972.M41, Isphyda I

Yariel sat in the razorback transport as it trundled along the sweeping grass plains of Isphyda I. Five sternguard veterans sat with him, two carrying flamers and the other three carrying combi-flamers. He himself wielded a thunder hammer and was only sitting with this squad because there was no room for him in the rhino carrying the vanguard veterans.

They were currently headed into the forests of Isphyda I for their annual purges: Every year, the captain of the 1st company would organize multiple forays into the various ork-infested woodlands of the world, especially those nearest their fortress-monastery, to cleanse the world of the xenos. Isphyda I had been infested with feral orks for over a thousand years, long before the Power Marines were founded, when an Ork Waaagh! in its death throes came to the system, landed on the first world and were subsequently purged. However, following the destruction of this force, feral ork populations began springing up all across the planet and the locals had maintained a tradition of purging them yearly, a tradition the Power Marines happily took up when they were founded some two centuries prior. Yariel found it to be tedious. He had no doubt that a Power Marine who was recruited from this world would understand and enjoy it but he himself despised the task he was forced to organize and carry out yearly. He had no idea how Crau had managed it.

"Captain, we're nearing the Wyallin Forest." The driver of the transport said over the vox. The Wyallin Forest reportedly had the largest concentration of feral orks and thus was the first target for their purge. With any luck, Yariel and the Vanguard Veterans would be able to do the job on their own but if things went awry then the Sternguard Veterans would enter with their flamers and the twin-linked flamer on the razorback to clear the mess. If even then, things proved too difficult, a squad of terminators was ready to teleport in at a moment's notice.

"Copy that. Stop the transports when we come within a hundred meters." Yariel instructed.

"By your word." Came the reply. They traveled in silence for ten minutes before the vehicle ground to a halt. Yariel rose to his feet.

"Sergeant Avery, be ready to come at a moment's notice." Yariel commanded. The sergeant of the Sternguard Veterans nodded. Yariel walked to the hatch as it lowered and exited the razorback, taking in the deep green view. The lenses of his helmet filtered it with a dull red glow, but he could still take in the beauty of the rolling hills, the sweeping grasslands and the jade canopy of the Wyallin Forest. He smiled softly. He definitely preferred this world do the dusty, rocky, barren red deserts of his home, Isphyda III. He glanced to the left and saw the rhino transport as the Vanguard Veteran squad filed out of the hatch. He strode over to them.

"Brothers, you know what to do. We've done it many times." Yariel said. The veterans nodded as Yariel hefted his thunder hammer. "Let's go and kill some orks."


Yariel raised his hammer overhead with both hands as the hunched, hulking greenskin bellowed its guttural cry. He brought it down on the ork's head and a boom like the clapping of thunder split the air as a massive concussive blast was sent from the head of his weapon, pulverizing the upper body of the ork entirely. The dozens of others put up little resistance as the squad of Vanguard Veterans hacked their way through them, power weapons and lightning claws making mince-meat of the greenskins. Yariel sprinted to another ork and delivered a crushing blow to the gut, sending yet another thunderclap for which the hammer got its name through the air whilst shredding the body of the greenskin. A foolish, somewhat larger than usual one ran up to him, its long, muscular arms waving wildly as a crude axe swung in a relatively harmless arc at Yariel's head. He might have let the blade hit him as it would have had little effect on his helmet but his reaction time was deadly quick and he pulverized the skull and shoulders of the ork.

He looked around and saw that his brothers had made short work of the remaining feral orks. This was the second group they had come across. Half the size of the first one, it had offered little resistance and not a single marine had yet been killed.

"I wonder if the greenskins will ever make these purges exciting. Oh, how I prefer the ones that aren't feral." Sergeant Finn commented. "More of a threat but at least they provide a challenge."

"Honestly, I prefer not to have the risk of being shot to pieces on a routine cleansing." Yariel said. "We're not doing this for pleasure. It has to be done or their numbers will grow too large and we'll be swimming in green back at the fortress-monastery."

Almost as if on cue, the crack of a gunshot split the air as gore spurted from the freshly created hole in the side of Sergeant Finn's head.

"WAAAGH!" An ork in the trees bellowed and the air was filled with the sounds of crude ork guns cracking. They were far less lucky when shooting the rest of the squad as unlike Finn, all of the other marines wore helmets, but feral orks with firearms still proved quite a shock to them. Yariel was the first to recover as a slug grazed the side of his helmet. Several greenskins poured forth seemingly out of nowhere from the trees, some carrying the typical primitive blades and clubs of feral orks, others waving slightly more advanced melee weapons and also guns.

