Despoiler-class Battleship Sword of Sacrilege, 5 957.999.M41
There were five. The Dark Eldar, the Tech-Priest, the Astartes, the Human, and the Primarch. An odd party, certainly, but they had no choice in the matter. All that mattered was that they navigated the maze of intricate pathways that spanned the interior of the Despoiler-class Battleship. As they carried along, Captain Lysander remained silent, though the millennial stared at the scarred stump where a hand was once connected to the body. "The fuck happened to you?"
Rogal Dorn winced at the thought of how he came to be incapacitated deep within the vessel. "It was... To me it was yesterday. I stormed onto the bridge of this traitorous vessel in the middle of what was being called the Black Crusade. That foulspawn, Ezekyle Abaddon, led a host of the damned Astartes who had pledged themselves to the service of Chaos at the behest of their Primarch - my former brother - Horus." Though his mouth was dry, a single drop of spit flew across the room from his lips, impaling itself into the wall before slowly crawling down.
"The Sword of Sacrilege was one of the leading vessels in the fleet of the Black Legion, the twisted remnants of what had once been the Luna Wolves. They were encircling near Subsector Coraeror, attempting to act as a vanguard to prevent Imperial forces from maneuvering further into their territory so we could reclaim the worlds in the name of the Emperor. We struck time and time again upon the vile hulk, each time attempting to distract it, to maneuver it into a position of vulnerability - they did not react as we intended."
"I alone chose to transport myself to the bridge of the vessel, to slaughter the damned and give them the Emperor's retribution. With chainsword and bolter in hand, I unleashed my righteous fury upon them, slaughtering all that I came across. None were innocent - all were heretics, mutated by the power of Chaos. They lived to be purged."
"After the bridge was cleared, an imposing, maleficent Marine staring at me, a smile on his face. His helmet had been modified, revealing glistening red eyes touched by the Warp and a barbed maw of fanged teeth. A tremendous iron horn stood out from the center of his helm, like a blade grown from within his skull. This was Devram Korda, he said to me, as he raised a vial to his lips - a vial filled with the life-essence of a dozen worlds. Such gave me a significant struggle, for though I am strong, he was nearly my equal in physical power. His daemon-infested blade matched with the sharp edges of my chainsword, teeth cutting into armor as my own found itself scarred by the vile blade."
"Soon, like the servant of Slaanesh he was, he began to let the pleasure of the battle overwhelm him. His maneuvers became less precise, his strikes less focused - which was when I used the opportunity to assail him, my blade at his throat, black ichor seeping from wounds to his armor. He was finished. But as I have learned the hard way, victory is rarely without tremendous cost."
"I felt a round of ammunition detonate within my back, and as I turned around, I spied him for the first time. There was no mistaking his identity - spikes impaling the skulls of guardsmen and Astartes littered the back of his armor, a bloodstained wolf-pelt draped over the rear of the suit of Cataphractii-pattern Terminator Armor. His hair was tied in the same fashion that all Sons of Horus had traditionally been, the Star of Chaos engraved upon his forehead. In his left hand, he held a blade, ever shifting shape as the faces of those slain by it appeared throughout the psychic metal. And mounted upon his right hand, smoke issuing from the barrels of the combi-bolter integrated within it, was the Talon of Horus, the very weapon used to slay my father and His son - my brother - Sanguinius."
"The Slaaneshi Astartes had been defeated. Loosely, he fell down to the floor as my grasp escaped his neck. As I turned towards the former Luna Wolf, I saw the depths of how Chaos had stained him, the power which the Ruinous Powers had granted him. My resolve was strengthened as I raised my blade, intending to strike his weapon and gain vengeance for the deaths within my family. But he was stronger. The vile claws of the daemonic weapon crunched around my hand, chainsword slipping from it as he wrenched further. What he spoke of as he amputated my limb, I know not - only that I soon fell to the ground, unable to halt the bleeding. When I had lost enough of my blood, I fell into a state of unconsciousess, preserving what little life I had left as my flesh worked to repair itself and ignore my wound."
Between that time and now, I found myself chained within the chair, not to be brought back to the realm of the truly living until the tech-priest sent a potent jolt of electricity through my body." He nodded respectfully towards her. "I thank you for your assistance." She gave him a quick glance before herself nodding at the Primarch in agreement.
Hurriedly they continued throughout the abominable warship, occasionally coming upon and combating a cluster of Chaos Space Marines that fell in short order thanks to the power of Rogal Dorn. Though his injury significantly impaired his combat capabilities, forcing Captain Lysander to have his relic bolter across his back to make sure that Chaos did not defile it, his skills with the mighty chain-weapon were still superb, the near-monomolecular edge of the reliquary blade cleaving through the flesh and ceramite of every fallen Astartes it touched. The millennial had just watched Reri bore open the skull of a fallen Black Legion member when he froze, immediately realizing the stupidity of what they were doing.
"Wait. Can't we just use the big guy's suit to teleport out?" The fact that neither he nor anyone else had thought of such a possibility previously was, to say the least, frustrating.
"If your vessel utilizes the same transporter system as it did many years ago when I was not lost, perhaps we can do something similar to how you arrived at my location - link to the teleport homer on board the Battle Barge and use the connection to ensure a safe transit for us all." Rogal Dorn did make quite a bit of sense despite still being not entirely together thanks to his tortured rest.
