Hades VI, Hades Prime
She leered at him, careful to keep her fangs hidden, arching her body and showing off the gifts that Slaanesh had granted to her.
"Hello there, big boy… you look mightly strong. Let me feel you, I need to feel you…"
She moaned throatily.
Without hesitation, he walked over to her and put his fist squarely in her face. Her head snapped back and clashed against the wall with an ugly thud. A crack sounded and part of the wall toppled inward.
"You should not have done that, Khornate fool!"
She hissed and jumped forward, unnatural strength propelling her through the air and claws made to shred armour with the same ease as flesh and bone sprouted from her fingers.
Golan sneered, and snapped a kick in the face of the pathetic creature. An armoured boot, size 96, smashed nose, chin and face. The female's body crashed against the wall once more.
"Oh yes, yes… give me more, give it to me!"
"Crazy Wench!" *Snikt*
With but a thought, his Lightning Claws came forth and his opponent halted her approach, beginning to circle him. With a howl of rage he stormed forward, like the unstoppable juggernaut of destruction he was, intend to rip his victim apart.
With prenatural speed the Daemonette dived to the side, but what was prenatural speed to one like Him? He kicked out again, squarely on her stretched knee and with a satisfying sound it bursts into a spray of blood and flesh, bones ground to splinters. Again, his prey screamed. A scream of pleasure, he could hear her ecstasy.
Somehow, that was taking all the fun out of it. He hated Slaaneshi freaks. Hate! Blood!
Crush! Crush!
Before his enemy could recover from her ecstatic writhing, he was upon her, smashing both of his glowing claws in her shoulders. Even while the explosion of force threw her arms to the sides and tore her torso apart he smashed his head forward, his forehead caving in her skull. With a disgusted snort he rose up again. This skull was not worthy. He roared.
How dare this bitch approach Him! Him! Disgusting, weak, insignificant thing. She and others defiled the domain of his Master. They would all die, gruesome, bloody deaths and their skulls would lie before his God's throne.
A spike, not made from this world, pierced the armour of his arm, spearing him. It delivered its otherworldly poison of death, before ripping out again, taking most of his flesh with it.
He screamed in anger! Throwing himself around, he ducked down as the Fiend jumped him and slashed out with his right claw, cutting chitin and flesh indiscriminately, gutting the Daemon.
The explosion of force from his lightning claws threw the creature through the wall, and without hesitation, Golan stormed through the opening. The unnatural poison burned in his veins, trying to eat his body alive, but he ignored it, soon it would fade. The instant he passed into the next room, a cloud of dust and powder enveloping him, four appendices shot forward, trying to spear the blinded man.
With a crashing sound, two claws parried the appendices. Golan laughed at the insect before his might, and pushed its feeble extremities to the side, stomping down hard on the creature, like the bug it was. Still, it was reeling and quivering so he brought down both of his claws again, and with the mighty strength of both his arms the Chosen of Khorne sliced through the creature. And the floor. With a destructive wave of force, the lightning in his claws detonated. Finally, Golan got stuck in the next floor, after their fall.
Hades VI, outskirts of Hades Prime
Uneasily, I was checking our deployments once more. It was perfect. Well, it was good and I could not find any fault with it, anyway.
We had already passed what the locals called 'Ionization Based Cyclic Atmospheric Repulsion Shield Projection Orb Phalanx' and what we called 'Biodome' or if we felt generous 'sparkling Biodome'. Sparkles floating between strange looking towers or not, we were still all wearing our envirosuits. According to said locals, the 'IBCARSPOP' was designed with ample 'redundancy' and able to take 'considerable amounts of punishment before a catastrophic containment failure might occur' but considering the firepower deployed, an 'overload of standard safety protocols was a distinct possibility'. Emperor's Wisdom, but their cog boys were even crazier than most I have met.
Our Chimeras were even now rumbling towards the main roads leading into the city, ready to dismount troops and split up in the pre planned formations. Securing the more robust of the outlying buildings, we would be ready to give anything that wanted to get out of the town a bloody nose. Considering the half a dozen Baneblades and the more numerous heavy tanks that the 'local PDF' had distributed behind our lines, it would probably be more than a bloody nose. Still… we were going to fight Daemons of the Warp itself here.
While I was at least assured that the Valhallan's would not fold up like cardboard and run screaming once the unnatural horrors screamed their cries of eternal torture and soul crushing agony in their faces, I was less sure about the 'local PDF'. On the other hand, I don't think Lord Radev ever had need for a Commissar improving the morale of his regiment.
But my palms were twitching like mad. I was considering just turning around and driving back to the fortress, hiding under my bed. And making very sure my door was locked, even for certain Holy Icon's of the Imperium. At least She was back in the fortress, stowed away and far from the front lines. Absolutely no one wanted a Symbol of Mankind on the frontlines, drawing fire.
Delaying our assault without sufficient reasons was out of the question, too. I had very little desire to find out what a previously mentioned Dark Lord had meant when he had talked about 'inquiring' and 'undesirable conduct'. I rubbed my throat.
With a screeching stop, our Salamander came to a halt. Already having checked the street for any movement, I lunged out and quickly took cover against the walls of the building we were supposed to fortify, trusty Las pistol gripped in my hand. No use in standing out in the open, giving snipers any ideas about shooting the guy with the big cap. The big cap tapped to his helmet.
Huffing, the men of Sergeant Dale followed up to my position. They were good, no doubt about that. But you will be hard pressed to find anyone that takes cover faster than me.
There were still way too many dark, open or broken windows all around me for my tastes, so with little pause I dived through the open door, rolled and came to a crouch inside the room. Scanning it for anything that might want to disembowel me, take my skull for it's God, fill me up with enough pestilence to make Jurgen look clean, rape me to death or just dick around with me enough that my head bursts. Fortunately, neither a Daemon of the Warp nor a member of the Administratum was in the room.
The first of Dale's men, well, in this case women filled in the room and looked at me with respect. For a moment I was at a loss, than it snapped into place. 'Of course' they thought the 'Hero of the Imperium' had taken the daring approach and stormed the building on his own, despite the danger of a Khornate Ambush. They are feared, these ambushing Berzerker's of Khorne. Their battle cry of 'AAAAAAMBUSH' strikes disbelief even in the mind of the most simple of men. At least I suppose so. I have never actually met any of them.
Quick and efficient, we set up shop, barricading doors and lower windows while parking our Chimera and my Salamander in the back, poised for quick escape, erm, rapid redeployment. Our Autocannon got propped up on a tripod in the upper floor with a clear field of fire, courtesy to my aide's favourite Melta.
Satisfied, I sat down behind a couple of walls, as much out of harm's way as I was able to get right now. Checking the command channel, there was not much going on. Just routine deployment orders and corrections. Well, as routine as you could get when assaulting a Chaos infested city. With a Titan. Some things were harder to swallow than others.
