Drawning Sathra from its scabbard at the back, Lanius could sense that the ancient blade craves for blood and limbs.
AND IT SHALL HAVE IT!

Suppressing an inner tremor of excitement at the prospect of what is to come, Lanius rose his head, seeing Fortissimus at the opposite side, with blade drawn.
Lanius smiled as he donned his beautiful helmet, speaking huskly to the Novamarine over a private-vox:

"My...my.Your cravings for glory do go deep!"spoke Lanius enticingly. "Pherosh said something about powered-suits of armor.If the witch expects our blind cousins to be onboard there may be some actual sport for us!If we find some Novamarines...what would you do?Quick death or slavery for the warband`s flesh-pits?I wonder..."

Followed by his words was the crash, bang and bone-jarring vibrations as Thunderhawk made its way into the bowels of the starship.

Embracing the inner psyhic turnmoil spread around by the Thousand Sons, Lanius grinned behind his helmet, finding exhilaration seeing these automations walking as an actually living beings.

After the opening carnage, Lanius took in the environment before him as the Thousand Sons continued their grim work.They truly gave violence a bad name, if they are going to commit it and not enjoy it.People gave their lives for that!

Someone from the crowd of armsmen with some semblance of reason left, hollered, his voice betraying the panic that rapidly takes him: "Chaos!Its - Chaos!"
As Pherosh released the Hellbrute from its prison of arcane runes and metal, Lanius , with a swish of his cloak negotiated the cacophony of battle, avoiding las-beams, taking cover, or using the nearby body as cover...
He was well aware of the "gifts" that Hellbrute was so content on spreading, and he did not want to stick around and find if the Prince`s beatrific attentions protected him from such aesthetically displeasing.... "gifts".

Breaching the position of the armsmen with his black scissor-scimitar, Lanius tracked down, the one with the most accolades on the uniform, holding him still between the scissor-blades of Sathra.
As the pink runes on his helmet, pulsed ever-so-softly, Lanius spoke, his voice carried over the surrounding armsmen:

"No glory to be had in this butchery <title>.Give yourself and your men unto me, and I`ll show you a life worth living.Or...the blue giants will tear your minds."

Ishmael giggled to himself as the Thunderhawk made the flight more interesting by it's violent maneuvers.

"This should be interesting." He murmured to himself.

After a few more moments of waiting Ishmael quickly stood up upon the Thunderhawk's landing.

Once the doors had opened and the massacre had begun, he pulled out his Bolt pistol and opened fire on the Guardsmen, remaining behind the Astartes lines. They were made to dominate the battlefield, let them soak up fire.

In the destruction caused by his fellow renegades, and the looks of terror on the faces of the enemy, Ishmael had to suppress the urge to go into hysterics. The battlefield, killing, the death and destruction, it always seemed funny to Ishmael. So many armies fighting for ten thousand years ......... and over nothing at all.

"Mmmahehahaha! My misguided friends, worshippers of the mighty corpse god...you all look so distraught" Rotticus bellowed out from his now fully armed and operational Dreadnought body as he made his way closer to the armsmen. "You should be rejoicing! As the Plaguefather now smiles upon you. Papa Nurgle has gifts for you all, and I have been given the honor of delivering them" he spoke up once more, followed up by a hearty chuckle as his plague infested auto cannons fired upon the imperial forces in front of them. Many of which began doubling over and literally vomiting up their insides or rapidly decaying as the Nurgle rot took affect over their bodies. It brought a smile to his face from within his entombed Dreadnought. From the various infested holes on the Dreadnought chassis, little Nurglings can be seen poking their heads out and chuckling as guardsmen began succumbing to the various delectable diseases and infections Rotticus was bringing forth.

"Now, do be careful little ones" Rotticus said referring to the little boils of Nurgle inhabiting his chassis, "these ones do not feel the joy we share, and may respond unfavorably toward you. Joyless...unhappy souls they be...how sad. What a miserable existence they must lead, but we shall bring joy into their lives, this kindness is the least we can do."

@High_Adept_Zeth

The psychic whispers of the Thousand Sons had little visible effect on Fortissimus. In nearly four centuries of war he'd encountered nearly every horror the Galaxy could throw at one's mind to break someone, this was nothing but a slight annoyance by comparison. However another voice would distinguish itself from the rest as it came through the vox and Fortissimus almost immediately knew it was Lanius due to the strange seductive quality his voice had. He didn't reply at first, instead simply looking back over his shoulder at Lanius as the doors opened and staring as the first wave of Rubrics set to work with their flamers before speaking in a whisper.