Yariel charged the orks, bullets bouncing off of and grazing his armour. He smashed his hammer into the side of one gun-toting ork, pulping its ribcage and sending the mangled corpse flying to the ground before he gave the same treatment to another and another and yet more. Meanwhile, the Vanguard Veterans also set upon the orks with gusto after recovering from their initial shock at seeing firearms in the hands of the feral orks. He heard the sound of armour cracking and blood squirting from an open wound but payed it no heed as he mangled another ork. Soon, the majority of the greenskins had been killed and a handful were fleeing. Yariel took a moment to look around as his brothers pursued the fleeing greenskins.

Alongside Sergeant Finn, one Vanguard Veteran had been killed, a lucky shot piercing the relatively undefended throat as the marine had looked up. Scores of orks lay dead and the last of the stragglers had been cut down. The squad began to rejoin Yariel in the field of bodies.

"What the fuck are feral orks doing with guns?" A perplexed veteran said.

"How should I know?" Yariel said. "Whatever the case, this mission has been compromised. I have no doubt that we can complete it if we bring in the rest of the veterans assembled but I'd rather not risk losing brothers unnecessarily. We need to return to the fortress-monastery to assess the situation."

"By your word, captain." Another marine said. "What about Finn and Vlad?" He asked, indicating the fallen marines.

"Carry them back to the transport. We'll need to get them to an apothecary for their gene-seed." Yariel said. Four veterans moved forward and picked up the bodies, two marines carrying each corpse. Another marine stepped forward and collected their weapons, carrying them all in a bundle.

"Let's move before more of them get here." Yariel said. They began walking and it didn't take them long to reach the transports. Sergeant Avery peered at them from the hatch of the razorback.

"What happened?" Avery asked. "We heard gunshots."

"The feral orks have guns." Yariel said. "We need to get back to the fortress-monastery." As he said this, his vox crackled.

"Captain, you must return at once!" A voice came. "We've received several reports of the orks carrying advanced weaponry far beyond the capability of feral orks."

"We'd noticed. Two casualties, we're heading back now. Please have the situation evaluated before we get back." Yariel said. There was no reply and he looked at the veterans as the bodies of Finn and Vlad were loaded into the rhino. He sighed and walked to the razorback, ducking his head as he entered.


Yariel stood in the briefing room looking at a map of Isphyda I as Crau paced the room and the serf delivered the news.

"Every major ork concentration on this planet has reportedly obtained firearms within the last twenty-four hours." The serf said, shuffling the papers in his hands and reading off them.

"How did this happen?" Crau demanded. The serf paled as the scarred face of Crau stared down at him, the red cybernetic eye piercing his soul as the metal plating on the left side of Crau's face betrayed no emotion whilst the flesh betrayed all of the fury.

"We don't know, chapter master but... Some reports indicate that the ork Freebootas in the system were spotted landing a large transport on the southern continent." The serf said.

"Damn it. I knew we should have shot their ship into oblivion the second they appeared in the system." Crau said. "Now they've been distributing weapons to the feral orks. We'll have to completely purge them all to stop this from getting out of hand."

"Maybe you should have sent out a strike cruiser." Yariel commented. Crau scowled.

"Piss off." Crau said. "Starting to sound like Orion. Yes, I should have sent out a fucking strike cruiser, hindsight is wonderful like that. How'd they even get a transport pass our ships? How did we not see them? This is a damn catastrophe. The orks will wreak havoc on the population and if things get too out of control they might get advanced enough weapons to destroy us. This could turn into a full-blown Waaagh! if we don't do something about it."

"What do you propose we do, then?" Yariel asked.

"I want you to mobilise the entire first company. Not just a couple squads, Yariel. We can't be complacent. A strike cruiser should also be dispatched to blow those damned freebootas to pieces. All Power Marine forces in other systems need to be recalled in case your veterans aren't enough." Crau said. The serf began frantically taking notes as Crau spoke. Yariel frowned.

"A bit drastic, isn't it? I don't think we'll need to recall our forces. Three hundred marines are in other systems, bringing them back could lose the Imperium wars." Yariel pointed out. Crau glared at him.

