Slayer's Vengeance

by Jago-Dakari

A meeting between a yautja huntress and a human marine turned vengefull slayer will shake the very foundation of both races in this story of adventure, love and loss.

24. Chapter 23

HEY ALL!

I am so sorry for making you all wait but things have been rough lately. first and foremost, when making some space on my USB for the holiday, I had... accidentally erased my work. I was so bloody frustrated but luckily I had a copy that I was able to work from. but I managed to get back to where I was and proceeded further by the time my holiday ended.

Also, this is the longest chapter by far as more and more ideas just kept popping in. among them are new plotlines that you may have already picked up and there are a few references to other things that had inspired me. Points, and maybe a future inclusion into the story to those who can get the references. If so, then please PM me rather than use the review box, along with the customary update status posts.

And, there are a few surprises in store. I will be posting the beta'd version on a later date.

so without further due, read away!

---

Chapter 23- The forgotten betrayal.

When Alaric finally regained consciousness, and the pain was reduced to a mild throbbing, he saw as soon as his vision returned that he was once again in the all enveloping haze. But he was not floating as he had been before. In fact he was laying on what appeared to be solid ground that was indistinguishable from the haze that surrounded him. It was almost like the floor was made of frosted glass.

He also found that he was still wearing the armour and the corinthian helmet was where he had dropped it. Alaric sat himself up and looked around; patting himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating again. As far as he could tell he was real. However, when he patted his chest, he found that Razeal in its holster was no longer there. In fact, when he patted his hips, back and belt none of the weapons, be it his axes or spartan blades, were there.

Alaric started looking around his feet, searching his precious heirlooms, thinking they may have come loose when he lost consciousness and ended up on the ground. He could not find them anywhere.

Alaric now felt very vulnerable.

"Don't worry." Gri'nyr's voice echoed all around. "No harm can get you here. You are perfectly safe".

Alaric swiftly got to his feet, grabbing the helmet for an impromptu cudgel before looking around and trying to pin point where Gri'nyr might be.

"Where have you brought me?" Alaric demanded, darting his head from side to side and rotating his stance. "Where am I?!"

"Isn't obvious?" Gri'nyr stated, his voice echoing around. "You've been here many times. We're inside your head. In the deepest recesses of your mind to be exact."

Gri'nyr suddenly materialised right behind Alaric, his head level with his ear.

"And my, is it cloudy." He remarked right in Alaric's ear.

Alaric nearly jumped at that sudden speech right in his ear. Instead, he straightened up and turned to Gri'nyr who had now stood up to full height. Alaric raised a hand and gave Gri'nyr an cautionary poke. His hand went through Gri'nyr, the yautja's form like the haze.

"You're a ghost again?" Alaric asked apprehensively.

Gri'nyr responded with a poke of his own and this time his hand went through Alaric as a ghost would.

"If I choose to." Gri'nyr stated, repeating the motion and this time Alaric felt it. "And more so here."

Gri'nyr stepped back.

"This is most perplexing." Gri'nyr said, gesturing to the mist around them. "You really have no knowledge about your past."

"My past is in this tome." Alaric corrected, pointing to the tome in it's pouch.

"That's only the surface. Disguised to hide the truth." Gri'nyr corrected in turn.

"Have you ever wondered about your dreams?" Gri'nyr questioned. "Why they feel so... real, yet sometimes so... unfamiliar?"

Gri'nyr could see from Alaric's silence that Alaric was indeed familiar with what Gri'nyr was implying. And he could see that the dreams had Alaric pondering about his own self throughout his life.

"Yes." Alaric finally admitted.

Gri'nyr simply bowed his head in understanding.

"As we are of our progenitor's blood, the memories of our ancestors sometimes emerge to the younger generations as cryptic dreams." Gri'nyr explained, raising a hand to his head, his fingers rapping against the masterly forged metal. "It's just a matter of knowing where to find them to know what they mean."

Gri'nyr started to gently recite a litany and his gauntlet started to glow. Symbols of various kinds started to gently arc around his hand. When a specific series of symbols were manifested, they all moved as one back into the gauntlet.

Gri'nyr finished chanting before motioning his hand away from his masked head and Alaric could see a faintly glowing blue flame seeping from the yautja's head, drawing a glowing arc with embers drifting as Gri'nyr brought the flame to Alaric. The flame swirled and burned brighter as Gri'nyr tenderly cradled and motioned the fire in his hands in the manner of handling a small animal, the flames licking against his armoured fingers.

"There we are." Gri'nyr said contently as the flame burned into pure light.

He raised his hand up high and the flame erupted into a magnificent firestorm that encircled all around them. Alaric tightened his grip on his helmet, it's crest and his cloak waving in the wind created by the flames, shielding his eyes from the intense light. Gri'nyr's robes billowed also as his armour glowed.

As the flames burned around, the haze evaporated and from what Alaric could see, the sight of stone walls and intricate carvings was revealed. He was being brought back to the temple.

And then the haze dissipated completely.

"Welcome to my final hours." Gri'nyr introduced. "My last memories of life."

Alaric looked around, getting a good view of the surroundings. It would appear that a stone hall had materialised around him, ornately decorated with the same level of craftsmanship as seen before. But everything seemed dull and lifeless. Alaric turned back to Gri'nyr but, at this point and not even surprising; he was nowhere to be seen. Gri'nyr had vanished once again.

"Where have you gone this time?" Alaric questioned.

That was when he saw Gri'nyr standing next to a stone wall ahead of him. And this time, much to Alaric's surprise, he was holding his scythe on his shoulder and Alaric's axes on his back and hips.

"There you are." Alaric said walking up and going right up to Gri'nyr. "Why have you brought me back here?"

Gri'nyr wasn't responding to Alaric. In fact when Alaric stood directly in front and gave him a poke, his hand just went through Gri'nyr. Gi'nyr wasn't moving an inch. He was just standing as still as a statue.

"Hello?" Alaric said, snapping his fingers. "Anybody home?"

Gri'nyr still wasn't responding. That was until Alaric heard him speak. But not from the intended direction.

"Quite a likeness, isn't it?" Gri'nyr's voice said, from right behind Alaric.

Alaric looked behind him and he almost jumped when he saw Gri'nyr standing right there. He then darted his head between both Gri'nyrs. Gri'nyr walked up to his doppelganger and ran his hand just off the scythe in reverence.

"Our progenitor's scythe is quite a sight isn't it?" Gri'nyr stated with a hint of remorse. "It's a shame it's no longer with us."

Alaric looked back to the Gri'nyr with the scythe.

"This isn't like... those visions?" Alaric asked, pointing at the armed Gri'nyr.

"No, these are far clearer. Not the imprints you have been seeing." Gri'nyr explained. "These are my memories. It will be like you're in my boots, so to speak."

At that point, Alaric felt himself suddenly lifted off his feet and was motioned back from the apparition of Gri'nyr, back to where he was before. Gri'nyr appeared in front of him, fading into view like morning mist.

"I advise you to stay put for this." Gri'nyr advised before his armour glowed and the aura flared into life, forming the wings of flame as Alaric had seen before. "The view is better."

The surroundings at that point were starting to flicker into life, colour surging into them and now appearing more lifelike.

"Now, watch and learn." Gri'nyr ended fading into nothingness.

At that point, other figures suddenly materialised in a wave of life, fully coloured and not hazy in the slightest and Alaric soon found himself viewing a scene as if he was actually there in person.

---

Gri'nyr was standing with his brothers, his scythe resting against his shoulder and it's blade shining. Kas'tigyr was busy doing a slow practice of manoeuvres, similar to the art of Tai Chi, his gauntlets glowing and leaving a pattern of energy streams behind. Tse'los was cross legged on the floor tending to his crows beak, running a polishing stone along the blade's edge. Sitting next to Tse'los was Eitri polishing his hammer, his helmet off and his long beard and shoulder length braids, thick and studded with geometric jewellery, resting down.

There were seven yautja warriors, each of whom were meditating and whispering litanies, their myriad weaponry on their backs and hips. There were also eight dwarves, three of whom were armed with gauss rifles, who were busy binge drinking from their tankards, grooming their beards of varying lengths or playing with dice. And there was ten spartans who were occupying themselves either by exercising, practising spear thrusts or polishing their shields.

Gri'nyr was looking somewhat anxious, and also concerned. He was also pacing up and down, anticipating something bad was going to happen. His brothers were noticing his state of mind.

"Gri'nyr, what is it?" Kas'tigyr asked, sweeping a fist before blocking. "You've been edgy for a while."

Gri'nyr gripped the scythe tightly in his hands before lightening his grasp.

"My sons haven't reported in." Gri'ny answered.

"I'm sure they're fine." Eitri assured, pausing his work and eyeing the shine on the hammer's head. "You trained them after all."

"And they pleaded to see the Primarch in the flesh." Tse'los added, checking his crows beak's edge before resuming his treatment. "Something they wanted to see since we told them stories about our exploits."

Gri'nyr grasped the scythe and motioned it around, the blade's decorations glowing in the wind.

"Still they shouldn't have gone to face the primarch without us." Gri'nyr said. "Especially with... Her."

"With the Stone in her possession and her powers at her will, that primarch is as good as dead." Kas'tigyr assured. "And not even the Hive Mind will save it. We're here in case anything goes wrong, which it won't. Hell, we had little trouble forcing it and even one of it's kin into the vault."

"I know that, but you know what she is like about them." Gri'nyr sighed, rubbing his masked face.

He turned to Tse'los who was finishing up his ministrations.

"Any contact with Xhel'khala yet?" he asked, almost half-heartedly.

"Not a thing." Tse'los shrugged, continuing to run the stone along the crows beak. "We have not received any word on their arrival or if they made planetfall. I had sent a scouting party to try and find them but they have found nothing yet."

Kas'tigyr laughed loudly and sharply stopped his practice, his dreadlocks unfurling from his neck and prompting some of his fellow yautja to raise a head. The dwarves didn't even pause their binge drinking from it.

"Find them?" he questioned, re-wrapping his dreadlocks before growling. "Pah! If those bastards don't want to be found then they won't be found. Hiding is the only thing they can do well. That and dishonourable back stabbing if they get the chance"

Eitri reached for his belt, balancing his hammer on one knee. He pocketed the cloth into a metal tube before grabbing his pipe and placing it on top of his hammer before reaching down again.

"There you go again with the disdain about them." Eitri said, fumbling about in another pouch. "What's your grudge against them anyway?"

Gri'nyr and his brothers looked at each other as if the question didn't need answering. The yautja warriors shook their heads in contempt and the Spartans and a few dwarves banged their shields or tankards at the mention.

It was evident that they held their rivals in very low opinion. And it wasn't in the sense of superiority over inferiors.

"What's not to grudge against them?" Gri'nyr corrected. "That's the proper question."

Tse'los stopped running the stone before thumbing the blade, keeping his eyes level with the blade.

"Our clan's relationship with them goes back to before the Founding." Tse'los explained, putting the stone into a pouch. "And suffice to say, our clans have been at each other's throats since that time." He lowered his weapon. "Think of us as complete opposites."

"They seem to think that the Yautja are the master race of all things. Always have, always will and nothing to deter them from that belief." Kas'tigyr explained before hammering his fist on his head making a dull chorus of thuds. "They have that belief hammered into their heads before they can walk."

The yautja around them snickered in confirmation. Eitri at this point finally found a bunch of tobacco and went about stuffing it into his pipe.

"They're that bad?" Eitri asked, striking a match and lighting his pipe.

Gri;nyr rested against the stone wall.

"In their narrow minded opinion, there are only two races in this galaxy: Yautja and everything else below them." Gri'nyr explained. "Anything not fit enough for enslavement or has outlived its usefulness is killed. And slaves to them are lower than dirt."

He then chuckled as he leaned on his scythes haft. Eitri puffed on his pipe, smoke seeping through his beard as he tossed the spent match.

"Despite their delusions of superiority, they hardly put up a decent fight." he continued. "They only attack when they have numbers on their side, just swarming the enemy with quantity over quality." He then went about shuffling his feet in a submissive manner. "If it wasn't for them grovelling so much to the Council, begging for resources or planets, they would not have survived into this age."

He then laughed, ceasing his submissive expression as he remembered something.

"Do you remember the one time they had thought that they had defeated a hive using, in a rather ironic manner, living-wave tactics and, more predictably, they celebrated too soon?" he asked around.

His brothers, every yautja and even a few Spartans and dwarves either shook their heads in pity at them or just outright laughed. Eitri, who obviously wasn't present for that incident or heard it happen from others, puffed on his pipe.

"An early celebration is just asking for defeat." A dwarf mumbled, rolling his dice before cursing in dwarfish when the roll ended up bad. "Case and point." He added, grudgingly handing a few coins to his opponent.

"Asking? They practically opened up their arms and shouted 'Let us have it!'." Kas'tigyr exclaimed, waving his arms out in demonstration.

He them pretended to get impaled on a xenomorph's tail before dying on the floor in an overly dramatic manner, much to the amusement of the others.

"But anyway, what happened was that they gorged themselves into a drunken stupor, with plenty of slaves, male or female, for the more carnal activities." Gri'nyr continued as his brother got back on his feet. "That primarch hadn't been entirely defeated; it was merely gauging their ability to fight. It's kin came back in the dead of night, in even greater numbers in an act of supreme irony and killed or consumed those idiots while they were face down in the dirt drunk."

Everyone gave out a loud exclamation of ironic exclamation, added with a few short laughs. Eitri was rubbing his eyes, obscured in pipe smoke as he sighed.

"What a complete and utter failure." Eitri said.

"And we had our work cut out for us cleaning up that mess." Tse'los added before he gave a light chuckle. "Mind you, the primarchs didn't bother trying to consume them next time. And I don't blame them."

"And the humiliation that they suffered from the other clans was just stupendous." Kas'tigyr added, sounding all giddy. "It was some time before they their stuck their heads out again." The giddiness was then replaced with disgust. "And then they take their frustrations out on something else they know they can beat."

"Ah, their complete lack of respect for life." Gri'nyr concluded, equally disgusted. "Hunting anything that couldn't defend themselves."

Eitri lowered his pipe. It would appear that this characteristic registered in his mind. In fact, Eitri had heard of a similar incident. One that all the dwarves knew.

"You mean they're the ones who..." he started before he got his answer.

"The very ones." Another dwarf, older with a metal grey beard, confirmed. 'The bastards who hunted everything on Karaz Kragmar."

The dwarves bowed their heads on the mention of the planet's name.

Karaz Kragmar was the name for a dwarf colony on the outskirts of their territory, cut off from the rest of dwarf space by the primarchs' invasion. Despite surviving multiple attacks, contact with the colony was suddenly lost. A supply fleet was quickly dispatched after the primarchs were driven back to reinforce the colony, only to find a ruined world to greet them.

And not by the hands of the Primarchs.

It had since been confirmed that the colony was razed to the ground by Xel'khala, who had taken advantage of its weakened state and the surviving inhabitants were quickly enslaved or killed. At any rate, there was not one dwarf left. And the majority of the planets ecology was hunted to near extinction, leaving only a barely inhabited world left.

The Dwarves had led a brief but very bloody campaign against them in retaliation, gaining back the technology stolen from them and the few survivors that had not been worked or abused to death.

"There was the time we had to, grudgingly and by order of the Council, give them a world, one which we had bled much to protect, in exchange for their support." Gri'nyr recollected. "They had the most warriors for the war; I'd like to make that clear."

He turned to the yautja, who all had an aura of disgust emanating from them from what they were hearing.

"And what did they do?" Gri'nyr questioned. "What did they do the moment they got their filthy claws on that world?"

The answers came quickly and without hesitation.

"Something completely unforgivable." One of the yautja said.

"A violation." Another stated.

"Genocide." A third added.

Gri'nyr turned back to Eitri.

"They hunted and killed every living thing on that planet." He revealed. "They even had the audacity to try and poach one of our sanctuary worlds where we house life nearly consumed by the primarchs. But, they paid the price."

He turned to Kas'tigyr.

"Kas'tigyr saw to that, didn't you?" he reminded.

Kas'tigyr chuckled as he remembered that day, counting his fingers.

"Fifty against one?" he quipped before giving a loud laugh. "Hardly a challenge at all. Honestly, one of my daughters could take them with one hand behind her back."

He then huffed, making his robes billow.

"And all the while they claim that it is nature's law. Kill off the weak so that the strong survive." He continued, waving his hand in a condescending manner.

"And if that was case, they would've been killed off long ago." A yautja warrior with a massive sickle sword known as a Khopesh on his lap stated. "Fucking hypocritical bastards!"

"Those who prey on the weak are weak themselves." Tse'los quoted with reverence. "Grandfather taught us that."

"And a just saying it is." Kas'tigyr praised.

Gri'nyr at that point suddenly held his head and grunted in what was perceived to be discomfort. It would appear that he was suddenly suffering from a migraine. It was enough for him to slightly buckle and use the scythe as a stave to hold him up as he slumped against the stone wall.

His brothers and their fellow warriors watched in anticipation of the sudden discomfort their leader was going through. Eitri stopped puffing on his pipe. This was no migraine that Gri'nyr was suffering.

"Progenitor's soul!" Kas'tigyr said in realisation.

Gri'nyr at that point regained his balance.

"We have to go!" Gri'nyr shouted, heaving himself off the wall. "We have to go now!"

He immediately ran off down the stone corridor, hefting the scythe onto his shoulder. His brothers and rest quickly followed suit, gathering their gear and racing to catch up with their leader.

"That's not good!" Tsel'los shouted to the rest. "She's just contacted Gri'nyr directly."

Eitri quickly put out his pipe, spitting in it to douse the embers before donning his helmet his helmet and raising his hammer. His fellow dwarves scrabbled to gather their tankards and dice, some even resorting to chugging down their brew while running at full speed. Nothing would deter a dwarf from his beer.

"Looks like I'll be seeing a primarch face to face!" he remarked.

"Shut up!"a yautja warrior shouted. "The Grey Lady needs assistance!"

The Spartans sprinted down the corridor after the yautja, managing to keep up with them. The dwarves on the other hand thundered after them as fast as their stocky bodies would let them.

---

When they reached the end of the corridor, the dwarves panting hard rumbling breaths, arriving in the vast monolithic hall housing the entrance to the prison, two rows of bloodline warrior statues lining the way, they saw a sight that they had not been expecting.

The Grey Lady was on one knee in front of the massive ornamented stone doors, decorated with a battle scene against the primarchs, cradling her side which was bleeding glowing blood through a gash in her suit. Her sky and cloud grey robes, her namesake, were in tatters from a myriad of holes and tears. Her entourage was dead all around her, their bodies charred, smoking and torn apart with a disturbing cleanness. Their ornate staves were shattered and their diamonds crushed to dust.