Hades VI, Hades Prime
Sergeant Sirron raised a hand to his face, and grunted in annoyance as his helmet prevented him from scratching his beard. "Damn regulations." He grumbeled.
He and his squad had entered the city now, and were slowly moving through each and every single house they encountered, checking for cultists, Daemons and the smudge that covered the corners of your mouth after a good night's sleep. A tedious work, if anyone bothered to ask him. They didn't. Their loss, he guessed.
"All clear, Sarge."
He grunted in his response, looking through the aiming optic of his Las gun, checking the street for hostiles. They still hadn't found jack.
"Okay, cover me, we are moving to the next target. Remember, if you give me any friendly fire accidents, I'll roundhouse kick you harder than Orcus."
He wasn't that grumpy normally. But he didn't like cities. He was a Ranger, bred true and free. Still, he wasn't about to discuss his deployment with Colonel Soudisi. Respect and all that. Honestly. Idly jogging over to the house, he saw a mob of funny looking guys pop up, wielding axes, knives, guns, everything they could get their hands on. Reminded him of home, the Fernando's were always like that.
He pressed himself against the door, and blasted a couple of the loons off their feet. Las guns were remarkable effective against unarmoured targets. His squad joined in, but honestly, that was just overkill. Although a few of them crawled on, till you cooked their head or a very generous amount of their anatomy. Still, he had meet more creepier crawlies. Some of the grogs back home could get pretty scary. To other people at least.
"For Chaos!"
The cousin or something of one of the loons lunged out of a window towards him.
"In your face!"
And that was exactly where he hit the loon when he roundhouse kicked him through the door. A couple of the crazies friends didn't look to happy about that, and fired a bunch of Las bolts in his direction. He just shrugged and went in, going after them. That wouldn't take long.
Barely finished with the local morons, he heard screaming from the outside.
"Trevitte. Trevitte, stop playing around and come in."
Static.
He grunted. His beard quivered with anger. Did he have to bail him out again? He roundhouse kicked the door, and stepped out on the street.
Hmm. That was a big one. Almost like big Joe back home. He raised up his Las gun and gave him hell. But the freak just ducked under the bolts and raced towards him, claws raised and his armour covered in the blood and gore of his squad. He could see their pieces lying all around the street.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
So he wanted it up close and personal, huh? He preferred it that way anyways. Shifting out of the way of the claws, he roundhouse kicked the sucker in the face. And got body checked through the door, the room and the adjourning wall.
Ouch. That had hurt. He kicked out and used the momentum to jump back to his feet. The oversized puddle was coming at him again, with the speed of a pterasquirrel on crack. Huckc had barely time to fire his Las pistol from the hip, the shots glancing harmlessly off of the freaks legs. Aiming a second roundhouse kick, he dodged around the incoming claws, …
…Golan roared in satisfaction as his claws sliced through the body of the soldier in front of him and their energies ripped it apart, spraying blood and gore all over the room. Opening his mouth wide, Golan swallowed a bit of it. Still, that one had given him a bit of a fight. Unlike the sheep outside, he thought happily munching. He would offer his skull to his God.
He looked again at the torn apart corpse. But the beard had to go.
Groode turned his head, scanning the buildings around him with utmost attention.
He really, really didn't want to get surprised by one of this blood crazed freaks lurking around behind every corner. He had seen what they did to Greg. The guy had have a very crappy kind of humour, but really… what they had done to him, that was nothing you wished on your worst enemy. These freaks were sick.
He gripped his Hellgun more firmly and inched a step closer to the Leman Russ Silencer he was walking next to. Their flanking fire teams were still probing house for house, while they inched slowly forward. It was nerve wrecking.
Give him a fox hole, a couple of guys to shoot at and he could keep it up for the whole day. But this slow push in the city, from possible ambush to ambush, waiting for literal Daemonic creatures out of nightmares to rip you apart with claws strong enough to rend plasteel and skin that could shrug off Las bolts…
He took a deep calming breath from his Breather Mask, eyeing his squad mates out of the corner of his eyes. They were tense, too. Marek even more so. He knew Marek. He was not the sturdiest soul of all, but a good chap. And he was ready to bolt. He could see it.
He couldn't fault him for it. Really. Couldn't they just call in the artillery and flatten the whole Emperor-forsaken place? He had never liked the central city anyways; ugly, hulking buildings, not like the outer cities with the more personal homes. And windows. Who the hell had put so many windows in them?
Was that a movement?
He whirled around, looking to his target optic. The illumination amplifier showed nothing in the shadows…nothing at all.
"Groode. Something there?"
The Sarge barked out, covering the same spot, the rest of the troopers fanned out to cover other angles.
"No, Sarge….sorry."
He didn't feel sorry, not really. Well, sorry for himself maybe. What were they all doing here? A shred of tension fell away from the squad.
No one could tell what came first. The breaking sound of shattered glass or the horrifying
shouts of the charging mad men and beasts.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
"Skulls for the Skull Throne."
"MAIM!CRUSH!KILL!MAIM!CRUSH!KILL!CRUSH!MAIN!MA…sod it! KILLLL!"
They were everywhere. Rushing out of doors, windows, clothed in tattered robes, brandishing axes, cleavers and showering us with Las pistol fire. Armoured giants jumping down from roofs, carried by Jump Packs, the teeth of their chained axes roaring. Beasts like I had never seen and never wanted to see bursting through WALLS. Armoured giants wielding gruesome axes rushing us.
"Spread fire, take out the unarmoured targets first, and stay in line."
One long, rolling ZZZZAAAAPPPP filled the air as our Hellguns stabbed lances of light in the howling masses of madness, the thundering, heavy bolter turrets roared, ripping apart an armoured giant and the mighty Silencer Cannon carved long gashes through the mob. Where it touched, flesh, bone and armour just ceased to exist.
A Las blast hit my shoulder, breaking against my carapace armour but I paid it no mind, pumping out Las death as quickly as I could. They still kept coming. We gunned down more than a dozen of them, but they closed in. Princess! What were we doing here?
And the screams… from the house one of our fire teams was inside…the screams!
My HUD lit up more, highlighting the targets for me and like every time I just moved my hands and blasted them. Blasted them as always.
A shadow fell over me, and I dived to the side. Searing pain shot through my arm as it was carved open by a roaring axe, the teeth ripping my flesh apart. The giant took a step closer to me, already red from Carl's blood.
"For the Princess!"
Sarge, Saturn bless him, rammed his Hellgun in the neck of the hulking form, between helm and armour and pulled the trigger, a dozen blasts ripping in the brain of the twitching mountain of flesh in the span of a second.
I didn't see Sarge for long, as suddenly a claw flashed and his torso exploded all over me.
