'Hey, time to wake up.'

Cracking open his eyes, Jvarn was met with blinding sunlight. Groaning, he clenched them shut and used a hand to shield them further, disturbing his covers as he did. After a couple seconds, he opened his eyes again, the light hurting less this time. Pushing off his covers, Jvarn took in a deep breath of the salty air before climbing from his bed.

Looking around with still tired eyes, Jvarn saw the two other beds that made up the small room, one fit for two people. The last bed was underneath his, which was actually about halfway up the wall. He also saw his sister standing impatiently in the middle of the room, wearing pants and shoes but leaving her torso exposed.

'By the God-Emperor sister, cover your breasts,' Jvarn stated dryly as he scratched his buttocks through the cloth of his undergarments. As he did so, he opened the second drawer of the lone dresser and pulled out a simple outfit. After making sure all clothing was actually his, he shuffled to the only way out of the room.

'Just hurry up and get ready brother, we're already late as it is,' she replied. While Jvarn couldn't see it, he could hear the rolling of her eyes. Letting out a burp, and chuckling at it, Lunk pushed through the curtain and entered the neighboring room. Looking at the two couches and table, Jvarn moved on to the door set into the wall to his right. Opening the door, he stepped out into a hall lined with similar doors. A bustle of activity blocked Jvarn's immediate entrance into the halls.

Heaving a sigh, Lunk stepped into the surge and allowed himself to be whisked away by the press of the crowd. After a couple seconds of being shoved and jostled, insulted and apologized to, Lunk stepped through an open door that was wide enough to two people to pass through with only a soft shoulder bump.

This new room was filled with steam and the sound of running water. Showerheads lined the right wall and half of the back wall. Columns that rose a good six feet from the ground also sported showerheads. The rest of the back wall was taken up entirely by small lockers. The left wall was lined with sinks and mirrors.

As is usual in the mornings, most of the showerheads and sinks were in use and chaos sounded from the lockers. Approaching the lockers, Jvarn pushed his way into the mass of wet and dry, clothed and naked bodies to reach his family's locker. When he did so, a bruise beginning to form from a unlucky hit to the side by an elbow, he opened it and removed the soap and shampoo before shoving in his clothes. Closing it, Jvarn forced his way back out of the crowd.

Walking to a showerhead, which just happened to be situated next to a gorgeous woman, Lunk stripped off his undergarment and hung it over the showerhead. Sneaking a glace at the woman, Jvarn grabbed the showerhead's handle and turned it.

CRACK!-hiss

Jvarn arched an eyebrow as nothing came out of the showerhead besides the strange noise. He would be lying if he said that it had not startled him a little. He realized he had turned the handle back to off in his surprise.

CRACK!-hiss

Jvarn let go of the handle now. He hadn't even turned it that time. That was when he felt the heat of someone next to him, someone really close. Turning, he was met with soft green eyes looking into his brown eyes. The eyes, exotic to a Venite, were paired with a smile that could make the most devoted of Chaos cultists question their hate. The nakedness of her angelic body did not elude the Venite teen. A hand as soft as velvet rested upon his shoulder as she opened her mouth to speak.

CRACK!-hiss

'What?' Jvarn asked, his brows knotting in confusion. The woman merely giggled,

'I said that it is time for you to wake up.'

Jvarn opened his eyes to hell. Las-fire filled the air, creating a show of light that would have been marvelous to look at had the Venite trooper not known of their deadly nature. With blurry eyes, he followed the beams of death to their origin, a wreck that had dug a trench in the ice. Thick ice, Jvarn though with a 'hmph'. Feeling something biting into his face, Jvarn reached up to have his hand run into the white rebreather. Tearing it off, he flung it aside before looking around from his spot on the ground.

To his left was the wreck with it's handful of shooters. To his right were figures advancing over the ice, wearing white robes stained with blood. One of the robed figures carried a banner, on it was an eight-pointed star.

'Fok,' Jvarn cursed as he realized that he was looking at the enemy cultists he was supposed to fight. Grabbing onto his las-rifle, miraculously still hanging onto him by the strap, Lunk rolled to his belly, hissing as a stab of pain shot up his right leg. Bringing his las-rifle to bear, he looked down the iron sights at the robed figures. Lining one up, Lunk fired, adding his weapon to the deadly symphony that rang in his ears. His shot flew true as he watched the cultist spin in a mist of his own blood before falling to the ice.

His kill didn't go unnoticed as the ice around him began to fizzle and pop as las-rounds smacked into it. Realizing it was time to take his leave, Jvarn switched his las-rifle to auto and depressed the trigger. After a sustained burst, he jumped to his feet and began to backpedal to the wreck, his gun blasting as he did. He was suddenly spun to the left, the corresponding shoulder throbbing. Instead of fighting against the momentum to bring his gun to bear once more, Jvarn spun to face the wreck and began to sprint to it.

