A dozen super soldiers clad in the finest armor stood quickly around a square table. The table was quite ornate, with golden filigree in the shape of wings and eagles. The base of the holotable was snow white marble, hand-carved and brought from a distant world. It matched the rest of the room, which was made of a slightly different marble. It was white, but it had small gray streaks that ran throughout it. Chiseled pillars with ornate busts surrounded the edges of the room, and purple banners hung between them. The banners had borders of gold, with victories and triumphs written on everyone. If one looked far enough back, they could find banners dating back to the Great Crusade itself.

The room was illuminated by flickering candlelight and the blue light of the holo-table. The hologram being projected showed a collection of ships hanging in the void, maintaining a rough pyramid. Each ship was a work of art, but none more than the behemoth in the center of the formation. The Battle Barge "The Phoenician's Will" was a massive vessel, over eight kilometers, and held within the First, Second, and Third Companies.

The stone door that led to the rest of the ship opened with a groan, pushed by the legion's dutiful serfs. The man stepped inside wearing incredibly ornate armor, golden curls engraved into nearly every available space. Behind the gold was a deep purple, which had been shined to a mirror finish. On the Marine's left hip was an elaborate sword, a stylized III placed onto the pommel. He held a white helmet off to the side, which had a golden laurel delicately placed on top of it. The left pauldron was covered by a massive golden wing, which ended in a clawed talon.

The Lord Commander of the Third Great Company smiled as he entered the room, observing the various reactions amongst the captains. Some of them made the sign of the aquila with their hands, while others simply nodded.

Captain Sidriel Oscovin was amongst those who simply nodded. Unlike the Lord Commander, his armor was much plainer. It still featured that golden trim and royal purple, but there weren't any elaborate engravings. The main differences were that his pauldrons were a snow white with gold; and the only major decorations being the two headed aquila on his right pauldron, and the stylised wing placed on his left. Even then, they were much simpler than Lord Commander Kepheral Lutheron's.

The difference between the two's armors came down to a fundamental divide in the Third Great-Company. On one side, the legionnaires tried to glorify war as much as possible, resulting in extremely ornate armors. While that pride could have consequences, these marines also did wonders in inspiring mortal soldiers. The other side had those like Sidriel, those who sought to end their foes quickly so that they could continue with their duty. Not a blow was to be wasted, for such an insult against the legion and the Emperor could not be tolerated. Many of the Great-Companies best duelists were on this side.

While he didn't acknowledge it, Sidriel was ranked amongst the best duelists in the great company. He wasn't the best–that honor went to Captain Simeon Adriell of the Fifth Company. Still, his skill had won him many battles, and his name had been written more than a few times on the banners in this very room.

He was quite aware of the divide in the great-company, and while he did find those on the other side to be a bit more arrogant, he knew that both sides to the Company were needed. He also knew the true reason the other side tended to be a bit more… "peacock-ish." The bleeding war had ended millennia ago, but every marine of the Third Legion felt the scars left behind. They sought to cover the scars with glory so that they inspire others to rise higher and avoid the tragedy that befallen the Emperor's Children. Where the Legion had once been truly arrogant, the Bleeding War had forcefully opened their eyes to the truth of the Galaxy. The people of the Imperium were the reason they fought–not because of some far-flung concept of "Fame."

Sidriel could see it in how the Lord Commander held himself. Kepheral always had a near-perfect noble bearing, but his weakness was his eyes. There was a horrible weight upon them, the eyes of man who had seen too many innocents die.

"Captains." The Lord Commander's voice rang out, silencing Sidriel's thoughts. "I bring dire news." The assembled company captains mulled this over, waiting for the information to be revealed. "Our Astropaths have received calls for aid from all over the Segmentum. Worse, the Legion Master has sent for all available forces to come to Chemo's aid." There wasn't a single sound in the room, not even a breath. "The Black legion musters on the system's edge. The Clonelord leads them."

Immediately, a sound erupted in the room. The normal calm that personified the Legion was replaced by an ancient fury, one directed at a traitor that represented the worst qualities in the Noble Legion. Some of the Captains swore oaths of vengeance, others growled with poorly constrained rage. Sidriel felt a dark scowl form on his face–Fabius Bile was an accursed name.

