Story 1 - The Iron Souls

Faustus was on his was to one of the training grounds, where Chaplain Keros had been expecting him almost an hour ago, the punishment for his tardiness, would no doubt be severe.

Faustus considered Keros to be a great man, unlike the naturally wise, Keros gained his wisdom the best way there was, experience. Experience which he now shared, if you could call it that. Aside from his temper, and his seemingly arbitrary training routines, Faustus believed that once they had time, perhaps someday, the two of them would quite easily get along.

As he walked out onto track Faustus noticed his friends, or the closest thing he had to friends, busy at work. The dome, had a track at its center, and the perimeter was covered with both ranges and mechanical appendages jetting out from the wall to help with close combat training. Faustus was unfortunate enough to notice a poor soul sliced clean in half, no doubt failing his 'final exam' if you could call it that.

Faustus couldn't help but think, and came to the bitter conclusion that he had to endure the worst of both worlds. Not only was he expected to meet the physical requirements of every other trainee, in order to receive his geneseed, but he was also subject to the rigorous academic aspect of the apothecary. Faustus quickly banished the thoughts from his mind, focusing on how great of an opportunity this was for him. It also helped when he reminded himself of how much worse off the fledgling librarians were.

At that final thought a smile crept across his face just in time for Chaplain Keros to take notice. "Look who decided to show up!"

Faustus quickly lost his smile, and focused his attention on the Chaplain's bulk. "I apologize, I trust you have punishment prepared, or would you prefer to mock me first?"

It seemed as if Keros found the statement both comical and insulting. "Well if you insist." Keros motioned toward Taktikos who was lying motionless on the track. "Take care of this problem. NOW!"

Faustus moved past Keros without hesitation.

"Lets see if all the extra time you've been spending 'learning' has paid off. I want him to start running as soon as possible. And for your backtalk, you can carry double the load! I hope you two don't have plans, your both going to be with me for quite a while."

Faustus could almost feel the sadistic tone wrapping around him. He shook it off and continued towards Taktikos.

This was the last thing he wanted to do, spend quality time with the taskmaster, and the overachieving killer.

It was dark. They were somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship, though many of the acolytes had trouble thinking of the massive thing as a vessel. It seemed like it was its own world; a world of rattling, unforgiving metal.

Leading the group of soon-to-be scouts was Zariah. The glow of his psychic hood was providing their only light in their long trek through the damp and rusted bowels of the ship. He had gathered them all several hours before, gestured for them to follow, and had not said a word since.

After some time, they reached the end of their journey. The passage way had led to a great adamantium portal, inscribed up and down with symbols of purity. At the top of the portal was an image of the Emperor, his eyes aflame with scouring judgment.

Zariah stood in front of the portal and placed a hand up against it. Each of the higher masters of the Chapter had their own unique way of opening the portal. The Master of the Forge had his archaic signs and button-keys. The Chaplains had their Great Litanies, against which even the portal dared not stay shut. The Apothecaries had a special gene-coding that would open the door. And Zariah... well, Zariah had his own way.

He began to focus, the light of his hood glowing brighter. Even the normally red-glowing lenses on his helmet seemed to be consumed by a bright blue flame behind them. His eyes became sockets filled with roiling fire.

Soon every crevice and inscription in the portal began to glow with that same electric blue. Suddenly with a sound like rolling thunder, the adamantium doors split down the center and opened inward. Arcs of lightning continued to streak back and forth from the open doors.

Zariah turned his head towards the scouts and said but one word. "Enter." And they did, taking their first step along the path to becoming young gods.
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Several years had passed but Zariah remembered it clearly.

He remembered every single scout he had ever recruited. Their names, their strengths, their glories, their deaths. So this batch was no different.

He looked through the row of scouts before him. They had all taken to the geneseed, save one. Poor Johnathan Ackbar, he had died in horrible pain as his body rejected the geneseed. Zariah pushed the thought from his mind; wasted geneseed had always perturbed him.

It was time for inspection. He would be leading this squad into their first mission, and he wanted to be sure that they were ready. But they were Iron Souls, of course they were ready.

First in line was Vensun. He had taken very well to the extra training by the Mechanicum and was already well versed in the basics of Technological knowledge. Because the Iron Souls were in constant need of warriors in this sector of the galaxy, their Techmarines were not sent off for thirty years of training. They were trained over the years by Techpriests and other Techmarines on the ship. It was decided by Chaplain Keros that Vensun and Kovloth should not be assigned to the same squad, so they were not.

Taktikos stood to his right. Though he never brought his melee skills quite up to par, he still managed to make it into scoutdom. He was however made into the squad sniper due to his phenomenal skills in ranged combat.