One of the shooters at the wreck was waving him on, white beret visible on their head. Using every ounce of energy he had, Jvarn dug his boots into the thick ice as he tried to get to the wreck. Las-rounds flew by, ice bubbled and popped, fires crackled, and soldiers shouted incoherently.

Reaching the wreck, Lunk jumped over the debris. Hitting the ice, he found himself beginning to slide across it. A hand grabbed his leg, causing him to fall forward but bringing him to a stop. Looking, Jvarn saw that the trooper who had been waving him on was holding onto his leg while also holding onto the debris. Scrambling across the ice, Jvarn got against the debris, nodding to the trooper, who he now recognized to be Hiln from his own squad.

'Thanks.'

'No worries,' Hiln replied as he picked up his rifle and fired at the cultists.

'Any idea what brought us down?' Jvarn asked as he looked over the debris at the cultists. There were a lot of them, numerous clumps of white against the light blue of the ice.

'Look up.'

Doing as he said, Jvarn was met with black clouds that lit up periodically from bolts of lightning arcing in the sky. Against the dreary backdrop, Lunk spotted an Imperial ship flying overhead. A white flash and lightning struck at the ship with the force of a whip, splitting the vessel in half.

'By the Emperor,' Jvarn muttered as he watched the two pieces tumble to the ground below. Tearing his gaze from the doomed craft, Lunk raised his las-rifle and took aim at the cultists. With the familiar CRACK!-hiss of las-fire, Lunk opened up at the cultists. Cursing again, Lunk flipped his rifle off of auto before firing again.

After three shots, Lunk was met with an empty click. Hurriedly, Jvarn ejected the spent charge pack before fishing another one out of his webbing. As he did so, he noticed two things. First, incoming las-fire had picked up drastically. Second, those clumps of white were getting awfully close, awfully fast.

'Fix bayonets!' someone shouted from their left. Hiln nodded to himself as he drew his knife.

'Fix bayonets!' he shouted down the line as he secured his knife to the bayonet lug on his rifle. Lunk hurriedly secured his own bayonet, cursing the entire time.

'Beach walk my arse,' Jvarn muttered. Hiln chuckled beside him as the two troopers aimed their rifles back at the charging cultists and began to fire again. For every cultist they killed, however, it looked as if three more took it's place. As the cultists drew closer, Jvarn heard a whoosh and watched as two spears of flame began raking over the warp-tainted beings. Even the all-purifying flames of prometheum did little to stem the tide.

Standing Jvarn thrust his rifle forward, piercing the chest of a cultist with his blade. Firing, Jvarn blasted the offending thing from his blade. Switching back to full auto, Lunk swept his rifle from side to side, all of his rounds hitting something in the tight pack of white robes that swarmed the wreck. With a slashing movement, he cut open the chest of a cultist before following up with a smash to their face with the stock.

Spinning with the momentum, Jvarn did a three-sixty before stabbing his blade forward and into the gut of a cultist. That was when he felt the bite of a blade on his skin. Looking down, he saw the cut it had left on his leg. Shooting the cultist off his bayonet, Lunk swept his rifle side to side again, trigger depressed. During the second sweep, however, he was met with an empty click.

'Fok!' Jvarn yelled as he deflected a blade upward with his rifle. Pain erupted in his arm as a hostile las-round found it's mark. Screaming, Lunk continued fighting, his makeshift spear stabbing, bashing, or blocking the attacking cultists. Cuts continued to appear on his body, ripping apart his uniform.

Then, it was over. As a cultist slid from Jvarn's blade, he looked to see nothing but the quick freezing corpses of the many cultists that had charged them. There was no sign of another wave, just the once light blue ice, now painted red with frozen blood.

Breathing heavily, his breath visible in the cold air, Jvarn looked left and right to see his fellow troopers breathing just as heavily. After a couple seconds, a trio of them stepped from the debris and began to comb the corpses. A CRACK!-hiss signified their discovery, and execution, of a wounded cultist. Two more troopers stepped out after the trio and began to grab every charge pack they could find. Lunk didn't find himself objecting the idea of using enemy ammo. God-Emperor knew they'd need it.

'Hey, Jvarn.'

Lunk looked over to see Hiln motioning to a piece of wreckage a couple feet back from them.

'Sit down and let me look at your wounds,' he said as he moved to the wreckage. As if the words made it happen, Jvarn felt a sudden sting of pain from his las-round wound. Nodding dumbly, Jvarn moved to the wreckage and sat down against it, setting his rifle aside. As Hiln grabbed Lunk's combat aid pouch from his belt, Jvarn noticed the numerous cuts decorating Hiln's own body. He also noticed that a good amount of the whites of both of his eyes had turned red with blood from popped vessels. Probably from the impact, Jvarn decided.