"There are over six million feral orks on this planet. Six. Fucking. Million. We payed them no mind before because they were scattered and primitive and we cleansed them every year though clearly somebody hasn't been doing his job properly in the past two decades or else maybe their population wouldn't be that large." Crau said. Yariel narrowed his eyes.

"If they have guns, it's only a matter of time before they start to get more advanced technology, maybe even sped along if these Freebootas keep distributing weapons. If they have the technology of an Ork Empire and enough orks on the planet to conquer the entire system, it's only a matter of time before one of them unites all of the rest. I will not see this spiral out of control, Yariel. We purge them all. None of the orks survive and we destroy every weapon they have so that when their spores grow into new greenskins, we only have to deal with feral orks. If your first company is incapable of purging six million orks, I imagine we'll need the entire chapter." Crau said.

"Alright, alright, point taken. I'll rally the first company. If need be, we can afford to simply bomb high-population areas or bombard them from orbit. Killing every last one of them by hand will be impossible." Yariel said.

"I will not bombard our own planet, Yariel. We kill them all personally." Crau said. Yariel nodded and turned on his heel. He paused and then left.


Three Days Later

Yariel stood atop the hill overlooking the large camp of orks in the plains. The fires of their camp lit up the night sky, sending plumes of smoke into the inky blackness while a warm glow was cast on it, blotting out the stars. These orks had been quite enthusiastic about their newly acquired weaponry and reportedly, their 'oddboyz' had been hard at work producing more. A small village near their forest had felt the effects of this the day prior and hundreds of civilians lay now in the blood-soaked street of that dead village, their glassy eyes staring but not seeing. Yariel gripped his thunder hammer tightly as he looked at the mass of tents and fires and hulking silhouettes.

"Captain, our forces are in position to strike and drop pods are standing by." Sergeant Reln said over the vox. Yariel looked to the side. A dozen meters away, the sergeant of the first company's command squad stood, preparing his assault bike for use.

"Very good, sergeant. Get on your bike, we attack at my word." Yariel instructed. He could make out Reln nodding and soon, the veteran mounted his bike. Yariel looked at his own bike and lifted his right leg over it to straddle the machine. Once he was sat firmly in place, he gripped one of the handles with his left hand and held the end of his hammer while the head rested on the ground. He turned on the ignition and took a deep breath.

"ATTACK!" He yelled over the vox, taking off on his assault bike with Reln's command squad in close pursuit while the jump packs of vanguard veteran squads screamed. There were many yells among the Orks and the bikers hit the bottom of the hill and were racing for the camps in no time at all. A large ork toting a massive rifle with a long ammunition belt coming from it came into view and as the gun was leveled, Yariel leaned to the side and smashed his thunder hammer into the head of the ork before it could pull the trigger. Yariel did not see the results of this blow but he heard the boom and his hammer met relatively little resistance, not being jerked back at all and remaining in Yariel's grip.

As Yariel zoomed through the ork camps, running down and striking down any ork in his path, his fingers found a trigger on the handlebar, squeezing it and opening fire with the twin-linked boltgun on the front of his bike. These rounds tore into an ork boy that was charging Yariel and once this ork was killed, he performed a sharp 180 degree turn before continuing to ride through the camps back the way he had come. He barely noticed the veterans of the first company slaughtering orks with him nor even the drop pods that were screaming from the sky, disgorging sternguard veterans that belched flame from their guns. Yariel was too focused on butchering every ork in his path.

It did not take long for them to completely wipe out the population of the camp. Yariel brought his bike to a halt and dismounted, resting the head of his hammer on the ground while he leaned on the weapon. He looked around him. Hundreds of orks lay dead and space marines were busy piling them up while veterans carrying flamers prepared to cremate the bodies en masse. Bodies and weapons were thrown onto large piles as tents were set ablaze. The Power Marines were slow, methodical in their work and once all the ork corpses had been piled up along with their weapons, prometheum spewed from the muzzles of flamers, igniting on the small flames at the tips of these weapons and setting the piles of bodies ablaze. Yariel heard footsteps behind him and glanced at the source. It was Reln.

"None escaped." Reln said. "We estimate upwards of a thousand orks were located in this camp. Casualties are uncertain as of yet but at present, I've counted five dead space marines." He continued.

"It's not enough. A thousand orks is nothing on the six million on this planet. How many such camps have we destroyed in the last three days?" Yariel asked.

"Twelve." Reln said. Yariel scoffed.

"Twelve. Even if all of them had as many orks as this one did, we'd still only have killed twelve thousand. Twelve thousand deaths means nothing compared to how many more we have to deal with. A fleabite." Yariel said.