After Taktikos was that behemoth Jebediah. He had been rather large as a mortal, but after being given the geneseed he grew like a Tyranid swarm. As a scout, he wasn't even finished growing, yet he was easily two and a half heads taller than the other scouts around him. He was given a heavy bolter as his weapon, and he hefted it like a standard bolter, even in the non-augmenting carapace armor. Thankfully the addition of the geneseed seemed to make him a bit more stable.

Glurch was next to Jebediah. The two were inseparable. Glurch was simply given a standard bolter. He hadn't managed to earn another weapon. Of course, that somehow didn't stop him from acquiring several grenades and a chainsword, which Chaplain Keros had long since stopped bothering to confiscate or figure out where they were coming from. His odd knack for being invisible seemed to only increase after Glurch had been granted the geneseed.

Faustus had also been assigned to this squad. His carapace armor was white and had the double-helix sign of the apothecaries. He had taken extremely well to their teachings and had a smaller version of their narthecium gauntlet on his arm.

Lielk was also in the squad. He was armed with bolt pistol and chainsword. He also carried a variation of the stormshield, it was smaller and lacked the energy field, but was still a solid chunk of metal between him and his enemies.

Dagon had also been dragged into the squad. Zariah needed to watch him personally. He showed signs of being a Delta or Gamma level psyker, though Zariah was unsure where Dagon's talents might be. Was he a kinetic? Mind manipulator perhaps? He could be any number of things, and Zariah needed to watch him to find out. Also, it went unsaid that Zariah needed to be there to ward off demonic possession, or destroy him should the unthinkable happen.

Zariah looked at his squad. They were ready. He ordered them onto the thunkerhawk. They were being dropped onto the hive world, Thruen Secondus. They had two objectives: wipe out the Chaos cult that was causing social upheaval in the city, and clean out the few remaining Tyranid nests leftover from the most recent tendril that passed through.

With a roar the Thunderhawk lifted off, screaming through the atmosphere of the planet.

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They had landed at the governor’s palace. It was empty; the governor had been assassinated several weeks ago.

Zariah looked at the assembled squad in front of him. “Well?” he said, “Lead the way, this is your test. Not mine.”

Taktikos ran through his third weapons check. His sniper sat adjacent him in a weapon dock. The check was all mental. His eyes were closed. He picked his weapon apart piece by piece, noting all the changes that made his bolter a sniper. M40 targeting. Silenced shells. Gas chamber. extended Stock and Barrel. After the check was finished he opened his eyes. He took note of all the men around him. They were all many times mightier in all areas than they had been before. 'I'm thinking back again. I need to stop that. I need to keep here and now in mind. The calculations at hand are all that matters.' Taktikos lead his eyes about the thunderhawk's interior. He took everything apart mentally. He matched each man around him with their respective weapons, and ran through both the weapons and the mens' specifications in his head.l Physically Taktikos couldn't match any of the men around him, his constant reprimand during training had thoroughly drilled that fact into his head. He also knew through his own calculations that no one here could match his marksmanship. A smile crept across Taktikos' face. He closed his eyes, built a mental image of his scope. It was oddly peaceful and centering. He sat for a long time his eyes closed, running through constant mental training, and weapon checks, calculations, and targeting sequence checks.

Lielk sat on the seat of the thunderhawk. His shield was shining brightly, his chainsword was well oiled, his bolter was cleaned, and his clips were loaded. He was ready to go into battle, but as he looked around some of the others did not seem ready. Taktikos was nervousley running checks on his equipment, deep in concentration. Faustus was to occupied glaring at Taktikos, and Venson was tinkering with his equipment. Lielk made a point to remember to ask him about his design for a new sheild, one the standard tech priest might not fullfill being unable to see the use in such a simple device, and lacking the inginuity to go beyond the design specifications to improve the design in ways he did not know how. Some on the thunderhawk sat staring at the walls, waiting for their first battle, but Jebidiah seemed ready, no, eager to fight. This was going to be an interesting group. Hopefully they would listen to him in a dire situation, although he doesn't see himself as the leader, but he would do what was neccisary for the mission, and for his survival, and he seemed to be the best qualified. It didn't matter to him, as long as they listened to him tactically, and as long as they didn't get himself, themselves, or the others killed, and they didn't fould the mission. He planned to never fail his goal, and he didn't want these fools letting him down. He thought briefly what he would do if he died, then only one though popped into his mind.

'FOR THE EMPEROR!!'