From the looks of the dead, it would seem that she was lucky to be alive.

Gri'nyr and his group quickly arrived and they saw the devastation. They immediately rushed forward to her, the Spartans forming a shield wall around her as the dwarves and yautja took up covering positions.

The Grey Lady heard them as she looked up.

"Gri'nyr." She strained. "The Primarch... is still sealed."

"What happened?" Gri'nyr questioned, reaching down to help her up.

"We had been betrayed." She strained, getting on both knees and waving him off. "They were here long before us."

She winced as her wounds were tugged from her movements. The bleeding intensified as she clasped her wound again.

"They attacked us as I was preparing the ritual." she continued. "We couldn't hold against them. Our powers were countered by Hollows."

Gri'nyr and the yautja were immediately taken aback from this word. The dwarves too were surprised from what she said. The spartans however were more puzzled then concerned.

"Hollows?" a spartan said, much to his comrade's puzzlement.

What are Hollows?

'They took the stone!" The Grey Lady said.

That news was enough to make everyone look to her in shock.

"The stone is gone?!" Gri'nyr exclaimed before he looked around. "Where are my sons?"

Gri'nyr could not see his sons anywhere.

"They went... after him." she answered, pointing to the shadows. "I couldn't track them, once they entered the shadows."

She then held her head. She strained in perceived pain as she felt a very dark presence approaching.

"They're coming." she warned, looking up into the darkness.

From the darkness, on a large balcony overlooking the hall, stepped forth a young female yautja. It was one of her entourage, a novice by the lack of ornamentation on her robes. Her face looked dead and numb but there was a clear sign of remorse and heartfelt sadness.

This no doubt one of the Grey Lady's initiates. And her reaction was one of complete and utter shock.

"Vel'lenyr?" The Grey Lady gasped. "No!"

The young initiate blinked sadly as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry... progenitor." Vel'lenyr apologised.

She then fell to her knees and slumped to the ground, letting out a ghostly final breath. As she fell, a white flame-like mist seeped from her eyes and mouth, dispersing into the air. The mist was then sucked into the darkness where it vanished from sight.

That was when a figure stepped out from the darkness.

It was a yautja but it was not one of Gri'nyr's folk. This yautja had lavished and imperiously ornamented armour that spoke for much of the wearer's thoughts. Thoughts of superiority over others. A long black fur lined cloak covered his shoulders and many skulls of various species, humanoid and bestial, hung or were affixed from various places on his armour and cloak.

The most defining feature was a mask that bore a crown. A crown of spikes pointing up and out that added to the imperious nature of the armour. Like self appointed royalty.

In his hand was a large leaf shaped dagger of a strange and alien design. A blade, roughly eighteen inches long and two at it's widest point, that was almost organic in nature with a faint pattern similar to pattern welding was present. It also had a faintly eldritch glow and seemed to pulse and vibrate in his hand.

Gri'nyr and his brothers couldn't believe who they had just seen. The yautja warriors in particular raised their weaponsas the dwarves followed suit.

The yautja looked down at Vel'lenyr's body and he chuckled.

"Never trust a traitor." He quoted, giving the dead yautja a prod with his boot, pushing her onto her front, revealing a massive stab wound in her back where her heart is. "Not even one you create yourself."

It was the one person that that the whole of Gri;nyr's clan despised.

"The Bastard himself." Kas'tigyr cursed.

Gri;nyr stood to his feet, planting the scythe's bladed butt into the stone with a loud metallic clang.

"Xel'Khalos!" Gri'nyr demanded. "What is the meaning of this?!"

Xel'khalos idly sheathed the dagger on his thigh.

"I'm surprised you even asked." He quipped before gesturing to the Grey Lady. "But aren't you forgetting something."

The Grey Lady had by now been focusing on healing her wound. With a litany in an ancient tongue, the wound glowed with white light before it slowly sealed itself seamlessly.

"That witch is full of surprises." Xel'khalos said with a hint of xenophobia.

He then focused back on Gri'nyr.

"You should be happy, Gri;nyr." Xel'khalos reminded, waving his arms up in celebration. "This is a momentous time for your clan."

He then walked up and down the balcony like he was giving a speech to a roaring crowd.

"The last primarch is imprisoned on this ice ball." He orated. "A pity that your clan would not be around to see the celebration."

His celebratory rhetoric soon turned to one of hostility.

"For too long has my clan, my founder, have been humiliated, ostracised and spat upon by your wretched line." he declared. "Planets, resources and lives that should have been, RIGHTLY have been ours, were stolen by you! My clan had to scrape by on virtually nothing to survive. But little by little, we have regained power while you wallowed in the comfort of your paradises."

He then stopped walking, stopping by Vel'lenyr's corpse.

"And now, at the moment of your greatest triumph, you will finally face our wrath." He declared.

He then noticed the Grey Lady had gotten to her feet.

"Your Grey Lady is tougher than she looks." He added, with a hint of annoyance at her survival. "How you refused such an exquisite female for... prey is beyond me."

"You're putting a petty rivalry over the survival of life? At a dark time like this?" Gry'nyr asked. "The Council will never let this go unpunished!"

Xel'khalos gave the impression of mock shock. Like he wasn't taking the accusation seriously.

"The Council?" Xel'khalos questioned before he gave a curt laugh. "Oh, the Council you knew is long gone by this point. I planned for every contingency."

He then boasted about why he was so confidant.

"While you and your inferior race allies were busy bleeding yourselves over your precious duty, my clan has been getting stronger." Xel'khalos stated. "Gaining more influence and... persuading the other clans to accept our way of thinking."

He then gave a sinister chuckle.

"Some have proven subtly pliant. But there are those who require a little more... force." He added. "And there were those who were too resistant to change. So they have been removed from the equation, permanently."

"Already, I have most of the galaxy's eastern rim under my sway, paying tribute and swelling my armies." "Soon, The Dominion of Xel'khala will be a reality."

Kas'tigyr looked to his brothers.

"Well, he's still insane. So nothings changed." he remarked.

"Wiping out other clans who refuse to pledge allegiance." Gri'nyr surmised. "What's to achieve from weaken our race?"

Xel'khalos scoffed at that question.

"Not weaken. To strengthen." Xel'khalos corrected. "To assert our dominion over this galaxy. Our divine right that was stolen from us by the Ossians."

"With the Ossians out of the way, our race can rule over this galaxy!" Xel'khalos urged. "Don;t you see, this is our race's time to ascendancy!"

Gri'nyr would have none of that.

"It is not our place to rule over others!" He countered. "The Ossians thought they could and it literally consumed them and anyone else unfortunate to get in the way!"

Xel'khalos scoffed at the truth. Like he believed that Gri'nyr was the one who was wrong.

"Only because they could not keep firm control over their slaves." Xel'khalos stated, hovering over Vel'lenyr's body. "Something that my clan has perfected as an art."

He reached down to her before ruthlessly driving his clawed gauntlet right into the base of her skull. He drove his hand deep into her head, callously crushing skull and brain matter as he forced his hand around. Green blood was sent streaming from the ragged hole he had made.

Not even the honoured dead were spared from his lack of compassion. The Grey Lady was visibly angered and horrified by this.

With a sharp yank; he wrenched something out from her head with a sickening crunch. The thing he dragged out was nothing more than a mass of slithering tentacles that seemed to writhe within the deepest parts of her body. He wrenched it hard and mercilessly, revealing the tendrils to be completely drawn from the entire spinal column. What's more, the mass was giving off a disturbing chattering scream, confirming that it was some kind of insectoid life form.

Xel'khalos watched the wretched creature thrash and squirm in his grasp, flailing its tentacles around desperately trying to find a new host.

"Though I must say, even at such an advanced stage, your kind can still resist Neuralcytes, albeit momentarily." He remarked before crushing the squirming mass of writhing tentacles in his claws.

Neuralcytes were a malevolent bastardised hybridisation of an exctint insectoid parasite and illegal bio-synthesis. Neuralcytes originally reproduce via hosts that they control through assimilation, but were now vat grown for specific purposes. Assimilation occurs when the parasite implants itself on the brain stem and its tentacles grow and assimilate itself through the host's nervous system. Once a Neuralcyte has completely taken root, the host is under their complete control and act essentially as a sleeper agent. An unwilling and in many cases unwitting puppet to the lifeform. It is rumoured that for a short time after full assimilation the host is aware of their actions but is unable to control them. Removing such a parasite at a late stage is near fatal to the host; those few who are unfortunate to survive are permanently paralysed from their destroyed nervous system.

The Grey Lady was most distraught from the sight of the parasite that had been inhabiting her student's head. The dwarves were disgusted and the spartans were perplexed that such a thing ever existed.

"This little thing had been keeping me alerted to your every move." Xel'khalos revealed, dangling the crushed parasite in his fingers. "And might I say, it had been most enlightening."

Gri'nyr and his brothers were outright mortified and outraged at the use of such an abomination. An innocent girl was used as an unknowing traitor.

"This is a whole new low, even by your pathetically low standards!" Kas'tigyr shouted in disgust.

"Of all the wretched things that could exist, you use those brain takers?!" Eitri shouted.

Xel'khalos took those outbursts as compliments.

"Some species have a use more important than others." Xel'khalos continued, tossing the crushed mass over his shoulder. "Some are nothing but expendable."

He then snapped his fingers sharply and on cue, an entourage appeared with him. There were seven yautja warriors in armour that was similar to their Xel'khalos' but much less ornate. In fact, Xel'khalos looked ridiculously flamboyant in comparison. Three of them, no doubt Xel'khalos' personal bodyguards were each holding a large metal urn. The kind of urn that was used to store trophies. The other four, with no ornamentation at all, had appeared to have been subjected to a massive amount of damage in combat. Their amour was all chipped, torn, slashed, dented and in some places been run through with blades or crushed and twisted from horrific impact. In fact, one of them had his right arm sheared clean off from the shoulder.

With such an incredible amount of wounds, no doubt one or two were supposed to be fatal, how could they possibly be still standing?

Gri'nyr and his fellow yautja, the Grey Lady in particular, were evidently unnerved from the sight of these walking corpses. Even some of the dwarves felt uneasy. The Spartans however were more perplexed then scared. They had never seen anything like this before.

Xel'khalos was pleased with the reactions he was getting.

"I think you'll find that your witchcraft is utterly devoid against my latest warriors. Created from years of experimentation, with plenty of amusing trial and error." Xel'khalos said, walking up to the silent and bloodied yautja. "Even that exquisite Witch that you rejected couldn't stand against them."

He removed the mask of one of them and the secret was revealed. The yautja's bloodied and deathly pale face was bland of all emotion, like a living corpse, and unblinking eyes glowed with a baleful corpse light. A light that illuminated nothing. The only thing that gave any indication of this yautja being considered living was slow deep breathing, or what was thought to be breathing. Like it was just barely clinging to what life was left in its torn and bloodied body.

Everyone reacted in outright contempt.

"Living dead?!" a dwarf gasped.

"Hollows!" Kas'tigyr shouted in disbelief. "How dare you!?"

Hollows is the named given to those who had been subjected to an insidious procedure known as Soul-Drain when their soul is quite literally drained from their body, removing all sense of free will and anything that would be considered living, leaving only a hollow shell. Hollows are reduced to mindless breathing automatons that will follow the orders of their controller without hesitation or question, becoming the perfect servants. As such, they will continue serving even as their bodies are torn apart, decay and eventually die.

And Hollows, lacking a soul, were not affected in the slightest by most Psionics. You cannot affect that which is essentially already dead.

"How dare I?" Xel'khalos questioned, almost in a manner of innocence. "These are the perfect servants. Loyal, lethal and utterly expendable." he then gestured towards the missing arm. "And they're very effective giving the right circumstance. They can take literal tons of abuse and, like a good slave, they never complain."

He then held his chin in thought.

"That reminds me." Xel'khalos remembered. "They had a rather fortuitous encounter with your bastard sons." he then gestured to the Grey Lady. "They were very intent on helping Her."

Xel'khalos grinned behind his mask as Gri'nyr reacted to this outcome, gripping the scythe tightly. He was going to rub some more salt into the wound.

"For their age, they put up a courageous fight." he commended. "Your heir, especially."

He then chuckled in a sinister and foreboding manner.

"They may have had your training, even those sorceries you call 'Signs' at their disposal, but there is no defence against a flood." He continued. "As is nature's way of course."

Gri;nyr at that point wrenched the scythe up and readied it in his hands, the blade glinting in the light.

"What have you done with my sons!?" Gri'nyr demanded, his control slowly eroding from his built up anger.

Xel'khalos raised his hands in a manner to calm Gri'nyr down.

"Don't worry about them. They're free." Xel'khalos assured. "They're completely free."

He snapped his fingers and his three bodyguards stepped up, holding the urns before them. Each opened up the urn with a retracting click, the lids retracting and sliding off the rim, before reaching inside. There was a definite sound of sloshing liquid inside the urns. Gri'nyr and his group were already getting a bad feeling from this.

As one, Xel'khalos' bodyguards pulled out what was in the urns and it was a shock right to the core of Gri'nyr's soul. In each of their hands, clenched by their dreadlocks and dripping with preservation fluid and their own blood, was the severed heads of Gri'nyr's sons. Each of them had a more human facial structure and thinner dreadlocks than their father. Each also had distinctive features, as one was bolder in ornamentation and the other two were no doubt twins as each had reversed patterns of the other.

"Freed from this earthly plane." Xel'khalos clarified. "Freed from their mortal coil." He then raised up the phase-blade, illustrating their demise by drawing it around his neck. "I freed them."

His bodyguards then threw the severed heads of Gri'nyr's sons back to their father as he sheathed the dagger. Each landed with a loud clattering thud that each left a faintly glowing reddish blood splatter where they impacted. Right by Gri'nyr's feet and rolling up to look at him.

The whole group murmured at the sight of this atrocity. Kas'tigyr shouted loudly in the slayer tongue in anger. Tse'los knelt down to the heads, whispering a litany for their souls. The yautja dwarves and Spartans reacted in various ways, ranging from devastation to outright anger.

"Gri'nyr..." The Grey Lady started.

Gri'nyr clenched the scythes haft so hard that his gauntlets creaked from the strain and the scythe glowed from where he was gripping it, spreading up the haft. It was almost as if the scythe could feel his rage building.

"And don't worry about their souls." Xel'khalos called out. "I have them safe, right here."

Gri'nyr and his entourage looked up and much to their horror, Xel'khalos had an item in his hand. Something sacred to the clan and their bloodline. The Grey Lady was the most shocked as it was her duty in his hands.

Xel'khalos held in his hand a levitating sphere of an almost mirror-like silver stone, adorned with glyphs of an unknown scripture that vaguely resembled the runes of the clan. Maybe an older variant. As the stone levitated, it was giving off a pale white aura, that made its shine the more brighter.

It was the Stone.

"The Stone!" The Grey Lady gasped.

Gri'nyr and his brothers quickly pieced together what Xel'khalos had done.

"What blasphemous sacrilege is this!?" Kas'tigyr shouted in rage, his dreadlocks coming undone and draping down to the floor.

Xel'khalos took that outcry as a complement. He just calmly made the Stone levitate around his hand as a show of skill.

"Impressed?" he asked. "It took me many a cycle to master your Stone." he reached into his cloak for something "Having only a fragment of another to work with."

He drew his hand out and, hovering just off his palm, was a ragged piece of mirrored stone the size of his finger with glowing fractures. It looked like it had come from another identical stone.

And from the way the Grey Lady reacted with shocking surprise, it was apparent that in the past there may have been other Stones. Stones which were thought to have been lost or destroyed forever.

"Not much you understand." Xel'kahlos reminded, putting it away before coveting the Stone close to him. "But I now have the full deal."

He then looked back at them.

"And don't worry about your... mate and youngest spawn." Xel'khalos assured, with revulsion lacing those last four words. "I have sent a special entourage to meet them."

Gri'nyr might have been the first one to crack from the sheer disregard for life, but he wasn;t the first one to lose his temper. Nor did his brothers. It was one of his warriors who would take matters in his own hands.

"Enough of this!" the warrior with his large khopesh sword roared. "Progenitor take your souls!"

He then charged at Xel'khalos, intending to rend him open with one swipe. Xel'khalos on the other hand had another idea as he hand the stone to a bodyguard.

Xel'khalos drew from his back an archaic looking weapon and pointed it at the charging warrior. A weapon that was not of yautja or even dwarvern make. Gri'nyr, his brothers and every dwarf, to their horror, recognised what it was by its distinctive fluid, almost organic construction. Glowing green circuitry flared into life and there was green arcs of energy arcing between the long three pronged triangular barrel.

And it was pointed right at the charging warrior.

"Hel'tar, shield!" Gri'nyr shouted.

Xel'khalos gave a wicked smile as he squeezed the trigger. The weapon gave of a sound that sounded like a distorted scream. An unearthly green bolt of energy shot out and soared right for the sword wielding warrior, green arcs of lightning coursing around it giving the impression on a comet screaming through a planet's atmosphere.

Hel'tar was stopped dead in his tracks as the beam tore right through his chest, erupting out of his lower back in a green flash and into the stone floor with his armour giving absolutely no resistance. The sudden impact was enough for his weapon to slip from his fingers in surprise, clattering loudly on the stone floor. Gagging for breath, Hel'tar looked down to his chest where his free hand instinctively clasped it. There was a large ragged, glowing but cleanly blasted hole in his armour and the flesh beneath was charred, smoking and completely dead, crumbling from his breathing.

Xel'khalos gave a sinister chuckle as he squeezed the trigger again.

Hel'tar was then torn about as beam after beam tore through him, blasting out from him in clouds of acrid decay, dead flesh turning to dust that scattered through the air as each beam followed through his body. One bolt tore his right arm off at the elbow, leaving a trail of ash as it fell to the floor to join his weapon. He was eventually finished off with a beam to the eye, blowing out the back of his head. His lifeless body fell backwards hard into the stone floor, which had been gouged with many deep holes, and landed hard enough for black acrid smoke to billow out of his horrific wounds, especially from the charred gaping eye socket.

"Phase Disruptors!" Tse'los gasped in realised horror.

"Talk about unsporting!" Eitri yelled in anger.

Xel'khalos raised the arcane weapon in a show of victory.

"Is that fear I can sense?" he questioned. "Oh yes, these are weapons even you are afraid of."

