonged to, but it clearly wasn't one of the rebels. It was making a bee line to them, which made Harkon rise to his feet. He activated his vox, "Unidentified vessel, state your intentions or you will be fired upon." He waited a second, then the vox activated, he could hear the inside of the vehicle. There were many different voices, containing the words of prayers, curses, and warnings. A voice came in clear on the other side, a familiar voice.

"Harkon, this is Aquila. I'm on the Will of the Omnissiah. I have several wounded, including myself, on board. I have quite a few dozen boxes of weapons and ammunition. Get the surgery room prepped." Alexander spoke over the vox chatter, before cutting the link. Harkon turned and began making a mad dash to the landing pad.

As the ship was coming in for a landing, Harkon could see it much clearly. Its paint coating was rust red, almost a dead giveaway that it belonged to the Aduptus Mechanicus. As if to dive that fact further, there was the symbol of the half bone, half metal skull. The landing doors opened. Alexander was at the front, flanked by Pork Chop and someone who Harkon was unfamiliar with. He had a head of blue hair, natural colored, not dyed. He also carried a bolter, a rarity in itself, as well as a great sword that reminded him of the claymores from his home land.

Alexander descended from the ramp, one of his hands clutching a deep and bleeding wound. His white teeth were covered in crimson red; his storm coat was sliced, to an extent hanging by a thread, in several places. He had a large power sword strapped to his back, which was dripping in blood as well. He only managed to reach the end of the platform before his legs seemed to give away. Alexander toppled over, Harkon immediately swooping down after him.

"What happened, where are the rest of your squads?" Harkon asked, already fearing the worst.

"Dead, they died in a mortar barrage. We were going to take out the mortar emplacements, but we got tied up in defending a forge from several dozen Xeno attackers." Alexander paused, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Enough talk, you and your men need medical attention. JANICE AND CONNOR! Give me a hand over here." He yelled at two more medics. They came over and helped carried Pork Chop and the other one over to the field hospital. It was a bombed out building, an Administration building from the layout of it. The roof was almost completely blown off, and rubble laid everywhere. They were carried through the door frame, and Alexander was laid down on a hardwood table.

Harkon rubbed his hands off with some alcohol. "What is the damage report?" He began to remove Alexander's storm coat and body armor. He handed the storm coat off to one of the loyalist civilians to sew back together, and he placed the body armor on another table along with his weapons.

"A few broken ribs I think, and quite a few slashes and gashes. I don't think they hit anything important." Alexander grunted then coughed up some more blood. Harkon attached an IV full of O blood to one of Alexander's veins, and gave him a shot of strong painkillers.

"Just relax and prey to the Emperor for survival." Harkon said as he fetched his tools.

He started by looking Alexander over. There were indeed several puncture wounds, and they were all pretty deep. But thankfully the blows missed any internal organs. They did however manage to cut some primary vessels, which would take some fine needle work to fix. Harkon pulled out one of his scalpels and began to open Alexander's chest, peeling the skin and muscle away. Alexander groaned in pain underneath, before eventually passing out. Harkon breathed a sigh of relief, as he would not have to experience the pain of surgery after the shot of chemicals wore off.

He applied a bone past to his broken ribs, which were five in number. The putty-like paste quickly fused to the bone, and formed a solid lock that would rival tempered steel. He whispered the Rites of Healing, calming his nerves as he asked the Emperor to help his friend survive. He then parted the ribs, using a rib spreader to get to the veins. He quickly saw that one of the main veins leading to the aorta next to the heart had been cut open. He attached two clamps on both veins, slowing the blood loss. He rubbed his hands over the veins, pondering the next course of action. He picked his thread and began to sew the vein back together.

It was a delicate process, one wrong stitch and he could seal off the entire vein. But fortunately, when he was using such fine thread that it would be near impossible to foul up unless it was intentionally. He started at the bottom of the vein, slowly working around it, clockwise. After the vein was reattached, he removed both of the clamps and waited a bit to see if the blood was going through properly. After seeing that it was working properly, he tired off the thread and removed the needle.

Harkon smiled slightly, his work almost finished. After checking to make sure there were no more veins that needed to be repaired, he closed the ribs back over the lungs. The then pulled the muscle, fat and skin back over the ribs. Harkon applied a quick sealant to the skin, which formed a new, thin layer over the open wounds.