"That would depend entirely on them." With that Fortissimus sprung into action, charging past the Rubrics and heading straight for the stairs where a squad of Armsmen stood gawking at the charred bodies of their former comrades. When they averted their eyes from the bodies to see Fortissimus charging them with a speed that would seem unnatural to any mortal man given his size, most of the Armsmen simply ran for their lives rather than raise their weapons and attempt to fight. The squad's Sergeant-at-Arms wasn't far behind as he cast his weapons aside and turned to flee up the stairs while leaving those made of sterner stuff to their fates. Yet another coward deluding himself into thinking he could ever lead men, Fortissimus would not have it. Drawing his bolt pistol he let off a shot at the stairs under the fleeing Sergeant, sending chunks of shrapnel tearing through the man's legs as he fell screaming onto the stairs.

In the end only two Armsmen stood their ground before Fortissimus. It was unknown whether they remained out of bravery, foolishness or were simply rooted in place by their fear as the Astartes bore down on them. No matter their reasons both would find themselves unceremoniously cut down with one swing of his sword, the swift blow easily cleaving through them and sending their broken bodies tumbling to the floor in a pool of blood as Fortissimus continued on up the stairs before coming to a stop over the cowardly Sergeant.

Fortissimus holstered his pistol and reached down to grab the Sergeant by the throat, holding the mortal out in front of him as he whimpered and weakly punched his in a pathetic attempt to escape. "A year ago I'd have killed a sickening coward like you as I would any other man but unfortunately for you I just met someone who I think could do much worse. Just what you deserve." He spoke in a low growl, his contempt for this whelp was near overwhelming as he carried his sobbing, flailing form back down the stairs to search for Lanius. Fortunately for Fortissimus (and very unfortunately for the Sergeant) the search for Lanius proved incredibly easy as even in the midst of what was sure to soon become a savage battle Lanius's ornate armour and cape were easy to spot.

The Sergeant's pitiful whimpers only continued while Fortissimus carried him towards Lanius, who seemed to be dealing with an officer and some Armsmen in his own way as Fortissimus approached and announced his presence. "Lanius! I come bearing someone I think you'd be able to do something with," He announced as he threw the now crying Sergeant to the ground next to him, "This snivelling idiot fancied himself a runner. Normally I'd kill one such as him but I get the feeling you know much more... inventive ways of punishing such blatant spinelessness..." Fortissimus placed a hand on Lanius' shoulder and leant in before continuing, "I only ask one thing. While I don't imagine it would be difficult... make sure he begs for death before the end."

Sareth hands found themselves at the plate of her helmet as they began crash into the cruiser, The whisper of all is dust scratched at her mind a combination of that and the rough ride made her stomach churn to the extent she wanted to get sick.

"Make it stop.... Make it stop..." She said holding back the urge to get sick she tried to refocus as she heard the doors of the hawk open looking down to the floor she grabbed her long las that fell from her grips during the chant, As Sareth felt the words fade from her mind and felt some sense of ability to attempt to affect the situation she is she detached her self from her seat disengaging the belt that held her tightly within its grip and began moving at the back as the others began moving out.

She watched the destruction caused by the rubric not feeling much as it was simple war, then what came out of the box put a worse feeling in her guts, a Monstrosity Sareth had never seen the type of horror in her life, The feeling of vomit and revulsion she once felt in the thunder hawk almost overcoming her again as she watched the thing open fire and watched its rounds caused begin not only cutting down but doing worst to the survivors body eating away at it more quicker then she could even thought possible.

Turning away trying to force the thoughts of horror out of her mind she raised her rifle seeing Fortissimus coming back from a squad with a armsmen with a sergeant seemingly going to the caped one for some reason Sareth couldn't put together along with Ishamel in the back giving support fire.

'Gotta get a grip got to get firing focus on surviving and getting the job done.' Sareth thought to herself gathering herself after taking a breath from her air supply she took it in and began moving her bionic legs forward as she began taking aim, She spotted a several members of a squad trying to rally themselves to try to hold against there incursion. Taking aim with her long las, Sareth fired her shot flying and managed to taking one of the ralliers out, Firing again her shot connected into the side of the other armsmen trying to rally there squad causing it to further crumble, Switching from offence to defence Sareth took cover by the debris made by there entry readying herself encase the ship was sending counter boarding squads to push back the incursion.