He then fired at one of the Spartans who blocked the shot with his shield. The green bolt impacted the shield in a bright flash with arcs of blue lightning. The shield received a black smoking scorch mark from where the bolt impacted. Arcs of blue sparks danced along the face of the shield as the Spartan lowered it. The Spartan threw his spear in retaliation, crackling with blue lightning in retaliation at Xel'khalos. Xel'khalos simply grabbed the nearest Hollow yautja and brought him in front as a not-so-living shield. The spear skewered the yautja right in the heart in a fierce flash of power, punching through armour, flesh and bone, forcing Xel'khalos to dodge sharply as the spearhead came right for him. The flash of lightning briefly lit up the dark area, revealing more Hollows in the shadows.

The Hollow's head dropped as it finally died and its eyes lost their lambent glow.

"Phase Shields." Xel'khalos said in annoyance, callously tossing the now dead yautja aside.

Phase Disruptors and their Phase-Blade counterparts were the exact opposites of Phase Shields, from which both had been originally one. Whereas a shield protects, disruptors tear and destroy the very molecules from their target, leaving only dead matter in its wake. Unless a strong enough shield is used, there is no defence from a disruptor. Even the heaviest, most advanced armour is only delaying the inevitable as layer by layer is flayed from existence. There is however one silver lining. If a phase-blade hits a phase shield on just the right frequency, the blade will be cancelled out.

The origin of the Phase weaponry has since been lost to time, though rumour persists of an ancient race that once warred with the Ossians with similar tech. But no record or physical evidence of such a race rivalling the Ossians has ever been found. But regardless who created it, Phase weapons are forbidden by law to the highest degree.

"Where did you steal those artifacts!?" Gri'nyr demanded.

"Steal?" Xe'khalos questioned before anger took control. "This is what rightfully belongs to my clan! This is what will assert our dominance. To purge this galaxy of those not fit to survive."

He then gave a humourless chuckle.

"Too bad their former caretakers were too weak to use them, even to save their own hides." he said before focusing back on them pointing the pistol at each in turn. "And the first ones to be purged will be all of you."

Gri'nyr and his brothers had already taken up defensive positions around the Grey Lady. The spartans formed a shield wall with the rest of the dwarves and yautja behind them.

Xel'khalos aimed his pistol at each in turn before raising the pistol away from them.

"But, in an act of mercy, I will not use this on you." Xel'khalos decided. "I'll rather let my slaves fight for your heads."

At that point, from the shadows all around them came a vast hoard of Xel'khala yautja warriors, fur clad humans of eastern descent and other various alien life forms, some humanoid and some completely animal. All were slaves under Xel'khalos' whip. And there were definitely a lot of hollowed yautja among them. The number of baleful glowing eyes were starting to get beyond counting and much to Gri'nyr's shock, he recognised that these yautja were not from Xel'khala but from other clans.

Could they have been ones who had resisted Xel'khalos?

This could only conclude that they had indeed been here for a while, hiding in the darkness of the planet. Even when Gri;nyr and his clan were bleeding themselves against the primarch. Hiding in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to strike. When Gri'nyr and his clan were at their most bloodied and vulnerable.

"With you out of the picture, nothing and no one will stand in my way." Xel'khalos declared "The dominion of Xel'khala will finally be eternal!"

There was a long pause as Gri'nyr and his allies readied they weapons.

"Swarm them!" Xel'khalos commanded, his voice echoing throughout the entire hall.

That was the cue and as one, the horde charged forth from the darkness. Humans, yautja, bestial aliens and even the shambling hollows.

The three dwarves with railguns immediately aimed down the sights and fired high velocity shots in full automatic into the horde. The projectiles shot out faster then the blink of an eye, punching into the slaves in front, tearing right through them and into the slaves behind them. They were taking out maybe a dozen or so out before losing all that kinetic energy. The hollows continued to run even as they were being torn apart by the supersonic projectiles.

The dwarves' railguns may have been powerful, blasting chunks out of their targets but the numbers were just too much for them to slow down the horde streaming towards them. And there seemed to be no end to them.

"We need to regroup!" Gry'nyr said, grabbing the Grey Lady by the hip and hauling her off.

Kas'tigyr readied his fists as the first slaves, large reptilian humanoids jumped into range. Each of them received a fluid punch or kick right to their head, breaking necks and sending them flying back into the horde. The ones that did evade his swipes was dispatched by the spike of Tes'los's crows beak. And a few crashed into the spartan's shield wall, the spartan's bashing out with their shields before driving their spears into lizard-men's hearts.

"Grenade!" one of the dwarves with a railgun shouted.

There was a distinct cocking, much like a pulse rifle's own grenade launcher, coming from all the the railguns. And then the dwarves fired. The was a loud electrostatic crack, large projectiles bigger then what the railguns were firing before, shot out leaving a trail of flame as they ignited the air around them through sheer friction. They looked more akin to rockets then grenades.

And the explosions they made upon impact were more akin to high explosive rockets too. The rockets had enough kinetic force to punch right through several enslaved and then explode behind him. The resulting explosions were enough to completely shred nearly ten ranks of enslaved from the shock wave alone. The explosions also had the effect of causing the horde to back off either in fright or self-preservation. The hollows were not affect by the fireworks however, even though some had been torn apart by the blast. But, they were still coming for the group, even if they were missing half of their bodies.

But the explosives did their work. It gave the group a chance to escape.

"Pull back!" the dwarves shouted, turning and running.

Everyone made a break for the exit, reluctantly leaving the heads of Gri'nyr's sons behind. Xel'khalos wasn't even sympathetic to the losses that his forces have suffered. They, being slaves, meant absolutely nothing to him. He was more focused on Gri'nyr and his group.

"Run prey!" Xel'khalos jeered. "It doesn't matter. You'll never leave this planet alive!"

Gri'nyr heaved the Grey Lady up on his shoulder, keeping his scythe ready. His brothers took up his flanks. The rest of them formed a rearguard top protect them from the horde. They swiftly reached the tunnel, Kas'tigyr dispatching several more of the lizard-men who had jumped to them.

"Kill them!" Xel'khalos commanded. "Freedom to the one brings me that scythe!"

---

Gri'nyr and his group ran down the tunnels, trying to outrun the horde that was chasing them. The dwarves with railguns were having their work cut out, having to fire and run at the same time. Stopping for a better shot meant getting overrun and most likely torn to shreds. Then again, in these tight quarters, it was impossible to miss. In fact, to save time, they just blindly fired over their shoulders. And the sound of bodies hitting the floor told them that their aim was good.

Two yautja warriors stopped every now and again to deliver their own ranged attack. Pausing to turn around, each presented two sleek and articulated plasmacasters over their shoulders. Each charged up for a moment, drawing particles of light into the glowing interior of the chamber. Then they fired, not a traditional bolt, but a concentrated scorching beam of energy. The beams punched or sliced into anyone unfortunate to be in the way, forcing itself though their armour, flesh and bone, before bursting out and getting the next target.

The effect they inflicted on the horde was what they wanted, as each enslaved was preoccupied in avoiding the dancing beams, bringing the charge into a tumbling standstill. All except for the more bloodthirsty enslaved and the hollows for obvious reasons. The hollows just kept running even when they were being sliced to ribbons.

The warriors ceased the criss-crossing beams after a few seconds before rushing back to the rest of their fellows. The barrage gave them a bit of breathing room. Just long enough for them to get a good distance before the horde regained its momentum.

Gri'nyr and his brothers reached the end of the hall and the sight they saw was one that they just couldn't believe. There were hordes of Xel'khala warriors and their enslaved and hollowed subordinates engaging Gri'nyr's clan brothers, spartans and dwarves. It was just a chaotic symphony of clashing blades, rending flesh and yells of the dying.

Their allies were like islands in an ocean of the enemy.

"By our progenitor." Gri'nyr gasped.

The Grey Lady looked back to the tunnel and a snarl left her as she clenched her fists.

"Let me go!" she commanded, shoving at Gri'nyr. "I must vent my anger on these parasites!"

Gri'nyr instantly let go of her when he saw her eyes go aflame. She landed on her knees before she steeled herself as she got to her feet. Kas'tigyr and Tse'los backed off as she paced up to the tunnel as did everyone else.

Evidently, if the Grey Lady was in a mood, then it was wise to give her a wide berth.

"My Lady, you haven't recovered your power yet!" a warrior protested.

She shot him a look that was combined with a glowing aura around her clenched hands that caused him and the dwarves to back off. And this even made the spartans cautiously bring their shields up.

"I still have power for this." The Grey Lady declared, turning back towards the tunnel

She chanted and a blue aura surrounded her person. Her eyes flashed into a magnificent ocean blue and with a series of hand gestures, each drawing light and glowing symbols behind them, she cast what would definitely be described as a powerful spell.

The yautja warriors, who had just ran out of the tunnel, sharply dived to the sides when they saw the blue flames burning from her cupped hands.

With a long otherworldly yell, she fired a massive bolt of flaming light, lightning arcing from it from between her hands, illuminating the entire tunnel for what could be the entire length. The force of it caused everyone's robes and dreadlocks to blow out from the turbulence it caused. The bolt soared down the tunnel and whoever or whatever it hit was to simply put it, vaporised.

The bolt effortlessly wiped out a large chunk of the oncoming horde, disintegrating them into nothing. Those at the back were now frantically trying to run away, causing the horde to congest in the tunnel, each was trying to save their own skin. And when the roaring bolt reached them, they didn't have so much as skin to save.

The hollows, once again, were not even bothered as they burnt to dust.

When she stopped yelling, drawing heavy breaths, the whole tunnel was charred, smoking and raining ashen dust. She lowered her hands, which still had arcs of energy coursing between her fingers.

"That's for my students." she wheezed.

She fell hard to her knees, exhausted from the exertion of that spell. Gri'nyr rushed to her side as she panted hard and deeply. The wound on her side had opened up from the strain and was trickling blood.

"You have to conserve your strength." he warned, reaching out to her.

The Grey Lady however had no intention of doing so.

"Don't tell me how to use my power." She warned back, swatting his hand away.

"That's enough!" Gri'nyr scolded, dragging her up as gently but forcefully as he could. "This is no time for bickering!"

The Grey lady however was less then cooperative.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

Gri'nyr, having had enough of her attitude towards him after all these years, dropped the scythe as he clasped her by her masked head. The weapon clattered loudly as it hit the stone floor, it's ornamentation flashing as it impacted.

"That is enough!" Gri'nyr roared, his eyes flashing crimson and the decoration on his mask glowing.

The Grey Lady went suddenly silent from this show, her anger quickly subsiding as Gri'nyr's overshadowed hers. Evidently, like her, when Gri'nyr was in a mood, it was wise to stay clear. And it would seem that Gri'nyr in this state was even more terrifying then her. Added by the fact that he was the leader of the clan.

Everyone else backed off a step when they saw Gri'nyr in this state.

"This is getting tiresome!" he fumed. "Why can't you just accept it?!"

The Grey Lady didn't answer so Gri'nyr gave a more blunt question. A question which was most likely the source of her resentment.

"Did you really want my sons dead!?" Gri'nyr interrogated. "Is that what you wanted since they were born?! Because I chose their mother over you?! You felt cheated that it was she, not you, who bore my children?!"

Gri'nyr could tell from her semi-nervous squirming that the last question struck a nerve. Indeed, The Grey Lady had been considered to be a match for Gri'nyr. And Gri'nyr was aware of her feelings towards him. But, his heart belonged to his sons' mother. And that led to resentment towards him and his sons.

"DID you want them dead?" Gri'nyr repeated. "Answer me!"

Her answer came out as a whisper.

"...No." she answered.

Gri'nyr then calmed down at her answer. So much that his recent hostility faded away and he was back to his noble self.

"Do you want to let Xel'khalos get away with this?" he asked, keeping his emotions contained. "Do you want your students avenged? Then survive this day!"

He was soon interrupted by the electrostatic cracks from the dwarves' railguns. Gri'nyr's rant had attracted the hordes attention and were even now charging towards them. And the dwarves were trying to stem the tide but given the vast numbers arrayed before them, their weapons were not having much of an effect.

"We've got company!" Eitri shouted, pointing his hammer out to the battle.

A large rabble of enslaved and their yautja masters were now charging at them. Gri'nyr looked to the horde and then to the Grey Lady.

"Stay behind us.' he commanded, before turning to his brothers. "Brothers, defensive positions!"

He then handed the Grey Lady to the nearest warrior before readying the scythe. His brothers were ready and waiting. Kas'tigyr was cracking his knuckles and Tse'los flourished with his crows beak.

"Time to fight!" Kastigyr roared, charging into the fray. "Not one of you is gonna survive this!" he yelled at the rabble.

He jumped high into the air, twisting into what was essentially a swan dive before diving head first into oncoming horde. The impact caused a shock wave to erupt, throwing the horde back a few metres. Kas'tigyr was on them in the few seconds he had, his gauntlets and greaves glowing with power.

"Kas'tigyr!" Tse'los yelled in shock of his brother's impetuosity. "You fool!"

Tse'los charged into the fray with a sweeping swing of his crows beak, the hammer head crushing any foolish enough to be in it's path. He switched between using the hammer and blade, crushing limbs with one and impaling with the other. He would use the spike to impale a foe and then swing them off the hook like an impromptu sling to gain some room.

Gri'nyr looked to his warriors.

"Protect the Lady with your lives." Gri'nyr commanded. "And keep close!"

His warriors nodded and took up defensive positions around the Grey Lady as she was still supported by her bearer. The spartans likewise formed their shield wall and the dwarves took up positions in front of them.

"For the Progenitor!" Gri'nyr roared, drawing back a hand with glowing runes circling it.

He punched out his gestured fist, which bore a sign that resembled fire, and let loose a massive fiery blast of flame. The flames completely engulfed anyone caught in a manner mimicking sentience and the flames stuck to them, burning them with intense heat. The enslaved writhed in flesh charring pain, opening them up for a brutal entry from Gri'nyr. He slashed out with his scythe, slicing the burning enslaved into flaming ribbons, burning to ash as the dismembered corpses landed on the floor.

Gri'nyr and his brothers were carving a bloody path for the Grey Lady as Eitri and the others kept her within their protective circle. The few that managed to evade Gri'nyr and his brothers were dispatched either by spear, hammer or railgun.

Along the way through the chaos, tearing through any Xel'khala warriors and enslaved along the way, they managed to link up with others that they fought to get to, any dwarf, yautja or spratan who had not yet been brutally killed. They dragged the wounded into the centre of the circle with the Grey Lady while those still strong enough to fight contributed to the defence.

Gri'nyr and his brothers were tearing through the hordes swarming them left right and center. Gri'nyr sliced through anyone with his scythe, eviscerating them with fluid precision. Kas'tigyr was pummelling away with his fists and Tes'los was methodically swinging his crows beak, alternating between hammer and blade. And each were using their own signs to help ease the way and these signs always corresponded with a certain element, depending on how the sign was cast.

Fighting their way out to one of the main halls and emerging onto a large balcony, the group, now numbering thirty, saw a last stand in action.

The majority of the spartans, numbering two hundred were falling back from the onslaught that was happening. Forming an organised withdrawal, they had taken up position by a large tunnel, forming a crescent phalanx and stabbing anyone foolish enough to charge them. In the vast horde surrounding them were the few that couldn't make it to the phalanx. Several dwarves and yautja who fought on courageously before being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

The lead Spartan, in splendidly ornate armour, was at the forefront of the phalanx, cutting down any enslaved that reached him.

Gri'nyr rushed to the edge as the rest of the group fought their way onwards.

"Dionekes!" Gri'nyr called out.

The spartans had no way of reaching them through the vast horde that was surrounding them. They were cut off and surrounded. Dioneekes looked up to Gri'nyr and waved his spear to acknowledge that he had seen Gri'nyr.

"Gri'nyr!" Dionekes called out. "We'll hold this area to the last spartan, lure as many of the bastards to us as we can to clear your path!"

Dionekes held his spear up in a show of farewell.

"We'll meet again in Elysium!" he shouted.

Gri'nyr watched as Dionekes raced off to rejoin the Phalanx. He knew that this was the spartan way. Spartans never retreated and never surrendered.

"Gri'nyr, come on!" Eitri called out, crushing a hollows skull with his hammer.

Gri'nyr reluctantly raced off to rejoin the others as they continued further up the temple.

---

The spartans were now forced back by the sheer numbers being arrayed against them. They had taken up position in a narrow corridor, standing ten abreast and the front two ranks had their spears slightly forward.

Xel'khalos was walking throughout the carnage, dispatching the odd yautja or dwarf straggler with a disruptor bolt to the back. He was surround by a literal shield of bodyguards and the bodyguards were in turn protected by a wall of hollows. In this way, Xel'khalos was completely protected from anything that could harm him.

"That's it!" he yelled out, revelling in the massacre "Slaughter them!"

He watched as one of Gri'nyr's warriors was forced onto the floor by several large hollows, restraining his weapons with their own dead bodies, and then a whole mob of lizard-men dove into him with claws out. The yautja was brutally disembowelled by claw and teeth before he gave out one last yell of defiance. That was when his whole body flashed into a bright fiery light and then the lizard-men engulfing him and those nearby were blasted back in a fiery conflagration.

Xel'khalos nimbly dodged one flaming enslaved as it crashed into the floor next to him, moving feebly. He then looked back to the yautja and saw only a dead smoking but not charred corpse. And many dead enslaved surrounding him.

"That was mildly impressive." he remarked before he callously crushed the enslaved's throat with his foot. "Burnt himself out."

Xel'khalos looked around in the carnage, trying to locate Gri'nyr and his group. He could not see them in the carnage, what with yells, blood and flying body parts all over the place. He had sent out scouts to try and track them. He wanted to be there to deal with Gri'nyr himself.

At that point, one scouts came running up, pushing his way through the hollows, who simply recoiled jerkily and shuffled along regardless. He came up to Xel'khalos and knelt before him.

"Where have they gone?" he demanded.

"They are fighting their way to an exit, my lord." the scout reported. "But we have a development."

Xel'khalos cocked his head.

"Development?"

"The majority of those spartan oomans are making a last stand." the tracker explained, pointing in the relevant direction.

The fighting at that point died down as the last piece of resistance was crushed. Now the phalanx were truly on their own.

"A last stand?" Xel'khalos said, cupping his chin. "Now this I have to see. Show me."

The scout rose to his feet and moved briskly in the direction of the phalanx, leading his lord and his guards.

Xel'khalos grinned when he saw the last stand of the spartans. He then moved on so that he could get a better view from high up on a large flight of stairs. His circle of guards and hollows keeping their formation, only breaking up as Xel'khalos reached the steps before reforming into a solid line at the base.

"The prey are backed into a corner, my lord." one of Xel'khalos' officers on the stairs observed. "What are your orders?"