The sealant went to work almost immediately, clotting and scaring within seconds. Had Harkon possessed more of this medical wonder, he could save lives at a much faster rate. But he realized he had to save it for the cases that really need it, and reached for his needle and thread. He finished off by attaching a new blood pack and sewing off the final gashes in Alexander's flesh. He cleaned off his hands with some warm water, and stepped outside.


Alexander rose from the table, his chest feeling as if it there was a large weight on it. He pressed his right hand to his temple, massaging it while his other hand looked at his chronometer. He had been under for roughly an hour and a half, and it would appear that Harkon's hands made fine quick work.

He found his weapons lying on another table, his swords cleaned off of all of the blood, and the magazines for his bolt pistol refreshed. He reattached the weapons to his self, and looked for his storm coat. He found his body armor and undershirt, but his storm coat was nowhere to be seen. He picked up his hat and placed it back on his head, then walked outside.

He was greeted with the smell of burning promethium, a sure sign that there had been some combat in the past hour and half. The sounds of heavy weapons squads loading in new boxes of ammo for the heavy bolters echoed in the air. There was a disturbing calm that blanket the camp. "It's always quiet before the maelstrom." He mused to himself, remembering what his Captain taught him. He reached for his canteen, which felt unusually light in his hands, and then remembered it was empty. Chuckling at his forgetfulness, he walked over to a large barrel of water, where he submerged it until it was full

He saw Harkon directing troops; Morn chatting up a storm with some of the other Ogryn, even Pork Chop was better and testing out his chain blade. Ike looked a bit worse for wear; he had a layer of wool bandaged around torso, blood visible from the cloth. Alexander his power sword for balance, and headed over to him. Ike looked at him, and walked out to meet him.

"You look like hell, kid." He said to Alex, wincing in pain a bit.

Alexander chuckled, "Could say the same for you. I see Harkon's skill with the needle and knife worked well on you." Ike nodded, and Harkon noticed the two and made a dash to them.

"Commissar, your presence is needed immediately." His breath was hurried and nervous. Alexander nodded and fallowed Harkon, Ike and Pork Chop close behind him. Harkon led him a fortified bunker, the communication post from the looks of it. Two guards opened the blast like doors and the four moved in.

The communication bunker housed a few, but reliable video vox machines, as well as an astropath, Tam. Harkon gestured to the blind psyker, "Marcus received a message from Captain Ajax from the Second Company. Its contents were…disturbing."

As if he received a mental nod, Tam began to relay the message, his voice dropped to Ajax's baritone voice. "Commissar Alexander, this is Captain Ajax of the Second Company. We have encountered a massive rebel offensive heading your direction. They have deployed a division to stand against us, but the majority of the retaliation force is heading your way. You are on your own, we are making to you at full speed, but it will be a long time before we can actually reach your positions. I have received word from the Navy of possible Space Marines in the area, but that seems highly unlikely. Hold out for as long as you can, remember; the Emperor is with you. Ajax out."

Tam finished the message and collapsed to the ground, drenched in a cold sweat. Alexander slumped down in a chair, assessing the situation. Pork Chop lost his entire carefree attitude that he held three seconds ago, Harkon reached for a hipflask, and Ike leaned his head against the nearby wall.

Alexander snapped out of his daze and activated a computer, which displayed all of the troops in the compound. "Harkon, what's the status on the surgical supplies?" He asked as everyone gathered around the computer.

"I have enough medical supplies to last us until the Emperor comes, but what I do lack in is experienced hands. We have only twelve medics, two of them carry a crimson skull. I'm the only skilled surgeon attached to the Company." He pressed a few keys and the image changed, displaying a large blocks of red. "We have an estimated twenty thousand foot soldier coming our way, not including armor or aircraft."

"Boss, what's the plan?" Pork Chop spoke up. Alexander looked down on the screen; the outcomes he came up with didn't look good. No matter how many times he ran the scenario through his head, there were only two options; fight or run. Both were crazy, illogical, and insane.

"Pilate, if there was ever a time I was in need of your council, now is that time." Alex whispered. He took in a deep breath and spoke.

"We have roughly twenty-five squads, of that three heavy weapon teams, a Ratling sniper squad, and eight Ogryn. We need to have fortifications at the major points of this base, issue an order and have them build some cover with the rubble. When the attack comes, I will order the men to fight back, by whatever means necessary. The defenders of Moor die fighting, and if that is what the rebels want, I have every intention to make sure they get their wish." He turned and repeated it into the vox caster, and the sounds of boots moving became audible. They walked out from the bunker, and saw that most of the squads have already gotten to work.