Vensun laughed quietly to himself as the dropship descended. Those fooling tech-priests were so simple-minded, following the doctrines of their successors blindly. Couldn't they see that there was so much MORE to the machine spirit they worshiped?

Either way, he had gotten though it. It was actually quite humorous. He had noticed that Glurch had gone missing several times, and began to wonder about it. So, stealing parts from the tech-priests inventory, he had managed to construct a tiny tracking device, fairly simple in design, which he implanted in the poor saps scull while he was asleep.

Thinking about it, Vensun laughed. Now that he was transformed, it would be a magnitude harder to get back out through his thick skin, and he might be stuck with it for life.

Either way, Vensun had learned a thing or two from following Glurch. In this way he managed to scavenge the parts he needed. The difficult part was not building the contraptions, oh no, it was making them small and sleek enough to hide on his person. That is what took time. He knew that if the chaplain or Zariah caught him with them, there would be repercussions.

He managed it. He was wearing the simplest of power skeletons right now. If it could even be called that. It was simply a bunch of metal scraps with a few electric motors thrown in. It wasn't even very reactive, the sensors were few and damaged, and it certainly did not give him any measure of strength, but it did increase his endurance significantly. The death runs of the chaplains were torture, but at least he was not dieing from them at the end of each.

He had also hid a couple more surprises in his armor, those had taken the longest, and some were still buggy as he had focused on concealing them. On his back was a large pack he had stuffed full of useful things, long ago having abandoned his little sack of toys.

The landing of the shuttle disturbed his thoughts with a thump. He readied himself as the others jogged out of the craft, staying near the rear with Taktikos and Glurch.

The palace grounds were empty, and they made their way inside the palace without event. What lay inside however, was a completely different story.

"Oi Glurch"
"What up Jeb?"
"I used one of your grenades the other day and i think they're busted"
Glurch was puzzled at this comment "What do you mean you think they're busted?"
"Well the other day I threw one at a dummy and all it did was smoke up the place. No big explosion, no small explosion, just smoke."

Glurch chuckled

"Whats so funny?"
"Ah my good friend Jeb, not all weapons are used for killing people"
"Well then whats the use of them then?"
"Oh, you'll find out later"

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Jebediah sat, and sat, and sat, and sat, and sat, and sat some more until finally he snapped.

"ARE WE BLOODY THEIR YET" shouted Jebediah

"Calm down and keep yourself occupied, look at everyone else, notice how they diligently check their gear and make sure that they're ready?" snapped back Zariah "now sit down and do something productive."

Jebediah didnt really understand why everyone was checking their gear. Did they seriously think that it would some how disappear right before their very eyes? Actually that could be a possibility with Glurch on the ship. Anyway the point was it was stupid and he didnt feel like doing it. But eventually he got so bored that he felt like he might as well cause he had nothing else better to do.

'Lets see here, i have my gun, my armor, my extra ammo, my melee weapon, my lucky skull, my grenades, and last but not least my sandwich. Looks like im ready to tear things limb to limb'

after many more hours (or what seemed to be hours) the ship landed with a thud. The back hatch of the ship opened and the gang was off.

Taktikos grabbed his sniper from the weapon rack as he exited the ship. It was the last weapon he grabbed, and the only weapon he carried that wouldn't fit in the small container near his seat. He snapped the two main pieces of the wept together. It was too long to store efficiently when it was fully constructed. He checked the weapon physically, just as he had nearly 100 times mentally on the ship.

'Zariah seems all too pleased that we're here, this won't be easy.'

Taktikos was already analyzing the surrounding terrain, making his normal mental map, plotting trails, paths, tactics as they progressed. He constantly updated his mental information, and the plans he built from it.

'I can run my plans with my eyes closed in the test environments, but this is real battle, I better not take any chances. I have a strange feeling that this place is not nearly as inviting as it seems to be.'

The processes Lielk took were much like that of Taktikos' thought process, but the differences did vary. Lielk looked around at the terrain for the best place to set an ambush, for when one thinks far enough with an offensive mind, the proper defense is clear.

They say offense is the best defense, but never had he seen an offensive army with an inferior force take a defensive army, when the defense was appointed with a mind near his magnitude. Although many times had he seen miniscule defenses halt, hinder, or even turn assualts away where the offense seemed unstoppable. Of course, this was all on an even playing field, where all technology was of equal standard; and according to the rumors, the technology of the Space marines was not surpassed, at least not commonly.

He thought of the best place for the group of his to be placed, where all of thier streghnths could come into play, with the least of thier weaknesses. He could not call them his people, for he was not yet appointed leader, he was not granted command, at least not yet...