Chunks and bits of flesh and bone pounding against my armour. I don't know about bloody, there was already so much. Princes Preserve…That one was even larger.
And completely crazy, not even wearing a helmet. The shaggy haired man, man formed Daemon raised his crackling claws again, Power Armour wet from blood and I brought my Hellgun up in desperation, squeezing out blasts as if my live depended on it.
Crackling against his Armour, not penetrating but moving up higher, towards his head.
With a sneer, the monster cut my Hellgun in half.
"That TOY won't help you, bub." He thundered and stepped forward.
What was I doing here? What was I doing? The bringer of a bloody death loomed before me. What could I do… my mind flashed.
The tender face of our Princess. The black, looming form of the Colonel. I jumped forward, my hands dropping. I crashed against the crusted Power Armour of the beast, it did not even stumble. But my hands found the pin of my frag grenade…
Golan shook his head, bits of flesh and blood flying everywhere, even as his face reformed.
Huh. That had been fun. He heard the screaming as one of the Bloodletters, whatever he may be called, wrenched open the hatch of the tank, only to be kicked aside by a Berzerker before said Worshipper of Khorne jumped head first inside.
Golan laughed. He would look that one up after the battle, it would be fun to take his Skull for Khorne. But for now… he had more prey to slay. One of the pathetic worms who dared to call themselves followers of Khorne reported to him the next unit of these weak fools following their corpse emperor. After the worm had finished his pathetic mewling, Golan ripped his head off in a shower of gore, discarding the worthless Skull to the side and lead his Warband on. A Baneblade. That would be… delicious.
A looming, dark form stalked through empty husks of buildings, eyes and scenes scanning for prey, trusty weapon, that had cut down countless foes, gripped firmly. There, movement.
A fire team of soldiers was creeping forward, covering every angle of their surroundings, keeping in cover and alert to any ambush. It was not enough.
Without preamble, hideous forms jumped from the top of a five story building, not even pausing after the bone jarring impact but running forward, taking a few Las bolts to their bodies, shrugging them off and escaping the most through sheer speed. Jumping from half a dozen metres away, the first descended on an unfortunate soldier to slow to follow the unnaturally fast movements with his muzzle.
With a low humming sound, the Power Blade of the Dark Lord cleaved the creature in part, both halves tumbling to the side, hitting the rockrete with a sickening squash. Another Bloodletter took the head of a soldier clean off, a mighty swing of his Hellblade cutting through envirosuit, flesh and bone alike.
Concentrated Hellgun fire ripped into one of its brethren, mangling its leg, sending it to the ground and continuing to snake over the rest of its body like living, fiery snakes straight from the heated pits of hell. A glancing blow carved the leg of a soldier open, there, a hasty kick crushing the rip cage of another, sending him crashing in a wall.
But finally, a wave of sheer anger erupted with a roar to shake the heavens.
Mighty guns bristling in the light, disciplined soldiers keeping positions around it, alert teams of them combing house for house, the behemoth of plasteel slowly rolled forward.
He pulled back his lips in a feral grin. That would be… fun.
He punched the Bloodletter next to him in the face. "Signal the attack!" The Daemon reared, but with the unspoken signal, the Warband surged forward, breaking cover and racing to the lost souls worshipping pathetic, weak things. Golan jumped from the roof, roaring his bloodlust out to the world.
"Blood for the Blood God!" The first blood was his, as his legs burst under the shock of the landing. He did not mind.
"Skulls for the Skull throne!" He raced on, his muscles half formed.
A Hellgun raked across his shoulder guards, but he ignored it. There was hardly anything on the field that could pierce the shoulder guards of an Astartes armour.
He felt the exhilarating rush of battle as the detonation of a grenade propelled him forward, a Las Cannon blast of the Baneblade passing close enough to his head to send his skin bubbling and his claws ripping in the first trooper.
He spun around, even as the trooper blew up like a chicken filled with firecrackers, the head reaching a height of nearly ten meters before crashing down. His next victim dropped low, raising his gun, but he just stepped on the worm, to come face to face with a soldier wielding a flamer, already blazing forth its cleansing flames.
Even as the promethium cooked away his flesh and washed over his armour he head butted him, enflaming the fool and finally carving him open with a quick slice of his claws. He was close to his target now, the Baneblade loomed before him.
And a twin-barrelled heavy Bolter pointed exactly at his chest.
A storm of massive projectiles ripped into his chest, punching through armour and detonating inside him, spraying blood, gore and bits of armour everywhere. He was thrown back by the sheer force ripping into him and only his epaulette saved his arm as the Bolter fire raked over it.
The mighty main gun of the Baneblade swivelled around and fired a pale stream of light; three of the howling Berzerker's just vanished. PDF troopers fought desperately against deranged Cultists, traitorous Space Marines and warpborne Daemons, blood and chunks of flesh coating the ground, reddish-white bones sticking out.
Golan rolled to his side, crouched and got his feet, running against towards the Baneblade.
He would not be denied. He would not! Again, a Bolter locked onto him, but with a jump he escaped the deadly hail. A Lascannon swivelled trying to keep up with him, but he was a Chosen of Khorne! His speed was that of slaughter! Before the pathetic fools could do more to hinder his freedom of religion, he reached the immense tank and raked his claws alongside it, shredding armour.
I gripped my Las pistol tighter. We had always known that it would be a gritty and bloody business. The PDF boys had run into some stiff resistance, and from the sound of it, it was not only the crazed mass of blood lusting lunatics that we had expected. Well, Daemons and Traitor Marines, too. But they were acting weird, not nearly as blind and crazy as I had hoped.
"3rd Company is reporting movement in their sector…. They have contact."
Ah, great. And now they were assaulting us too. Had I mentioned lately that I am still petitioning for that teaching position at the Schola? Far away from here, from Chaos Incursions and from Daemons howling for my blood?
"Colonel, we have several platoon sized formations pressing against us. Daemons, too. We need support, Colonel, they keep coming."
Captain Ralif was a good man, but we are talking about Chaos here. They literally want to rip out your throat and drink your blood. And that's the nice ones.
"Hold the line, Captain, reserves are deployed, you are not alone."
Well, Kasteen was holding it together pretty well. I doubt that anyone beside me could tell how tense she sounded over the crackling Vox net. But that still left me out here, waiting for the next superhuman killer machine to take my skull and present it to some dark god or the other in a horror realm of blood and violence. Maybe I should have petitioned for a ride in the Orcus Argentum, our resident Titan and God-Machine. Sure, it was a big target. But damn, was it Big.
Big in that dimension counted for a lot.
Come to think about it, no. I didn't want to be there at all. It was still the command 'vehicle' of a certain PDF colonel. No way was I staying closer to him than I absolutely had too.