Xel'khalos stepped past him before he sat himself down on a spot that had been prepared for him. As evidenced by the absurd amount of cushions and other pleasantries that were tended by slaves. He kept the Stone close to him as he made himself comfortable.

He looked down to the officer.

"Offer them servitude in exchange for their lives." Xel'khalos ordered, getting comfortable on the steps. "And if they won't listen, feel free to let the flood tear them apart."

The officer nodded and proceeded to the front lines.

"I'm hoping they put on a good show." Xel'khalos sighed, cradling the stone on his lap "I love watching futile last stands."

Xel'khalos looked at the spartans who were now, much to his puzzlement, doing exercises and practising combat techniques, even though they were completely surrounded. Some of them were even calmly talking about the coming fight and making bets on who will get the most kills. And a few had even taken off their helmets and were combing their long shoulder length hair.

Xel'khalos cocked his head at this sight.

"What are they doing?" he asked one of his bodyguards

"No idea, my lord" the bodyguard replied, shaking his head. "Maybe some ineffective way to intimidate us."

"Maybe they making themselves presentable before they die." Xel'khalos mused. "Oh well, means more to deface."

The officer had by now push his way to the front of the horde. He stood there in front of the horde, making a show of strength. The horde had stopped roughly two hundred feet from the phalanx, and in all that clear space was the bodies of those who had attacked the spartans and failed. Most were enslaved and there was also the occasional Xel'khala warrior. There were no spartan corpses in the field however.

"Spartans!" he yelled out. "Throw down your weapons and submit to our Lord!"

There was silence as the Spartan's calmly got back into formation, readying their weapons and armor and firmly held their ground. They would not break the phalanx for anything. The yautja was now starting to lose his patience at this show of indifference.

"I said, throw down your weapons and submit!" he demanded. "This is your first and last warning!"

That when his eye caught something. Something was shining in the darkness from the phalanx's rear ranks. And it was getting closer. But no sooner was he wondering what it was; his life came to an end. And it came from a flying spear, crackling with power to his face. The weapon punched right through his face with no resistance, all ten feet of it bursting out from the back of his head in a shower of sparks and punching into the yautja behind him. The faceless corpse fell forward into the stone floor with a loud clattering thud. The impaled yautja grunted as he fell to his knees and then died on the stone floor.

The spartan who threw it readied his spare spear.

Xel'khalos was flabbergasted that a human had such good aim from that distance.

"Traitors!" Dionekes roared. "Come and get them!"

The spartans banged their shields in unison, making what sounded like a storm erupt from their ranks, before bracing their shields and spears forward. The sound of a storm erupting from their ranks was enough for some of the enslaved, the more cowardly among them, to panic and try to run. They were swiftly brought back into line with a few brutal beatings.

All the exercising and weapon practice was just the spartans psyching themselves to fight to the death.

The next yautja in command of that horde stepped forward, stepping over the faceless corpse of his superior, to gave the order to charge with an loud roar. The horde of enslaved, hollows and their yautja masters charged forth. The horde thundered towards the phalanx in a deafening clamour of many feet impacting stone. It was enough for Xel'khalos to get back in the zone from that unexpected show of marksmanship.

"It's a shame I didn't bring a meal for this entertainment." Xel'khalos lamented. "Oh well, this is going to be fun to watch."

The spartans were holding their shields up, covering them from their knees to just below their eyes, and bracing themselves for the impact. And the horde was thundering ever nearer towards them. This was the moment where unity and discipline was key, for if anyone lost their resolve and tried to flee, the phalanx would be broken.

But spartans never run from a fight.

"Hold!" Dionekes commanded as the horde was now only ten feet from them. "As one!"

The spartans linked shields just as the horde was on top of them.

The horde crashed into the ready phalanx with an almighty clamour of bodies against shield. The spartans weathered the initial impact as more and more of the horde crashed into the phalanx as the spartans struggled to hold the line. They were shuffling backwards as the weight was starting to build as the spartans at the back began the push. But even as the line was bending, they were not breaking.

The horde bashed against the spartan shields with their myriad of weapons or bare hands or claws, trying to find a gap to exploit. The spartans held their formation against the barrage, weathering the blows as they braced themselves. The spartans in the middle ranks would jab their spears out, catching an unwary enslaved right in the chest or head. But as soon as one enslaved was dispatched, another was there instantly to take their place.

"Hold!" Dionekes commanded.

The Spartans put their backs into it as more and more of the horde was crashing upon them. It was getting to the point where the enslaved started tripping over each other as they added their weight to the push.

"Push!" Dionekes commanded.

At that point, the horde groaned and swelled to a standstill as the spartans pushed against them. There was an ominous pause and then the fight began.

The spartans gave an almighty resonating shove with their shields as one pushing the horde back and giving them space. The Xel'khala warriors and their enslaved tumbled backwards, some falling right over while others saw that the spartans were open and they charged back at them, hoping to kill them. But all they got was a spear right to the heart or some other vital area as the spartans thrust their spears out, the groin and throat being particular targets. In some places the spears punched through multiple foes at once.

The spartans were now in control of the situation. They would lunge out with their spears before swiftly reforming the shield wall as the horde charged back at them. They would then push back with their shields, throwing the enslaved back and then attack as before. And much to the spartans' surprise and amusement, the horde just kept repeating their mistake.

Within minutes, the amount of dead and dying on the ground were causing the attackers to lose their footing and momentum. They would stumble and fall over, only to be finished off with a stab to the back or chest from the spartans' spears.

The spartans chose this moment for their counter attack.

"Forward!" Dionekes commanded.

The phalanx pushed forward as one, bulldozing anyone foolish enough to be in the way. Shoving with their shields and stabbing with their spears, they pushed forward. The spartans in the rear ranks used their dorys' butt spikes to finish off any stragglers without even breaking their stride. The spartans nimbly navigated the ever growing carpet of dead bodies as they advanced their bloody assault.

The Xel'khala warriors now realised too late why the spartans had chosen this position. It was to rob the Xel'khala of their one advantage: superior numbers. And there was nothing they could do about it as the rear ranks kept pushing them on right into the spartans' spears. The spartans, trained since childhood for this kind of fighting, was in their element.

Yautja and their enslaved were dropping like the proverbial flies, while only the occasional spartan suffered any major scratches.

The spartans had now pushed out of the corridor and had formed into a crescent formation, twenty spartans wide, allowing them to unleashed the full might of the phalanx on the disorganised horde. And right behind them was a thick carpet of dead bodies, numbering in the hundreds.

In desperation, the horde started grabbing at the spears, trying to deprive the Spartans of their brutally efficient weapons. But they were in for a nasty surprise. The Spartans unexpectedly ditched their spears, throwing them at the yautja and scoring many kills in the sudden volley. They then drew their secondary and even more deadly close range weapon, the kopis, and the real butchery began in earnest.

The hordes charged forth again as the sudden spear barrage had cleared up a lot of space. The spartans however were ready for them. They braced their shields and as each foe got in striking range, they bucked their shields up, hurling their unsuspecting opponents up and over them for the spartan behind to finish them off. And the spartans were stuck into the horde before the enslaved could even react to this unexpected counter charge.

Limbs were flying and blood of many shades and colours was spurting in arcs as the curved blades sliced through armour, flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. The spartans cut down their foes with practised precision and skill, honed through years of harsh and almost fatal training. The hollows were the only ones who weren't affected by the loss of limbs. They continued to swarm the spartans, even as their living comrades desperately tried to fall back in a desperate rout.

The shields that the spartans wielded were used not only as a means of defence but also as highly effective bludgeons. When they bashed with their shields, their opponent was sent crashing backwards like they had just been hit by a truck. And getting hit by the shield's rim was resulting in broken bones and crushed limbs. In fact, when one hollow was shoved to the floor and a shield rim was brought down to his neck, the force was enough to decapitate it with a loud crunch.

The enslaved had no chance of resistance against the spartans. And the yautja weren't faring much better. They were simply not prepared for the kind of fighting that the spartans excelled in. And that was fighting as one cohesive unit. Yautja tactics were based around a loose hunting warband and simply put, they did not have the discipline to stand against a highly trained formation. Especially against ones who have been bred, raised and trained for war.

Dionekes finished off the last yautja with a fierce chop to the shoulder, enough to completely the entire arm and part of the upper torso off in a shower of bright green. The spartans wasted no time in reclaiming their spears from the dead, rejoining their leader and reforming the phalanx back into the tunnel, idly spearing any enslaved they have missed.

"What a bunch of pushovers!" Dionekes shouted out, gaining laughs from his men. "Even our women could beat them with hands behind their backs!"

"We should've brought them along!" a spartan added. "Would've saved us the trouble!"

Xel'khalos' smugness was wiped from his face at this sight.

These spartans had mercilessly wiped out a vastly larger force than their own and had only suffered very light damage. In truth, he had not expected humans to survive such odds. But then again, he had severely underestimated the unique unpredictability of humans.

Xel'khalos at that point heard the spartans shouting back at them. They were shouting various insults among other things, joking about how Xel'khalos has plenty of men but not a single competent warrior among them. Another thing they joked was that slaughtering all of those enslaved has left them with nasty cramps so they can't kneel before him like he wanted.

Xel'khalos inwardly fumed at this blow to his pride.

If he just sent in another horde, even one bigger then the last, the spartans would just as easily tear that one up as well. And the longer that they kept him occupied, the more chance of Gri'nyr and his clan escaping. And that was not acceptable if his grand design was to be realised.

Xel'khalos stood up sharply, knocking various cushions down the steps and growling loudly.

One of his bodyguards noted the current state of his lords' mind.

"My lord?" he asked, hesitantly.

Xel'khalos cracked his knuckles.

"They may have survived the flood." he snarled before lifting up the stone, making it pulsate with energy as he did so. "But none will leave this day." He vowed.

---

Gri'nyr and co had now been able to gather up with a sizable force of dwarves, spartan stragglers and yautja clan-brothers. And now they were able to put up an organised withdrawal. Gri'nyr led the charge along with his brothers. Their yautja warriors were engaging any that had gotten past them. Eitri was coordinating his fellow dwarves into fire-teams and the spartans into a defensive line, sheltering the Grey and the wounded within their protective circle.

There were roughly a hundred of them now. A cosmopolitan mix of yautja, human and dwarf.

They had fought their way through the many hordes that were infesting the temple, gathering any survivors that they could reach. And they lost just as many to a new threat the further they got to the outer regions of the temple. The Xel'khala forces had brought along war beasts. And many of them bore semblance to legends from human mythology.

And they came across some more as they entered a large hall.

Blocking their way was a large rabble of hulking humanoids in crude fur-lined metal armour. They were ten feet tall, extremely broad, large limbed with big jawed bulbous heads with a pair of beady eyes that reeked with dumb brutality.

Ogres.

Gri'nyr and his brothers could only wonder if they had been cowed into servitude or if they serve willingly. Ogres were known for their unquestioning obedience if you gain their trust or established your dominance. As such, they were particular favourites for Xel'khala. The Ogres were equipped with a menagerie of various blunt instruments. Clubs, maces and even the odd flail were either in their grubby hands or stuffed into belts. Their weapons represented their mindset. Crude and direct.

"This is going to be fun!" Kas'tigyr shouted, cracking his fists.

"They intend to keep us boxed in." Tse'los postulated, reading his crows beak.

"Keep moving!" Gri'nyr commanded. "Don't give them time to think!"

Gry'nyr and his brothers charged at the ogres, who bellowed a loud war cry and stomped towards them. As they came within jumping distance, the brothers leaped at the ogres, their armour and weapons glowing. Each drove their their weapons right into an ogre's face each. Gri'nyr's scythe punched though between the eyes, clearly bisecting it in two. Kas'tigyr delivered a punishing kick that caved in his ogre's face. And Tse'los' crows beak punched into the side of the ogres' head and Tse'los then threw it over his shoulder as he landed, the blade slicing out of it's head and trailing some of it's brain with it.

Each of the brothers landed on their feet as their foes hit the ground dead. The others ogres just realised that they had taken casualties and they quickly turned and charged again to engage the three warriors.

Gri'nyr fluidly swung the scythe around him, creating a blade storm that sliced through any ogre dumb enough not to back off. He would evade the clumsy attacks and then counter-attack with a precise slash that often resulted in the loss of a limb or a head.

Kas'tigyr caught the ogres club in his hands with a loud thump as it connected. A brief wrestling struggle erupted before Kas'tigyr twisted the club out of the ogre's grasp. He swiftly jumped up gave the ogre a fierce kick to it's face, making it stumble to the side from the impact. It then reared itself, only for it to be smashed in the face with it's own club. The bones in it's face cracked as it was smashed into the floor and it looked up just at Kas'tigyr brought the club down with all of his strength. Suffice to say, the orge's thick skull exploded with a watermelon as it's club made contact.

Kas'tigyr followed up by throwing the gory and brain encrusted club right at another ogre that was about to strike at Gri'nyr from behind. The club impacted the ogre's head and, much to Kas'tigyr's amusement, it bounced up into the air while at the same time knocking the ogre over and then said club landed on it's head with a loud crack. Gri'nyr heard the impact, turned and saw the ogre half-conscious on the floor. As it tried to get back up, Kas'tigyr jumped in and snapped it's neck with a well placed stomp.

But they didn't have any time for praise as more ogres charged at them.

Tse'los drove his crow's beak into the back of the ogre he was fighting, driving the blade right into it's heart and driving it into the ground. He looked up when he heard a roar and no sooner he did that a huge club impacted him right in the chest. He was sent flying backwards, his crow's beak still lodged in the dead ogre's back and landing deftly on his feet, skidding to a halt.

Looking back, he saw two more ogres stomping towards him, brandishing huge clubs made out of scrap metal bolted together. Tse'los drew his warpicks and flourished them before he charged towards them.

He threw his warpicks at each ogre. As he did, very fine chains connecting to their pommels retracted out from Tse'los's gauntlets. And, much to the ogre's surprise, the chains were glowing with arcing energy. It made it seem as if Tse'los was harnessing lightning from his hands.

The warpicks punched through their crude armour, digging into their chests. Tse'los pulled on the chains and he flew through the air, zipping past the two ogres who barely had time to even look, landing on his feet and pulled the chains. The ogres were wrenched from their feet, twisting through the air as the warpicks pulled and then sliced their way out of their chests. The warpicks took out their armour and even some of their ribcage out with them. The ogres crashed into the stone floor, writhing in agony as the contents of their chests spilled out into steaming piles.

Tse'los flourished as his warpicks landed flawlessly in his hands. As more ogres charged at him, that was when the dance began. Tse'los lashed out with his warpicks, lashing out with them in electrified sweeps. He also fluidly moved, evading the ogres' clumsy sweeps. This style was far different then what he used with his crows beak. It emphasised on speed and defence rather then power and offence. The warpicks sliced through armour and flesh like a butcher slicing a fat sausage in a deli.

The ogres were cut down in the storm that Tse'los created. In fact, Gri'nyr and his brothers had eliminated that living barricade in swift time. But there was soon another problem.

A loud bellowing roar was heard coming from the behind them. Yells were heard coming from the protective circle. And that meant something had broken through.

In a rather ironic manner, the spartans were engaging a large cyclops, twenty feet tall, stocky and with one massive bloodshot eye eyeing them, that had broken the circle. The Grey Lady and some of the wounded had been swiftly led to safety by Eitri and the dwarves as the Spartans were engaging with the iconic creature.

The yautja warriors were busy engaging a pack of manticores that had pounced on them from above up as well. Manticores are creatures from Grecian myth that look like a giant lion with bat's wings and a scorpion's tail. The manticores were giving the warriors a hard time but were under control.

And the dwarves were now busy trying to fend off a flock of wyverns, winged draconic serpents, that was literally raining fire on them and their Xel'khala riders shooting disruptors bolts at them. The dwarves were carefully aiming with their myriad gauss weaponry, projectiles ripping through the air in an like an anti-air ordinance battery. At times their fire power caught the wyvern riders, tearing them or their mounts or both into bloody clouds.

Fortunately, the dwarves' shields, thanks to their superior make were just strong enough to protect them from the disruptors.

Gri'nyr and his brothers rushed to their clan-brothers, pouncing right onto the manticores.

The spartans were keeping the cyclops back with their spears as it roared and lashed out at them, jabbing it as soon as they got a clear shot.. A vicious swipe caught a few spartans, sending them flying as they caught the blow with their shields with flashed blue as the phase-shields countered the kinetic impact. A spartan lunged with his spear, skewering the cyclop's arm. It roared in anger as it gave a fierce backhand at the spartans again, causing them to scatter in evasion but some were struck and sent flying into pillars or walls. It managed to grab one spartan before throwing him at his comrades, sliding off their upheld shields and crashing to the floor.

Gri'nyr and his fellow yautja were hard put fighting this pack of manticores, who for some unholy reason were not as easy to kill as the rest of the species.

"I don't remember manticores being this tough!" Kas'tigyr shouted, trying to pull a manticore by it's scorpion tail.

"Look at them!" Tse'los pointed. "They've been butchered into mindless killers!"

It was true. Upon closer examination, the manticores had indeed been reformed into hulking, part cybernetic, part grotesque mockeries of their former species. It would seem that slaves were not the only depraved thing that Xel'khala indulges in. They also like to play god, creating horrific abominations to instil terror in their enemies.

And in the case of the manticores, they had been implanted with cybernetics as a form of control and in a twisted sense, longevity, as the cybernetics would drive the body on, even when it is dead. What this resulted in was a creature that was excessively more hard to kill then their normal counterparts.

"Where is your bloody pet!" Kas'tigyr shouted to Gri'nyr, the tail he was yanking finally giving out and snapping off with a loud crunch.

The manticore roared in pain and rage as it focused on Kas'tigyr and pounced at him. Kas'tigyr drove the scorpion sting right into it's open maw, punching through the roof of it's mouth and puncturing it's brain. The barb of the sting punched out the top of it's skull as it crashed into the floor stone dead.

At that point a flash of light rocketed down from the darkness above, smiting the cyclops dead centre in the back. A massive fiery flash of energy erupted from the cyclops as the light erupted out of it's chest with a loud avian call. The spartans held their shields up as the cyclops fell apart as the flames consumed it, dispersing into ashen dust all around them.

The light then charged right into a manticore that had even now pounced in front of Gri'nyr, intending to chomp on him with it's razor maw. The light punched through it as it reached the high arc of it's jump, bursting out of it like it had been it by heavy ordinance. The manticore disintegrated just as the cyclops had done.

Gri'nyr watched as the light now assumed the shape of a bird and as the light rested on his shoulder it fully revealed itself to be a magnificent shining silver hawk.

"There you are." Gri'nyr said. "Nice takedown, my friend."