He knew this was his chance to take the reigns, to show he was worthy, yet it was not the time to step out of line. He would prove himself worthy of thier training, and he would do so mostly for the emperor, and a little for himself.

Glurch scratched his head. It had been itching horribly lately. He wondered if he should see and apothecary about it.

Glurch checked what little equipment he had once again. He felt the hilt of his knife. He loved that knife. Ever since it had been given to him be Jebediah, he had been obsessing over it. It was a beautiful knife. He felt like it should be his trademark somehow. That it would be his signature. He felt that he could give it to his son, eventually. (The gravity of his own sterilization had not yet dawned on him.)

He felt disappointed with some of the weapons he had taken. His grenades didn't work. All they did was cover everything with smoke. He was terribly embarrassed. He had tried to make up some kind of story to Jeb to avoid a damaged ego, but he was gravely nervous about what should happen if he needed a grenade.

Lielk was ranting about something. That one never seemed to shut up. Glurch could never understand a word he was saying, either. Constantly attempting inspiring speeches, they would always end up confusing or overdramatic.

He stretched, waiting for his orders. He surveyed the land around him.

"So what are we supposed to be doing again? I've been dozing off a good while now."

They had entered the palace without event. It was empty. Well, not empty, but it held no life. It was filled with corpses, and the walls were covered with blood and blasphemous symbols.

Zariah could feel the whispers coming from the walls; chaos had left its mark here, not only in the physical realm. He looked at the scouts, they looked a little shocked, but their training held up. Good.

"Hold," he said simply, holding up a closed fist. He took that fist and held it in front of him, then suddenly he opened it, sending a great wave of white flame down the hall, reducing the corpses and symbols to ashes.

"Now we can continue," and so he did. He followed the strand of fate to the Governor's office. Once inside, they found the gaping hole in its back wall that had once been the entrance to the Governor's escape tunnel. "So this is how they got inside," Zariah muttered aloud, more for the benefit of the scouts. "Come, their base of operations will most likely be somewhere in this tunnel. Lets go find it." He jumped through, and there was a loud thud from somewhere below. It was immediately followed by the sound of screaming cultists and bolter shots.

Taktikos had stayed toward the back of the group of scouts from the time they had exited the thunderhawk. Now it seemed it would finally pay off. He watched Zariah disappear through the dark hole in the whole, and smiled at the howls that followed. Other scouts dropped through one after the other, and the sound of battle had escalated to something of a roar resounding up into the room. Taktikos moved his sniper so that it hung across his back, and drew a short blade from his side. Training had reinforced the fact that his favorite weapon may not always be the most effective. Taktikos sent himself into motion down the tunnel. The tunnel was just that, a long tunnel. It was oddly tall, sparsely lit, and the lip Taktikos had just traversed acted as a wall. He smiled, and returned his sword to it's sheath before bringing his sniper to bear. He crouched, scoping in down the tunnel. There was a constant flow of cultists, and his fellow scouts acted as an effective wall between there torrent and himself. He fired round ofter round down the tunnel watching his targets, and often many of the cultists behind them explode as the solid mercury slugs tore through targets.

As they dropped into the lip of the hole, they were almost instantly set upon by cultist. Lielk withdrew his bolter first, firing shots at the closest to him as he withdrew his sword. He swung in a wide arc around himself, clearing some space, and buying much needed time. He slammed his sword-hilt into the nearest mans skull, and he fell with a morbid crunch. Lielk then managed to burnish his shield from upon his back, and slammed it into the nearest charging cultist, knocking him off balacne before slicing off his head. Lielk then turned around quickly as he heard a noise behind him, and killed an approaching cultist as Taktikos dropped in behind them. Now the cultist lay only infront of them, and Taktikos began firing shots into the mass of cultist. Lielk then crouched, swipping low with his chainssord, sawing through muscle, bone, and tinew of their deformed legs, as he blocked the axe strike using his shield above him. He then kept his shield laying on his back with his right hand holding it, as he quckly rose upwards, flinging the attacker into the air, and his legs hit seperatly from his torso, as Lielk's sword slashed through him on it's way to biting a piece from it's next victim. This was all to easy, Lielk could only hope more enemies were to follow this small batch of abominations, for they were no match for his guile, cunning, streghnth, or his intelligence.