"Maybe so, but our next target is the Wyallin Forest. A complete purge this time, not the foray you tried a few days ago." Reln reminded him. "We'll have the entire 1st and 2nd companies and armoured support, we can clear the Wyallin Forest of greenskins in under an hour with those forces. How many orks are in there, a hundred thousand? That's a larger dent than twelve." He continued. Yariel sighed.

"You're right, of course." Yariel said. He paused and looked at the burning piles of corpses. "We won't be able to use fire." He noticed. "It wouldn't be a good idea to use flamers in a forest as dense as the Wyallin."

"No, it wouldn't. What would you suggest as an alternative, captain?" Reln asked. Yariel shrugged.

"Well, there isn't a problem which cannot be solved with the use of high explosives. I'll make sure Relan gives us vindicators." He said. As he spoke, he heard the sounds of engines screaming and looked up to see several thunderhawk gunships descending from the skies.

"Well, back home we go. I'm sure you'll think of a good plan, captain." Reln said. Yariel chuckled as he watched the transports touch down.


Isphyda System, bridge of the Hopeless Redoubt

Tragun stood at attention by Captain Warren of the 3rd company, staring out the bridge at the stars as the strike cruiser traveled through the space of the system. They had just passed the gas giant, Isphyda V, in their pursuit of the ork Freebootas and their 'krooza'. Upon arriving in orbit of Isphyda III and opening fire upon the ork craft, the greenskins had immediately fled and now the Hopeless Redoubt was in hot pursuit.

"Damned cowards, they are." Warren said. Tragun nodded. "What do you make of their fleeing, sergeant?" At this, Tragun shrugged.

"They're damned cowards." Tragun said simply. Warren frowned.

"I just said that, sergeant." Warren said.

"Yes you did. Very good, captain." Tragun said. Warren scoffed.

"I've had less attitude from an Imperial guardsman. By the Emperor, you're a space marine, not one of them jumped up meatshields in shiny cardboard brandishing their laser-pointers. Act like it." Warren snapped.

"Yes, captain. Very good, captain." Tragun said. He was glad he wore a helmet so that Warren could not see the massive grin plastered across his face. Warren scowled and looked away.

"Damned young piece of... Why are you the sergeant of a command squad, sergeant? You haven't even got your first service stud. What was I thinking, promoting a marine who's not even been fighting for a century?" Warren said. Tragun shrugged.

"I'll get a service stud in eighteen years. That's not so long. And I imagine you promoted me because I was best for the job. It's not my place to question the judgement of my brothers." Tragun said.

"Unless it's requesting you not take the biggest gun you can find in the armoury." Warren said.

"Precisely, captain. Never get between a man from Isphyda I and his heavy caliber fully automatic firearms." Tragun said.

"Sergeant?" Warren asked.

"Yes, captain?" Tragun said.

"Shut up."

"Yes, captain. Very good, sir." Tragun replied.

"And wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. Don't think I don't know it's there, just because I can't see it." Warren growled. Tragun remained silent, happily disobeying this particular order. They stood in silence for a while. They sped past Isphyda V, it's rings and moons, rocketing through the void between Isphyda V and Isphyda VI while the ork krooza kept up its retreat. One thing was for sure, the craft was fast if nothing else. For almost all of this pursuit, it had managed to remain outside of weapon range. Whenever the Hopeless Redoubt closed the distance and prepared to fire weapons, the momentary slowing in their pace always allowed the orks to slip away before the guns could open fire.

The pursuit continued for many hours. Tragun stood vigilant, awaiting Warren's word without tiring despite remaining in the same position. It was only when they passed Isphyda VI and the Power Marines strike cruiser Unyielding that hung in orbit. As they passed, the Unyielding opened fire on the ork krooza and managed to deal some superficial damage but for the most part, it had little more luck than the Hopeless Redoubt and the orks were out of weapon range quickly. They were hailed by the Unyielding but did not answer, they were too busy in their pursuit of the orks.

And so the chase continued, lasting several hours. The previously tiny specks of asteroids on the outskirts of the system were rapidly expanding as they came into view and the ork krooza kept on fleeing. Tragun's smile had faded long ago and now he grew bored. He wondered how long the orks would keep fleeing. As he pondered this, suddenly there was a commotion among the chapter serfs manning the sensors.