"Silence!" The Lord Commander barked, his voice cutting through the fury and rage. "Control yourselves–you are his children!" A wave of cold shame fell upon the assembled legionnaires. They were the veterans of the company, and they had been reduced to barking dogs at the mention of their most hated foe. They were supposed to be better than that. "Yes, Bile-" He spat the name- "is leading them. But we are the Third Legion. We fought the Dark Eldar in their own tunnels, and we razed Commaragh! For ten millennia, we have fought against the enemies of mankind–this time will be no different. WE will bring war to those who assault OUR Homeworld! Children of the Emperor!" The Lord Commander yelled.

"DEATH TO HIS FOES!" The assembled captains roared, finishing the ancient battle cry. Even Sidriel joined in, despite the fact he normally fought in silence. That had been their battle cry since the Primarch took command of the legion, and it would be their battle cry for another ten millennia. With his speech over, the Lord Commander used the holotable to send the necessary information (what warp route they were going to take, when they were estimated to arrive, etc.) to each of their ships. With the meeting over, the various captains trickled out of the room, leaving Sidriel alone with the Lord Commander.

"Captain Sidriel–a word, please." Sidriel stopped at the door, turning to face the Lord Commander.

"Sir?" Sidriel asked, unsure of what his superior wanted.

"Throne's sake, brother! You are the third eldest in the Great Company–the only reason you're not ancient is because you're a damned good captain. Use my name, Sidriel. We've known each other for centuries." It was true–they had fought many battles together. But he had always kept a level of respect and distance from his superior. This was unlike the Lord Captain–Kepheral.

"Brother, what is troubling you?" Sidriel had seen an awful amount of exhaustion in Kepheral's eyes during his impassioned speech. Kephereal stopped talking, instead letting out a deep sigh. With his hands on the holotable, it appeared as if he was being crushed by his armor.

"I have been having nightmares, Sidriel. It shouldn't be possible–yet they come regardless. They show me visions of worlds burning, of horrible figures preying on the innocents. Accompanying the visions is always that same, horrid laughter. I don't know how, or why, but I just know."

"Know what, brother?"

"A great tragedy is coming–written in the blood of those we swore to protect. I see it as clearly as I do reality, and I know that this is a premonition of what's to come. Yet I still see that face–the one in the desert–it haunts me in my dreams." Kepheral's gaze had become distant, his voice a mere murmur. He shook his head, lucidity taking control once more. "Sidriel, if it comes to it–I am naming you, my successor. If I die, you will be the next Lord Commander."

Sidriel's eyes widened, as he was caught completely off guard by this. "Lord com-Kepheral. You-I-there are better choices. Captain Thalovam, for instance. He's the best duelist in the company."

Kepheral nodded, stroking his chin. "It's true, but you are just behind in skill. No, there is a reason I picked you. Some of the Great Company seems to have forgotten the lessons we learned during the Bleeding War." The mention of the event that changed the fate of the legion sent a shiver down Sidriel's spine. "Yet here you stand, exemplifying those very ideals. The reason Thalovam won't be Lord Commander is due to his arrogance. He became the best duelist to be the best duelist–you trained so others would live." He shook his head and waved a hand. "I still have to die first–and good luck to the heretics with that. I'm not about to get myself killed to hand the company over to you." His smile faded, replaced by a frown. "My visions have been getting worse, and I worry that it is related to the siege of our home. Be careful, Sidriel. I can't help but feel that something is terribly wrong."


Captain Sidriel barked an order as another horrible shudder ran through the ship. The Phoenix's Fury, his ship, groaned as another careened through the warp, fires raging on every deck. Worse still was the fact the Gellar field continued to flicker, allowing Daemons to materialize aboard the Strike Cruiser. Some Daemonettes had even tried to appear on the bridge, but they were met with the combined bolter fire of the First Squad.

It had started during their transition to Ithanix, with the Navigator sending a horrifying report that "The Astronomicon was gone", and things quickly deteriorated after that. Bolter fire roared across the ship as the marines fought desperately against the unknown foe. Daemons accompanied the intruders, turning the ship into a nightmarish war zone.

Now Sidriel did his best to organize what few troops could communicate via the vox, the 7th company spread thin amongst the entire ship. As the intruders pushed even further into the ship, the imperial forces quickly became few in number. A scream echoed from beyond the bridge, causing every marine (and every imperial that had a weapon) to aim at the door. For a single, everlasting moment, everything was silent.