Besides, our sector was pretty quiet so far. From the Vox chatter, we were nearly the only ones so lucky. The rest of the Valhallans was pressed pretty hard. I tried to keep still and encourage the rest of the regiment to forget about me. Yes, it worked as well as you guessed.
The tone in the Vox lines continued to grow more tense and sooner or later someone was going to remember a certain 'Hero of the Imperium'.
Crappy options are crappy, but aside from scouting the front of our lines for forces approaching my current sector (which sounds as stupid and suicidal to me, as it sounds to you) my only option was to grab Jurgen and rush to reinforce our nearest position under fire.
Which happened to be Sulla's.
Emperor, Why? I have always been nice to your Daughter.
I would only have been half surprised if I would have gotten an actual answer that day, but as it was, I did get none. So I did in fact grab Jurgen, and rushed to our Salamander.
"Cain here. I will just scoot over and back up Captain Sulla a bit, Colonel. Will be over in no time." I tried for nonchalant, again. The PDF flunkies were pretty good teachers.
"We will hold the line with His Holy Might until you arrive, Commissar!"
Well, I hoped she would back it up with sufficient Las gun fire, too. But no matter how lunatic, Sulla was a veteran soldier. And the lunatics on our side did shoot a lot better than the lunatics on the other side.
Climbing in the Salamander, I grabbed the pintle mounted bolter and struck a vaguely heroic pose for the squad; no need to not improve their morale a little when their 'hero' drove off to combat; while Jurgen began to do what brave people might call driving. I didn't mind, it got me quickly out of trouble if need be.
Unfortunately, fast driving is not everything.
We did not get very far, before a Chaos Reaper crashed down on our engine hood, armoured metal groaning and bending under the impact. Before I could do so much as utter a prayer to the Emperor, or, to be more honest, fire half the Bolt Rounds loaded in the mounted Bolter in the bend over Marine, he struck out with his Power Blade.
Only the rabid jerking in our movement when Jurgen twitched as the Marine landed and my desperate jump saved my head. But it did not save me from a world of hurt, as I tumbled out of the moving Salamander, and head over heel along the street. Finally, I stopped my uncontrolled movement.
With my head. Using a handy wall. Had I mentioned how much I thanked the Princess's Wisdom for the helm during this campaign?
Groaning, I got up and pulled out my Las pistol. But the Salamander and the Marine were already gone around the next corner. I hastened forward, well, I hastened till I noticed how badly mangled my leg was and I cursed loudly. My helm was cracked, too. Better the helm than my head, I thought and discarded it. The main problem, aside from the Chaos Marine somewhere in the vicinity was that my Vox system was gone with the helm, too.
Still, I managed to drag myself around the corner, and saw our Salamander. Jurgen was still inside, still alive, and the Chaos Marine was on the ground, but already getting back to his feet. I raised my Las pistol, as Jurgen gunned the engine, hard. The reason became apparent a second later as a mob of howling Chaos cultists was disgorged by an alley, firing wildly and chasing after the Salamander, together with the Marine. Judging from their movements, I expected each and every Cultist to be filled up to the brim with Slaught.
I stepped back in cover and considered my options.
Aside from screaming for help loudly, and hoping that someone besides the raging forces of Chaos heard me, I could either stay in this spot or try to get back to our lines.
Getting back would include a considerable amount of travelling by foot, alone, without armour, escort or someone to push in the way of enemy fire.
Staying put meant waiting for the next mob of raging lunatics that would cut me to pieces, present my skull to their god, drink my blood and then kill me afterwards. Or something along these lines.
Neither sounded really like the way I wanted to spend my afternoon. All I could do was to hope for Jurgen to make it back to our lines, organize a squad or small army of soldiers and come to my rescue. Which would be considerable harder to do, if I run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off. Although that strategy had a certain appeal to it.
So I climbed through the next open window I could find and ducked down in the room I found there, munching on some Caba nuts left on a table. If I was going to die horribly, I would at least have crackers with it.
Golan raised his head from the burning wreckage. Ignoring the howls, roars and screams of his minion around him he sniffed again. Yes… yes, one of them was here. His prey. He would kill. HE WOULD TAKE HIS FUCKING SKULL AND DANCE ON HIS GRAVE!
Golan shook himself, wondering idly where the couple of smouldering Cultists body parts around him came from and started to sprint. He knew where to go…
Contrary to what most medicae will try to tell you, Caba nuts can in fact go bad. What is even more important, they do not cause stomach aches or digestion problems, but severe hallucinations. Of Holy Icons. Walking alone, perfectly calm and armed only with a pointy stick, in a 'hot' battlefield.
I jumped out of the window and raced towards the mentally cha…charming Anima of the Imperium walking along the street.
"Hotaru! What in His Name are you doing here?"
She looked a bit taken aback by my outburst, fiddling idly with a strain of her hair as she looked to the ground.
"In who's name? And…I… am walked?"
I was very envious of the multiple hearts an Astartes was equipped with in this moment and all but screamed.
"Walking?... In the Emperor's name, this is a war zone. An active battlefield. This is no place for a civilian…well, a Senshi….well, for anyone who is not duty bound to die a horrible, gruesome death in a futile struggle and a battle that no one cares about."
"But I am." Was the quiet, even reply, childish head coming up and eyes looking solemnly on me.
That threw me a bit of course, and I at least managed to bring my tone and breathing back under control. Finally managing to ground out a gruff: "What do you mean?"
"It is my duty to die, Cain."
Large, empathic eyes looked at me full of understanding, in a serene, peaceful face while the quiet, smooth voice crushed something inside me.
I…have seen death. I have sent people to death. I had seen children killed and slaughtered by aliens, Heretics, Daemons. But these words, cool, accepting…understanding. I do not know why they touched me this way. Maybe it was the tone. The understanding, soft voice. Or the young, young face with eyes so wise. Or it was simply the idea of someone I had revered in one form or the other for my whole life to just walk out and die…
"No. Hotaru, you can not do that. We need you."
My voice was firm, and I nearly grabbed her hand before I could collect myself. And we did indeed need here. An Anima of the Imperium…
"Know it. Here is why I am."
She nodded, still completely calm and at ease where I was scanning the houses, the empty caverns of the windows and gaping maws of streets for any potential assassin, traitor or monster that I had to tackle.
"You hurt."
She looked at my mangled leg, and well. She was right. I am no medic, but I was pretty sure I had at least sprained my knee, and the abrasions where the rockrete had cut away the leg of my envirosuit were not helping either.
"Me heal."
With a small step closer she put both her hands next to my damaged knee.
My breath stopped. Was I going to receive her Holy Power just like Jurgen had? Would I not only be touched by Divinity, but blessed, too? And truly, a soft glow enveloped her hands, and instantly the pain in my knee vanished. Not only my knee, also the small wounds in my leg and every single pain in my body, together with all exhaustion I had felt. I… It was a wonderful feeling. I had never felt so good. Well… there was this one time with Amberley…
"See. All better now."