Another manticore reared up behind him, roaring loudly and Gri'nyr flourished with the scythe in a fluid diagonal arc. The manticore froze as if in shock and then it fell apart in to cleanly sliced halves.

"That's all of them!" Kas'tigyr shouted, snapping the last manticore's neck with a loud crack.

But the cost from that bestial counter-attack was high.

Many of the spartans were badly injured from the cyclops attack. And some of them had been killed from taking the full force of the blows. Their broken bodies littered the ground as the survivors heaved themselves to their feet. Those still standing were occupied in aiding their wounded.

Gri'nyr's warriors, had made good work on the manticores. But not before taking a battering themselves. Regrettably, a couple of them had ended up in the manticores' maws, their last actions being to rip the manticores apart from the inside. One however managed to tear his way out, at the cost of one of his arms.

The dwarves had taken the odd casualty from where a disruptor bolt got through a gap or finally punch through their shields. And for those who survived, their shields were now useless pieces of scrap from the amount of damage they had taken.

A testament to the craftsmanship of the dwarves.

But the Grey lady and most of the wounded were safe.

"Please don't let there be anything else." Gri'nyr sighed as he saw the dead all around.

Kas'tigyr walked up, looking at the hawk with pent up frustration behind his mask. Tse'los was close behind but with a posture that spoke relief.

"So, where was your bird hiding all this time?" he demanded.

"Not hiding. Observing." Gri'nyr corrected "He had been keeping an eye on us, leading the way." he then gestured to all the dead warbeasts. "Unfortunately, this was the least dangerous route."

"You knew all along?" Kas'tigyr questioned, pointing to all the dead manticores and such.

Gri'nyr didn't answer looked to the hawk on his shoulder.

"Did you find the way?" he asked the hawk.

It nodded before it jumped of Gri'nyr's shoulders and flew off. Gri'nyr was quick to rally everyone, including his temperamental brother, and in short time they were on their way.

---

Gri'nyr and his group had now managed to find their way to an exit. One of many secret tunnels built into the temple. Ones that can only be opened by one of their blood.

It was a massive set of stone doors at the top of a massive flight of steps, the steps were about ten feet wide and the steps were traversing over a massive chasm that stretched far down into the deeper recesses of the temple.

But blocking their way was another massive horde of hollows and Xel'khala warriors. And the warriors were all armed with phase blades of various kinds.

How many hordes did Xel'khalos manage to bring for this genocidal conquest? How could he have hidden so many troops?

The group halted just before the end of the corridor when they heard the uproar of the horde, keeping out of sight. Eitri shuffled his way up to evaluate the size of the horde, relaying on his smaller size to stay hidden. He took a quick look, his eyes going wide when he saw what the some of the horde was armed with. as soon as he got a good view of the horde before he retreated back before anyone saw him.

"The Bastard brought several whole fucking worlds with him!" Eitri exclaimed in surprise. "And they armed to the teeth with phase weapons."

Tse'los moved up to see for himself and did a quick head count of the horde before coming back. Doing a head count of their group, he shook his head.

"We cannot fight through a horde that size and hope to come out unscathed." he told everyone. "And we'll most likely lose most of us in the attempt."

The Grey lady looked at the horde and growled.

"I still have unfinished business with this scum." she snarled raising a hand and creating arcs of power.

Gri'nyr was quick to grasp her hand to restrain her. The electrifying arcs danced along his hand, countered by some of his own as his gauntlet glowed.

"Don't even think about it." Gri'nyr warned firmly, restraining her hand.

Some of the dwarves came walking up, holding up their assorted gauss weaponry, assault rifles, heavy support weapons and even a long rifle. They gauged the size of the horde and looked at their weapons. They judged that even with these they wouldn't make a dent in that horde.

"They got more bodies then we got munitions." a dwarf gunner said. "And we're out of grenades."

"If only we had some cannons. Something explosive." Eitri wished.

That was when Kas'tigyr perked up. Like he had just had a revelation from what Eitri said. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, getting the attention of his brothers.

"I have an idea." he revealed, crouching as his greaves glowed. "I'll have to get stuck right in them though."

His brothers noticed that all of his armour was now glowing. Charging up for a fight.

"What are you doing?" Gri'nyr questioned.

"Clearing the way." Kas'tigyr answered before breaking into a sprint. "Don't follow me!"

"Kas'tigyr!" Tse'los yelled.

Kas'tigyr jumped high into the air faster then his brothers could stop him. His gauntlets glowed as he raised his arms. And with a sharp singing of energy, curved energy blades projected from the gauntlets near his elbows, curving backwards, humming and trailing light through the air as he now dived into the horde.

Kas'tigyr impacted the horde in a flash of power, blowing back dozens of hollows and Xel'khala warriors. And he was immediately on the offensive, punching and kicking his way in a swirling motion like a hurricane towards the door. The energy blades that had projected from his gauntlets effortlessly sliced through anything in their way. He had to inflict as much damage as he could before the horde realised what was going on.

Kas'tigyr dodged the attacks that were coming, even more so considering that it was phase-blades that were coming at him. He evaded their attacks and would then respond with a crippling blow.

"That's it!" Kas'tigyr yelled out, evading a phase-blade and countering with a punishing kick to it's weilder. "Come and get me!"

Gesturing his fingers, he pushed his hands to the sides and massive concussive waves pulsed out, sending whole scores of Xel'khala warriors and hollows flying. Those closest were pulverised into pulped bags of flesh by the impact. Exploiting the space he had just created, Kas'tigyr initiated a flying drop kick into the horde before lashing out with his other leg, smiting several hollows and snapping their necks.

But even with his own formidable skills, there was only so much that even Kas'tigyr could handle. And the attacks were getting even more numerous and more restrictive as the horde concentrated wholly on him. The hollows, following some signal that their dead minds received, swarmed over Kas'tigyr. They were not focusing on killing him but restraining him. They piled onto him, grabbing onto his arms and legs, trying to drag him down.

And they were coming faster then he could cut them down.

His brothers could only watch with horror as the horde now enveloped him.

Kas'tigyr was now covered with dozens of hollows who were bogging him down, robbing him of being able to manoeuvre fast enough. And as soon as he was finally forced to his knees, the Xel'khala warriors piled onto him, ready to butcher him.

"Shit!" Kas'tigyr shouted just before the first blade stabbed him.

Kas'tigyr grunted in suppressed pain as he felt blade after blade stab into him. His plan to simply butcher a path for his brothers failed but he had a back up idea if it did. Only he didn't count on being bogged down so soon. But for his secondary tactic to work, he had to get as much of the horde as he could.

Just a little more! He thought, waiting to get as many of the horde on top of him as he could.

As soon as he knew that the whole horde was focused on him, he made his move.

Kas'tigyr's armour flashed and he gave out a loud roar. A large explosive flash of fiery arcing energy exploded from Kas'tigyr as he reared up, his dreadlocks shipping his back. Every single hollow and Xel'khala warrior on him and surrounding him, in fact the entire horde, was propelled high into the air and away from him in flaming electrified arcs like a living shockwave. A thundering reign of smoking bodies was heard as each hit connected the floor, walls or pillars in pulverising angles. The ones who were directly on top of Kas'tigyr had somehow managed to get adhered to the high ceiling.

Kas'tigyr got back up to his feet, bleeding from all the damage the phase-blades had done. He had been run through in multiple places, mostly in his chest. By some miracle, the Xel'khala warriors had missed his heart.

He looked around and saw much to his relief that he had indeed taken out the entire horde. The only survivors, if you could call them that, were feebly twitching their broken and fried forms. He casually dusted his hands, oblivious to the fact that they were covered in blood.

"The way is clear." he called out proudly before he fell to his knees.

Tse'los immediately ran to his brother, skidding to his knees. He quickly grabbed Kas'tigyr before he could fall to the floor. Gri'nyr wasn't that far behind him, the hawk clutching his cloaked shoulder tightly. The rest of the group came up after them, the able fighters busy finishing off those who had survived Kas'tigyr's explosive surprise.

Gri'nyr and Tse'los saw that Kastigyr was very badly wounded and not just physically. He seemed...drained. Burnt out.

"Are you insane?!" Tsel'los scolded, heaving his brother onto his shoulder. "You were nearly killed!"

"At least I cleared the way, didn't I?" Kas'tigyr said, gesturing to all the dead bodies. "You are so unappreciative!"

Gri'nyr stood over them.

"You know full well the dangers of tapping into that power." he cautioned seriously. "Burn it all and the body dies."

"You are just as bad." Kas'tigyr added, waving his hand dismissively as Tse'los got him to his feet.

Gri'nyr looked to the hawk on his shoulder.

"Sweep the area." he ordered. "Alert us to anything you find coming our way."

The hawk nodded and jumped off his shoulder before swooping up and out of sight.

The reminder of the group ran up to the stairs, carrying their wounded comrades. Gri'nyr stayed at the bottom to ensure that no one was left behind, pushing each yautja, dwarf and spartan upwards. The Grey lady however shook off his hand.

Out of all those they had found in their escape, this is who would be leaving the temple. Fifteen yautja, Gri'nyr, his brothers and the Grey Lady included. Eitri and twenty of his fellow dwarves. And last were just thirteen spartans who could walk unaided, helping their more injured brothers, numbering twelve along. And only a third of the group would be counted as battle ready.

Eitri was the last to go up and he was a sight. His armour was all dented, scratched and covered in blood, most of it from enslaved. His helmet's visor had suffered a near miss from a disruptor bolt and a gaping gash was blasted diagonally across Eitri's face. His hammer was gore-soaked and had its of bone sticking to it, no doubt from many crushed skull. But among all things, he had his pipe in his mouth for a much needed puff, sticking out of the gap in his visor.

"Is this everyone?" Gri'nyr asked as Gri'nyr lit his pipe. "Is there no one else?"

Eitr shrugged and gestured back to the temple. And to the dead littering the area.

"Anyone who's not with us is not coming at all." he solemly answered, walking up the steps.

The dwarf puffed on his pipe, leaving a trail of smoke behind as he trudged up the steps. Gri'nyr sighed as he hefted the scythe onto his shoulder.

"Then I hope they died fighting." Gri'nyr prayed as he started to walk up the steps. "I hope we don't lose anyone else at this point."

What Gri'nyr didn't know was that a Xel'khala sniper was overlooking the exit and had been aiming a disruptor rifle at his head, waiting for the opportune moment to fire. As soon as Grinyr was on the steps, back turned and away from the rest of the group, the sniper fired.

Gri'nyr turned when he heard the faint screaming of the disruptor and, above all, a call of warning from the hawk. And sooner did he turn and catch eyes one the unstable green projectile, that fate would intervene. And that intervention would come at a price as the hawk soared in front of Gri'nyr, shielding him from death. The green bolt impacted the hawk with a loud flash, the bolt however did not punch through the hawk. It had caught the full force of it. The hawk gave out a long and pained call as the impact sent it careening down into the abyss below the temple.

Gri'nyr almost dropped the scythe from surprised and mortifying shock.

'AEGIS!" Gri'nyr shouted as he watched his faithful pet tumble into the darkness.

The shining hawk was quickly swallowed by the darkness of the lower levels.

Gri'nyr looked up and he caught sight of the sniper with the smoking disruptor rifle. The sniper, now realising he had failed his shot and had been spotted, tried to recalibrate his rifle as quickly as he could. Gri'nyr however readied one of his plasmacasters and was now aiming retribution at the sniper. The plasmacaster charged up, drawing in energy as it glowed. The sniper had now managed to calibrate his rifle and was feverishly aiming down the scope and firing another bolt.

That was when Gri'nyr fired.

The plasmacaster fired an unimaginably bright beam of blue energy at the sniper, lightning arcing around it. The sniper barely had time to react as the beam neutralised the disruptor bolt in a turquoise flash, tore through the rifles scope and then impacted his head. The onslaught of energy blasted his head out of existence, armour, flesh and bone reduced to nothing. The headless corpse flopped to the ground, steam wafting out of the seared hole where his head used to be.

Gri'nyr's plasmacaster retracted and he raced to rejoined the others, satisfied that he had avenged his faithful pet.

"This way!" Tse'los shouted, heaving his brother along to the doors.

He looked around on the doors for a moment before he found a hand imprint. He placed his hand into the imprint and it glowed blue around his hand. The light then spread throughout the stonework like a running river. When the whole door was illuminated, it slowly opened to the sides. The outside world revealed itself through the widening gap, one of a vast empty mist filled cavern.

The group quickly rushed through the gap

Gri'nyr paused at the exit. He then thought back at the battle in his mind. He could see his fellow yautja being overpowered by the sheer number against them. He saw them being dragged down and them brutally hacked apart by the horde. He could see the dwarves being dispatched with ferocity befitting from a xenophobic commander. And the few spartans who were not with the Dionekes or with Gri'nyr were being shot from a range in the backs with disruptor weaponry.

Ranged attacks were seen as cowardly by spartans, though thrown weapons were seen as an exception since the thrower had to be close to the enemy to use them.

But most of all, he could still see the heads of his sons in his mind.

"Gri'nyr, come on!" Tse'los shouted, still clutching his wounded brother to his side.

Gri'nyr, unbeknownst to everyone, already made his choice and it was not what they were expecting.

Gri'nyr knelt to the floor and placed the scythe on the ground before reaching to his axes. He drew them, bundled them together and then handed them to Eitri.

Eitri was puzzled from this action.

"Gri'nyr?" he asked.

"Take them." Gri'nyr told the dwarf. "Keep them safe."

Eitri took the bundle as Gri'nyr stood back up, reaching for the scythe and hefting it up in a battle-ready stance.

"Everyone, get out of here." He commanded.

"Gri'nyr, what ware you doing?!" Tse'los demanded.

"It's obvious." Kas'tigyr strained, keeping his dreadlocks from slipping.

Gri'nyr nodded as his brother knew what his intention was.

"I'm not leaving." Gri'nyr declared, gripping the scythe. "I am not going to let Xel'khalos get away with this. Not him of all people."

"But he has the Stone!" Tse'los reminded. "Do you know what he'll do to you?!"

Gri'nyr looked to his free hand and as he concentrated, blue flames of energy circulated around his hand.

"It's no worse then what I got in store for him" he stated, raising his hand for everyone to see. "When I have made the Mark on him, you will understand what needs to be done."

Tse'los looked to his brother and then to the Grey Lady. Eitri looked up at them.

"Does this mean what I think he's thinking?" he asked.

"He intends to bestow the Mark." Kas'tigyr revealed.

"You know what this means?" Tse'los questioned Gri'nyr. "You know what this will incur?"

"Yes." Gri'nyr clarified. "If I fail, then this is our course of action."

"Once the Mark has been laid, we can't forsake it." Tse'los reminded "It'll be our duty for the rest of eternity."

"And that Tyrant will never know peace in the meantime." Gri'nyr added. "It might just break that bastard's mind."

"Gri'nyr, you are stubborn beyond anything I ever thought possible." the Grey Lady said to him.

"Makes two of us." Gri'nyr retorted.

"Gri'nyr knelt down to Eitri, placing a hand on a large pauldron.

"You have been a testament to your people and a close friend." Gri'nyr said to Eitri. "I'm honoured to have known you."

"As have I" Eitri answered back.

"I am sorry for whatever I may have done to you." he earnestly told her. "I never intended to hurt you and you know that."

It was then that yells and primal roars were heard echoing from the corridor they had came through. The hordes were quickly converging on their position. That meant that the phalanx had been overcome.

He looked to his brothers.

"Get to my wife and son." he told them with authority. "Save them at all costs."

He turned back to the chaos below them. As he did his cloak shone into a sheet of light and when it reappeared, there was a stunning runic pattern of Aegis on it. The Shield-hawk was now protecting him once more.

"GO!" Gri'nyr commanded, bringing his scythe to bear.

Tse'los nodded and he heaved Kas'tigyr with him as the group rushed through the opening as it began to slowly close. Tse'los kept his eyes on his brother as Gri'nyr stood stoically towards the horde.

"May we meet again in the embrace of the Progenitor." Tse'los farewelled as he activated the doors.

The stone doors glowed and started to sealbehind them as Gri'nyr started to step forward.

Gri'nyr looked at the horde that was streaming out of the corridor. The grinding of the stone dorrs did little to drown out the ruckus.

"Progenitor." Gri'nyr prayed to the scythe. "Grant me strength to strike down the darkness besieging us."

The scythe's blade glowed as if in response to his prayer. Gri'nyr breathed deeply as his walk turned into a run. And as soon as the doors thundered shut, Gri'nyr initiated his attack.

Gri'nyr jumped high into the air in a bright flash, his robes and dreadlocks trailing behind him. He easily reached over a hundred feet before he dived down fast and hard into the horde. He landed dead centre in the horde, crushing several reptilian warriors and mongols, creating a massive electrifying shock wave that sent dozens of attackers flying in sparking arcs.

Gri'nyr stood up in the smouldering circle he had created and readied the scythe with a flourish. The horde backed off in anticipation.

"Come!" He dared to the horde. " Let us embrace Death!"

Immediately, the horde was on him. Gri'nyr however was ready for them. With a loud battle-cry, his armour's ornamentation flashed into life, an aura of red flame burned from his mask's eyes and the scythe glowed, ready to reap the enemy.

Gri'nyr, blurring in and out of sight, was taking out dozens of foes with a single slash of his scythe, the blade effortlessly slicing thorough them like they weren't even there. Limbs, torsos, heads and destroyed weapons were flying through the air, raining a shower of gory death all around.

Every time that the horde thought they could catch Gri'nyr from his flanks or from behind, Gri'nyr responded before they could even get close. Gri'nyr was anticipating every move the horde was making, giving him an edge over the rabble.

Gri'nyr made his way ever deeper into the sea of enslaved and their masters, butchering his way to Xel'khalos. He at last fought his way out of the rabble, to the tunnel that would lead deeper into the temple and faced the horde that was charging at him once again.

A fierce aura of flame erupted from Gri'nyr

Gri'nyr lashed out with the scythe horizontally and shot a massive crescent wave of energy from the blade right into the horde, expanding into a massive scything moon. The energy wave sliced through anything that had not had the foresight to duck. A massive tsunami of blood and severed limbs erupted in front of Gri'nyr as the whole horde literally went to pieces.

When the bloody rain stopped, there was not one Xel'khala or enslaved left.

Gri'nyr charged down into the tunnel, his armour lighting up the darkness as he ran. Up ahead he could see that the main horde was gathering outside the tunnel in preparation for his assault.

From behind Gri'nyr's back, the plasma casters activated. But not in the manner that would be normal. Instead of positioning over his shoulders, they merely raised out from his back and vents slid open, revealing glowing energy within. He ran even faster at this point, gathering speed as he prepared to dive into the hordes once again.