@Jammysod

"Lanius! I come bearing someone I think you'd be able to do something with," He announced as he threw the now crying Sergeant to the ground next to him, "This snivelling idiot fancied himself a runner. Normally I'd kill one such as him but I get the feeling you know much more... inventive ways of punishing such blatant spinelessness..." Fortissimus placed a hand on Lanius' shoulder and leant in before continuing, "I only ask one thing. While I don't imagine it would be difficult... make sure he begs for death before the end."

Still holding within the pincer-grasp of his scimitar the Armsman <title>, Lanius looked toward the hollering Astartes, who seemed to have negotiated his own trail of corpses, dragging behind him a captive.

Cocking his head at one side, with his free hand, he gestured toward Fortissimus as if to encompass them all.The voice penetrating the din of battle, did not change the seductive quality being boosted by his beautiful helmet, however it did hide a melodramatic tone:

"A coward?" he queried, his gaze following Fortissimus` form down to where he dragged the whimpering man, eyes teary before the naked terror of transhuman dread.He shook his head in disapproval, tutting with his tongue: "Now...now...that's not how a real man should die.Running?Preposterous!You`ll give all the stalwart defenders of your Imperium a bad name!"

Looking up at Fortissimus he added, mocking melodramatic overtone gone:"I am not a torturer for hire, nor a degenerate of eight Legion!You should come and visit my chambers when we are done with this fetch-quest.You`ll find its not a den of death and depravity you may come to expect."

Releasing his own captive from the clutch of the scissor-scimitar and grabbing it by the scruff of his neck, he gestured toward the Sergeant with his, now free blade:

"See these men around us.If you value your life, tell them what this fool wont"...he said by rising effortesly his own captive..."tell them to lower their weapons."

As the Thunderhawk took evasive actions, it was lucky that the harnesses were designed for that kind of duress and didn't have mortals flying all over the place, that would have made quite the mess, as well as probably lowed the meatshields that would be needed to storm this place.

Solithar entered into the battlefield and remember why he found his so called cousins so distateful, charging around like madmen, being repulsive to such a degree that they just made their enemies die from the sights and smells and then the lack of cohesion between the forces... Everything was just every man for himself...

All of them fighting their own individual wars that had little bearing on the others.

And if that is the world that they're in now, then who was Solithar to disagree. He'd done what he'd always done, teach. Be it a lesson of law and order, be it a lesson of biochemistry or even a lesson on anatomy, he'd teach it.

Now was a lesson of law and order.

Grabbing his Bolter from his thigh, Solithar rushed out to find some kind of cover and from there took a moment to survey the battlefield in more detail that Astarte who claimed to be old was toying with mortals and seemed to be doing the same with that degenerative looking Astarte. Mortals were trying to form lines and that Helbrute, a construct that was rarely seen by any of the Eighth Legion, what crazed madman create that thing was beyond him and if they were all the same as this one that was nothing but a rotting carcass was also beyond him, he knew enough of the Fourteenth to know that staying away from it was a smart move.

As Solithar was watching the slaughter unfold and practically strolled amongst the carnage treating it more like a gallery of artworks rather than a warzone. It was a rarity for any of the Armsmen aboard this ship to initate the combat, what with these raving maniacs charged into them oblivious of their surroundings.

Nothing really caught Solithar's attention everything was a mishmash of battles, he did remember a lesson they were taught and I quote "Follow the vermin". So Solithar did just that, following a group of armsmen who were without a doubt fleeing for their lives. Solithar did wonder where were they going to go, they were on a ship, a box with no way out unless they decided to load themselves into the weapons array and try to find salvation. Huh, through the barrel of a gun.

Solithar opened the voxed to Pherosh " Vermin retreating, following to the nest to eradicate. Ave Dominius Nox." Closing off the vox spoke to his armour's machine spirit "Juthai'lah" with that phrase the vision from Solithar's visor changed and preysight had begun.

With that Solithar heading straight after the group, perhaps they were going to the armoury for some bigger guns, maybe hold out in the bridge or worse, the final solution to an infestation, the ultimate extermination of a foe, they might go nuclear and to stop a Chaos presence taking their ship they'd blow her to hell and those who dwell within her.

Where ever they were going was beyond Solithar, he wasn't really paying attention, more making examples of those who were slower and left behind, not his best handy work giving he was pressed for time but his amour was telling him the temperature was dropping. Anyone who'd follow that path would find scattered corpses, Armsmen missing limbs and gaping chainsword wounds with the walls sprayed and smeared with blood and a few of them left eviscerated to suffer a few more moments before dying. Solithar noticed a change in the uniforms though, many might not have been armsmen just the slaves of the False Emperor aboard here, their sins and crimes were the same as their masters though. Would explain why panic ensued much faster than he thought it would have been for the Armsmen.