The sound of growling rolled down the hall to the group of Space Marines. A mass of cultists was running towards them, shouting incoherently. Following on their heels, occasionally striking one down, was a being that filled the Space Marines with loathing. It was a twisted parody of what they one day hoped to become. Blood-red armor adorned liberally with spikes, it was terrible to behold, a Chaos Marine. It towered over the cultists, urging them forward with a cruelly spiked whip and brandishing an ornate bolt pistol. "Onward," it shouted. "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

Taktikos dropped down low, using a large rock as cover to reload. His heart was racing. He knew that not many races or beings could match the strength or guile, or technology of a space marine, but he didn't doubt that a fallen space marine was a foe worthy of such lore. He slammed the new clip home and brought his weapon up and steadied his aim on the shining red monster. He slowly brought the trigger back. Finally a brief click and then the silent shot flew down the tunnel. The shell hit home, landing square in the fallen warriors chest, a perfect center of mass shot, and the chaos marine didn't even flinch. Taktikos pulled again and again firing again and again, spending a full slip on the hulk during his advance. He showed no sign of damage.

"Skulls for the skull throne!"

Taktikos dropped back into cover to reload. He was trembling.

'A full clip and that thing can still scream blasphemous filth. What have we gotten ourselves into?'

Taktikos centered himself, running battle hymns over in his mind. He brought himself out from cover again as he slammed home his clipped, and set off another chain of shots, this time all aimed at the bolt pistol in the warriors hand hoping to cause some sort of fatal damage to the device.

As Lielk killed the last mutant standing, he heared a rumbling, with wild screaming coming down the hall. Lielk then almost regretted his wish for more enemies. He saw cultist run around the corner in a panic, running over the bodies of their allies, and no fear arose in them. Lielk then saw why the bodies and the enemies who killed thier comrades caused no fear. As he noticed the chaos marine, he then regretted his wish for more enemies. He could not believe his foul luck, he had jinxed himself into an enemy more deadly than he could imagine. Yet he had to smirk to himself, for here was an enemy to gain renown from, here was his chance to prove his leadership abilities, here was his chance to honor the emperor.
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"Form on me!" Lielk yelled, bringing his voice out to rise over the shots ringing out by Taktikos, grabbing his chance of leadership amongst the turmoil of the chaos marine. "We need to activate defense proceedure Falcon Bravo."

Spoiler:

"And if all else fails, fight a retreating battle, I will hold them off as long as possible. If I am to command you at all, I will make sure you have the best chance of survival, at any cost. You do not have to obey me, for I am not your superior officer, but I would advise it. If you know of a better plan, that we can enact within the next, oh, 5 seconds, lets hear it. Otherwise, form up or run. I say fight. I say we kill this miscreetant. I say we go down fighting, or we don't go down at all. I say we live, and we live to be heros, not cowards. I say we fight. I say, For the Emperor!!!"

Several of Taktikos' shots smacked into the foul champion's weapon. Though destroying the weapon, it did not stop the champion from using it as it intended, which was to bludgeon the nearest cultists to death and out of his way.

Zariah stood impassively a few feet behind the scouts. They were doing admirably, he thought. The involvement of Chaos Marines was unexpected, but not wholly surprising. It was not uncommon for a few of their number to infiltrate planets and start cults. Though, thought Zariah darkly, that usually preempts a full invasion.

He turned towards Taktikos, who was expertly sending round after round into the charging behemoth. There was a sharp crack as weblike lines suddenly sprang up on the warrior's chestplate. It was still some distance down the hall and mired in a mob of cultists, but it would soon be among the scouts, and well trained as they may be, it would rip them apart up close.

He watched as Lielk took initiative, trying to lead the group. Useful to note for the future, but a fighting retreat was not necessary at the moment. They needed to move forward, and this was their only lead to wherever the cult was hidden. Besides, if things started looking too bad, Zariah could always step in.

Zariah reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a single round, and tossed it to Taktikos. "It isn't silenced," he said, "but it will get through his armor. Aim for the head. Heroism, however blasphemous it may be, won't save one from a shot to the head." As if to emphasize the point, he tapped a gauntleted finger against his helmet.

Spoiler:

*SLASH SLASH SLASH SLASH* Jebediah was going on a killing spree, it was great. But every good thing must come to an end.

"Onward"

Jebediah looked up to see something that made him shiver. It was a Chaos Marine, very big and very scary. Everyone was still.

*dink*

It was Taktikos who shot at the beast first. He kept on shooting and shooting with not very much luck. Jebediah didnt really wanna help Taktikos because he knew that if he and Taktikos failed then the Chaos Marine would show no mercy on them. But Jebediahs urge to destroy stuff with his gun was STRONG.

Jebediah swung his gun out and started shooting at the mighty creature. unfortunately it didnt help much.

He heard Lielk shout some rubbish and decided that he should do what he said, but it was unnecessary because right when he started to do what Lielk said he heard it

*BOOM*

The monster fell squirting blood out of his mouth like a fountain. Everybody turned to Taktikos. he only gave a brief nod to Zariah.