"Pork Chop?" Alexander spoke up; the Ratling came in to view.

"Yes?"

"Gather your fellow snipers and get into positions. I need you to give us Intel on how far they are away and how many they are."

Pork Chop rubbed his hands together, cackling slightly. "What's the score, Commissar?"

"Heavy weapons, officers, and other snipers." Alexander replied.

"Will do." Pork chop replied and headed over to the rest of his squad. Ike turned to face the commissar, his face spoke of a long talk. Alexander saw that look and sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, spit it out. What is it?"

Ike scoffed, "How could you tell?"

"Ike, I don't need to be a psyker to tell that you want me to answer for something. I won't know what exactly you need to be explained unless you tell me."

"Explain." His demand was simple, and Alexander felt his guts knot up. After all what Ike had done for him, he was in debt for some answers. "What caused this problem, who are we fighting, and most importantly, who are YOU?"

Alexander pulled out one of his rolls of Fire Weed, and after barrowing a lighter from Harkon, took in a deep lung full of the deep sensual smoke, and exhaled it in nervous puffs. "Ok, where do you want me to start?"


"Just explain who they are." Links voice was cold, his gaze was that as well. The Smashers assembled in the main hall. The Master Hand called a meeting to examine these happenings. Every Smasher, from Ness to Snake sat in the hall. Ganondorf was standing; a look of concern lined his face. He knew very little of what they encountered, but he could fully comprehend their power.

"There is very little of what is recorded of them. They are very obscure tale, a myth within a myth if you will. To explain who they were, it would be best to explain their history as a whole." He stated slowly, being careful of what words to use. "From what I could gather, the tale starts with something like this."

"Long ago, there was a planet named Terra. Its race was blessed with ten thousand years of enlightenment, advancement, and power. They left their cradle of life, and settled on new planets far beyond their home." The Warlock could not help but smile a little when he was telling this tale. He learned it a long time ago, one of the first myths he had read to be precise. "They encountered strange races, and both were willing to learn from each other. They soon began to forget where they had come from and began to mingle with the Xenos."

"I take it this fairy tale is going to take a turn for the worst." Snake spoke up, earning him a smack over the head by Samus.

If the king of evil showed any annoyance to being interrupted, he didn't show it. "That proved to be their downfall. The xenos turned on them when humanity was at its weakest. Like a fox being turned on by wolves, they brought the race to its knees. The proud descendents of Terra were enslaved, tortured, and sacrificed. That wasn't the worst of it. The four Gods of Chaos: Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, and Slaanesh took interest in the human race. The rifts that were opened from the Warp were so intense that billions died in the first second from the pure physic backlash. They were the lucky ones, those that were nearby the rifts ad were still alive were torn apart by daemons, with their souls thrown into the Warp."

A hushed silence fell over the room, some whispered amongst themselves as if this could possibly be true. The Warlock continued, "For five thousand years, Terra and her daughters suffered. They would have died from their enemies… if not for the Emperor."


"The Emperor, the Father of Mankind. He rose from the ashes of Terra and united the techno-barbarian clans under his authority. From them; he created twenty legions of Aduptus Astarte, the Space Marines. To lead each legion, he forged a son, the Primarchs. Before the Emperor could take his plan, the Gods of Chaos struck once more. They scattered the Primarchs across the galaxy in a desperate attempt to stop humanity from gaining its rightful place among the stars. In this, they hoped to stop the coming of the age of the Imperium." Alexander spoke with such spirit, Ike could almost see it. The entire regiment worked and listened in to the retelling of history.

Alexander knew more than most on the history of the Imperium, especially on the Primarchs. He was blessed with a philosophical debate with Chaplain Nathaniel of the Sons of the Blade. The Space Marines sent a Company to aid them in driving off an Ork incursion of planet Omega Terra. During a lull, the two debated on several things, ranging from the bureaucracy to the Astarte's history. The two found common ground almost instantly, and continued their debate into the next wave of enemy attackers. The history of the Imperium had been one of the most talked about for them."The Emperor would not be denied by the foul deities. He took the mantle of leading the twenty Legions himself, and with the massive armada granted to him by the Tech-priests of Mars, embarked to the stars. The Great Crusade, the golden age of Humanity, we re-conquered planet after planet, system after system. For each human that suffered under the abuser, we made them pay back ten thousand fold. Eventually, the Primarchs were found along the way. The Emperor was overjoyed, and gave each of his sons a Legion to continue conquest. It was a great age; nothing was standing in our way from our rightful place as rulers of the galaxy. It was all perfect; the Emperor and his Sons ushered us into a new age. But it was not to be… the Horus Heresy. "

