The Nameless was running for several minutes now before he got a good distance away from the village. He was both deeply intrigued and more than a little concerned. The prospect of humanity outside the Imperium wasn't something that happened on an average solar Tuesday. He had heard stories of the glorious Great Crusade, but those days were long over. So the prospect of more non-Imperial human worlds was a bit of a shock to the hero of the Aurelian Subsector. Nevertheless, the Marine took a seat, closed his eyes, and took a moment to breathe. A gaze at the skies, and the Nameless' thoughts wandered to how his battle brothers were doing back on Calderis...

"The Commander's Warp signature is far from absent, brothers."

Librarian Jonah Orion folded his arms. They were back on the Retribution. The mighty Strike Cruiser had seen much action during the Second and Third Aurelian crusades. And as of right now, Servitors darted from place to place, aiding the Librarian in his efforts to find the Commander. Techmarine Martellus was on a console, tapping away.
"Jonah. I can confirm that the Commander is alive. His armor's machine spirit is still functional. The life-hymn of the machine spirit indicates it is still active."

"And of its location?"
"Nonfunctional."

Orion cursed under his breath. They were tauntingly close to finding where the Sorcerer's death throes had taken the Nameless, but fate seemed to twist it away ever single time. And on top of that, the Warp had been frustratingly unclear on where the Nameless was. In a way, this was worse that if the Nameless had simply died. Him being alive spoke of false hope, and the Blood Ravens still had no idea where he even was. The Blood Ravens do not leave their own behind, but this was proving to be a difficult search. In the distance was a Chaplain tempering the Assault Sergeant Thaddeus's temper at the loss of the Force Commander. Tactical Sergeant Tarkus and Scout Sergeant Cyrus were by Martellus, noting which parts of the galaxy had been ruled out and which parts seemed promising. And in the Retribution's chapel rested the Venerable Ancient Davian Thule.

The Nameless was going to have to come up with a plan if he wanted to get back home.

The Nameless was taking a minute to mull over what he had encountered. The first thing was that this must be a human settlement not touched by the Imperium, a rarity. The other thing was that this planet was host to foes to humanity not one Imperium citizen had seen before. Not even the Deathwatch, nor any Space Marine chapter. As the marine silently walked on off into the distance, eager to finally get out of this forest, a truck engine caught his attention. Large, promethium-guzzling beasts. And a very ripe target for Ork looters... had they been there. More likely than not these were likely convoy trucks packed with supplies. Meaningless.

Still, worth a look. The Nameless, raising an eyebrow, headed off towards the sound of engines. Perhaps they could direct him to a more civilized spot on this planet. A quick self check, a jog towards the sound of engines, and the space marine was off. And as fate would have it, luck would continue to spit in the face of the Nameless. The Nameless's helmet was picking something up amidst the sound of engines.

The snarling of more of these creatures from earlier. And gunfire.

The Nameless had a grand total of one word to summarize his current thoughts at the moment.

"Shit."

A jog turned into a full blown sprint. He needed to get to those trucks, now.

What the driver at the head of the convoy expected were Grimm. They tended to haunt this part of the road, and usually they could be driven off with a fair amount of firepower directed their way. It was usually Beowulves or Boarbatusks, and every once in a while there was an Ursa. And in this case, it was an ugly combo of all three. An Ursa Minor was striding through the brush with a pack of Beowulves and Boarbatusks.

Needless to say, the convoy was flooring it as fast as possible. It wasn't looking pretty. The Grimm were preparing to cut the convoy off at the front, and from how things were going, it was probably going to happen.

However, what the driver at the head of the convoy did NOT expect was for one of the Boarbatusks to suddenly be lifted in the air, squealing, before it fell back down with a ferocious amount of force on another Boarbatusk with enough force to destroy both. No... it did not just fall. It was thrown. Picked up by something in the distance... something that towered over the Grimm in their midst. Something red and metal. Whether it was some highly advanced war machine or a benevolent spirit remained to be seen. The Ursa Minor swung right at the figure, and merely moved the marine to the left for one inch. The Nameless turned around, grabbed it by the shoulder, and in one clean strike, put a fist straight through the thing's head.

In that moment, both the Boarbatusks and the Beowulves went right at it, charging at the odd red figure, only for some to go down to the guards recovering from their shock and opening fire on the Grimm. To make the creatures' life worse, the figure stood back and pulled a rather huge two-handed war hammer off his back, before slamming it right into the ground. The charging Grimm that remained were hit with the force of a grenade and went flying into the air, never to move again.

The figure silently turned to the convoy, and slowly headed back into the brush, seemingly back to where he came from.

Or so, the drivers thought. As a matter of fact, the moment the space marine "left" he immediately hit the ground behind the brush, silently scanning where the convoy was going. As the trucks slowly took back off, the Nameless waited for the last truck to get moving before carefully tailing the vehicles. Where they were going, at the very least it promised civilization and perhaps an answer for how get back home.