When he leapt out of the tunnel, he did a spinning slash with the scythe, the vents flashed into life and when he essentially struck a pose upon finishing his attack, there was a set of glowing angelic wings projecting from his back even as severed limbs rained around him.

Gri'nyr charged once more at the horde and then did an acrobatic twist through the air, the energy wings twirling around him as he dived right through a group of hollows. The wings effortlessly sliced through armour, flash and bone. Anyone caught in Gri'nyr's path were sliced to ribbons. Limbs, heads and pieces of bodies tumbled to the ground in showers of blood faster then could be counted.

If anyone was counting in this chaos that is.

The wings acted as both shield and weapon as Gri'nyr attacked and defended. The enslaved would either get sliced or burned as the wings made contact with armour or flesh. The hollows however, were more persistent.

Gri'nyr jumped high into the air, the wings propelling up high and fast. Holding out his free hand, he made a sign and before long, energy started to collect in his palm. And the energy crackled into life and before the horde knew it, Gri'nyr had brandishing a bolt of lightning his his hand. The more superstitous enslaved attempt to flee from the sight of him hovering in the air, brandishing power that the gods could only wield. Gri'nyr roared out aloud as threw the bolt right into the horde. The lightning streamed down, arcing through the air before it impacted the stone floor. A massive burst of thunder cracked throughout the temple as an untold number of enslaved, hollows and Xel'khala warriors ware reduced to dust from the erupting storm of energy that arced throughout the horde.

Gri'nyr was quick to swoop down and reap another whole score of enemies like proverbial wheat before the scythe.

---

Xel'khalos was watching from the safety of the stairs which led deeper into the temple, giving him a superb view of Gri'nyr's struggle. He was not at all sorry for the minions who were dying by the dozens.

Anything that has outlived their usefulness deserved to die, as he believed.

"The usurper wants to die." he mused. "Is he that eager to join his bastard sons?"

He turned to one of his subordinates.

"Are the restraints ready yet?" he questioned.

"In a few moments, My Lord." the guard responded. "They are just shifting into position."

"Good." Xel'khalos thanked, turning his back to the carnage. "Bring him to me, alive. I'll be waiting to dispose of him myself."

He then strode purposefully off down the corridor at the top of the stairs. His bodyguard then shouted out orders for the trap to be sprung.

After butchering his way deeper into the temple in search of Xel'khalos, losing count of the kills he had been getting, that Gri'nyr soon found another barrier.

Gri'nyr found himself singled out a 12 foot large hulking monstrosity that would make the legendary Minotaur proud. Black furred, large hoofed feet, huge fists and a demonic bull's head with wickedly curved horns ready to gore. It was restrained by barbed chains that a whole pack of enslaved were busy heaving, guiding the minotaur towards Gri'nyr.

The horde meanwhile had backed off, leaving Gri'nyr in a makeshift arena full of the dead and dying. Blood and dismembered corpses littered the area with the occasional enslaved twitching in their death throes.

It would appear that the minotaur was to attempt in killing Gri'nyr and the horde was the spectators.

Gri;nyr readied his scythe as the enslaved released the chains before scrambling back to safety. The minotaur however grabbed one puny enslaved, who resembled very much a goblin with long pointed ears and a long nose. The minotaur crushed the goblin in it's paws before throwing the carcass at Gri'nyr. Gri'nyr nimbly dodged the flying corpse before he charged at the minotaur. The minotaur scuffed it's hooves into the stone floor, creating sparks as it huffed loudly. It then thundered along at Gri'nyr, it's head down and ready to bulldoze him. Gri'nyr however had been assessing the threat and he made his move.

Gri'nyr executed a fluid flip over the minotaur, jumping right at the last moment as it was about to impact him. He lashed out with his scythe in a bright flash and singing of masterly crafted metal. The minotaur skidded to a halt, as it's severed horns fell to the ground with a dense clatter. It's stumps glowed hot and smoked with acrid vapour. It didn't waste any time charging back as soon as Gri;nyr landed on his feet. Gri'nyr however predicted this and he flipped backwards this time.

Gri'nyr landed on the minotaur's back, grabbing it by it's ragged mane and proceeded to ride it out even as it thrashed around trying to get him. Gri'nyr brought the scythe under it's neck, pulling the haft into it's throat. His energy wings and his upright dreadlocks swayed in the air as the minotaur rocked and bucked.

Gri'nyr eventually managed to get the minotaur onto the floor, making it stumble from the throttling he was giving it. With that done, he dug his boots into its back and pulled the scythe back with all his strength. The minotaur bellowed loudly as it struggled more desperately. Then with a loud crunch and a bony snap, Gri'nyr snapped it's neck, pulling far enough to cause it's throat to rupture in a torrent of blood. The large bulk of the minotaur crashed to the ground and Gri'nyr executed a fluid twisting flip, landing on his feet.

Gri'nyr at that point felt something sharp pierce the armour on his leg and then coil around it. He then felt another on his left arm, jabbing into his flesh and coiling around his arm. Looking at the cause of it for a brief moment, Gri'nyr found wickedly barbed chains latched around his limbs. And the perceiving was caused by the barbs, which were very fine phase-blades, that had punched into his limbs.

Following the chains, Gri'nyr could see Xel'khala warriors hauling the chains, trying to reel Gri'nyr in. Gri'nyr's response was to yank on the chains, pain erupting in his limbs as he pulled. With a good tug, he pulled the warriors off their feet, making them lose grip on the chain and he then use said chain as a metal whip.

He lashed out with both scythe and chain, eviscerating and thrashing anyone in their paths. In fact, the chains just made Gri'nyr adopt a new style that made it even more hazardous to even get close to him. He would sliced through with his scythe and, when he lashed the chains around one hollow's neck, he flung said hollow about as an impromptu flail. The hollow made spectacular impacts, smashing into his fellow hollows, enslaved and Xel'khala warriors, sending courses of them slamming into the floor with severe, bone cracking concussive blows. Eventually though, the hollow's head snapped off with one particularly brutal swing and his body flew out and impacted several enslaved in a bloody broken heap.

But that point, after he had taken out several dozen more enemies, more chains lashed out at him, spearing his limbs and his chest, wrapping around him tightly. Much to Gri'nyr's surprise, the chains were unaffected by the energy wings, concluding they were made from a energy resistant alloy. The chains forcefully deactivated his wings, the energy appendages fading out and the casters retracting back to the armour. Gri'nyr was momentarily snared but that was enough for the chains he had commandeered to be brought back under their control. And as they pulled, Gri'nyr struggled against them. But as more and more Xel'khala warriors grabbed the chains and added their strength, Gri'nyr was getting more encumbered.

But despite this, Grinyr was still resisting.

Gri'nyr, after much struggling and getting the occasional kill, finally fell to the ground, his mobility hindered to a point where he couldn't react fast enough any more. His last lash with his scythe magane to catch a few enslaved offguard, By this time it had taken nearly fifty Xel'khala warriors to restrain him. And the horde was on him in an instant. But before they could rip Gri'nyr apart, they were stopped by one of Xel'khalos' bodyguards, who fired a warning shot into the air.

"No!" he commanded, shooting one enslaved was about to run Gri'nyr through. "No one is to kill him but our Lord."

He barged his way through the horde, getting to where Gri'nyr was trussed up. He looked down to Gri'nyr, kneeling right beside him as Gri'nyr held the scythe close to him.

"You are incredibly brave or stupid to dive into our forces like that." the bodyguard said. "Though the damage you caused was impressive, nonetheless."

He stood back up and gave the orders to the warriors holding the chains.

"Bring him to the dumping ground." he commanded. "Our Lord will want to dispose of him personally." he then directed the horde. "Clear up this mess, leave no trace of what happened here."

Gri'nyr was immediately dragged to his feet and was then roughly hauled off. The warriors handling the chains kept a wide berth from from as they shepherded him to their destination. The enslaved were immediately put to work clearing up the carnage around them. With the amount of bodies that Gri'nyr had been leaving everywhere, the enslaved would be here for some time.

---

Gri'nyr struggled against the chains that bound him, their barbed hooks digging into his armour and the phase-blades that had impaled his flesh ripped and tore. He kept a firm grip on his scythe as he was being led deeper into the temple.

"Not so tough now when you're tied up are you." a guard jeered at him.

Gri'nyrs response was to yank hard on the chain. This brought the unsuspecting captor right into Gri'nyr's grasp and Gri'nyr elbowed him right in the throat. The yautja's windpipe collapsed like paper with a loud crunch and the arrogant guard fell to the floor coughing up blood and holding his throat in a futile attempt to breath.

"Celebrated too soon." Gri'nyr remarked to the other guards.

Another guard was quick to take his place as his predecessor chocked to death. and Gri'nyr was dragged off more forcefully as the guards kept their distance. His former captor was just left behind as he choked his last breath and slumped into the ground. No doubt he would be scavenged at a later time.

After another few minutes of being roughly dragged along like a caged animal, Gri'nyr was led onto a stone plateau overlooking a vast dark abyss. Gri'nyr recognised where he was. He was at the centre of the temple. Somewhere near the Primarch's prison itself.

And up ahead, he saw a sight he downright despised.

Xel'khalos was busying himself with some entertainment. There was a line of prisoners numbering five, one yautja, three dwarves and a Spartan, bound and on their knees with phase-blades to their throats. And one by one they were being led up and set before Xel'khalos who would then execute them to the cheers of his followers.

Xel'khalos had removed his crowned mask, which was being held by one of his bodyguards. Gri'nyr could see on his face that victory was smeared all over it. His markings made out a tribal pattern that encompassed his face. Markings that marked him out like being a son of a god. And, like many a tyrant, he no doubt believed so.

At this moment, there was another dwarf on his knees, waiting for the inevitable. Xel'khalos was no doubt toying with him, trying to make him pledge allegiance through repeated beatings. But, even though he was bloodied and mauled, the dwarf was not relenting. Xel'khalos decided at that point to try another candidate as he aimed his pistol at the dwarf's head. It was then that he saw Gri'nyr being brought up.

"Ah, there you are, Gri'nyr." Xel'khalos greeted cheerfully. "I'll be with you in one second."

He then shot the dwarf through the head with his disruptor pistol, the weapon giving off the unearthly scream as it fired. The green bolt blasted right through the dwarf's head and the dwarf slumped as his life was snuffed out in an instant. Xel'khalos walked up and examined the smoking hole he had made as his warriors cheered for him.

"The midgets' skulls aren't so hard after all." He jested, admiring the hole he had just made by sticking his hand right through and waggling his fingers

The dwarves held captive struggled at their chains in anger at that insult. They were answered by being choked by the chains around their necks and a bash around the head.

He turned to Gri'nyr as he pulled his hand back out.

'I trust you are comfortable?" Xel'khalos asked, shoving the dwarf over the edge with his boot.

The lifeless body tumbled into the darkness as Xel'khalos signalled for the next prisoner. Gri'nyr stayed silent, only cracking his gauntlets as he gripped the scythe even tighter. Xel'khalos walked up the line of prisoners, idly wagging his finger in thought as the guards kicked the prisoners forward with a boot to the head.

"I'm just separating from those will submit and those who will not." he told gri'nyr. "Unfortunately, none have yet been enlightened." He then raised his twirling finger "But there is always the chance."

Xel'khalos then pointed at a random prisoner with a finger behind his back, almost in the way like a child in a sweet shop, before walking back to the chasm edge. It was the spartan that was chosen.

"Bring in the next convert!" Xel'khalos ordered.

The spartan was dragged off to the edge, defiantly struggling against his captors and up close, Gri'nyr could see the damage that the spartan had suffered in their rearguard. His armoured suit was almost completely damaged and some of the armour plating and suit underneath had been sheared off in places, leaving bleeding flesh beneath. In fact, the gauntlet pad which his shield would be attached was completely sheared off from the rest of the gauntlet, leaving torn flesh and bone visible beneath. He had been gruesomely parted from his shield. In fact, when Gri'nyr looked around he could see several large piles of pillaged weaponry being catalogued by some Xel'khala scribes. Some of the dwarve's railguns were being handled in awe by some of the scribes.

The spartan was brought forth before Xel'khalos and brought to his knees with a few kicks to the kneecaps. His battered and torn helmet was then ripped roughly from his head and then tossed into the chasm. The Spartans face was bloodied and grazed from blows that had managed to penetrate his helmet and his long hair and closely cropped black beard was ragged and unkempt.

"You can cease struggling; you'll be dead in a few moments." Xel'khalos advised, walking up.

The Spartan however intended to keep fighting to the last.

"This pains you doesn't it?" Xel'khalos said to Gri'nyr. "You and your clan have always felt a close bond to oomans."

He then callously pistol-whipped the Spartan. The spartan's head rocked as the butt hit his head and was almost knocked out by the impact. Blood seeped down his head from where the butt split his scalp. He groaned through gritted teeth. Xel'khalos grunted with satisfaction before swinging with a backhand.

"These Spartans have certainly proved resistant to authority." He remarked, wiping the blood of the pistol's butt on the spartan's cloak. "It's a shame that they can't be enlightened like their more tribal cousins."

He looked down on the spartan as he was just regaining his senses.

"Are you ready to accept me as your Lord?" he questioned. "Accept me as your one and only true master?"

The spartan snarled a bloody snarl.

"I'd sooner fuck your mother." The spartan spat. "Though judging from you, I'd say she's hardly worth it."

He was rewarded for this insult by another pistol-whip, this time to the jaw. There was an audible crack this time. The spartan groaned softly as Xel'khalos holstered his pistol and snapped his fingers. Another guard rushed up and in his hands was the Stone.

Xel'khalos raised the stone to the next spartan and chanted in the an ancient tongue. Gri;nyr immediately recognised the language. It was the Ancients' language, passed down from their progenitor himself, that was used in ceremonial practices. The Stone's markings glowed and it started to open up with a distinct clicking of stone. The Stone unfurled itself into an hourglass shape, the centre of which housed what looked like a fiery maelstrom of energy.

Gri'nyr, his fellow yautja and the dwarves were immediately, shall we say, fearful of what was going to happen.

"This is your last chance to submit." Xel'khalos warned.

The spartan just spat bloodied spit and a loose tooth in Xel'khalos' face, right in the eye. Xel'khalos recoiled from that as he wiped his eye and growled. Some of the other prisoners laughed at that. Xel'khalos obviously felt humiliated from that show of defiance.

"I don't submit to a tyrant!" the spartan shouted in defiance. "Especially one as pathetic as you!"

Xel'khalos was so easy to taunt.

"Spit on me will you?" he growled.

He brought the opened stone up as the spartan steeled himself to face his fate

"Spit on this!" he declared.

He then roared in the Ancients tongue and the stones flashed into life. The energy within the stone was unleashed and lashed out at the spartan's face.

The Spartan screamed in unfathomed pain as white fire burned through his eyes and mouth. The flames were being drawn towards the stone. The dwarves tried to turn their heads away from the sight but the guards forced their heads back to watch this unholy spectacle.

There was a bright flash and the flames flared out of existence in a massive fiery conflagration, leaving fading embers drifting down. The stone retracted back into it's flawless sphere as the maelstrom of energy stabilised. The spartan slumped limply down and was perfectly still. Xel'khalos stood back up victoriously, holding the stone in hand before he looked up at Gri'nyr.

"Fancy a look?" he asked, planting a boot on the spartan's chest.

The spartan was pushed onto his back, hitting the stone floor hard and everyone could see the damage done.

The Spartan's eyes were completely burned out into black orbs, smoking with black acrid smog from their sockets and his open mouth. His flesh was now completely dead and necrotic. As if all the life in his body had been burned out of every cell.

"A satisfying end to a troublesome pest." Xl'khalos praised, snapping his fingers.

A guard stepped forth and grabbed the spartan by a leg. The lifeless body was then shoved over the edge with zero remorse. Xel'khalos watched the spartan plummet into the abyss before he turned back to Gri'nyr.

"I fail to see what you see in these inferiors." Xel'khalos stated. "Another of the Ossian's failed experiments. Turned out to be too much like themselves then they were comfortable with. Especially since oomans are too unpredictable to control."

"Yet you use them yourself." Gri'nyr stated, gesturing to the Mongols and Huns.

Xel'khalos straitened his shoulders at the indication of hypocrisy.

"I know how to control my slaves." Xel'khalos clarified. "Break their minds into mush and then sculpt them into what I want. And add a Neuralcyte if they prove too resistant to the traditional methods."

He sighed.

"But then again, I suppose your progenitor always felt an... inherent bond with oomans." he added.

He shuddered at the last part. Evidently what he has thinking was disgusting to him.

Gri'nyr clenched the scythe in his hand.

"Of course, you know all about that don't you." Xel'khalos added spitefully. "Runs in your blood."

He then proceeded to approach Gri'nyr, his bodyguards close to him in case Gri'nyr tried anything.

"Now, I hope you realised by now that I have won." he stated. "Despite the damage you and you allies inflicted, of which I lost count after a thousand by the way, I have succeeded. I can cope with those losses. You on the other hand can't cope with the loss."

He was then handed a holographic projector. It was activated and Gri'nyr was witness to scenes of devastation. On the multiple screens projected, he saw mass executions, looting and destruction of sacred sites and complete eradication of anything bearing his clan's mark. Nothing was being spared. He could see his fellows yautja, being engulfed by swarms of Xel'khala warriors and enslaved, killing dozens but more just kept coming. But he was proud to the fact that everyone, men women and children, were resisting to the bitter end.

"Your home world and the planets under your control have already fallen." Xel'khalos revealed. "My forces and those of my subordinates have by now established total control. All resistance is being eradicated or subjugated as I speak. And your so-called Council, MY council, is turning a blind eye."

Gri'nyr could see that some of the women were being subdued with equipment more akin to handling rabid animals, being dragged and hauled off. No prizes for guessing what their fate was to be. The dwarves and Spartans however were being executed in brutal fashion. Be it being eviscerated in a swarm or deliberately disarmed and being blasted apart from weapons fire with no means for defence.

"Any of your line who had managed to slip away will be hunted down and killed." Xel'khalos continued with his victorious rhetoric. "And with that, all record of your clan will be wiped from history. Every book burned, every scribe and historian who dares to record your clan will have their eyes gouged and their tongues ripped from their mouth. Even uttering you clan's name or your progenitor's will be punishable by death."

He then smiled as he stood and towered over Gri'nyr.

"It will be like it should have been: you will never have existed at all." he finished.

Gri'nyr didn't appear to be affected by the news. If he was, he was making a supreme effort of containing it. Xel'khalos was perplexed by his reaction.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" Xel'khalos guessed. "Don't think that fate itself or your progenitor will intervene. I have already won."

