Ch.6: Bloodbound

The rending of space sent a psychic shockwave across Krillion, most wouldn’t have even noticed, but Sarcoma immediately recognised the warp as it spilled out into the air of Krillion.

The initial battle was short and brutal, both sides taking heavy losses and even the avatar of destruction was battered, but it revelled in the blood and death whilst it pulled the flying machines from the sky.

The Bloodthirster Grn’thrng’gshh had arrived on Krillion, death would come to all and nothing would now stop it’s wrath.

Ch.6: Becoming

With a sigh the young noble began to traverse the hallways of Castle Stehlenheim, distancing herself from the rigmarole of courtly affairs, alarms sounding the call to battle. After navigating the labyrinthine corridors she stopped abruptly at a large gilded door, met by angelic servitors who frantically floated around her in a cacophony of beeps, clicks and whirrs, before the portal slowly slid open with a mechanical groan. Walking down the sacred lodge towards her steed, she shed the layers of her courtly couture, letting them fall to the floor behind her, as flocks of cherubim whisked them away, revealing the pilot’s suit hidden beneath. She ran her tongue along her teeth in anticipation, tracing the blessed sacristan runes carved in adamantium, a constant reminder of her ascension and the mantle she now bore, as well as the nickname the common people gave her; The Princess with the Adamantine Smile. To this day she was astonished at the skill in which the reconstruction had been carried out following that fateful night.

It had been seven years since she undertook the Ritual of Becoming but she could remember it vividly, alone in the darkness of the lodge save for the ghosts of warriors past crying out from the spirit of the machine. She spent hour upon hour within the throne, convulsing wildly as her mind resisted the neural onslaught. Despite this, not once did she cry out, bearing the pain through gritted teeth which, as consequence, had shattered along with her entire lower jaw at the end of the ordeal.

Upon climbing the ladder of the looming forgeshrine she was met by Viveka, her personal Sacristan.

“My Lady, the Rose’s Thorn stands ready and waiting for you.” Viveka reported with a curtsey.

The scion nodded, “Plasma cores fully fuelled?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And the Conflagration Cannon?”

“Calibrated and blessed in observance of the rites specified by yourself, my Lady.”

“That will be all, Viveka.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

With that, the scion climbed the rungs to the access hatch, lowering herself into the cockpit. Serpentine interface cords snaked towards her as she sat upon the Throne Mechanicum, seeking out the neural sockets hidden beneath raven hair. She winced as the cold, familiar sting of the neural jacks graced her flesh once again, bonding her with the Rose’s Thorn. The whispers began, voices of previous pilots, dictating tales of glory, honor and duty. The same voices which once plagued her were now a comfort to her in the brief moments she was alone, silent mentors lurking in the recesses of her mind.

Data-feeds flickered into life emitting a soft green glow as the hatchet closed, sealing her within the armour. With a thought she opened a vox channel, “Viveka, are my Bondmaidens ready to engage?”

“Yes my Lady, maidens Amalia and Lena are prepared for battle.” Viveka replied after a brief pause.

With another mental direction she activated slave protocols, linking the Helm Mechanicum of her subordinates to her neural choir. Submitting to her will, the Armiger Helverins of her Bondmaidens lurched forward from adjacent shrines, falling into formation before her as the Rose’s Thorn thundered towards the towering lodge door. After a brief moment of pure white, the pict-feeds adjusted to outside conditions, revealing towering pines covered in snow.

Ch.6: The March of Iron

The docks had held with the support of the Ardent Halo and what remained of the plague was slowly being burned by fireteams dispatched throughout the district. It was the loss of communication with one of these burns teams that first alerted Alexandros to the incoming threat.

Expecting it to be the return of the Daemon forces Alexandros immediately dispatched a large strike force of Exorcists with support of the Ardent Halo to the fireteams last confirmed location. He would have gone himself but the Ardent Halo had requested his presence aboard their ship.

In contrast to the beaches of Paradise Falls the power plant that had sustained the warm atmosphere of the beaches was made of grey and ugly metals, the buildings closed packed together and a thick smog hung in the streets.

“Captain Vitus, scanners pick up movement seven hundred metres ahead.”

Vitus's response was instant “ Take up defensive positions in surrounding buildings and create a kill box, Squad Primas advance up the main street and prepare for first contact!”