She smiled up to me, and I could only wonder at Her Power.
I did not wonder for very long, because obviously my ears were healed, too. Enabling me to hear the crazed mass of charging zealots, cultists and overall madmen racing through the streets.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
"Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
"Kill….Kill…"
"MAIM!KILL!BURN!"
"Tooth's for the Tooth fairy!"
Some were crazier than others.
They were coming at us from one of the intersecting streets. And while their numbers did not exactly blot out the sun, their bodies managed quite well to fill the street. Weaving around axes, cleavers, tooth pliers, Las pistol and Emperor knows what.
"Warp be damned."
This time, I did grab the hand of the Anima and started to run in the other direction. I just hoped the Ecclesiarchy would never hear of this, else they might cut of my hand and use it as a Holy Relic.
Fortunately, I did not have to drag one of the Emperor's Daughters, she was willingly running with me once I started moving. And what was even better, she was keeping up with my vastly longer legs. At least she had dropped her stick somewhere along the way.
Chaos Cultists were sufficiently stupid by definition, but they were not blind and had spotted us in the open street quite readily. And while I had little doubt that I could outrun most of them under ordinary conditions (after all, I had practice with that), that did not take into account the effects of Slaught or whatever else that pushed them up.
"We need to lose them. Inside." I gasped out under my breath, pointing at one of the houses with an open door.
"Yes." And the Anima poured on the speed, actually overtaking me and entering the house. I stumbled in right behind her, and kicked the door closed. A quick glance showed me that barricading it would be a futile exercise. While there was a handy cupboard waiting for us, the two windows provided enough alternative entrances.
"We need to keep moving. Stay close to me." Where were stoic, silent red posts of Guardianship when you needed them? Or a couple of Baneblades, while we are at it.
We hastened through the floor. I didn't bother to pull my Las Pistol, forty or fifty to one or two wasn't really the kind of odds I wanted for any shooting.
At least when I was on the one or two side.
Instead I pushed open the doors we passed. I doubted that even Cultists would be put off our track by something like that, but every second I delayed them from putting a Las bolt or a big sharp thing in a vital part of my anatomy counted. Besides, maybe some of them had a bad sense of direction and got lost. It happens. I had seen it. There was this one guy…
The problem, or maybe not, with floors is that few of them are infinite. In that moment, I did consider it a problem. At least, we were on ground level and it ended with window. A closed window.
"Follow me!" Not looking for other options, I took a flying jump through the thankfully wide window, holding my arms in front of me and counting on my armoured envirosuit to protect me from being gutted like a man running from bloodthirsty Chaos Cultists jumping through a closed window head first. Fortunately, I was right.
Less fortunate was, that rockrete is hard; thus my landing was less than pleasant.
Light-footed, the Senshi landed next to me. I noted dumbly the high heels next to my face, before I climbed to my feet again.
Not good. We were fenced in, in some kind of backyard. Open yard, surrounded on three sides by two-story houses and one side with a fence as tall as I was.
Only one chance here. I put a hand on my Chain Sword and stepped forward.
"Stay back, …" Was as far as I got, before two thin, soft arms encircled my waist and then our Drop Ship took off.
At least it felt that way. In truth, we jumped. Well, the Anima jumped. With me. On the roof. Of a two story house. Carrying me.
I am not exactly a lightweight; I don't think even an Astartes could do that. Not without a Jump Pack. On the other hand… I looked at her again. I was pretty sure that the average Astartes outmassed her ten or fifteen to one. Without Power Armour.
Okay. I had other things to worry about now. Like getting my breath back. Believe me, jumping that way and being hold by small arms is not good for your stomach or lungs. Although I had felt no impact jarring me…
"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"
Ahhh, how it jarred.
Only with a desperate lunge I managed to get out of the way of the massive suit of armour that crashed down on us. And the Lightning Claws, that blew up a portion of the room. Somewhere, there was also a brutish Traitor Marine attached to them.
I tried to roll around and get my Chain Sword out in the same movement. I more or less managed to do it, but came to rest on my back.
Looking at one of the most heart wrenching sights I could imagine, the massive, and I am talking at least ten foot massive, form of a Berzerker of Khorne, Lightning Claws raised loomed above a small girl not even half his height, holding a stick made out of wood and blunt metal between them.
Poised defiantly between the Berzerker and me, shoulders squared.
From anyone else I would welcome that gesture and take my clue to quietly, quickly run away from the unstoppable machine of destruction, as fast as I could. Not from her.
But before I could shout, draw the Berzerker's attention to me or throw a pebble to get him to rush me he thrust downwards with his Claws, and fist the sizes of planet-killer meteors preluded by sharpened metal crashed down on the last hope of the Imperium of Man.
Only to connect soundlessly with dull silver, and stop.
Before I could even change my emotions from bowel-clenching terror and utter despair, the Senshi twisted her arms. The shaft of her weapon was hitting against the juggernaut's shank.
But the Chaos-deluded fool was a fighter without peer, and while he was probably more astonished than me that his attack had been blocked by this wisp of a girl, he had shifted his weight on said leg and sneered at the futility of the attack.
That was, till said futile attack knocked his leg aside and gravity reminded us that there is a saying about things that are bigger…
Even while the tainted Marine was in the air and falling, the Senshi had reversed the grip on her Glaive and brought it around, its dull edge cutting towards the armoured chest of the Heretic. Probably on reflex and less on threat assessment he threw his arm out and twisted in the air, out of the way of the blade, crashing heavily on the ground. To this day, I remember the expression on his face as the already Lightning Claw damaged roof gave way under Emperor knows how many tons of sin and armour.
All that had happened in less than a second, but already Las Blasts were arcing up towards the Senshi, while I was still in the process of getting back to my feet.
A long, and I mean loooong stride, took her over to me, and this time she grabbed me under my shoulders having dropped her weapon somewhere on the roof or else and jumped to the next roof. It wasn't far, a dozen meters or so if you are generous.
Finally getting back to my feet, I crouched down and ran over to the stairs leading inside the building. "We need to get away from them." I grunted out, the Senshi at my side.
"I WILL KILLLLLL YOU! YOU HEAR ME! YOUR SKULLLZ ARE MIINNNE!"
Someone was not happy with our recent escape. I did not stop to ask who, exactly.
Rarp'unh'oc jumps took him clear through a closed window, glass shattering and breaking against his hardened skin. Coming to his clawed feet again, he raced on, knowing that he could not stop now. He was a creature of Khorne, he exuded in slaughter, bloodshed and killing.
His brethren maybe dead but they had reaped a great killing under the pitiful humans daring to challenge them. Rarp'unh'oc just wished for one thing now.