Taktikos grabbed the round, and dropped behind cover again. He ejected the clip, and dropped the shell into place. He slid the clip into place with a reassuring click. He focused down his scope, trying to get a solid bead on the blasphemous behemoth. He had broken out into a full charge now, and was moving at a terrifying speed. Taktikos held his breath, and slowly squeezed his trigger. This time the faint click was swiftly drowned out by a deafening report that brought the cave to life with resounding thunder. The chaos marine fell to the ground in a beautiful spray of gore. the round tore through armor, and flesh, and skull, and formed the things head into a bloody mess. Taktikos didn't take his scope off the marine until his body stopped twitching, and he thoroughly new the being had ceased to live. He finally stood and nodded to Zariah, then paused for some sort of initiative.

With the Chaos marine dead, the cultist began to panic. Lielk could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears, and the beat of his heart in his ears. Although the noise rattled his brain, he never stopped fighting. He swung his sword with such violence, it spun him to the side, leaving his side open, or it would have if Jebidiah had not allready slain the only cultist near enough to cause any harm. Although insane, he could be relied upon to account for his kills. Lielk then dropped his shield, withdrawing his bolter as the cultist began to turn about. He then charged, firing rounds at the furthest away, while slicing the nearest cultist to his vacinity. The chaos marine was dead, and the cultist fleeing. Now the time was ripe to wreak havoc upon the enemies, and he would let as few survive as he could. Every kill weakened the cultist, and every time chaos was weakened, the emperor grew stronger. Today the emperor would grow strong indeed!

Spoiler:

Vensun dropped through the hole after he heard the battle turn.

He was not particularly adept at outright combat, so he had stayed behind and readied a couple things, and as he had guessed, nobody has missed him.

The enemy was in retreat now, the perfect chance to test one of his little toys.

He removes from his backpack a small disk the size of a dinner plate. Constructed from the cores of several frag grenades and scraps of ceramic armor, he had insured that they would fragment most beautifully. But that was not the catch.

He was tired of normal grenades. You had to lob them, and they they might not even go where you wanted, or they could bounce or be deflected or any numbers of things.

Not being a particularly good aim, he had decided to make the grenade move itself to the enemy.

Grabbing the disk, he depressed the center, activating the small motor inside. Constructed from simple solid state electronics, Vensun simply couldn't understand why nobody has done this before.

He let the disk roll on its edge, tumbling over rubble towards the enemy, but instead of slowing down, it sped up.

It began to race down the tunnel, popping over obstacles, its heavy gyroscopic motion keeping it on target.

'Beautiful', he thought,'simply beautiful.' It was only then that he realized the folly of using a grenade in a tunnel.

"EVERYBODY, GET DOWN!" he shouted as the device reached the end of its timer and detonated amidst the retreating cultists.

As picked himself up from the dust he laughed to himself.

It was perfect, and he still has two left.

Glurch stood back up, a bit disoriented. The explosion was still ringing in his ears. He hid back behind his rock. It was a good rock. It was almost comfortable, and he could not be shot.

He resolved to stay behind this rock until the battle was over. He had left it when Lielk had screamed his orders, and was almost shot in the head as a result. A bit annoyed, he decided not to listen to any further orders unless they were directed to him specifically.

He leaned upwards and shot another cultist. This was getting very repetitive. He hoped that this wasn't going to be how every battle was for the next few hundred years.

Another cultist dropped. He scratched his head. It had been itching more and more lately. He dived behind his rock.

He shot blindly above his rock, scratching his head wildly. He looked at his hand. There was a bit of blood. He must have scratched a cut into his head.

Glurch looked over his rock. The cultists had gathered into a formation. He didn't have a clear shot. He took a grenade from his pocket, forgetting about the recent event with Vensun. He tossed it in the cultist's direction.

The sound of hearty laughter rang out around the cave. Jebediah was charging directly towards the cultists.

"Jeb! A grenade! I threw a grenade!" shouted Glurch. The sound was drowned out by the noise of the shots. He watched in horror as his friend ran blindly into the weapon's range.

Smoke leaked from the grenade. Glurch laughed. It had been one of the busted ones. Tears of relief welled in his eyes. A bloodstained Jebediah walked from the pile of dead cultists, coughing and running for cover.

"Oi Glurch!" he called. "How did that thing help me kill those cultists? It just smelled horrible and made my eyes water!"

"You would have been dead if it weren't for for that! Honestly Jeb, you need to learn more about weapons."