"Captain, multiple ships just came into sensor range!" A serf yelled. Tragun looked at Warren. The captain's face betrayed no emotion.

"Are they moving?" Warren asked.

"No, we came close to them. They're Imperial ships, according to the sensors..." The serf said. Warren frowned.

"Where are they exactly?" Warren asked.

"Among the asteroids." The serf said.

"Are the orks within weapon range of them?" Tragun chimed in.

"Undoubtedly." The serf replied.

"Then why aren't they shooting?" Warren asked. Before waiting for an answer, he spoke again. "And what are they doing there? Not any of ours, did the sector governor move any ships to our system?"

"I... I don't know. We can check, but-" The serf began before suddenly other serfs began yelling excitedly.

"They're priming their weapons! Those orks are going to be stardust!" One serf cried. Warren squinted. Tragun followed suit. He could make out faint vessels among the asteroids. Bright lights that were no doubt their weapons made them easier to find as the Hopeless Redoubt drew closer. But something was wrong. Tragun could not quite put his finger on it as the distance between the Power Marines and these unknown Imperial vessels shortened. Tragun heard Warren gasp.

"Those aren't Imperial ships! Turn us around, now!" Warren yelled. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light illuminated the void of space and the bridge of the Hopeless Redoubt. The ship suddenly rocked violently as torpedoes and melta lances hammered into its bow. Tragun staggered from the impact. When he steadied himself, he could barely make out the outlines of the hostile ships. He noticed many spiky protrusions along the hulls of this fleet and could just see the outline of an eight pointed star on the bow of the closest ship.

"Chaos." Tragun said, scowling. The void was lit up again and once more the Hopeless Redoubt shook violently. It was turning, but slowly.

"Damnation, we can't get anywhere if we're shot to pieces before we retreat. Divert power to the void shields and turn us around as quickly as you can. And shoot back, damn it!" Warren yelled. The serfs on the bridge scrambled to carry out his orders, buttons being pressed and the serfs manning the guns being voxed to inform them of what to do. The ship repeatedly rocked and the void of space was never wanting for illumination as they exchanged fire with the enemy fleet that outnumbered them so greatly. They had stopped advancing for the enemy fleet but the other side had different ideas and were slowly moving forward as they shot the Hopeless Redoubt. The ork krooza had slipped away in the confusion and Tragun did not know where it was. Suddenly, the ship rocked far more violently than any previous time and sirens began wailing.

"Captain, they just blew out our primary engines!" A serf yelled. "We can't outrun them like this!"

"What happened to the damn void shields?" Warren yelled.

"They overheated, too much strain from enemy fire." As the serf said this, the ship continued to rock violently. "They keep blowing up our engines like this, we'll be sitting ducks! Communications are gone, too, we can't warn the chapter master."

"All power to starboard guns, then! If we're lucky, we can overwhelm them." Warren said desperately. Tragun stepped forward.

"Captain, no. You know how much I love blowing shit up, but we can't do this. We don't have the firepower to fight them off." Tragun said. Warren cursed and paced the bridge as the chaos fleet continued to pummel them.

"One of their ships is pulling up alongside us! They're going to board us!" A serf cried in terror. Tragun knew how bad this was. They hadn't brought the entire third company with them and Tragun did not doubt that the enemy had a large enough force to make it moot even if they had the entire company. From the look on Captain Warren's face, he knew it too.

"To... To the escape pods." Warren said. He looked utterly lost. Retreat was not something Captain Warren was used to and everybody in the chapter knew it. But not even a man as stubborn as Warren could try and make this situation look salvageable.

"I'll go to the Armoury in case they try to intercept us, we could benefit a heavy-" Tragun began.

"No." Warren cut him off. "You have a sword, that will be adequate for the purposes of fleeing. Use it." Tragun nodded reluctantly.

"By your word, captain." He said. Warren scowled and took a deep breath.

"Abandon ship!" Warren yelled. Tragun drew the power sword that hung at his side as Warren did the same. The two calmly strode through the mass of fleeing serfs as they tried to exit the bridge. It took a while to get through the throng of serfs, but once they were off the bridge they could move relatively quickly. Warren voxed all third company space marines aboard the craft to head for the escape pods. The ship shuddered as it was forcibly connected to the chaos ship via its starboard airlocks. The benefit of this was that they were no longer under fire from the enemy fleet. However, Tragun had no doubt that soon, they would be swimming in enemies. He quickened his pace.