That Khorne would have gifted him with faster legs as the door behind him was smashed and a dark behemoth rushed in the room, an avalanche of palpable anger preceding its way, the only light in the room gleaming from his mighty weapon. 'Oh Khorne, grant me faster legs. So that I may reach your enemies faster and slaughter them.'
The dying screeches of his brethren was still in his ears. He broke through a door without slowing down, taking five of the stairs at once as he raced up to the roof. 'Khorne, grant me wings so that I may dive at your enemies from above and slaughter them.'
With haste, he took in the surroundings of the roof. Feeling his Nemesis approaching, he did not hesitate and jumped over the narrow gap between buildings, the three meters not even close to a challenge for one such as him.
But like a dark avenger, his hunter followed him, clearing the gap as the Bloodletter had before. Still, almost feeling the pieces and fluids that had once been his Warband raining down on him, Rarp putted on a burst of speed. Filled by his desperation, he raced on, trying to increase the distance between them. 'Khorne, grant me stamina so that I may fight your enemies for eternities.' But like a dark cloud of destruction the armoured predator kept up, drawing nearer, closer.
Rarp could almost feel the heat of the weapon, coming closer and closer to his skin, lusting to part his flesh, to cut into his body, to rip apart his neck.
Seeing a chance, he smashed through a lid on another roof, descending, trying to loose the merciless reaper at his back, ducking out of sight. 'Khorne, grant me a cloth to cover under, so that I may strangle your enemies with it.'
But it should not be. As if the dark gods had conspired against Rarp, the dark lord did not stray from his path and with the unerringly precision of a nuke carrying missile curving towards the defenceless ground of a world, he descended upon him.
Roaring like a cornered rat, Rarp'unh'oc threw himself around, rushing at the wall of darkness looming before him. Only to flinch back when the gruesome weapon of the dark one took of his left underarm, sending a spike of agony to his brain and taking the kick of a massive boot to the face. Unearthly strong muscles or machines flattened his flesh, squeezed his organs and crunched his bones. He was barely aware of the air rushing past him as he crashed through the window and tumbled to the ground. 'Khorne, grant me new teeth so that I may…'
We were out of the direct line of fire, none of our pursuer's were in sight, and back on the ground, running through a room, trying to bring another couple of houses between us and the mob of crazies with their Primarch-sized Bloodthirster wannabe. Of course, I had forgotten something.
Like fighting in closed quarter of small rooms or corridors versus Berzerkers is not desirable. Especially if you barely escaped them only to have them simply crush through the wall to get at you. Yes, I should have remembered that.
Dust and debris blinded the raging near-Daemon of destruction, and I was fortunately, between him and the Anima, so I lunged at him with my Chain Sword. Only to have it strike nothing more than a shallow gash on its vambrace when I landed a powerful blow.
I wanted to look at my blade in betrayal, but was busy dodging the snake-fast slice of a Lightning Claw. Well, if the snake was on Slaught. And a fast snake.
I narrowly avoided a rather premature end of my carrier there, literally by the skin of my teeth. That guy was not only stupidly large and strong as the wall could attest too, he was also damn fast. Faster. I am no slouch in sword combat, but I could hardly see his movements.
The most I noticed of the deadly claw I had just dodged was how it struck in the wall next to me and fired its charge in it, blowing it apart.
Hitting me as much as the Chaos Marine, only one of us had the protection of tank-like armour, genetic manipulations and unnatural toughness. It was not me.
I was blown to the side, chunks of wall hitting me rather painful and driving the breath out of my lungs.
The Senshi stepped past me, still weaponless, promptly having to dodge the follow up swipe of the traitor, and give ground as he just shrugged and pulverized some wall restricting him.
With a mighty yell, he drove his arm down, intend on cutting her down, but she teleported inside his strike. Instead of being sliced to ribbons and pulverised by the Lightning Detonation she merely took a couple of dozen pounds plasteel armour, flesh and bones on her shoulder, powered by muscles that casually crumbled walls. She went down with the hit.
But her hands were already raised and she thrust them out even as she did fall down. A purple sphere of light, as big as my head streaked out of her hands and hit the mountain of flesh, plasteel and unholy power in the chest.
He flew backwards, and a split second later I heard a detonation. Not like a grenade, or artillery shell. Well, I have no clue what it sounded like, but I didn't really care either.
"Quickly. Alive still is he."
I pulled myself out of the wall, grabbed my trusty Chain Sword and ran on, already hearing the howling Cultists bearing down on our necks. If the Senshi could ignore being crushed by a blow powerful enough to put a Squiggoth down I could ignore being blasted in a wall. My body did not agree with me.
Some days, it really did not pay to get out of your bunk.
"….hnnnNNN." That had actually hurt…That bitch. He would kill her! He stood up, and promptly broke down again as the over strained remains of his muscles ruptured under the stress, in a mess of torn ligaments and blood. As soon as he could back up. He would KILLLLLL that bitch. KILLLL.
"You hear me?...KILLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
Wrenching the Power Blade out of the head of the fallen Daemon, Colonel Radev rose again, stepping out of the pool of blood the slowly dissolving body left on the ground before it soiled his cape. The detour had taken him away from his lines and he checked up on the position of his forces via HUD. Fortunately, they were all arrayed correctly, considering the heavy resistance and he found little reason for further discipline and encouragement. The familiar rumble of the Executor sounded from a parallel street.
Feeling a presence, the lone PDF Colonel turned around.
Casting him in his shadow, a gigantic form towered above him. A massive chest covered by brass armour, body rippling with muscles, wings wide enough to carry a tank in the air, a horned head with cruel, blood crazed eyes and topped with horns, one massive fist carrying a coiling whip of living fire while the other wielded a great axe capable of splitting war-machines and buildings apart in a single stroke.
*hiss*
"Impressive."
*hiss*
The only sound one could hear on the field was coming from the speakers of a defect sound system, blasting out the tunes of the last song it was set to. The deep bass and electronic guitar sounds filled the air as heavy metal boomed through the street.
Our situation had not considerably improved.
We were still being hunted down by a mob of followers of a depraved, blood crazed evil god and something that had absolutely no business hunting an ordinary human like me. Couldn't he go and pick on someone his size? Surely, there must be some fallen Primarchs, Greater Daemons or something in the Eye of Terror.
If all else failed, I would have been happy to give him the address of the next Grey Knight Grandmaster with entourage. Alas, I didn't stop to ask.
I was more concerned with getting air in my lungs, burning from the constant sprinting. We were out now on the open, running along a street between halls of warehouses or whatever they might be.
The Cultists were purely shooting in the air when they saw us, not even attempting to hit, but I tried to change streets as much as possible, no need to give them ideas.
Actually, I had an idea now. We passed a turned over air car, crumbled and crushed from some fall. Two dozen steps later, I stopped and whirled around.