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Zariah stood immobile as Vensun's grenade exploded and the scouts went to ground. At this distance a Space Marine had no need to fear minor shrapnel. It was an impressive piece of machinery, reminiscent of the unorthodox and strange weaponry usually employed by the higher levels of the Mechanicum.

Zariah turned his head to Vensun as bits of shrapnel plinked off of his armor. Such ingenuity would normally be commended, if only he hadn't been putting his fellow scouts in danger. He will reprimand Vensun later, or have the Chaplain do it.

With a bit of psychotic laughter, the last remaining cultists in this passageway were cut down with some well placed rounds from Jebediah's heavy bolter.

After giving Jebediah a commending pat on the back, Zariah moved onward, leading the group ever deeper down the passageway.
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They made rather swift progress, killing any cultists that they came across. Eventually the tunnel opened up into what looked like a cathedral, however out of place it may be. And it was no cathedral dedicated to the Emperor, that was certain.

At the far side was an altar, bubbling over with boiling blood. Floating several feet above it was an eight-pointed iron star. It appeared to be bleeding, adding more to the overflowing altar.

Standing beneath it was a Chaos Sorcerer Marine, his armor colors obscured underneath layers of dried blood. A constant blasphemous chant streamed form his mouth. His arms were raised above his head, pantomiming the holding up of the star.

The sorcerer was in the eye of the storm, all around him was chaos. Not Chaos in the sense of the Ruinous Powers, though that was rather present, but chaos in the sense that there was an active battle going on. A three sided war had broken out. On one side were the Khornate cultists, shouting for blood and swinging crude weapons into the other group of Chaos cultists, which were wearing bright colors marking them as Slaaneshi cultists. A third group was swarming out of the other tunnels leading into the Cathedral. These were alien-human hybrids led by vicious genestealers. Great, a genestealer cult. The situation on this world just got worse.

A genestealer saw their group and charged them, only to be fried by a bolt of energy launched from Zariah's fingertips. "Watch those genestealers, they can rip a terminator apart at close range." He seemed perfectly at home in this mess.

So, more enemies had appeared.

It seemed as if there was now a four way fight withing the room, with a chaotic being in the center of the turmoil. It seemed chaos was always the centre of war, but this time it was most figurativley.

Lielk decided not to test his luck with the genestealers, and instead went for the side where the slaneesh were. He had restrapped his shield upon his back, while wielding his bolter and chainsword.

As one cultist chareged Lielk, he shot threw the head of the brightly clothed slaneesh, spinning around quickly to swing his sword and cut down the one charging on his left. As he turned, catching the slaneesh, he heard a metallic tinging seemingly right by his ear, apparently his shield had just saved his life.

He knew defense was improbable, and a choregraphed offense to impeded with enemies all around, so he decided to do the next best strategy. He charged. He ran into the slanesh, slashing left and right, ducking, spinning, and using his bolter pistol both as inteded, and as a melee augumentative. He cut a swath into the midst of the slanesh, who quickly circled around him. His plan was working... This would be fun

Of course, that was only if his allies did what he expected. Then Lielk thought, which was his best allie? The space marines, severly outnumbered, or the other cultist, ripping at the slaneesh now that they were momentarily distracted. He just had to hope them killing each other took some of the pressure off of him, that and his allies would come to his eventual needed rescue.

If he died, what did he mind? It was for the emperor, which made it all worthwhile. His only worry was the chaos sorcerer. Things could get nasty if he jumped in.

Lielk then shrugged, thinking it was usless to thing about ifs, unless of course you were planning a strategy(which he was, but thats not the point). He decided to focus on the fight, mostly dodging shots while landing his own.

Now this was a fight!!

Spoiler:

Jebediah saw the Genestealers and it was love at first site. FINALLY an enemy that resembles something that he was use to fighting against in the ages of the Barbarians.

Jebediah saw three of them, the first one was killed by Zariah, but the second one was just standing their looking at Jebediah as if they had been enemies for years.

"alright you filthy lizard, if its a battle you want, its a battle you'll get" The Genestealer launched himself at Jebediah. Jebediah pulled out his heavy bolter and mowed it down. Apparently that wasn't enough to stop the creature.

"Looks like im going to have to stop you the same way I stopped all the other monsters i've ever fought" Jebediah said as he pulled out his axe. The beast lunged again at Jebediah, but this time Jebediah smashed it right in the head. This dazed the genestealer for about 5 seconds. Jebediah acted fast and swung the axe at the creatures neck.

'Perfect execution hehehe' thought Jebediah as he picked up the head of the creature he had just slayed. 'Now on to the third...OH BLOODY NO, where did it go'
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Glurch was hiding right next to the altar. he had a perfect shot at the Chaos Sorcerer Marine.