It did not take long to arrive at the escape pods on the port side of the Hopeless Redoubt. Hundreds of chapter serfs were crowded in the hall by the escape pods as the dozen space marines on board attempted to herd them onto pods with some semblance of order. It was difficult progress and the enemy was no doubt closing in.

"Faster, damn you all!" Warren roared, delivering a kick into the rear of a particularly slow serf and sending him reeling towards an open door into an escape pod. Though it was slow going, the serfs gradually filled in the pods and emptied out the hall. Once pods were full, they jettisoned from the ship and hurtled through space. When there were about two score serfs left not aboard pods, the Iron Warriors arrived.

Dozens of chaos space marines sprinted into the hall, opening fire upon the serfs and space marines. Tragun dived behind a crate before he could be shot to death though many serfs were not so lucky and screams permeated the air. Tragun set down his sword for a moment and drew his bolt pistol, firing blindly over the crate. Suddenly, he was joined behind the crate by Captain Warren.

"Make sure the last of the serfs are on pods, then get on one yourself!" Warren yelled.

"But we need to fight them!" Tragun complained.

"NOW!" Warren bellowed. Tragun was galvanized into action and he rose to his feet. Forgetting his sword, he ran for one of the hatches leading into a pod as bolter rounds whizzed through the air around him and firing back without looking. When he reached the hatch, he leaned against the wall.

"Go, go, go! In!" He yelled at three serfs who were cowering behind a crate nearby. He did not wait for a response as he gripped his pistol in both hands and put a round in between the lenses of the helmet of one chaos space marine. The round detonated, ripping apart the head of the unfortunate chaos space marine and dealing minor damage to the helmet containing the freshly pulped head. He leveled his pistol on an Iron Warrior wielding an autocannon but was too slow in pulling the trigger as several rounds from the gun ripped through his leg and gut. He yelled in pain but managed to remain standing long enough to shoot the Iron Warrior through the heart. His left leg gave out and he crashed to the ground. However, he did not let this stop him from fighting and he continued to fire at the Iron Warriors as the last of the serfs got into escape pods. Seven of the Power Marines had been killed while a similar number of Iron Warriors lay dead. The remaining five astartes continued their firefight while Warren cut his way through Iron Warriors. Soon, the room was clear of chaos space marines. One more marine had been gunned down, however. This brief respite was not to last, though, as a hulking chaos space marine in terminator armour barrelled through a doorway, bisecting a Power Marine with his massive two handed axe. Tragun fired at this new enemy but his rounds had no effect on the terminator armour and merely served to scratch the paint.

"Brothers, flee!" Warren yelled. Of the three other space marines, only two were able to carry out this order as the third was beheaded as it was given. They began to flee and one of them stopped by Tragun to help him up. Tragun leaned on his shoulder as they entered an escape pod. Once they were aboard, Tragun looked out the hatch. As he was about to call out to Warren, the captain's head was cleaved in two by the terminator. Tragun's words died on his lips and the hatch closed, the pod jettisoning before the terminator could pursue them. As the Hopeless Redoubt grew smaller and smaller as he stared out the window, Tragun slumped back in a seat and allowed himself the luxury of passing out from his injuries.


Warsmith Savanax examined the bodies around him. Iron Warriors, Power Marines and normal humans.

"Pathetic." He said, planting the head of his Axe of Khorne on the ground and resting his hands on the haft. Next to him lay the body of the captain he had just slain. This captain was quick and had managed to stab him through one of the weak points in his armour. Savanax respected that and wished he could have given the space marine a more glorious death befitting his prowess, but such was the way of war. He activated his vox caster.

"Dulenti, we have captured their ship. Come aboard when you can, you said you had a plan for it?" Savanax said.

"Absolutely, yes. A plan you might find amusing. I shall regale you with the details later, first I must speak with the Warpblazer and then I can join you."

"You won't be joining me, sorcerer. I'm going back to the Crucible of Blood. Do what you need to do." He said. The only response he got was the usual boot-licking he had come to expect from the sorcerer. As he turned off his vox in the middle of Dulenti's words, several more Iron Warriors entered the hall.

"Warsmith, we have combed the ship. Few of their number did not escape but we have killed those among that number. The ship is ours." A marine said.

"Good. I shall return to the Crucible of Blood. Do as the sorcerer instructs you when he comes. Iron Within, Iron Without." Savanax said.

"Iron Within, Iron Without." The chaos space marines echoed. Savanax hefted his axe and strode from the hall.