"Cain? What doing are you?"
The Anima had stopped half a dozen steps later, which fitted my plan rather well, looking confused at me.
"Watch and learn, young one. It takes more than an overgrown grox herder to bring a Commissar of the Imperium down." I said, projecting all the confidence I could muster, and then some.
Said overgrown grox herder, if you mixed in the killing intent of the average Ork Waaaagh and enough plasteel to make a tank and having leftovers, rounded the corner.
"Yes. Stop running. Accept your fate and give me your SKUUULLZ."
I would have liked to sprout a pithy one liner here. But I was a shoddy replacement for an Action Hero and nothing came to mind. So I just raised my Las Pistol and fired. At the pool of Promethium leaking out of the crashed air car.
The resulting fireball was most satisfying.
At least I thought so. Sadly, the Chaos Berzerker had another opinion. Now, normally I do not mind the opinion of people I have just blown up with enough yield to make a dozen frak grenades look like firework, but normally, said people are also resting in pieces.
While there were quite some pieces of cursed flesh raining down around us, burning and smelling nearly as bad as Jurgen, the hulking caricature of a human was still standing.
Grinning. Laughing. Burning. That was just not fair. How in the Emperor's Name was I supposed to take something like that down? Conveniently supplied Vortex Missiles aside.
Even as I was watching, the literally burning and smelting flesh was rekniting itself and the bones were completely intact. Stubbornly I fired half a dozen Las pistol shots in his face and chest. The bolts burned away an insignificant further amount of flesh, and glanced completely off the bones.
Okay, I could take a hint. I turned around and run, dragging the horrified looking Anima with me. That had really not been an overly pleasant view, all in all. Burning flesh, blistering and blackening under heat and fire only to become rosy again and bubble together to a new mass even while it still burned and fell again….together with the smell; well, you get the picture. Rest assured, I was pretty glad I had not eaten anything in the past hours.
The laughter of the … whatever it was supposed to be followed us, and I proposed to try that again. As soon as I found a Baneblade. Or something similar.
Errtu, the Bonegrinder, roared. He had sensed the mortals invading the city he had taken, stepping into the trap he had laid out for them.
And he had sensed her. Drawing closer, arriving. Soon. Soon he would take her skull and spill her blood. Grind her bones. And he would crush the pathetic being accompanying her, who had defied them so often, who was a mockery of all what Khorne symbolized.
But his blood was boiling, the familiar frenzy running through his body. Hurry. Hurry. HURRY!
He could barely wait for them to step on the altar of their killing…
He would not wait. He sensed a delicious battle close by. Not a worthy foe, not for him. But something… to play with. To entertain him, before he utterly crushed, maimed, burned it!
A single slap of his mighty wings carried him in the air, and like the Daemon of Destruction he was, he descended on his target. The simple, black clad human. Holding his feeble Power Sword. Good. He was not running.
Although the strange sounds permeating were annoying.
Errtu made a note to find the hidden Sound Marines later and slaughter them.
I ducked down, and then stumbled through the newly opened door, courtesy of the multi-hundred pound bust a certain nightmarish fellow had thrown after us.
And cursed. Aren't warehouses usually full of crates, huge, ominous machines and various things you could hide behind or take cover?
Not that I had much hope for hiding, the rapidly healing death mower behind us had kept up through all hooks and faints I could bring to bear. No doubt he had some warpspawned way to detect us. And probably a dozen Battleships or whatever to take us down should we find anything useful.
I pushed on, running across the open warehouse, to the back wall. I could see a door there, and got ready to blast the lock with my Las pistol.
Unfortunately, I am quite a good sprinter. And long distance runner. Comes with the habit of running away from any danger that jumps me. That meant I could develop quite a good speed on open terrain and keep ahead of pretty much anyone that hunted me.
Anyone did not include multi-ton behemoth's of flesh, anger and infernal warp energy.
I could only jump forward in the last instant as a fist thundered towards my back that could probably harm a dreadnaught. As in beat silly, tear apart and put in a cinder box way of harming.
A blow like a Capital Ship on ramming action hit my back and despite nearly blackening out, I had the fortune of enjoying free flight without any mechanical help. I flew for at least twenty meters before I crashed down and tumbled head over heel across the rockrete.
It did hurt less than you might imagine, at least the tumbling. At that point, my back was quite literally smashed and I did not feel anything below my waist line. The rest did hurt like warp, though.
Groggily, I tried to turn my head and lifted my Las pistol, which I had clamped on in a death grip. The bio-titan curled his lips in what no one in the vicinity of three sectors could have called a smile.
"Killlllllll."
"Hota..ru..run. I… catch up."
I managed to groan. I don't think anyone would believe that, but then…
I was also fairly sure she didn't hear me at all. At least she showed no reaction as she stepped in the path of Abbandon's big brother.
Her glaive gripped in a hand, holding herself as upright as the weapon, feet slightly apart she was truly a sight to behold. Majestic, full of dignity and a determination I could feel even in my slightly inconvenienced state.
"You. Not hurt will anyone again."
While it was a majestic sight and truly inspiring, if I had to be honest, I could not help but to look past her.
At the battleship-grade ground unit that was moving with the light gait of a sextapuma towards her, Lightning Claws extended and crackling with power, a piece of Black Carapace showing through skin. Together with the completely unmarred skin, despite the Power Armour now only hanging in pieces on the ludicrous sized frame was a sight as damming as an affair with a member of the Inquisition. In theory, that is. [*ahem*]
"No. No mere hurting. KILL! CRUSH! MAIM! SKUUUULLLZZZ!"
Even while shoulder mounted Hellguns threw powerful Las Bolts, the elemental force of brute strength had pushed forward, slipping around the bolts with an agility absolutely nothing that outmassed the average mountain should posses and rammed its claws towards the girl.
Like the wonder that her sheer presence on this world was, she actually parried the attack again.
What then followed was a blur before my eyes, and not only due to the not inconsiderable pain I was in at the moment. I had seen Astartes fight before. Leaving me with a faint amount of awe and a much larger amount of terror. Skill of countless battles, lightning fast reflexes like no living thing should have, strength that was ludicrous. But never like this.
That was a completely other level, a whirlwind of destruction. Some people may describe it as beautiful as a dance, poetry in motion. If said poetry had enough power behind it to wrack your average armoured regiment alone with collateral damage you are coming pretty close I believe. I could actually hear cracks of displaced air…
And suddenly, it was over. Just like that. Both gods of battle had frozen.
The Glaive of the Senshi was sticking out of a back broad enough to double as a shuttle platform. Slowly, the titanic body slid from the Blade. With a shock that rattled the whole building the sparring partner of Bloodthirsters fell down.
The Senshi stood perfectly still.
Serene.
Silent.
Slowly, the world faded before my eyes.