As the Exorcists waited the streets started to echo with a deep rumble like the distant thunder of an incoming storm. “Squad Primas report.” Vitus voxed, being the advance squad Vitus knew squad primas would be key to engaging this foe “Enemy sig….  ….oaching Nec... legion” the vox was interrupted by the sound of bolterfire which cut its way through the smog. “Squad Primas say again!” Vitus voxed.

The reply was cracked and distorted by static but Vitus managed to make out one word  before the vox went dead “Necrons.”

10 Hours Later…

Vitus watch as the apothecary recovered the gene-seed from what remained of squad Primas, they had managed to buy enough time for the rest of the Exorcists to reposition and counter the advancing Necron force but at a cost.

It had been easy to identify the Necron Overlord, he had almost paraded himself at the head of  Necron phalanx as if to defy the Exorcists to kill him and Vitus had met that challenge with his full fury and now the Overlord was nothing more the molten slag at his feet.

“Captain, Alexandros requests an update.”

“Inform him that Paradise Falls is secured, it is now in Exorcist’ hands.”

Ch.5: Ruin & Reckoning

The screens glared in an intense green glow, buzzing constantly with the sound of crackling static. Sargent Manros watched intently. Then they appeared. Looming shadows of the MORTNEK PANDEMICA’s death machines; Unholy Knights of the Dark powers bidding. As he watched he was shocked to see much closer than expected, rising from the shadows one of the fiendish forms. The techpriest next to him reach out with a mechanical claw and pull a lever. In an instant the monstrosity was caught up in roiling energy similar to that of the Omnissiah's Wrath, the name unto which they had given the mighty storm of eldritch force. The techpriest returned to his mysterious rites just as quickly as it took the machine to be crushed and dismantled by those energies.
In awe Sargent Manros saw a figure skulk forward on the screen. Adorned in ornate Terminator armour and wielding a mighty and ancient blade, captain Puistfuar strode out receiving blast after blast of enemy fire as if it was nothing more than bites from an insect. The captain had been a mighty figure in this campaign upon Krillion. Marching forth into the green tide striking down the most ferocious Orks. He had even been stroked down by the vicious witch fires of sorcerers of the Thousand Sons and survived. But, even with the mighty captain Puistfuar the Iron Hands were not enough to stem this bloody carnage.
Sergeant Manros put his hand upon his bolt pistol and looked down upon the busy techpriest, he knew what had to be done. And once the task he had been granted by the mighty Iron Father Seanair, he knew he had to warn the Exorcists of this unstoppable march of death...

                                                                ********************
“And you say his vital signs show he still lives?” the monotone voice of Iron Father Seanair spoke.
“Alternative.” Buzzed back the voices of techpriests in unison.
Seanair sat in thought of these unfolding events. The threat of what lied in the darkness was too great but the loss of the captain weighed heavy upon him. It was he who had allowed the techpriests to remove the weakness of Puistfuars flesh and place him in that holy armour.
“Call upon our brothers of war, The Exorcists for assistance.” Seanair spoke.
“And what if they once more demand access to the Facility?”

A furious roar of passion not often heard from the Iron father rang out, “THE MENGNAR FACILITY IS UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE IRON HANDS!”
“understood.”


                                                                  **********************

"Exorcists, I have been tasked with reaching out to you to humbly request your assistance. Our hold on The Burning Vales has been taken, an army of Knights lost to the forces of Chaos has marched across our lands reaping bloody destruction in its path. It has been a heavy blow to our forces, but an even more devastating by the fact our champion Captain Puistfuar has been taken by the enemy, he has been an important part in our war upon this planet, becoming a grand symbol to us of great power, his armour and Sword are also great and ancient relics. His loss has been a heavy blow. However we have become aware that he still maintain life signs. We are in a difficult position needing to maintain the defence of the Facility from a looming attack we expect soon. We call upon you to help us in our time of need to rescue and return our Captain from these monsters. Will you come to the aid of your battle brothers?

++end transmission++

Ch.5: Watchers No More

Footfalls echoed down the flame lit corridor, as Melchizedek made his way to meet the others. They were already in discussions in the great chamber, and the news he brought would provide the golden clarity they all had been seeking.

“How long will Alexandros be able to maintain control of the city?”

“The plague has been cleansed from the sea ports leading to the western continent but for how long is uncertain.”