The Gellar field flickered, causing the very metal of the ship to twist and bend. Screaming and laughing swirled in an awful symphony, and faces seemed to appear in midair. Then the Gellar re-established itself, allowing reality to reassert itself. The damage was done, however, as the main door to the bridge was simply gone. Alarm claxons wailed, and a rush of sounds could be heard from the darkness beyond the bridge.

They opened fire. Evey marine, every man, every woman fired their weapons into the abyss. Bolter shells flew alongside a barrage of las bolts, and there were even a couple of autogun rounds as well. They lit the hallway in a wall of devastating fire, allowing them to see the charging demons even as they were scythed down.

Despite the brutal amount of hellfire screaming downrange, the daemonettes were making progress toward them. A large form came sauntering out of the darkness, weaving around shots or simply slapping them aside with one of its massive claws. Before them stood the captivating yet horrifying of a Keeper of Secrets.

The desperate fire of the imperials didn't let up for a second, and to the mortals' testament, it seemed to double. Yet the ranged weapons would be ineffective against such a powerful demon, leaving only one option. Captain Sidriel drew his power blade, activating the runes in the hilt. The blade burst to life, energy crackling and swirling. The blade was devoid of ornamentation, save for a single engraving in High Gothic. Spec. Hope.

With a master-crafted bolt pistol in one hand, and his power sword in the other, Sidriel charged to intercept the greater daemon. He uttered no battle cry, but instead sent pinged messages over the vox to the first squad. The bolter fire heading towards the daemon tripled, temporality distracting it.

With the Demon's attention momentarily elsewhere, Sidriel was able to close the distance and slam the sword into the demon's leg. Letting out a scream (which sounded like it was mixed with ecstasy), it retaliated by swinging a sword at the captain.

Sidriel parried the blade with a shot from his bolt pistol, causing the curved blade to miss by mere inches. Sidriel brought his power sword up, tearing it free of the monster's leg. The wound spurted purple blood, which hissed upon contact with the deck. He brought his power sword up to slam into Keeper's hand, causing it to let go of the blade.

Sidriel was unable to avoid the claw that came racing down towards him, scoring a hit across his breastplate. It carved through the ceramite, but Sidriel was extremely fortunate that it didn't make it all the way through. Sending a ping through the vox, Sidriel dropped to one knee as the powerful shot of a Lascannon slammed into the monster's chest.

As it stumbled backward, Sidriel used his kneeling position to rocket upwards, while simultaneously firing the bolt pistol. At point-blank range the shells slammed into the demon's legs, keeping it from recovering from the las cannon. As it fell, the captain slammed his power sword into the wound left by the las cannon, before carving upwards.

He bisected the upper half of the demon with a spray of purple blood, but to his surprise, the demon was laughing. As he brought his power sword to banish the defeated beast, he heard it speak.

"Little phoenix-" The demon sang. "You play your role quite well." The Keeper of Secrets said with a salacious purr. Sidriel felt his scowl deepen under his helmet, and he lifted his bolt pistol. "Don't be that way, my little bird. I'll be awaiting you and your brot-" The bark of Sidriel's bolt pistol echoed through the room, silencing the demon. Despite no longer having a head, the warp entity managed to laugh. "Look, Sidriel. See what your genius brother has wrought."

As the laughing faded away, and the bodies of the daemonettes slowly disintegrated, a horrible chill came over him. Captain Sidriel turned his head to look into the inky abyss, narrowing his eyes as he swore that he could see movement.

The only thing that saved him was the instincts built from centuries of constant war. He slammed himself down, narrowly avoiding the curved blade that sliced through the air. Rolling backwards, he fired the last of his bolt pistol rounds into the darkness. He could see them impact something, something curved and long. Bringing himself to his feet and reloading, he watched the creature, the monster emerge from the darkness.

No. That…That was impossible. They had been driven to extinction–by his Legion!

Yet despite that, the curved and horrid form of the Laer lay plain to see in front of him. A reptilian torso with four arms, and a long body ending a whipping tail. It held two swords, gripped in hands that were much too human. It surged towards him, and caught off guard by the revelation, he was barely able to raise his sword in time.

The snake moved quickly, slashing a blade across his pauldron and carving a groove in the white ceramite. As Sidriel finally got over his surprise and disbelief, he felt something wrap around his leg. The Laer's tail coiled around his knee and yanked. He was dragged off his feet, but he answered the attack by rapidly firing his bolt pistol. The rounds struck true, causing the Xeno to hiss and slither backwards.