Only sounds other than the cries of the dying and fleeing was Solithar speaking above them like a preacher seeing to the dead speaking a language only the Gods would know, "Heraca cats'ia na, carmayatha lerra, toshallion ."

@dx144 - The Sorcerer-Lord merely nodded and responded in kind through the Vox. "Hunt well, brother." He didn't take too long to march into the open, now looking around at the carnage and seeing how the area was cleared out within very literal seconds; how his brethren, the Rubricae, were no longer automatons yet fought with vigor, with enthusiasm and zeal just as they had many millennia ago. It pleased him so, to see such things returning.
His staff was waved forward and with little more than a thought, bolts of blue-green lightning speared through the air and electrocuted another three of the Armsmen to a crisp, their uniforms little more than scorched cloth and their lasguns charred.
The Night Lord met some slightly 'harsher' resistance as he went on his lonesome, the lasguns mildly warming his power armour as they missed the vitals; his speed and ferocity made their aim tremble. But he saw the further he went, the more there actually were in this hallway, and how it seemed to lead more towards the 'right'. Though one thing seemed to stick out; many were running away, unarmed, and yet others were coming from that direction with their lasweaponry. An armoury certainly wasn't out of the question; it would be a matter of getting there as fast as possible, if they were to have anything deadly, to make sure it wasn't used against them. Or him.

@Jammysod -- The sergeant wailed as he was held, trying viciously to pull free; though once Lanius had spoken up he slackened, turning to look at the man he held and the others nearby. Men & women he had under his command. It was an awfully long, tense few seconds before he tried to get to his feet and nodded to the few survivors in the room.
"St... Stand down." He said regretfully. Those who did obey this order and got to their knees were mercifully ignored by the Rubricae, whilst one or two who did not were cut down - one even kicked to the floor and stomped on, her torso ground to a boney paste with a surprising amount of 'glee' from the Thousands Son; War always brought back their inner self, even if it was an echo of who they once were. They always felt 'alive'.
@High_Adept_Zeth - If they were to question the man, or what other navy personnel here, they certainly could.

@GobMaw_HellSmasha -- The Nurgle's Rot that came from him caused numerous men and women to hunch over and die, retching and decaying in a matter of moments; there were numerous ones who had made their way both up and down the stairs nearby, the staircases certainly wide enough for a mighty Helbrute such as he to move around. In fact, the cruiser itself seemed to be large enough in general for his kind, albeit being a 'tight' fit in the hallways; there would be no flailing around, lest he bash into the walls.


The Sorcerer-Lord strolled past the group and gave a polite nod to the Helbrute, motioning for five of the rubricae - one wielding the unholy flamer - to follow him up the stairs. "I shall make my way to the bridge, and deal with these fools. I sense they may have a psyker among them, so I will warn you all to tread carefully. May fate favour you all, here."
The gunfire that ensued once they were out of sight was certainly quick, yet constantly brief; merely taking one or two shots to tend to any fools in their way.

Now, it was the group's turn to decide where they would go; would they follow the Night Lord and head towards what seemed to be the armoury? Would they get to the living quarters and commence the slaughter? or would they go towards the engine room, or mess hall?
This wasn't quite what one would call an even fight... Though they may have only scratched the surface of this cruiser's population, and their armament. Should there be anything stronger than lasweaponry, even the Astartes would have to worry.

It was all happening so fast.

Kooru, having spent most of the ride on this chariot of the Gods sitting around feeling his bones rattling around inside of him, feeling his stomach heave. The threat of bringing back up the flesh he'd consumed, had occupied his mind for the duration of the flight, trying to steady himself, to ensure he would serve his purpose admirably. However, feeling the rumbling as the thunderhawk approached it's destination, Kooru had slowly stood from where he sat, stretching his arms and legs, knowing he wanted to be loose for what was to come next.

As it was, when the ramps fell, and the armsmen aboard this doomed ship realized their fate, Kooru would be clutching his rifle, eyes narrowed, already setting a target in his sights.

Yet, even he was not prepared for the explosive actions of the astartes around him, their blinding speed, their grace and fury and wrath when set loose. Divine intervention was the closest he could bring himself to defining this sight he saw, and once more, he felt himself falling to his knees, feeling his eyes water up. As the screams of the dead and dying echoed around him, as bolters roared, and blades flashed, Kooru felt closer to his God than he ever did. Gripping his rifle in hand, he'd solidify his resolve, knowing that with each shot, he'd send the light of the Solar King out onto the unbelievers, enlightening them in death.

What a glorious day this would be.