“Then the time to commit is surely now, to postpone would only invite cataclysm, would it not?”

The question hung in the thickly scented air.
This was the way of the Ten Thousand. They were not like the Astartes who claimed superiority over their peers. Each member was equal, as the Emperor had decreed long ago.

The Tribunal had been in court ever since their arrival in Krillion’s orbit, assessing data, confirming information, analysing events as they unfolded. They were here, because they had purpose. They were here because a veiled threat had summoned their presence.
Krillion wasn’t just in danger, this had galactic consequences.
The enemy however had yet to reveal itself, or its nature and the orks were proving an irritating smokescreen.

“I respect your eagerness Malthael but our hand can not be force…”
“Raziel-Malek, speaks truth, confirmed Endymion.

Each Custodian was seated, surrounding a giant golden dials etched with the symbol of a burning celestial body. Hyperion’s hands had laid rested upon it as he quietly reflected on the words and thoughts shared amongst those gathered. Searching as an Emissary would for the messenge the Master would want them to know. Since Roboute Gulliman’s revival, since the Cicatrix Maledictum had opened… much had changed and much would still need to change. There! There was something there, just escaping his thought.
Hyperion rose from his seat, Malthael and several others who were stood leaning over the table as they spoke, fell silent, all eyes turned.

Hyperion began to draw breath and would have spoke if not for the chamber door’s opening inviting Melchizedek’s presence to the room.

He strode to the table, his eye’s cast upon each of them. “I bring clarity to our situation, the Master has revealed to us His plan.”
All those standing, returned to their seats, eager to hear the news.

“Emissaries and Shadowkeepers, as you know our Shield Host was dispatched here to this world for matters of importance, Tyrael's has had The Exorcists relay information to our cause to uncover it’s reasons. Now the Emperor reveals our intent.

A creature of the darkest storm, will bring doom upon us if it is allowed to erupt from slumber if we can not get to it in time. The picture was clear, this is an enemy of ancient pernicious, left hidden and forgotten.
Hyperion eyes grew wide as the words that were shared matched those of his own. This indeed was it.
“When do we go?” Artorigus asked the real question .

“When Krillion’s skies rain with fire, that will be when the Ardent Halo strike…”
Suddenly there was a bright light that shone through the port screens, the entire chamber lit up casting shadows of all gathered within. A moment later, the klaxon’s sounded and the light’s aboard The Nautilus dimmed, replaced with red illumination.

The Adeptus Custodes all calmly rose from their seats, Melchizedek’s vox chimed, his chosen-serf didn’t need to wait for a greeting nor a question, “My Lord, there has been an explosion”.

Ch.5: The Price of Loyality

Malachai the insane began life as a loyalist guardsmen commissar and fought bravely for the imperium on many worlds. His last battle for the loyalists was against the army he now joins. His unit was on the verge of defeat trying to lay siege to Xaphans defences. Malachai and a small unit of veteran Kasrkin had managed to infiltrate into the defences ready to ambush Xaphan and his barely defended command squad. Once they entered the inner sanctum the full horror of Xaphans madness was revealed. Still living bodies were moulded into the wall begging for death. Demons and rotten creatures whispered and warped on every surface. Vats of disease were everywhere and the entire area smelt of death. The scent of disease could even be sensed through their gas masks. Edging forward the unit began to hear the voices of Xaphan and his commanders. An evil laugh began echoing through the dark corridors. “The pitiful humans think they can ambush me. They think the walls do not inform me of this idiotic plan! Oh Malachai hurry up and get here i have a present for you" That was the last thing they heard before darkness took them.

Ch.5: The Lost & The Found

The herald stood still, the remnants of its predecessor were a smear now, dissolving into the ground of the new nursery, the dented helm used to crush the bearer of ill tidings was lying discarded on the floor. Sarcoma has become more prone to rages since his recent dealings with the followers of Khorne, being in the presence of a Bloodthirster had obviously had an impact on his normally calm demeanour. Sarcoma looked directly at his new herald, ‘what news do you bring?’ He growled
‘We’ve found something!’ Squeaked the terrified lesser Daemon. A smile crept across Sarcoma’s face as this new discovery was relayed to him. He would have revenge on the Exorcists, his Astartes former brethren would regret interfering with his plans.