It said something in a language Sidriel couldn't translate, barring certain words being in Gothic. He was able to make out "Kill" and "Revenge". If this snake wanted vengeance for what had happened in the Great Crusade, it would have to wait a bit longer. The two stared at each other, even as bolter fire and Las bolts illuminated even more Laer.

The Laer rushed towards him once more, but this time–he was ready. He parried the blades and smashed an armored boot into its chest, sending it skidding backwards. Amongst its brethren, he could see the differences between them. Not only was his opponent larger, with white scales and armor engraved with the symbols of Slaanesh, but its eyes held a hate that belonged to it alone. None of the other Xenos had that level of pure hatred, that anger towards the defending Imperials. It was clearly the leader of the warp corrupted Xenos.

It came at him again, this time scoring a hit on his chest plate. It cut right where the Keeper of Secrets had hit, allowing the curved blade to taste flesh. Sidriel grimaced as he felt the tang of poison rocket through him, but he shouldered it regardless. That was what being an Astartes meant.

The messages flaring on the inside of his helmet alerted him to the state of the rest of the ship. He quickly sent a signal to the rest of the bridge crew and the First squad, and they responded instantly. The Astartes rushed forward, creating a wall in-between the bridge and the hallway. The men and women quickly set to work, trying to bring the Phoenix's Fury out of the warp.

The Laer and Marines continued to wage war against each other, while Sidriel dueled the white-scaled leader. Through the corner of his vision, he saw one of his brothers fall to the long spear of one of the snake-like aliens. Another fell to a large spine-like projectile. He felt a cold fury wash over him as he watched his brothers die.

A horrible scream ran across the ship as it slammed into real space. The blast doors along the windows fell away, revealing the dark void of space. Fire and debris were ripped off the ship as it shuddered from the sudden transfer between reality. They were out of the warp, out of hell.

The Laer screamed and slammed into him. It shouted in that foul language, doing its best to kill him. It was fast, terribly fast. He felt a blow scrape across his helmet, but it had overexposed itself. A quick swipe from his sword took the hand of the creature off, and a follow-up saw the blade sinking into the creature's chest. It gasped, hissing at him in a desperate attempt to save itself. Sidriel pushed the blade in further, severing its spinal column. The Laer died with a pitiful hiss.

Pulling his blade out and backing up, he served the situation. To his horror, only five of his brothers remained. The rest had died, each making the enemy pay in blood. Worse yet, the horde of Xenos at the edge of the tunnel showed no signs of stopping. He looked to the remaining marines and a mutual understanding transfer between them. He knew it, they knew it. This would be their end. He raised his blade in a salute towards the Laer, daring them to come and die. They obliged.

He parried a curved knife, unleashing a storm of bolter shells into the snake. Another Laer died by the edge of his blade passing through its neck. Another passed away as he put his last shot into its head. He killed another Laer by slamming his fist into its skull, but–they–kept–on–coming! As he slew them by the dozens, Sidriel heard an odd, but familiar noise behind him.

Then, in an act mirroring one done ten thousand years ago, a squad of Astartes materialized onto the bridge. Clad in midnight blue terminator plate, trimmed in brass and with lightning bolts adorning the armor, the squad of Night Lords cut an imposing figure.

Immediately, they opened fire at the horde of Xenos besieging Sidriel and his brothers. Armed with power-claws, swords, and even a couple of spears, the Terminators laid waste to Laers. Rousing his three remaining brothers with a shout, they charged the now retreating aliens. Together, the marines of the Emperor's Children and Night Lords put the Xenos to the sword.


With the assistance of the Night Lords, the ship was freed of the remaining Laer. The ship was still incredibly damaged, with entire sections of the hull either barely attached or were gone completely. Even worse were the casualties sustained. Over half the crew had been slain or seriously injured in the battle, as it seemed that the demons had targeted them specifically. Yet the devastation to the company was staggering. 43 marines had been killed in action, with another 26 injured and in need of medical attention. That left 31 Marines still capable of combat.

The only reason they had been able to survive at all was due to the interference of the Eight Legion. Their strike cruiser, the Nobiles Tenebras, sat only a couple kilometers off their starboard side. They were currently rendering massive amounts of aid to the crippled Phoenix's Fury, putting out fires and repairing vital systems.