"It's better than nothing... I guess the lack of guardsmen'll decrease the chances of this blowing up in our faces." He placed his hand on the Primarch's shoulders. "Well... beam me up, Scotty." Reri grasped his other hand, Dalia linking herself with the Imperial Fist as he gently rested the hand of his Terminator armor upon the stump of his liege's left hand.
This would not go to plan.
Bridge, Despoiler-class Battleship Sword of Sacrilege, 5 958.999.M41
They were taken to the bridge... but not the bridge of the Spear of Vengeance, no. It was as though the Ruinous Powers themselves had redirected the teleport back on board the abominable wreck, leading them directly to the bridge of the Despoiler-class vessel.
On board the bridge were a coalescent horde of Slaaneshi Marines, all arrayed in a horrific combination of pinks, purples, and blacks. And there in the center, exactly as he had described, was Devram Korda, sitting within the vessel's command chair. He glowed with an inhuman aura, one that frightened the millennial inside, though externally he did his best to remain resolute.
"You escaped... my perfect little prize has finally managed to free himself from his pedestal... with help, I see." He sneered. "Guards, take them."
Though there was indeed a good amount of bolter fire, Korda seemed ignorant as his Marines were slashed, stabbed, and shot down. "This vessel and its crew have served the Despoiler loyally for the entirety of his time as Warmaster... Every Black Crusade, I have led the fleets to battle, and no servant of the Corpse-Emperor shall stop us now!"
"Black Crusa- Wait." The millennial paused. "How many Black Crusades have there been?"
"Thirteen... This is the most recent one." Captain Lysander interrupted before the Chaos Lord could utter even the slightest shred of a response.
"I'm guessing their goal's always been to get to Earth and take it over?"
"Yes..." Now the leading Chosen of Abaddon spoke up. "We shall conquer that accursed world and sacrifice its populace to the Dark Gods!"
"But you've tried to get to it thirteen times..."
"All of them have unfolded precisely as Lord Abaddon has foreseen, fool."
"So he knew they would end up failing?" To this, the twisted Luna Wolf said nothing. "Face it. You, your leader, and his army, are a bunch of fucking failures. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself for becoming the most laughable thing in this goddamn universe. You've been doing this shit for..." He turned to Captain Lysander. "How long?"
"Over ten millennia."
"...over ten thousand years, and yet you still can't get your shit done? And you have the fucking audacity to call yourself a 'Chosen of Abaddon?' I wouldn't even choose you to be my personal ass-wiper, because you ain't champion of shit, motherfucker. DO YOU FEEL ME, MATE? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH OF A WASTE OF FLESH YOU ARE?" He began to yell, the gears having begun to turn ruthlessly. "YOUR FLESH WOULD BE BETTER OFF GETTING FUCKING RECYCLED INTO FOOD FOR POOR PEOPLE THAN BEING WASTED GETTING TURNED INTO A SUPER SOLDIER!"
The Chaos Lord said nothing - nothing at all. His exposed lips soon turned to a grim smile as he unveiled a vial that widened Rogal Dorn's eyes, the Primarch rushing forward even as it was already half-drunk, knocking it from the man's hands as it shattered on the floor of the bridge. It was not true invincibility, but it was a sort of tremendous power - enough that he began to grapple with the Primarch, forcing the injured son of the Emperor back with a strike from the pommel of Korda's corrupted power sword to his head.
The millennial attempted to strike the mad warrior with his Power Maul, though he only succeeded in impacting the floor and creating a tremendous dent in it. Reri intentionally stayed away from the potent source of Slaaneshi power, disgusted by the very existence of such a corrupt foe as Dalia sent a quick pulse of electricity through his flesh that only seemed to return to her, sending her reeling back. Taking up the relic bolter of his Primarch, Captain Lysander began to fire upon the mutated Astartes with minimal results - his armor refused to wear down from the impacts.
Once more, Dorn found himself ailing. That he had but a single hand to the twin grasps of the Chaos Marine engaging him meant he was unable to fully block the fiend's strikes. But as the Primarch fell back, the millennial made a bold move - he lept onto Korda's back and began to tug at his helmet, attempting to remove the great iron horn that jutted abominably from the Chosen's head. Lysander himself wrapped his arms around Korda's body and began to pull, the helmet feeling looser and looser... until it popped off, along with a good portion of the Champion's facial flesh. Blood flowed from rended skin as he growled, a slash from his foul blade tearing open a rift into the Warp. Screams of damnation filled the bridge as he attempted to give the daemons he had made pacts with an opportunity to enter the Materium and slay servants of the Anathema.
But that opportunity never came. The vessel shuddered under the initial bombardment by the Battle Barge, the final stage of scrapping soon underway. The other Fists had not encountered difficulties and had already returned to their vessel - it was time for them to finally go home, back where they belonged. Grabbing onto the broken aquila that had once been Rogal Dorn's iron halo, holding the bloodied helmet of the Chaos Space Marine in his spare hand, he smiled as the teleporter was once again activated, the bombardment having finally killed any attempt by the ship to alter the instantaneous travel of the party. Grasping at his face, feeling the blood in his hands, Devram Korda laughed as the bridge crumbled around him. Whether the rift he opened was his path of escape, or whether he was killed, no one knew. All they did know was that the Imperial Fists had gained vengeance this day for ten thousand years of walking the lonesome road of penance. As for the millennial...
Well, he had a new trophy to add to the collection.