So, due to the immense popularity of this story, I've decided to write another chapter before continuing on Custodian. I'd like a lot of feedback on this chapter, if you all would not mind.

Vandius fired the sniper rifle again, and across the burning plain, a screaming, frothing cultist died, his skull blown apart. The scout-sergeant had long cease to count how many he had shot, but it was nowhere near enough. He had been firing for almost an hour, stopping only when the barrel began to overheat, but the Chaos hordes seemed undiminished. His shoulder ached from the stock smashing it dozens of times.

Occasionally, the wind storm would break and Vandius would get a better look at the mass of Traitor Marines, cultists and mutants and each time, Vandius would curse and renew his prayers to the Emperor. The four tribesmen had managed to pile together a rough and crude barricade, and now lay behind it, watching the skies, waiting for what they called, 'Bringers of Death.' Vandius assumed they meant Raptors. Those bastards, he cursed.

Vandius slapped in another box-magazine and resumed his firing. The barrel was so hot, it burned his hands, but he did not notice. A target had stomped out of the sand-storm and whatever it was; it had caught his complete attention. It was about fifteen-hundred meters out, about in the center of the swirling mass of the Chaos attack.

The…thing… was roughly six meters tall, taller than the tallest Marine and armored in the most baroque power-armor Vandius had even seen. Black wings, like a giant bat, sprouted from its back and skulls and spikes adorned every surface. Skulls of men hung from its waist by chains and it carried a massive black sword that drank from the light. Vandius increased the magnification on the scope and almost retched. Thick purple-blue veins stood out of its armor like cables and Vandius realized that the armor was part of its body, even the chest-plate moved with the things breathing.

"Brother-Apothecary, you need to see this!" Shouted Vandius over the howling wind, trying to make his voice carry far enough to reach the Apothecaries position, forty meters away, handing more munitions to his bodyguard.

The Apothecary hurried over to Vandius's position, his head bent against the wind, ash still coated all over his armor.

"What is it, Vandius?"

"See for yourself, Apothecary." Vandius handed the sniper rifle to Servenus and pointed towards the monstrosity.

The Apothecary carefully raised the rifle to his shoulder and stared into the scope for a long moment, the barrel slowly moving, indicating he was trying to get visual lock. The barrel stopped suddenly and held immobile for minutes. Finally, just as Vandius was starting to get worried, Servenus spoke, his voice harsh.

"It is a Daemon-Prince."

"I do not remember that in any briefings, Apothecary. You will have to explain it to me."

"Only on the condition that after this mission, you will subject yourself to ritual-cleansing, for any knowledge about this topic is strictly forbidden."

"Of course, Apothecary." Vandius looked back over the plain. He could easily see the thing now, but no one was in firing range yet.

"When a Champion of the foul Chaos gods earns enough power and recognition, they are given gifts, usually daemonic in nature. The mightiest of Champions have numerous of these gifts, and they are called Daemon-Princes."

"Emperor help us." Vandius muttered, retrieving his rifle and settling back into his firing position, as Servenus walked away, saying, "Emperor help us indeed."

Vandius carefully targeted the Prince, settling the cross-hairs on the behemoths neck, figuring to distract with a brutal wound, then follow through with a shot to the head and chest. Vandius squeezed the trigger and the rifle bucked. Across the plain, the bullet struck something, mere centimeters from the Daemon-Princes neck. Something rippled, like water hit with a pebble, across the Princes body. Some kind of force-field, cursed Vandius, killing the Daemon-Prince would have been a major blow to the Chaos forces.

However, the shot did not go unnoticed. A piercing cry that chilled Vandius to the bone came from the thick cloud cover above them. The tribesmen next to the scout-sergeant began to chant their war-cries. The Raptors had finally come.

Vandius barely had time to stand, draw his chainsword and pistol and brace himself when the Raptors emerged, in a great black flock, all baroque armor, weapons and malice. There were at least forty, at least more.

The four tribesmen had already opened fire; their auto guns pointed almost vertically, spent casings flying. Vandius added his bolt pistols fire to that, and in the ten seconds it took for the Raptors to land among them, the combined fire brought down three.

Vandius blocked a chop with his squealing chainsword, sending metal teeth flying and rammed his bolt pistol in the Raptors stomach and clamped his finger on the trigger, blowing the guts out of the Chaos bastard.

The scout couldn't see any of the tribesmen and assumed they were all dead and that he was on his own until Servenus came to his aid. Vandius spun and slashed the legs of a Raptor that had its back to him, cutting through the thinner armor on the back of the knees and sending the Raptor to the ground.

"Apothecary!" screamed Vandius over the cackles and taunts of the Raptors, who had taken off, circling the lone scout. The four tribesmen were indeed dead, but had managed to slay two of the Raptors. Seven of them were down.

Vandius could see Servenus running towards him, unseen by the Raptors. His power fist was on and crackling and his golden bolt pistol was out. The Raptors were only two or three meters off the ground and Servenus jumped just a little, so he could strike from above. The power fist did not so much as kill, rather it pulped. The first Raptor did not even see the blow coming. With a crack like thunder, the fist struck the Raptor on the back of the head and traveled down, shattering the upper portions of the Raptors chest and back plate, liquefying the upper organs in a sizzle.

Vandius took the Raptors momentary confusion to resume his attack, before they could shoot him down. Except one did, aiming at his knee. The bolt penetrated the scout's weaker armor and blew out his knee, pitching him to the ground, to land face first in the sand.

The scout rolled, ignoring the pain in his leg and tried to free his sword from the thick sand as a Raptor swooped down upon him…


Cliff hanger! I leave you all to think about what happens for a while.