"true it may not kill the Sorcerer, but at least it would ruin his chant" thought Glurch.

*GRRRRRRRR* Glurch turned to his right to see a genestealer.

"Good doggie" says Glurch as he pulls out his knife. "Very good doggy"

Glurch saw that the genestealer was ready to leap at him so he acted quickly and jabbed the knife into its skull. Glurch didn't feel safe so he ripped out his knife and stabbed it again except this time in the neck. STILL not feeling totally secure, he decided that he'd keep on repeating the process until he felt safe that it was dead.

After about several seconds Glurch stopped and went back to his original target.

'i hope this works'

Taktikos was again far behind the other scouts behind cover. 'The genestealers will rip the others apart in close combat.' Taktikos was scoping on on one genestealer after another sending center of mass shots down range. Some genestealers fell quickly. Others were stunned the hacked apart. Suddenly one came flying out of the fray, and charging, a blur up the long tunnel toward Taktikos. He panicked, firing the last few shots in his clip down range, watching area's of dirt explode up into the air where the bullets had missed. He Dropped his sniper, stumbled backward, and drew his blade. The beast was nothing more than a blur. Taktikos could only barely calculate the path in time. He dropped suddely down to one knee, rotating, and sending his blade up into the air. The genestealer lunged just above him, and his blade split it's later half nearly perfectly. The beast fell to the ground, convulsions marking it's death. Taktikos shakily stood, walking backwards all the way to his gun, not completely convinced of what he had done. He picked up his rifle, reloaded the weapon, and fired a single shot in the genestealer to be sure it was dead. He turned himself around and began sending yet more round down range, this time all at the chaos sorcerer.

Taktikos' shots sailed through the air, unerringly at their target. They never hit.

The Sorcerer finished his foul incantation with a burst of blasphemous sounds from his helmet speakers. Time seemed to slow for a moment, and suddenly the giant eight-pointed star slammed into the ground. As it hit the ground, it burst into an explosion of blood. Out of the center of the explosion rose a bestial figure the size of a large man, clad in bronze armor.

Suddenly time sprang back into motion and in a flash of movement the Sorcerer raised his open hand in the direction of Taktikos' incoming shots. The air seemed to thicken in front of his hand, and the shots sparked off of the field of foul energy called up by the Sorcerer.

He turned to the summoned being, "It is time we take our leave."
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At this sudden turn of events, Zariah burst into motion in the direction of the Sorcerer. This exercise had jumped past the expected threat level for the scout's first mission, and Zariah could no longer stand aside and simply watch.

He let his bolt pistol fire on full auto into the mass in front of him. When his clip was empty, he chose to draw his sword and holster his gun instead of reloading.

He fell upon the cultists, both Chaotic and Genestealer alike, his eyes and sword aglow with electric-blue fire. Everywhere his Forcesword went, death was left in its wake. Smoking corpses fell all around him. "Your death is here, Sorcerer," he called out.

The Sorcerer turned his helmeted head towards Zariah, though the disdain in the expression was clear. "The powers of Chaos go where they please, mortal," he spat in a sibilant voice.

The Sorcerer slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, and there was a flash of energy- the nearest cultists mutated violently and exploded. The Sorcerer and his summoned thing were gone.

Zariah stood stock-still in the center of the raised dias, previously occupied by the Sorcerer, and looked at the mob of fighting cultists below him. He gripped his sword in both hands, and flipped it, pointing the blade towards the ground. That familiar electric-blue glow welled up around him again. "I will destroy their minds, and burn their bodies."

Zariah slammed his sword, point down into the center of the dais and a burst of silver fire shout out in every direction, immolating the cultists but leaving the Scouts untouched. Those cultists on the outer edge of the psychic blast were not instantly incinerated, but were knocked by the concussive force into the outer walls of the chamber. None survived.

Zariah keyed the vox to the ship hanging in orbit. "Did you get any readings on that teleportation?"

The serf in charge of watching for those signals replied instantly, "Yes, but I'm getting a huge amount of interference. Its almost as though someone opened a warp rift in there. Uh, lord," he added realizing that he would be punished later for his lack of respect.

"Your guess is far more accurate than you would like. Can you trace it?" Zariah replied.

"Yes, sir, one moment, sir. It looks like whatever it was ended up in the Eastern Manufactorium," the serf replied momentarily.

Zariah cut the link, and turned to the scouts. "Out of the tunnels and head east. Now. We may be able to catch him yet." Suiting words to actions, Zariah took off at a full run down a nearby tunnel.