Gri'nyr responded by pointing out a weakness to Xel'khalos' attempt to break him.

"You sound so sure." he pointed out. "You forget that early celebrations lead to defeat?"

"Early celebrations?" Xel'khalos repeated. "Oh no, I'm not celebrating early."

He shut off the holo-projector and tossed it to one of his guards.

"My ancestor has been planning for your downfall since the Founding, and my clan have continued planning ever since." Xel'khalos stated with pride. "After your progenitor usurped his rightful place."

Gri'nyr gave a scoffing laugh at the accusation.

"Rightful?" he questioned, playing with the word. "I find that very hard to believe."

Gri'nyr shifted on his knees for a more comfortable posture. As much as the chains would allow.

"You remember the mantra?" Gri'nyr asked. "'To become Death, One must embrace their own.'"

"I know of that ridiculous phrase." Xe'khalos stated, waving his hand dismissively. " Embracing death makes you stronger, or something just as pointless. And a fat lot of good it did for you in the end!"

Gri'nyr was resolute.

"Your ancestor failed because he was too afraid to die." Gri'nyr continued, even more imposing then Xel'khalos. "Wouldn't sacrifice himself for the sake of others. A fear that you have ironically inherited. A fear that that has led you to commit a fatal mistake."

Xel'khalos stood tall over Gri'nyr.

"Mistake?" he postulated. "I have made no mistake. I have set things back on their rightful course."

He then cocked his head.

"But then again, I need certain items to cement my place." he added. "Items to make sure no one like you fucks everything up again."

Xel'khalos pointed to the scythe in Gri'nyr's hands.

"Your scythe." he indicated. "Give it to me now."

Gri'nyr coughed a mocking laugh at the idea.

"Are you insane?" he asked before turning to the prisoners. "Anyone want to take a quick vote?"

His yautja clan-brother and the dwarves burst out laughing at the idea. The dwarves laughed the loudest. This was just what was needed. Something to make light of the situation and hurl some abuse at Xel'khalos while they're at it.

"Take a quick vote?!" one of the dwarves repeated. "That's a good one!"

"There's no need!" another dwarf added. "He's already there!"

They laughed louder and Xel'khalos' patience snapped in a few seconds from the first guffaw. Xel'khalos, like other sociopath tyrants, hated it when others made fun of him. Far beyond the point of fanaticism.

"Silence!" he ordered.

The dwarves only laughed louder in response.

"Fuck you!" a dwarf shouted back "You don't command us!"

The guards proceeded to beat the prisoners until they shut up. One dwarf however was proving less then cooperative. He continued to snicker, just to infuriate Xel'khalos some more even as blows rained upon him.

"Silence!" Xel'khalos demanded, stomping up and grabbing the dwarf by his beard, wrenching him up face-to-face. "Silence or you die right now!"

"Aww, The Baby isn't getting his way!" the dwarf shouted back, not cowed in the slightest.

Xel'khalos lost his temper at that point. He slammed the laughing dwarf hard onto his knees, brought the disruptor pistol up and shot the dwarf right in the face. The dwarf rolled onto his back from the force of the blast at point blank range as his last laugh left his lungs, a huge laughing grin on his blackened and charred, hole-blasted face. Xel'khalos walked up and then proceeded to blast that smile from the dwarf's head with shot after shot from his pistol. When he was finished, there was no head other than a pile of black ashen dust with the remnants of a beard protruding out of it.

That shut everyone up.

Xel'khalos holstered his pistol, of which the barrel was glowing faintly hot, as the guard restraining that dwarf hauled the headless body off and chucked it down the abyss.

"Anyone else!?" he shouted.

He didn't get an answer.

Xel'khalos grunted in content before he resumed his coercion of Gry'nyr.

"Get me that scythe!" Xel'khalos ordered, his patience so thin it wasn't even there.

Gri'nyr at that point, much to everyone's surprise, held out the scythe. Xel'khalos was taken back that Gri'nyr was just handing it over to him.

Was he capitulating so soon?

"Here, take it." Gri'nyr said, in a rather friendly manner.

He then cocked his head when Xel'khalos wasn't coming forward as he had been so eager for it.

"What's the matter?" Gri'nyr asked. "Do you want my progenitor's scythe or not?"

Xel'khalos looked at the scythe with a glimmer of desire in his eyes. But, being the more cautious and self-preservative yautja, he got one of his lackeys to get the scythe. One of his bodyguards stepped forwards towards Gri'nyr.

"Could you hurry up please?" Gri'nyr urged. "My arms are getting tired. These chains are a real hindrance, you know?"

What they didn't know was that Gri'nyr was hiding a smile behind his mask.

The guard grabbed the scythe and, as sudden as his fingers touched the haft, something happened.

As soon the the guard's grabbed the haft fully in his hand, a massive surge of power erupted like a storm from where he was holding it. This caused everyone except for Gri'nya and his allies to recoil in surprise. The guard screamed in pain and terror as he pulled his smoking hand back as fast as he could, taking a several frantic steps back. Looking down, he saw the damage that the scythe had done to him. His hand was charred, beyond any recognition to be considered living, by a mass of lightning and fire that had engulfed his hand. Armour, flesh and bone was essentially flash burned into charcoal faster then the blink of an eye.

"What is this sorcery?!" he screamed, watching his hand crumble into dust and then his whole forearm followed.

The captive dwarves and yautja burst out laughing again. They were answered by more beatings from their captors.

"You just fell for the oldest trick in the book!" A dwarf shouted as blows landed on him.

Xel'khalos at that point realised how he was nearly suckered in.

"I can't touch the scythe!?" he realised.

Gri'nyr rolled his head.

"Of course you can't touch it, you stupid man!" Gri'nyr shouted, pulling back the scythe. "It answers to my bloodline alone."

That revelation wasn't going to stop Xel'khalos however. He was going to have it, even if he had to made hundreds of his own men into cripples.

"Restrain him!" Xel'khalos ordered.

The guard yanked on their chains, pulling Gri'nyr back into a crucified position with a sharp metallic ringing of armour and flesh. More blood seeped out of his wounds as he was stretched out into a crucifix, the scythe still in his defiant grasp.

Gri'nyr strained as he felt the blades dig and tear deeper into his body. It would seem that Xel'khalos was content on torturing him into renouncing the scythe. As each guard tugged on the chains, the blades dug ever deeper into Gri'nyr's flesh.

"Relinquish the scythe!" Xel'khalos demanded. "Give it to me now!"

Gri'nyr tilted his head to the side in a rather ominous fashion.

"You want my progenitor's scythe?" he asked, standing to his feet before he took a breath. "Then try and catch it!"

He reared up, yanking the chains back and throwing the guards of their feet, throwing the scythe vertically right at Xel'khalos. Self preservation coming into play, Xel'khalos narrowley dodged the scythe. His cloak was slice clean off by the spinning blade, many of his skull trophies shattering as the ancient weapon blurred past him with a loud whoosh of metal.

The scthye spun through the air like an enormous boomerang, shining in the darkness, back towards them. Xel'khalos was almost tranfixed by it as is came to him. He seemed to be readying himself to catch it.

However, with a flick of the wrist upwards and a litany in the ancient tongue, Gri'nyr changed everything. Xel'khalos, despite speaking it when using the stone, could not understand what Gri'nyr was chanting. It would seem that Xel'khalos had only bothered to learn enough so that he could use the Stone.

The scythe flew up into the air before everyone. It spun faster and faster, causing a storm of energy to erupt around it. Forceful winds swept and battered the very atmosphere around the scythe causing electrostatic sparks to dance through the air. The scythe had become the eye of the storm that now raged.

"What is this?!" Xel'khalos demanded from Gri'nyr. "What are you doing?!"

Gri'nyr didn't answer as he continued to focus.

The blade and haft of the scythe glowed fiercely, trailing a storm of glowing embers behind, almost like it was starting to tear itself apart. And as the entire weapon glowed into a miniature sun, it blipped out of existence in a flash that would make a supernova proud. A shower of light particles drifted down before fading.

While everyone was in awe from what they saw, Xel'khalos was instead filled with cheated rage.

"NO!" he roared, before turning to Gri'nyr with rage on his face. "You destroyed the scythe!?"

Gri'nyr chuckled at the assumption as he fell to his knees and hands, breathing heavily.

"So painfully blind." he panted, shaking his head. "It just opened a Gate and jumped out of here."

Xel'khalos was puzzled from the answer he got from Gri'nyr.

"Gates?!" Xel'khalos questioned before realisation took hold. "Gates!"

"Gates." Gri'nyr repeated. "Beats Faster-Then-Light any day."

Xel'khalos paced up, drawing his glowing phase-blade dagger. He grabbed Gri'nyr by the neck, pulling him onto his knees

"Where is it?!" he demanded. "Answer me!"

"Back to its creator." Gri'nyr simply replied.

He was answered when Xel'khalos stabbed him in the chest, right up to the hilt with his phase-blade, effortlessly punching into Gri'nyr's lung. Gri'nyr hissed as he felt the blade slice into him.

"Don't give me cryptic riddles!" Xel'khalos warned "Where is it!?"

Gri'nyr simply clasped a hand around Xel'khalos', keeping him close to him.

"Where do you think?" Gri'nyr questioned hostly, turning to everyone. "Back to my progenitor. Cetanu!"

He made the last word very clear, making sure everyone heard that. It became apparent that Xel'khalos's followers were a bit, to put it lightly, disturbed from that announcement. Gri'nyr's fellow yautja and the dwarves however bowed their heads in reverence.

"Your progenitor is dead!" Xel'khalos stated as loudly as Gri'nyr, twisting the blade. "He disappears and the rest think of him as a god. He is dead!"

Gri;nyr shook his head at that claim, even as his lifeblood was trickling past their fingers.

"Not dead." Gir'nyr corrected. "Merely sleeping. Waiting for the moment when he will awaken once more."

"Your progenitor is dead!"

"Then why are you so afraid?"

Xel'khalos sharply wrenched his blade out of Gri'nyr's chest, drawing a green arc of blood as he did so. Gri'nyr sighed as he felt the blade leave his flesh.

"You have wasted enough of my time." Xel'khalos decided. "It is time to end this."

He turned to the guards who had even now grabbed the dwarves by their heads.

"Kill those runts!" he ordered.

The guards nodded and they brought their blades down into the dwarves backs. Right in the base of the neck between their armour. The dwarves spasm as the blades drove right down their spines and through their hearts, their lives ebbing away within seconds. The guards withdrew their blades and the dwarves collapsed to the ground, their dark red blood spurting out of their necks. They were then dragged off, leaving a great red trail behind them before being chucked off the edge like a butcher dumping offal onto a street.

Xel'khalos watched as the lifeless bodies disappeared into the abyss.

"The scythe would have been an added bonus." he said in a cheated fashion. "But, I now have the vital element towards my ancestor's grand vision."

He looked down to the stone with greed present in his eyes. But not for the material kind.

Gri'nyr looked at his hand, seeing his blood continue to seep out. The phase-blade was preventing his body from healing and he knew that this was the fatal wound. But he would hold out as long as he could to ensure that vengeance could be carried out.

"Ahh, the grand vision." he said, placing his hand back over the wound. "Since I'm going to die anyway, care to tell me what it is?"

Xel'khalos turned to him.

"I have already told you." Xel'khalos reminded. "Our races, MY clan's, dominion over this galaxy."

Gri'nyr wasn't convinced. Xel'khalos woudln't go through all this genocidal tyrany just for dominion.

"Your hiding somthing." he said, making a gesture with his thumb and index finger, making a centimeter high space between his fingertip "A tiny but fatal flaw in your grand design."

Xel'khalos paced right up to him gave him a viscous backhand that was enough to make Gri'nyr stagger for a moment. And that was something that wouldn't happen often.

"There is no flaw!" Xel'khalos roared right in his face.

Gri'nyr chuckled at the blow, cracking his neck as if nothing happened.

"So you CAN throw a punch." Gri'nyr jested before he got serious. "And i'm right aren't I? There is a flaw. You wouldn't be like that if there wasn't."

Xel'khalos towered over him.

"An everlasting empire will rise from the ashes of your demise." Xel'khalos preached before he clasped the Stone possessively. "But, an everlasting empire will need an everlasting emperor." he added, with a very slight hint of admittance.

He looked down to the Stone.

"And your precious Stone is the key to that." he revealed, looking back at him before he gave a wicked grin. "Which reminds me."

He then walked over to the captive warrior. The guard restrained the warrior as Xel'khalos approached.

"The only thing left is the fuel." he said.

The warrior looked up to him, face bloody and bruised.

"Don't try to resist." Xel'khalos warned with hostility, as the Stone opened up.

The warrior leered at him.

"I hope you hollow slowly." The warrior spat back.

That was when the energy of the stone lashed out at him.

The warrior was straining, fighting against what the Stone was doing to him. Even as the energy continued to lash at his body, trying to find purchase, he was fighting it with every shred of will he had. Xel'khalos focused more, causing the energy of the Stone to brighten and more fervently try to find purchase. But, the warrior was still resisting, even as the energy was forcing his body around.

Xel'khalos, seeing that this warrior was too strong of will, nodded his head and his guard nodded back. The guard drew a hand back, one which had a phase-blade dagger, and drove it into the warriors back. The blade ripped into the warrior, punching out of his chest with a sickening slice of flesh and bone. Right through the heart.

The Warrior chocked and gasped as he felt his life and more importantly his will to resist, leaving his body.

Literally.

The energy from the Stone, latched into his hemorraging body, now having a firm foothold on his dying body. With each gasping breath, a glowing white flame-like mist was leaving his body from his eyes and mouth.

The same as The Grey Lady's student.

Xel'khalos, at that point, breathed in deeply, almost like a ghost, and the white mist was sucked into his mouth. Xel'khalos was inhaling for an unearthly long time as more of the flame was drawn out of the warrior, whose body was quivering and he let off a loud roar of pain as the flames intensified into a bright light.

After another moment, the flames were sucked painfully right out of the warrior's body, silencing his scream, and wisped down Xel'khalos' mouth. Xel'khalos stopped inhaling, giving of a loud grunt of enjoyment. The warrior slumped to the ground as the guard shoved him off his blade. Xel'khalos made the gesture of wiping his mouth as if he had just eaten an exquisite meal.

"Ahh." Xel'khalos sighed in delight. "How rejuvenating."

Xel'khalos looked down at the dead warrior. Or who was thought to be dead.

"Rise." Xel'khalos commanded.

That was when the warrior shifted to his knees in a sluggish and numb manner. When the warrior raised his head, Gri'nyr saw what had happened.

The warrior had been rendered hollow as evidenced by empty eyes which burned with baleful flame. Even as his blood had now but all but left his body, he was still alive but only in the sense he was still moving.

Xel'khalos poked the hollow in the head and watched as it swayed. He then chuckled.

"I have no more use for you." Xel'khalos decided, drawing his disruptor pistol.

Xel'khalos then shot the now hollowed yautja in the head, ending his now half life as his body slumped backwards onto the floor. The guard then promptly dragged the double dead body to the edge and shoved it off the edge.

"His power, his knowledge and skills are now mine. And a little more of your clan's power is now mine." Xel'khalos praised. "It feels... perfect."

Gri'nyr then realised what Xel'khalos had been doing before he was brought up here. He had been soul-draining his clan brothers before killing their empty shells. While this did fill him with anger and revulsion, it did however make a certain emotion bubble up.

One emotion that was completely irrelevant in a dark moment like this.

Gri'nyr, at that point and to everyone's complete puzzlement, had burst out laughing, coughing a few times, at Xel'khalos and shaking his head. Gri'nyr couldn't believe it that Xel'khalos had actually gone through with it. Xel'khalos had made the biggest mistake he could have possibly made.

Xel'khalos, for once, was silent in confusion from this display.

He had instilled comedy instead of dread?

"You are a bigger fool than I ever thought possible!" Gri'nyr shouted out loud, pointing at Xel'khalos in a gesture of supreme irony with dash of stupidity. "You have damned yourself all this time and you didn't even know it!"

Xel'khalo lowered the stone as it retracted back into shape.

"Explain?" Xel'khalos ordered, with a slight tone of curiosity.

Gri'nyr shifted on his knees, almost slipping the the ever growing pool of his own blood.

"Using the Stone for a purpose it was never intended is a death sentence." Gri'nyr explained. "Despite what you have scrounged about the Stone, you have left out, or ignored, a fatal flaw."

"What flaw?" Xel'khalos questioned.

"The price for Soul-Drain." Gri'nyr revealed. "Your 'path' to becoming everlasting."

Gri'nyr took a deep breath, getting as much air in his ruptured lungs as he could.

"True that while you can gain power and long life through draining a living soul, a hunger will slowly emerge from doing so." Gri;nyr explained making sure Xel'khalos was absorbing every word. "And this hunger is nothing that can be described."

He shifted in the pool of blood that was continuously growing around him, trickling from his many wounds.

"The more souls you consume, the greater the hunger will become." he continued. "Inevitably, maybe even right now, you will develop a dependency that will grow and grow and will never be sated, no matter how many souls you claim. And when you can't feed the hunger, the true Hollowing, to put it lightly, begins and you become something less then living."

He then gave a low sigh.

"In the end, when you are but a hunger driven shell, Death will be the only mercy left for you." Gri'nyr finished "And even then, Death isn't enough for the fate that awaits your own withered soul. Such is the fate of those who Soul-Drain."

Xl'khalos kept an emotionless face at this knowledge. While on the outside there was no acknowledgement, Gri'nyr could definitely sense a change in Xel'khalos' psyche. It as one of a desperation to avert this fate.

"Then I'd better make sure I never die." Xel'khalos declared, raising the stone. "Your soul should last quite a while, I imagine."

He came walking up, deliberately slowly so that he could make as much as an imposing march as possible, holding the Stone up.

"Maybe I'll find out where you precious scythe ended up when I feed on your knowledge." Xel'khalos added. "And for added insult, I will make you my undying slave. To hunt down any who have escaped this day. Maybe your brothers and that witch whore that you rejected."

Gri'nyr shook his head. He thought as much that this would be Xel'khalos' decision. His ancestor's fear of death would prevail over any other.

"I can see that you are never going to listen to reason." Gri'nyr regrettably said. "So set in your misguided ways, you are."

He shook his shoulders in defeat.

"Well, I guess it's a hollowed life for me in the end." he sighed in melancholy.

"Now you are getting the picture." Xel'khalos said in victory. "Now this shall be something to remember."

Gri'nyr held up a hand with a gesture of plea.

"Before you do so, grant me just one request." Gri'nyr pleaded. "As much as it is shameful to beg, grant me just one request."