However, a tremor through the floor drew his attention from the masses of the armsmen, towards the being that had once dwelt within the large box. The rumbling voice, now freed, moved forth to engage it's foes, and if Kooru had felt close to the divine before, he now felt it's touch upon him. He let loose a cry of joy at the sight of the rotted helbrute, crashing into the enemy lines, it's festering, rusted plating taking the meager respond fire from the defenders. The colossal avatar of ruin and entropy, an example of the plaguefather's mighty servants, Kooru would know none of this, for in his eyes, he saw something greater. He saw the defender of his home, from so long ago, one of the angels that had suffered to to free his people. Surely, this was a sign from above, a show of approval for Kooru's faith, his devotion and unyielding service towards the powers above.

It was with this zeal in mind, that Kooru would perform his next actions, standing proud, before charging towards the mass of the armsmen, to support this idol before him. His eyes would be centered upon the towering form of the helbrute, each kick of his rifle hardening his resolve, as he closed the distance. The lumbering machine before him, Kooru would tense up his muscles, before, with a frenzy in his eyes, leaping forth, hands outstretched. Gripping at a hand hold, a piece of armour plating that had rotted away over time, Kooru would use this to anchor himself to the mighty war machine, clambering up along it's back. With the violence of movement he felt in his grip, the man was hard pressed to remain steady, yet as his muscles ached, he pushed through the pain, knowing he must.

Upon reaching the top of the helbrute's figure, Kooru would draw his rifle once more, laying flat down, before taking aim. As the massive being crushed and smashed the servants of the Golden Throne, it might now notice a steady stream of las bolts being fired down into the crowds, as up above, Kooru smiled with all his being.

Rats were scurrying, each longing for the refuge of their nest, praying, begging that it'd be their salvation from their crimes and this nightmare they were thrust into.

The warriors, those born to defend the nest finally arrived with their hope to stop this horror but they were weak, powerless to stop him and the death that came with him. Their lasguns, perhaps they were told it would stop their foes, perhaps their faith would strike this monster that now slaughter them down or even some bitterly accepted the fact of what they were seeing, the legends told of the Legions were true, or at least the Angels of the Emperor that turned from his light that returned to plague the Imperium were not just stories to make bad children behave but were true and now the horror of a childhood's horror story came to life, haunting them as adults.

The lasguns at first felt like rainfall upon his skin... It'd been sometime since he'd felt rainfall, always reminded him of his first kill upon Nostromo. Sometimes Solithar wished he could have had a more heroic story of his first kill, well in the past he did before he accepted who he and his brothers were.

All Solithar really remembered as the corpse's face was a blur, but the rain was falling, not quite heavy but was rather comforting to hear as he ripped open a man's stomach with a knife. Once the screaming had stopped of course.

Then as the Las fire intensified on to his armour it was at first the rain just intensifying and just like a balloon at breaking point that little bit of pressure burst Solithar's memory wide open and he travelled ten thousand years in a matter of moments. It was nice to be back in battle, memories were of more enjoyable times. Well before his enemies threw him out of them.

His armour was telling him of warnings around with the incoming fire. Nothing too dangerous yet but to go from a moment of reminisces was never enjoyable especially into a time when the Legion is shattered, everyone is a stranger and there is no for him to truly align with.

He saw those who broke him from his memory they kept firing in a stable fashion, quite admriable actually. When one reloaded another took their place and made sure constant las fire was being poured onto the this Fallen Angel.

His armour was telling him of warnings again from concentrated las fire. To stop his approach would make them have a renewed sense of hope, keep moving, keep killing, show to weakness, show no mercy.

Seeing some corpses of the floor that weren't too badly hurt, might have even been alive for a few moments... The las fire subsided for a moment as some of the Armsmen wondered if they should shoot their comrades being used literally as meat shields. With one hand free Solithar fired Bolt rounds accurately in semi-auto back at the Armsmen, he wondered if they'd even seen what a Bolt round would do to a Human if it made contact. They knew now anyway...

Only when a mix of Bolter fire strike some of them did they know their order of fire back. The corpse was working well enough to stem the Las fire from damaging his warplate and as he approached them the majority of them broke ranks. If this was their defence it was pathetic, he knew the Imperium was hallow but this was laughable, a single Astarte was taking over a section of the ship.

As Solithar threw a charred and dismembered corpse towards the defenders and quickly grabbing another off the ground, there he noticed that they were better armoured and armed. With that Solithar picked up his speed, he knew they'd be getting the big guns out once word spread that Astartes were aboard the ship. Who knows, might even have some frags he could use.