They chased the vessel to edge of the solar system, the vessel being able to outrun all but the Resculant and that it could destroy if it extended itself to far.
The vessel was easily strong enough to be the flagship of a small task force by Confederate standards but encounters with the Lunar Class Cruisers put this ship in a presumably light cruiser role by this sector standards, but a battlecruiser by Confederate standards. It was fast, speeding to a point towards the end of the system, having turned tail and fled from the massed confederate navy.
"Admiral, the enemy ship is slowing its flight, and energy readouts show a significant spike in its aft."
"Begin fire from the spinal mounts while we bring ourselves into range with the primary turbolaser batteries."
A swirling purple energy appeared before the enemy ship and had they been closer to the enemy vessel, that gaping portal would've pulled them inside. It seemed to stretch into the other place before disappearing.
A swirling mass slowly dissipated as the wound in reality closed.
...
On board the light cruiser, the First Acolyte marched to the command deck, deeply buried in the hull of the ship. Unaugmented humans moved out of the way of the Astartes, of the tens of thousands aboard the ship these were the blessed few that were gifted enough to be of use to their masters. Managing the various systems aboard the ship and keeping it running.
Armed slaves were present, equipped in armor and armed with autoguns, this group was a cut above the normal rabble, serving as lieutenants between the blessed sons of Lorgar and the masses of the faithful.
Phlegethon took his seat in the command throne and felt the bound daemon guiding the vessel through the warps tides towards a gathering of the Host. He had completed a mission that had spanned a decade and messages had reached him of the Dark Apostle's summons of the host for an assault upon the Imperium.
Weeks passed and then they arrived, and the light cruiser was immediately dwarfed by the battleship that made up the center of the fleet, the Despoiler class battleship Wrath of the Dark Gods.
Flanking the warship was a Repulsive grand cruiser and a pair of Murder class cruisers. Three squadrons of various escorts held anchor around the greater warships. There thronged millions of those sworn to the Ruinous powers, and that was discounting many of the captured freighters and bulk carriers that carried numberless throngs of slaves, cultists and other more mutant creatures.
The immensity of the fleet was staggering, this force was marshalling to devastate a swath of Imperial sectors in the wake of the Cicatrix Maledictum, the rest of the host that the Dark Apostle commanded was enroute.
The Hellbringer cruiser came into docking range of the battleship and they were conveyed to the flagship.
If the Hellbringer had been a devoted church to the Dark Powers than the Astaroth was cathedral soaked in their majesty. This was the majority of the Anointed made their residence, alongside many of the Gal Vorbak. Countless chaos space marines were stationed inside the immense vessel. It was by far the greatest peril to any force that opposed Chaos in the Sector.
Phlegethon made his way escorted by those who had survived his mission in sufficient shape to be presentable before their lord.
In one of the battleship's grand chambers is where they stopped.
Forty brothers stood at attention, flames from wall sconces cast flickering shadows across the room. Ten brothers of the Gal Vorbak stood in between the Dark Apostle and the rest of the host. Beside them were those Chosen by the lord to act as his word throughout the fleet, each one a lieutenant of dread and dark power.
This display wasn't for Phlegethon, for Adramalech held no doubts about his loyalty. Next to him was the towering form of the Coryphaus, Vrykolakas. Encased in Cataphracti armor he was a giant, towering over Tol Bedar in his Indominus plate.
"You were met with success, First Acolyte?"
In response Phlegethon knelt to one knee and held aloft the iron and brass collar. The Gal Vorbak recoiled from it and he watched as the Dark Apostle took a step forwards, he eyes widening staring at the relic.
The flames in the wall scones roared in response as something inside the collar stirred, something vast and ancient and even as the flames soared to hit the ceiling the room dimmed and a palpable darkness touched everyone in the room.
A volcanic roar filled Phlegethon's ears and a chant in a tongue that filled his head with images even one such as him couldn't quite grasp. But he could grasp something, the Daemon in his blade recoiled from this presence, shrinking deep into blade.
Whatever this thing was, it was beyond understanding and impossibly old. It was the Dark Apostle who recovered first. Rising to his feet, he slammed his Crozius into the ground, dark flames surging up around him, and a series of runes glowing along it, invocations of the Blood God's scorn for sorcery. A wave rippled from around him and those stricken by the dark power rose back to their feet.
"You have done well First Acolyte, bring it with you, … it has exceeded even the wildest tales."
He beckoned and left for his own chambers, situated near to the core of the immense vessel.
Only the Coryphaeus accompanied them into that chamber, only he would be permitted to hear this discussion.
"Lord, what is your will?"
The Dark Apostle's face was alway hard to read, his control over himself was absolute. They were faced with the ancient power that he had sought yet Phlegethon could sense the uncertainty in his master's actions.
"Tell me of the Imperial World you claimed the relic from."
"It wasn't Imperial, they had already been overrun by a form of metal Xenos, numerous but easily dispatched. They have naval forces, of unknown capacity."
"An afterthought, but we will deal with them soon enough. Those filthy xenos did us a service in clearing the road."
…
Fevered efforts in the bowels of the great flagship Wrath of the Dark Gods, saw daemons summoned and caged within iron shells. Maulerfiends lashed to life, rising from the deck plating aminds the corpses of countless sacrificed slaves, whose blood had been the pathway to the material world.
Phlegethon watched as the Warpsmith carried out his work, his acolytes working in concert to bring a daemon into the shell of a Defiler. These mighty engines were key to many of their conquests, where they would be released in mass to ravage enemy war machines and defenses.
Nearby on a wall, were dozens of Hellbrutes chained and shackled to ensure that their madness did not rip the nightmare forge asunder. Across from them was one of the greater engines, motionless without a mighty daemon to give it life.
"Warp Smith!" Phlegethon roared into the cacophony of the forge. He had willing given his services to this host after a lord period of servitude to a World Eater warband.
The warpsmith turned, the many tendrils of metal which held the implements of his trade flaring.
They were considered of equal station but by all others standards Phlegethon stood higher than the warpsmith.
"How soon can you ready the needed engines so we can assault the Imperial strongholds?"
The Warp smith gestured raising one arm to point at the immense metal body across from the Hellbrutes.
"When your master calls forth the demons needed to power this and the rest of the greater daemon engines we will be ready. I personally acquired a cohort of Decimator engines and they are awaiting release."
He was impressed, the immense stockpile of war material present here showed a mere fraction of the strength of his master. Power that might one day belong to him.
"As for the unblessed engines?"
"Enough tanks to equip and support the rabble? Yes we have enough and even several companies of Baneblades and variants captured during a raid on an Imperial arms shipment."
There was a long pause as the Warp smith shared a long list of the weapons and equipment that was in their armory.
"This gathering of strength, countless hordes what could be our intended target?" Phlegethon thought.
Reports have been cycling through the upper echelons of the host of a spearhead of the Indomitus Crusade sweeping towards this sector, currently sweeping through several lesser Warbands that had been ravaging nearby space for about forty years.
They would bring a glorious war against the enemy of the True Powers, and no act quite celebrated their glory like war did. Soon exuberante cries would sound forth numbers praises to Them.
Let the machines go about their business, chaos would come for them soon enough.