"And what is that?" Xel'khalos questioned.

Gri'nyr pointed to his masked face.

"Look me in the eye as you do it." he asked. "It would make a better tale when they hear of this for centuries to come. Don't you think?"

Xel'khalos thought about it and he immediately thought that would be a fitting request. Little did he know that Gri'nyr had an ulterior motive for that request.

As Xel'khalos levelled his head with Gri'nyr's, raising the stone and beginning to chant, Gri'nyr made his move. He knew that Xel'khalos would arrogantly fulfil this wish, so confidant in his victory.

Faster than anyone could have anticipated, Gri'nyr lashed out with a hand, breaking the chains binding his arm, and grabbed Xel'khalos on the head, his palm on the yautja's forehead. His hand ignited into a blue aura and that was when Xel'khalos would feel the pain. Xel'khalos instantly screamed in unrestrained, absolute, and much deserved pain as the flames engulfed his entire head. He thrashed around to try and shake Gri'nyr off as they crashed to the stone floor. The Stone was flung from Xel'khalos' hand, bouncing off the stone floor and almost rolling off the edge as one of Xel'khalos' guards rushed to grab it. The other guards rushed to the aid of their lord as Gri'nyr was reciting a litany in the Ancients tongue. The guards with the chains pulled and tugged on them, gouging deeper into Gri'nyr's body as more guards grabbed Gri'nyr by any means, trying to get him off their lord.

The flames, while not actually burning Xel'khalos' face, certainly gave the impression. And Gri'nyr had no intentions of letting go just yet.

Gri'nyr gave out a loud roar, the eyes of his mask and his armour flashed into life as a massive sphere of lightning erupted from him, disintegrating the chains that stabbed his body and blasting back all those who had grabbed him in electrified arcs. A fresh wave of new guards swiftly filled the gaps as their power struck comrades hit the stone floor hard or where catapulted into the chasm's void.

Xel'khalos was still thrashing around trying to get free in all the chaos, even as tendrils of light were now coursing around his body and penetrating through. But, they did not cause any damage. Rather they seemed to be transferring some sort of energy into Xel'khalos writhing body.

Gri'nyr at that point was torn from Xel'khalos. More accurately, he had let go of Xel'khalos' head, and was dragged roughly away from the flaming yautja in an entangled heap with Xel'kahlos' guards. The strength he had been conserving for this moment, was now spent.

"You are so easy to bait!" Gri'nyr laughed, even as the guards were now pummelling him into the ground. 'Your lord is a fucking idiot!" he shouted to everyone.

Xel'khalos was rolling around on the floor, grunting and yelling in unfathomed pain. His head was still engulfed with blue flame that was now starting to change colour. When he rolled to his knees, the flame had now turned into a baleful orangey yellow.

He lowered his hands and Gri'nyr was proud to see that Xel'khalos was nearly on the verge of tears. Xel;khalos look up at Gri'nyr, his head covered by his hands.

"What have you done to me!?" Xel'khalos screamed, the flames on his head trailing from his hands.

Sure enough, the flames were gathering on his forehead, concentrating into a glowing symbol seamlessly transcribed in his flesh. The symbol was that of Gri'nyr's clan. But it wasn't full. All that it is was a hollow outline, burning with an eerie flaming glow. Like that of an eclipsed sun.

"Sealing your fate." Gri'nyr said. "Branding the Marked."

Xel'khalos stood up as he tried to brush off the flames. The flames however would not stop burning. He then paced right up to Gri'nyr.

"You and riddles!" he roared, striking Gri'nyr in the head with a backhanded swipe.

Gri'nyr chuckled in a rather ominous manner as he faced Xel'khalos once more, his mask's lenses flashing crimson.

"Your bear the Mark now." Gri'nyr said malevolently. "Death is inevitable for you."

"Take him to edge!" Xel'khalos commanded.

Gri;nyr was still defiant as he was dragged off.

"By my hand or my descendants, you will die." he declared. "They tyrant must have a Slayer. Cetanu decrees it!"

"Your progenitor is DEAD!" Xel'khalos roared in reminder

Gri'nyr however was not convinced.

"When the time comes, he will be very much alive." Gri'nyr foretold. "For his descendants, the sleeper will awaken!"

Xel'khalos drew his pistol and he frustratingly and feverishly set it on the maximum setting possible. The weapon charged and glowed, arcs of green lightning coursing around. And it was getting brighter and brighter.

He intended to finish of his rival once and for all.

His bodyguards were however shocked that their lord would use the disruptor pistol in this fashion. A fashion that was both effective and suicidal.

"My lord, don't!" a guard urged, trying to take the increasingly unstable weapon away from his master.

He was answered with a fist to the face as Xel'khalos aimed the weapon.

"You are just averting the inevitable." Gri'nyr warned, getting to his feet. "Cetanu will come for you in the end. Through my descendants he will arise, as was foretold in the annals of Fate!"

Gri'nyr intended to die on his feet. Xelkhalos didn't care as long as Gri'nyr died.

"You will all die!" Xel'khalos decreed, aiming the now ridiculously unstable weapon at his rival.

"You can't defeat Death!" Gri'nyr countered.

Xel'khalos roared as he aimed and fired his disruptor at Gri'nyr. Gri'nyr quickly held his arms in front of his face, crossed at the wrists and concentrated as much as he could. There was a bright blinding flash of green lightning as the bolt hit and Gri'nyr was shot off the edge. He plummeted into the abyss, his smoking body trailing blood behind him.

Xel'khalos was also blown back from the flash. The disruptor had reached a critical level of system failure from containing so much energy for too long. It had exploded in Xel'khalos' hand when it fired and he ended up on the stone floor, cradling his firing hand as a shower of green sparks and metal fragments rained around him.

Xel'khalos frantically looked at his hand and, much to his relief, he was unharmed. The only damage was a ruined gauntlet that had caught the full blast of the explosion and was now blackened and crumbling as he moved his fingers.

His relief soon turned into maniacal laughter.

He looked up to dark above as he cackled loudly. To where the Gods themselves would be looking down upon them.

"Need you more proof of what fate's choice is?!" he yelled to the heavens. "Cetanu is dead! And Xel'khala lives!'

His bodyguards rushed to his aid, only for them to be waved off violently. He grabbed the Stone from the guard who had saved it and hugged it possessively to his bosom. He then straightened what was left of his cloak, regaining his composure.

"Let us leave this tomb." He commanded, walking to the archway leading from this area "I have an empire to rule."

---

Gri'nyr opened his eyes after what felt like hours, shaking his head to ward off dizziness from the fall. At first all he saw was darkness and he was sure he had landed on something piled up. Something that felt bipedal and heavily armoured. When his eyes adjusted and his mask flashed into life, he saw another more darker sight.

What he saw was a gruesome. He had landed on a massive pile of bodies, more then Gri'nyr could count on his position. Executed prisoners that Xel'khalos had disposed of himself or his followers did on his behalf. Most were dwarves or his fellow yautja. The dwarves had either been shot through the head or had their throats slit so deep that their heads might snap off. The yautja on the other hand had been soul-drained before being executed, their souls feeding the hunger that would even now begin to fester in Xel'khalos' own soul.

Rolling down the pile, clattering along the way. and hitting the snow covered ground, which had been dyed in a deep red mixed with green, he found another element to this necrotic monument. At the bottom were a small number of spartans. Each had been brutally executed to the manner of butchering wild animals. Their amour was completely caved in and wrecked, as if they had been subjected to a battering ram while they were still inside the armour. No doubt slow and painfully to add. And each had had their shield brutally torn from their arms.

Gri'nyr could only guess that they were stragglers who had the misfortune of being captured and executed by Xel'khalos himself.

Gri'nyr heaved himself up into a sitting position, feeling his blood continue seep from the wounds that the phase-blades had done to him. His body was holding up but the drain was starting to take it's toll.

Gri'nyr chuckled as he looked up.

"Arrogant bastard, I knew you would shoot me on full power." He said, before wincing at his wounds. "Luckily, I still had strength for the Shield Sign." He added as he looked to his arms and saw that the armour was charred and smouldering. "Barely." He admitted.

He shifted to his knees, taking deep breaths as he focused on staying alive for the time being. There was something he had to do.

"Must get to the Sanctuary." he said to himself. "Must prepare for the future."

Gri'nyr then heard a low groan and the shifting of bodies. The groan of a badly wounded human. He looked at the necrotic pile, trying to pinpoint where the groan had emanated. When the bodies on the bottom of the pile shifted again, Gri'nyr saw the source.

He found only one survivor, but just barely.

It was Dionekes trying to pull himself out from under all the corpses. And he was badly wounded as his groans suggested. His armour was all damaged, it's once shining ornamentation was cracked and fractured from multiple blows. There was a large gash in his side, the armour rend with unearthly cleanliness that only a phase-blade can give. And he had been run right through his liver, only for the blade to be twisted and yanked out.

But, by sheer determination or luck, he still had his shield and weapons with him.

"Dionekes!" Gri'nyr said in surprise.

He didn't expect to find anyone alive down here.

The spartan lifted his head when he heard Gri'nyr and looked around trying to find him

"Gri'nyr?" he called. "Where..."

Gri'nyr shuffled up and carefully grabbed the spartan by his shoulders before pulling him out with a few gentle tugs.

"Don't speak." Gri'nyr said, laying Dionekes on the snowy ground to better examine him. "Save your strength."

Dionekes laughed at Gri'nyr's advice, pointing to his gaping wound.

"I think I know what's going to happen to me." he pointed out, with a chuckle. "I'll talk plenty till then."

Gri'nyr heaved him up into a sitting position as the spartan groaned. And it was here that Dionekes saw the extent of Gri'nyr's wounds.

"You look like you been in a fight with the main horde." Dionekes guessed.

"I managed to take out a fair chunk of them before the chains got me." Gri'nyr said, looking back at the pile. "What happened to the rest of your brothers?" Gri'nyr asked, indicating to the dead spartans.

"Soul-Flayed." Dionekes revealed.

Gri'nyr bowed his head. It wasn't the thing he wanted to hear, but he had a feeling that what had happened to them. Xel'khalos executing that spartan by Soul-Flaying was evidence enough.

"Bastard got fed up of us resisting for so long with so... little deaths that he brought a swift end." Dionekes explained, taking deep breaths. "Most of us died from that exposure of the... Stone, but a few us managed to resist. Only to be captured and executed for... entertainment."

He shook his head in defiance.

"I couldn't let... it happen to me." he said, clenching his spear. "I die... on my own terms. The bastard singled me out for a fight, offering us freedom if I beat him." he said before pointing to his wound "And the bastard cheated of course. Stabbed me and then pushed me over the edge."

He bowed his head.

"I'm the only one left now." he said.

Gri'nyr shook him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Some of your fellows managed to escape with my brothers, Eitri and the Grey Lady." Gri'nyr revealed. "We managed to save some of us."

Dionekes looked surprised to hear that anyone had survived.

"They escaped?" he asked.

"I hope so." Gri'nyr earnestly admitted. "Maybe they linked up with other stragglers who got out."

"You family?" Dionekes asked, with a more desperate tone.

Gri'nyr didn't answer. Dionekes lowered his head when he understood Gri'nyr's silence. But there was no time to grieve as Gri'nyr got to his feet.

"Come on." Gri'nyr said, raising Dionekes to his feet and wrapping the spartan's arm around his shoulder. "They'll scavenge the dead soon. Steal whatever they hadn't stolen. We must get to the Sanctuary."

Gri'nyr carried Dionekes off to safety but where to, Dionekes could only guess. If he survived long enough that is.

---

The massive stone doors slid shut before them. Gri'nyr brought his hand back from the stone doors and turned into the chamber. The massive chamber, with eight large pillars in geographical positions, illuminated by a shaft of light at the centre. The light of which was covering a large stone sarcophagus.

And much to Gri'nyr's surprise and delight, he could see Aegis sitting on the sarcophagus, tending to his wound. Gri'nyr could see that the damage that the disruptor inflicted on his pet, a nasty gash that spread from the base of his neck, down across his breast and to his thigh. But it was slowly and surely healing, regain some of it's once lustrous shine.

A huge weight has been lifted from Gri'nyr's shoulders.

"My old friend." he whispered in heartfelt greeting.

Gri'nyr turned to Dionekes and his breath caught when he saw the state of his friend.

Dionekes head was just lolling around. He was losing consciousness fast from blood loss and fatigue.

"Dionekes, we're here." Gri'nyr told, shaking the spartan back to life.

Dionekes struggled to raise his head, groaning weakly. But when he did and he saw the chamber, he murmured in Greek.

"Sanctuary." he wheezed, before he caught sight of Aegis. "Aegis?"

"Come." Gri'nyr said, heaving the spartan's weight onto his shoulder.

Dionekes was now so weak that he could barely move his legs as Gri'nyr moved them both further into the chamber. His legs were now essentially just trailing behind him, smearing his blood onto the stone.

"We failed." Dionekes said.

"No, we accomplished our duty." Gri;nyr corrected "The primarchs are dead or imprisoned. Our clan succeeded, only to be stabbed in the back by our own jealous, and shall we say cancerous, kind."

Dionekes gave a wheezing laugh.

"They would've gotten... along with the Persians so well." he compared. "They make... Ephialtes look like a muse in comparison."

Gri'nyr nodded as he recognised the name.

"Ah, the one who betrayed your king to the Persians." Gri'nyr remembered. "Still, that last stand will never be forgotten."

Aegis looked on as Gri'nyr placed Dionekes down to the central right pillar. Dionekes sat himself down with a loud clatter as his legs finally gave out. Gri'nyr went about relinquishing the spartan of his spear and sword so he could get comfortable. The shield was to remain with him as Gri'nyr knelt before him.

Dionekes let out a saddened sigh that was borderline to a sob, for a spartan.

"Everyone is dead." he wheezed. "My brother spartans. The Stone-Kin. Your clan."

He raised his head.

"My... my younger sister and nephews... dead." Dionekes said, finally letting grief come out. "Your wife and sons, who share our blood, are dead. Murdered like animals!"

Gri'nyr bowed his head. Indeed, Dionekes was in fact his mate's older brother. And the human uncle to his hybrid sons. He surmised that Xel'khalos must have been rubbing that into Dionekes mind during their duel. Possibly even shown him the severed heads to distract him from the fight so that he could then cheat with out Dionekes noticing.

"My mate and youngest son will be protected by my grandfather and the Shield Maidens." Gri'nyr postulated. "They would buy time for my brothers to reach them."

Dionkekes looked up to him.

"How can..." he started before he coughed and retched hard.

He was fading fast.

"My brothers will make sure they survive." Gri;nyr promised. "They have to. The Tyrant must have a Slayer."

He put a hand on Dionekes' shoulder.

"You and your brethren fought well in all the battles we fought together." Gri'nyr praised. "Regardless of what the yautja might think of you, you oomans have more potential then any race I have ever seen. And you were, and still are, a worthy addition to our bloodline."

Dionekes raised his free hand with all the trembling strength that he could muster, his life quickly fleeing his body. Gri'nyr clasped his hand in a brotherly grip, their blood mingling with the other's.

"It was an honour... to die at your side." Dionekes praised.

"And it was mine to be by yours." Gri;nyr returned.

Dionekes paused as Gri'nyr could see that he was now on his way out. He knew that Dionekes was no longer looking at him. He was looking into space as a final image was engulfing his mind.

"Elysium." Dionekes wheezed. "I can see... Elysi..."

Dionekes head slowly dropped down and he let out his final breath as a content sigh. His grip loosened in Gri'nyrs hand, before slipping out and slapping the stone floor.

Gri'nyr lowered his head to Dionekes, their armoured brows touching.

"Rest, brother." he whispered.

Gri'nyr gently let go of Dionekes now still body and went about reciting the final rites for the ancestors to guide the spartan's soul to the Progenitor.

Gri'nyr looked to the centrepiece of the chamber when he finished the last litany. The large stone sarcophagus with Aegis sitting on top.

There was one last thing he had to do.

"Not much time." he said, heaving himself onto his feet.

He gathered up Dionekes' weapons in both hands, the kopis in it's scabbard and retracting the dory into it's inert state before he moved determinedly towards the sarcophagus. His blood dripped from his wounds to the floor, leaving a trail behind him.

He stumbled at the last step, falling on top of the sarcophagus with a groan, Dionekes' spear and kopis falling out of his hands and clattering on the stone steps.. His blood seeped onto the stonework, pooling inside the crevices and trickling down the side. Aegis hopped on over to him, concern in his eyes.

Gri'nyr reached out a hand and stroked Aegis on his crested head.

"Yes, old friend." Gri'nyr said, sadly. "My time has come."

Aegis let out a sad trill as Gri'nyr pulled his hand back so he could heave himself up.

"Aegis." Gri'nyr said, getting on his elbows. "Listen to me carefully."

Aegis came closer, intent on listening to his masters' final command.

"In a time long after we're gone and our clan forgotten, one of our line will return to this place to fulfil the vengeance on those who destroyed our clan." Gri'nyr explained. "When you see the descendant, you will know what to do."

Aegis nodded and Gri'nyr reached out to bring his pet into an embrace one last time. Aegis rested his head in the crook of Gri'nyr's neck

"You have been my closest companion for many a long year." Gri'nyr praised, keeping Aegis close to him. 'I will miss you."

He released Aegis who hopped away from him, still keeping eye contact with him.

"Now, go and keep vigil for the One." Gri;nyr commanded.

Aegis nodded, flapped his wings and flew up into the air and out of sight. Gri'nyr watched as Aegis disappeared into the darkness, sighing as he resumed to the task at hand.

"My armour may not be suitable for this purpose but it's the only way to help those yet born." he said, placing his hand onto the imprint.

The stonework glowed blue as Gri'nyr heaved himself off the lid as it retracted open. He reached down to pick up the dory and kopis before he placed them inside. Once this was done, he heaved himself inside, getting on his back with a thud and draping his long dreadlocks over him like a blanket.

"The armour will heal in time." Gri;nyr spoke, getting himself comfortable. "It will be ready when the One will arrive."

He sighed as the stone glowed once more. And the lid was slowly retracting into place to seal him inside.

"My life fades." Gri'nyr whispered. "The progenitor calls."

He rested his head back, shutting his eyes.

"My sons... My love." he whispered. "I join you now."

The stone lid of the sarcophagus slid shut, sealing Gri'nyr inside. The stone glowed more brighter as it secured a tight and impenetrable seal. When the light faded, Aegis swooped back down. He landed on the sarcophagus before rapping it with his beak. He then reared his head up and gave a long mournful call that might have echoed throughout the entire temple.

Marking the passing of his master.