Ike noticed that Alexander's voice trailed off, as if he reached a dark point in the story. Alexander's head dipped only a degree, as if trying to draw upon a reservoir of strength to continue his tale. It lasted for only a fraction of a second, before his head flew back up. "It all began with Horus, leader of the Luna Wolves, the first found Primarch and favored son of the Emperor. He was swayed to the sides of Chaos. He spat on his oaths of loyalty and honor and pledged his soul to the forces of Chaos. Tens of thousands of super-humans tossed aside their virtue and nobility all for the promise of power. Half of the Space Marine Legions turned against the Emperor. Those still loyal to the Emperor fought back, but were forced back. Planet by planet we were forced back, until the traitors reached Holy Terra, our sacred and blessed cradle of life. Each side knew that this would be where the fate of humanity hung in the balance."

"The traitors landed, with numbers far beyond counting. They descended upon the population, desecrating life and the very ground they walked on. We made them pay a heavy price for each life they took, for each step, we made them pay the toll for despoiling its sacred soil. They reached the Imperial Palace, the last bastion of defiance. The three loyal Legions stood alongside the human soldiers as equals, they fought as heroes reborn. But it did little to stem the tide. For each heretic killed, for each mutant placed to the sword, for each traitor Marine blasted apart by bolts, for each daemon banished back to the hell warp, more came. The inevitable happened; the walls of the Imperial Palace finally broke. The traitors poured through, despoiling the pure beauty of the Palace. Where once grand gardens stood were a lake of the blood with traitors and loyalists in. Where once marvelous statues stood, there was only rubble as they were destroyed by the crossfire. Humanity was now at its darkest hour."

Alexander's voice billowed with a hurricane of pure, raw, and unbridled rage Ike had only seen on the battlefield. Ike knew what betrayal was, he had experienced it first hand on more than just one occasion. However, this was something new for him. Had this been told to him by anyone else, he would have disregarded it as a tall tale. But this soldier, this world around him had proven him wrong. This…child, which was the best way to describe him, had fought for hours on end against swarms of unknown forces, never once losing faith in his Emperor. His belief and skills on the battlefield had placed a lasting impression on him.

"Horus, the blasphemer, stood on his battle-barge, Vengeful Spirit. He watched the battle from orbit, and in one last moment of regret, he lowered his shields down. The Emperor rose to the challenge, and with two of his Sons, a detachment of his body guards and one soldier teleported to the ship. The powers of Chaos separated them, and they fought their way alone to the grand hall, where Horus would surely be. Sanguineous, Primarch of the Blood Angels and beloved by all, was the first to reach his former brother. Horus tried to tempt the angel to the fold of Chaos. The two had been the closest among the sons of the Emperor, fellow gods among men. Sanguineous refused and charged his former brother. The battle was decided before it even started. Horus was at the peak of his power, and the Angel of Baal was already wounded from his defense on Terra. Horus butchered his brother with ease, scant seconds before the Emperor came in. He saw his angelic son laying dead on the ground, his once-favored child standing over the corpse. When he saw this, the Emperor wept. He begged Horus to step back from Chaos, but was met with only laughter. Horus called his father a fool and that if he bowed before him, he would spare him. But the Emperor, who was ages older than his wayward son, knew that no one could be a true master of Chaos, only a glorified pawn. He said that a man couldn't control Chaos, just as a boat couldn't control the storm that would surely sink it. Horus lashed out against the Emperor, who calmly with a heavy heart drew his sword."


"It was a battle of legends. Chaotic warp energies cackled from Horus' Lightning Claws, and orange flame engulfed the Emperor's sword. The two fought back, each blow being parried one after another. The Emperor would have won. Should have won, but He stayed his hand. Horus was his favored creation, how could He strike down that which he loved so much? Horus had no such thoughts; he ruthlessly struck at his father. Blow after blow, Horus never yield any blows. Bloodied and disabled, the Emperor was raised above Horus and brought down on his knee." Ganondorf continued telling the story with such vigor, that everyone in the Mansion was shell-shocked still. Even the two Hands remained quiet, and the little brawlers were on the verge of tears. Pausing for breath, the Warlock continued.