It was from Corvon Tell, Captain of the 57th Company of the Eight Legion, that Sidriel learned of the situation they had found themselves in. They had entered into the Ithanix system, which was currently in the middle of war. There were already four companies of astartes present: The 119th Company of the World Eaters, the 153rd Company of the Word Bearers, the 89th Company of the Sons of Horus, and the 57th Company of the Night Lords. Captain Zeradon, of the Sons of Horus, had taken command of all Imperial forces in the system, but his focus was mostly on the planet of Ithanix III.

Ithanix III was a desert world with three hive cities and was thus the capital of the system. It was also the world that the chaos warband "The Unholy Union" had assaulted and occupied. They had taken control of Hive Pyras, and were using it to commit unholy rituals. Pyra's' void shields prevented direct orbital strikes, and the presence of a Chaos fleet made that even harder. The Chaotic armada was moored above Hive Pyras, preventing any orbital insertions. Even with the four strike cruisers and the other Imperial ships, the chaos fleet represented a significant threat. Led by the seven-kilometer Repulsive class Grand Cruiser "The Encroaching Terror," the Imperials had been unable to claim the orbit above Ithanix III.

A scowl crossed his face as he read the reports from the Imperial forces in the area. Chaos marines from all the legions had been sighted, with the majority being Ultramarines. The hate that other traitors held for the Thirteenth Legion was well documented–how had the Warlord convinced them to fight for him? What had he promised them?

Even with such damage taken to his company, Sidriel knew that his 31 marines would be able to assist the remaining Imperials. That wasn't even counting the equipment (in various states of operational capacity) they could field. And once the Phoenix's fury was brought back to operational status, she would be able to engage in void combat once more.

Yet as Captain Sidriel Oscovin stared at the holotable, studying the model of Hive Pyras–he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. Like an itch in the back of your brain, that something wasn't adding up. He blinked–the Unholy Union had supposedly committed large amounts of resources to their rituals, yet he couldn't see any signs of a daemonic incursion. They were doing something else, which was unusual for this particular warband. From the reports, they had carved a path of terror and pain through the Royarch Sector. Their usual modus operandi seemed to be striking a world, sacrificing in rituals to summon daemon hordes, and running away. But now they had entrenched themselves, rebuffing most of the Imperial assaults. What were they doing?

Sidriel shook his head, going back to reading the reports from around the system. It was in chaos, as Imperials fought a myriad of enemies. While Ithanix III was under assault by the Unholy Union, the other worlds in the system had not been spared. Ithanix I, a mining world, was under assault by dark mechanicum forces. The Mechanicus there had been fighting a rough war against the invaders, and it had appeared to have stalemated so far. Ithanix II was an Agri-world, but to his disgust, they had come under the assault of an Ork horde. With the Legions fighting on Ithanix III, they were unable to administer aid to the besieged Imperials. Ithanix IV was a dead world, devoid of life and resources. Finally, in the farther reaches of the system was Port Ascent, which belonged firmly in the hands of the Imperials. Built into the centaur The Reach, It was the current destination of The Phoenix's Fury.

He sighed, rubbing half his face with a gauntleted palm. With the ship so damaged, and the system in such peril, he knew they wouldn't be able to get to Chemos in time. It would fall to his brothers to hold against the Black Legion and the Clonelord's many terrors. The legion would survive, even if their homeworld fell. They had planned for this, accounted for something this terrible. And while his brothers fought to defend their home, he would bring war to the Ithanix System.

Death to his Foes.


The Royarch Sector

-The Royarch Sector is located in the edges of Segmentum Ultima, and has been the site of multiple wars. Due to its proximity to the Ruinstorm, Ultramarine warbands have always seemed to find ways to escape the Iron Cage and pillage the Sector. As a consequence, the Sector has raised many Imperial Guard Regiments and receives aid from the Iron Warriors garrisoning the Iron Cage. War has been waged against all of the various enemies of mankind, ranging from insignificant (The Minor Tau Strike force that assaulted Eurand Prime), to devastating campaigns (The war against Splinter Fleet Lamia of Hive Fleet Naga.)

The Ithanix System

-The Ithanix system is one of the more populated systems in the Royarch System, falling under control of House Tradian. Due to the conquest of the Unholy Union, much of the House's forces have fallen under command of Captain Zeradon. Interestingly, there are rumors that House Tradian has worked with Astartes before, which the Lord Captain Annaia du Tradian neither confirms nor denies.