I came back to the same dark and bloody world in what felt only moments later.
My first view of the world was actually fairly nice considering the circumstances. The concerned face of a young girl hanging over me, my head bedded on her lap and not inconsiderable assets in my field of view.
Then I leapt to my feet and erased a never again to be mentioned line of thought with Promethium. And a Volcano Cannon.
"Oh me happy you better, Cain. Me worried."
A soft, tender voice spoke, cheeks faintly coloured, still kneeling and looking up to me. My mental Volcano Cannon fired again.
"Ahh…ahh… I am…fine. Thank you."
And I felt fine. More than fine, actually. My coat was in tatters, and armour scrapped. Well, the armour on my back was completely smashed, but I felt great. Nothing ached, nothing hurt, no lingering tiredness.
The mighty thunder of a truly, truly big gun shook everything around us. We exchanged a glance and came to an instant understanding.
Or so I thought. She must have understood me completely wrong, why else would she run exactly towards the sound?
I hesitate to remember the following situation. To this day, it has only be alluded to in official reports and documentations. All attempts to uncover the truth or find out the precise facts have been 'squeezed' to an unfortunate end. Under risk for life and limb I will write down what I believe to have perceived that day. (Today, I am wearing a collarless shirt.)
When we stumbled upon the scene, it was a war zone. More like that. It was a war zone ravaged by a Bloodthirster of Khorne, a super heavy 'Baneblade' tank and forces beyond any comprehension.
The ground was carved up, streets smashed, buildings carrying great gouges made from a daemonic axe, chunks of rockrete massing tons thrown around like crumps of bread, enough debris to serve as cover for three full strength Guard regiments, fires lingering in the background and skeletal fingers of broken plasteel raised up in the air.
The Executor, a dark blue 'Baneblade', one of the Imperium's finest tanks was covered in rubble and dust, the main barrel of the plasma gun glowing red and partially molten. Around it where the remains of a decent sized house. Judging from the debris there was only one possibility. The tank had driven 'through' the house.
We heard a raspy, laboured voice and for once, I understood the breathing problems.
Deep gashes in black armour, dark fluid that had to be blood dripping freely, a torn, shredded and burning cape, not even standing five meters away from the Bloodthirster.
The gigantic Daemonic beast, a being of rage and bloodlust so pure that I could feel it from here roared on the ground, trashing the street further with its flailing limbs and even as I watched, the massive, still smoking hole in its lower back closed over, recovering, healing.
"*Hiss*…you will *hiss* follow my orders, commander *hiss* or you will face *hiss* consequences. *hiss* I repeat *hiss* drive *hiss* directly towards my position *hiss*"
And with the rumbling of powerful engines, the Baneblade surged forwards. Accelerating, moving its massive bulk of Emperor knows how many tons.
With a horrid squelching sound and a terrible yowl it came to a stand.
On top of the twitching form of the Bloodthirster, which grabbed and twisted for a hold.
"*hiss* Acceptable, commander."
With determined, purposeful steps the black armoured figure strode forward under my gaping gaze, dripping 'blood' on the ground, cape still burning…and rammed the glowing Power Sword deep in the forehead of the Daemon.
It roared louder, the force nearly knocking me off my feet from twenty meters away, redoubling its efforts to get one massive arm in a position to push against the Baneblade.
*hiss*
"Impressive."
*hiss*
"Most impressive."
*hiss*
A small figure detached from my side in complete silence, no noise sounding when her boots touched the ground.
Clad in a dark skirt and white body suit, the small girl strode forward and came to a stand before the towering form of the dark knight. With a grave nod, the Lord of the HITS stepped aside.
A silver blade cut down.
Scratching the throat of the warp spawned nightmare. Instantly, its howling and trashing stopped. A small drop of blood appeared in the wound.
Silence.
Except for that damnable music booming somewhere in the background.
I decided to the warp with my disbelief, and walked towards both quite disparate figures.
"Now, that was a nice days work, I would say."
Looking back, I can say that I never learned to keep my mouth shut.
"Oh, indeed it has. But it is far from being concluded… Although for you, it is indeed all over."
I had heard many malevolent voices and biting tones, delighting in the pain and displeasure they bring to you, as anyone who has ever dealt with the Administratum.
But this was one of the worst. Rising from a patch of shadows was a malformed figure, not hideous, strangely…appealing. Garbed in a flowing, pink robe, with bits of armour showing at the chest, an arm that was little more than a gigantic claw and skulls resting on poles crossing on its back the…man was nonetheless a being of perfect beauty, alluring and mesmerizing.
What was even more concerning were the dozens upon dozens of runic circles that flared to live around us, shining of eldritch energy and spilling out the energies of the warp, its denizens howling behind the boundaries for our very souls.
"*hiss* Colonel Soudisi *hiss*Activate Gellar Field.*hiss*
I was completely floored at the words, but I didn't mind the fact that nearly all of the circles fickled out of existence… Emperor's Go…Goodness.
I hand no time to ponder anything or stand around in bafflement, because unfortunately, not all circles had vanished. Something with far too many limps, claws, maws and assorted horrors jumped at me.
"What? What! That can not be… What did you d"*Dakka…Dakka…DakkaDakkaDakka DakkaDakkaDakka*
I spun to the left and sliced my sword at the thing's side, even while Hellgun fire burned it.
While Lord Radev had raised his left arm and his storm bolter rounds smashed the head of the Sorcerer. Walking towards him he lowered his aim, blasting apart the chest.
The beast that had passed me crashed to the ground and dissolved, while I heard the 'Whoosh' of a flamer as the Dark Lord cleansed away the rest of his enemy.
The Senshi Saturn was at my side, Hellgun barrels still glowing on her shoulders and another beast cleaved in two by her Glaive.
That was, when we heard a wet squelching noise and dripping right next to us.
I didn't want to, but nonetheless, I did turn around. Coming face to…whatever, with one of the most repugnant things I had ever seen in my life. And I have once seen the inside of Jurgen's bunk.
A thing, a twisting mass of thick, slimy tentacles dripping with goo filled the street. A sheer sense of wrongness and an aura of Slaaneshi Contamination like I had never felt before hung in the air. Twisting and turning the tentacles reached out, crept closer to Saturn, her skirt billowing in an unseen breeze, the tentacles stretching, swelling…
"Silence Glaive…Surprise"
With a fast, precise movement the Senshi brought her Glaive half way down, cutting the air in front of her.
A …gap appeared in the city.
It did not spread, it simply was there. The street was gone. The buildings next to it were gone. The buildings behind the street were gone. A path, hundreds of meters long and more three dozen meters wide had formed. Only blank, clear earth remained. No Daemon, no rockrete, no plasteel. Just….empty plain.
"I…I am sorry…it felt so…dirty. I felt threatened."
I nodded, and backed away. Slowly.