'I'm surprised you're still alive man,' Hiln stated as he looked at Lunk's face before going back to work on the wounds.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah, when I saw you get flung from the ship, I thought you were a goner for sure.'

'Well,' Lunk winced as Hiln tightened a bandage, 'the Emperor protects.'

'That He does,' Hiln muttered, his eyes darting to a view behind Jvarn. Turning his hand, Jvarn saw what Hiln looked at. A dead Guardsman, their body twisted to unnatural angles, frozen blood surrounding them. As if symbolic of his current occupation, his rifle had lodged itself in a crack in the ice, standing up out of the frozen water. Jvarn couldn't help but wonder how many more memorials would dot this world by the time they were done.

Kilm, kneeling, swept her long-las side to side. An oasis of silence and calm compared to the frantic feeling from below as soldiers moved to treat wounded, get orders, and make the wreck a more defensible position. The Regimental Regulations were quite clear: 'Should your dropship crash in hostile territory, you are to secure the crash site, activate either the ship's or your own distress beacon, and await reinforcements.'

Kilm snorted in amusement. Even the dumbest of Guardsman knew that activating a distress beacon in hostile territory would bring the enemy to you like sharks to the smell of blood. However, the most loyal would still do so. They would probably be reciting litanies as they did so, Kilm thought with a smirk.

'Oi! Kilm!'

'What Hayt?' Kilm answered, her eye never leaving her scope.

'I found Jvarn!'

This got Kilm to take her eye from her scope. She looked down the slope of metal she had climbed. At the bottom stood the big man himself, flamer tied down to the top of the prometheum pack, leaving both hands free. One such hand was pointing in the direction of the main cluster of troopers.

Spinning her head, Kilm caught the eye of the Eighth's sharpshooter. The man gave the smallest of nods, the rest of his body staying still as he scanned the ice wastes around them. The horizon was now decorated with numerous smoke pillars that marked possible Guardsmen that, like her group, were now securing their perspective wreck.

Without a warning, Kilm tossed his long-las at the brute of a man below her before sliding down the slope. Once at the bottom, she took her rifle back from the man with a 'Thanks' before following him to where he had spotted Jvarn. Passing by troopers, all of which moved with a purpose to secure the site, Kilm had her head on a swivel for Jvarn. She finally spotted him sitting against a bulkhead plate, which was violently sheered from the craft, while another trooper tended to his wounds.

'Jvarn!' she cried rushing to him and dropping to her knees to slide to a stop next to him. When she did stop, she gently set down her rifle before giving Lunk a brief hug as her eyes scanned over his wounds. Bayonet cuts, a las-wound, and a gash on his leg. The las-wound and gash were both treated and wrapped in white bandages.

'Hey Kilm,' Jvarn greeted with a smile before nodding to the giant behind her, 'Hayt.'

'Did they dance well?'

Jvarn chuckled, 'Fokking cultists,' he glanced up, 'and now we got witches too.'

'Yeah,' Hayt said solemnly, looking at the black clouds overhead.

'Should'a seen this bastard,' piped in Hiln, motioning to Lunk, 'woke up and looked around like he was fresh born. Finally rolled to his stomach and fired, took down one. Then he gets up and begins to fall back when a las-round hit his fokking pauldron! Spins 'em right round but he just goes with it and starts sprinting.'

'Stretching your luck Lunk?' Kilm asked.

'As far is it'd go,' Lunk replied, earning a playful punch from the marksman.

'Jvarn, Kilm, and Hiln?' asked a trooper as he approached the group, his lower face still covered by the white rebreather they all wore during the first part of the drop.

'That's us,' Kilm said, nodding her head to the other two troopers mentioned.

'Sarge said that you need to grab your kit, he wants you to 'con some of the other crashes.'

Kilm looked at the trooper as if he had grown another head. The Sarge wanted them to recon the smoke pillars? Three troops against whatever madness lay in the ice wastes?

'A team from Eighth will be doing the same,' the trooper added, as if that would make the female's look disappear.

'No point in arguing about it Kilm,' Jvarn stated as he pushed himself to his feet, shrugging off Hiln as he did so.

'But the regs-'

'The regs also say we should light a distress beacon but we both know we won't do that,' Jvarn countered. Sighing, Kilm grabbed her precious long-las and got to her feet. Nodding to her, Jvarn looked at the trooper, 'However, I would like to have a clarification from the Sergeant himself. Would you mind pointing me to him?'

The trooper wordlessly pointed off in a seemingly random direction.

'Thank you,' Jvarn said with a nod as he slung his las-rifle across his back before walking in the direction pointed, motioning for the three other troopers to follow him.

'Might as well get this over with,' he said with a sigh.