"At that moment, the lone soldier, who had fought his way through the hellish ship, reached the Emperor. He saw his master's broken body beneath the Great Heretic, who taunted the Guardsman. With little thought for his own safety, the soldier charged at Horus. With no effort, Horus flayed him alive with nothing but a passing glance. This act of brutality didn't go unnoticed by the Emperor. In that act, where a human life could be taken away without a second thought, he saw what humanity was to be left at the mercy of. Gathering all of his psychic energy, he fired a bolt of pure warp energy at Horus, which fell the Traitor. When sanity began to return to him, Horus looked his father in the eye, shed a single tear, and begged the Emperor for forgiveness. Knowing that his son was there, the Emperor fired one last blast of energy at his son, shattering his soul forever, lest Chaos take him." Alexander sighed as the last f his breath came out of his lungs. He had heaved up the last sandbag onto a foxhole, where a heavy weapons team set up their heavy bolter. Ike slammed a fresh clip into Judgment, his attention still drawn to the story given by the Commissar.

Alex walked over of a rack of powerful Las-guns, and slung one over his shoulder. "Though the Emperor may have slain his misguided son, and the Chaos forces fled, it was far from over. The Emperor was forced unto the Golden Throne, which would keep him alive. The traitor Legions scattered, and the Imperium of Man formed. A bureaucracy led by unworthy officials who lead worthy citizens. From my lips you will only hear praise to the Emperor, not to the Imperium. Humanity now fights only to survive the dark cosmos, with the Emperor at our side, we stand as a bastion against the gathering darkness."

"We are the Imperial Guard, where we are the first, last, and often only line of defense. Not many see their second campaign, fewer see their home planet again, but we give our tomorrow for humanity's today. I hold the rank of Commissar, a political officer of sorts. While I fight for the Imperium of Man, I have pledged my everlasting service in the name of the Emperor." His voice became deep and somber, and then looked to the hills, where the enemy was coming from. A buzz in his ear meant that Pork Chop had some news.

"They are about one and a half kilometers out. Better get ready." Alexander nodded and turned to Ike.


"Chaos Space Marines. They number in the tens of thousands, and are among the most fearful enemy you will ever face. Their armor and weapons is among the most powerful in the known history of warfare. With a powerful deity granting it unholy grace, they are a formidable opponent on the battle field. Those who have such psychic power are called sorcerers. They are few in number, but NEVER underestimate them." The Warlock bowed his head, signifying that he was finished.

The room suddenly began speaking in hushed tones, but Marth spoke up above the crowd. "How do we defeat them?"

Ganondorf shook his head, "They have at least ten thousand years under their belts of combat experience to draw upon, excluding their armor and weapons. Kill them the same way you would anything else, but a thousand time more."

"Is there any chance of finding them?" Popo asked, and this time Link spoke up.

"We must be able to; if not… we can only hope for their safety."


"Have I answered your question?"

Ike nodded slightly, "For the time being. But at least I know who I fight with now." Alexander walked over to Ike, and places a hand on his shoulder. He was about to say something, but a two bright flashes caught their attentions. For Ike, he saw three streaking stars come over the sky, descending nearby them. For Alexander, he saw a blast of pure warp energy form in the ground between them and the enemy. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but something slumped out. The two looked at each other, nodded to a silent oath between them, and moved out into the battlefield. Alexander ran the fastest, his power sword; aptly named Retribution, was placed in a tight grip in his palm. Ike wasn't far behind him, followed by a squad of Guardsmen, who obviously were in the mood for a fight.

One of the falling stars landed about seventy meters to their let, and rippled the very air around them. The group paused, and looked at the star. It was made of metal, with a dark red paint covering its side. There was a symbol of a black mailed fist with a teardrop shaped with the color of blood in the middle. Alexander breathed a blessing of praise to the Emperor, and the other guardsmen did the same. Ike wondered who could it be and was answered almost immediately.

The drop pod flung its doors open, and out stepped five very tall beings. They were armored in powerful suits, caring heavy bolters in their grip. The booming voice gave away their identity before their names were said. "Commissar Alexander Aquila, this is Devastator Sergeant Hawthorn of the Blood of Dorn Chapter. We hear you were in need of reinforcements."


Wow, that took a lot of my knowledge of the Warhammer 40k universe to write. I'm still open to OC ideas.

I want to say thanks to you guys for reading this. I especially want to make a special thank you to BipolarIke for being my reviewer thus far. I appreciate it.

Review, I would like to hear what you think of the story thus far. Thanks.