@RuinaImperii @Maensith Santana would be charging down the halls, using a location rune to track the final group, his mind buzzing with thoughts. So much had occurred in the past few minutes, he needed to process it all. He'd grit his teeth, going over the data once more. _____ From atop his perch, Santana looked down upon the defenses he'd swiftly constructed in the face of the boarding action, looking to see if he was ready. Ten lines of table barricades had been erected, with a field of mines deployed in a specific pattern to maximize damage for a direct charge, his first line of defense. Behind this, at the final two lines of barricades, lay rings of guardsmen, the squads he'd brought here having arrived, swiftly aiding in taking up positions and forming the defense. The first rank bore mostly lasguns and autoguns, and would act as a harassing force to those charging through his minefield, yet they had specific orders to pull back to the second ring once the signal was given, allowing for this next line to unleash their volley. Here, Santana had place a concentration of flamers and melta guns, a hard shore for the Red Tide to crash against, hoping that it would be enough to stem the tide. Above them all, from the officer's dining area, was where the bulk of the guardsmen would be stationed, shooting down into the invaders once they entered. It was by no means a secure fortress worthy of Dorn's blessing, but, with what he had on hand, it was the best he could do. He'd been in the middle of giving firing orders to the soldiers, details on where to aim on the traitor astartes, when the first signals of battle began in the forge. Much to his anger, it was quickly shown that the units deployed there would be torn away in the face of this bloody storm. Clenching his fist, he'd damn the chaos marines once more, before making an order. On the other side of the room, where the southern doors awaited, one guardsman quickly put a shot through the control panel of the sliding doors, causing them to malfunction and shut. It would not hold for more than a few moments, but it would be another hampering he'd send before the dogs of the XIIth legion. However, he'd note that the eastern doorway had not yet been secured, swiftly bringing up a comm link to the active command of the guardsmen. It seemed a squad was still en route the meet up with their defense here, and with the marauders closing in, the Space Marine could only guess at what might be holding them up. As such, he'd given quick commands to the guardsmen here, that he would go an recover the wayward soldiers, and if he did not return in four standard terran minutes, they would seal the eastern doorway without him. He'd given them their orders on the defense of the mess hall, the firing procedure, and even their escape route for when the Blood God's madden warriors broke through, for while Santana was a man who would die holding off the forces set against The Imperium, he would not needlessly send men to die when they were needed elsewhere. Within the kitchens of the Officer's dining area, at it's rear, was a series out three large ventilation shafts, large enough to accommodate a man, albeit in a cramped manner. These ducts were hot, dark and winding, yet they were to small to allow pursuit of from the traitor marines, and with the directions he'd given, would lead the guardsmen away from this slaughter, back towards the bridge. Should the tide prove unable to be stopped, he expected all the men to swiftly extract themselves via this passageway. It was unreasonable to think all seventy of them would be able to make it through, but with everyone that did, would mark another man fighting for the ship later on. With this in mind, Santana gave them the blessings of The Emperor, and had moved out, charging down the hall, where he already heard the sounds of chain weapons gunning. It had been only thirty seconds from him exiting the Mess Hall, when the order came through that almost halted him completely. Eldar, and Alpha Legionaries had boarded the ship, and most shocking of all, they would not be challenged. The Space Marine could barely comprehend, what would drive the Lord Commissar to this madness, to trust the machinations of xenos manipulators, and the hydra? Grimacing, he'd review the options available, raging against this directive, and what it stood for, yet finally, feeling his temper ebb. He was the legacy of Polux, not Sigismund, and though his brothers from other chapters might burn brightly against this, he would wait to see the reasoning for the Commissar's decision, and only then decide if he was to bury a bolt in his head. Yet, his thoughts would be broken, as he found himself arriving to his destination, to find things as he feared. _____ Santana turned the corner as the first of the Khornate Marines rounded theirs, the loyalist taking in the details of the situation. Their damaged armour, the burnt spots from las gun firing, the seeming essence of the warp, and the tell tale signs of the brutal implants in their skulls firing. His bolter already raised, Santana would sight the leader of their charge, his eyes locked upon the easy mortal prey, and would fire a three round burst. The bolts flew through the air, impacting twice against the armour of the berserker, once glancing off it's plate, scuffing the paint, once glancing the helmet, knocking it's head back with the force, and the third bolt stabbing through the throat, digging into the meat, before detonating within, and nearly severing the head. With his lucky opening shot, Santana would let loose a growl from his vox, his voice distorted from the both fury and the machine snarl. "COME FORTH!" The cry served as a two pronged shout, with the purpose of ushering the guardsmen to pull back behind him, and for the Berserkers to shift their attention from the mortals, into a more challenging kill. Santana felt his heartbeats increasing, as he moved to sight his next target, only hoping that the traitor marines would accept his challenge, and that the soldiers would make use of this chance.
@BlackNecron The Deathmark heasitated for a moment before giving the owner of the ship the device. He wanted to look into it himself but he also didn't want to anger his host. But despite his uncertainties he simply handed the device to the Lord. "I do hope we can resolve this quickly I have better things to do than watch lords argue with primitives." He said to his host caring little for the boundaries that would normal prevent someone of his standing speaking to a lord in such a manner.
"You seem privy to more information than you should about the happenings on my ship. You no doubt already know my plans." Punching a few buttons on the control panel a shaky image of the Sword of Orion appears, the image stabilizers itself in moments. Red runes illuminated in the sections where the khorne berserkers had been reported. "From what we can tell they want this ship intact, no doubt to corrupt its machine spirit to their will." Blue icons appeared showing the current troop deployments around the ship. "We are attempting to funnel them to killing fields. Located here and here." Pointing to the hangar as well as the mess hall where Santana had prepared an ambush. "I think you have enough information to assist us. But bare in mind this will only grant you the time to speak with me about this endeavor you hope to drag me and my crew into!" Pointing at the 'Primarch' there was no way to confirm this, but a simple look at the numbers present indicated a strong possibility of it being a lie. "If this endangers the Imperium in anyway I would gladly send you on your way and die an honorable death fighting these foes alone in order to preserve what I stand for." Looking out into the hangar at the assembled troops, both loyal Imperials, backstabbing Legionaires, and the mysterious Eldar. How did it come to this? "For a 'Primarch' your forces are lacking. Unless you are hiding more elsewhere like the Alpha Legion is prone to do." Turning back to face the astartes, "If we have truly met in the past then you know I don't trust you. Who did you have on my ship before you came here? This is not a chance meeting, and if you hope to have my assistance you best be honest with me now." His bionic arm flexed when he remembered his service with the Inquisition that had caused it. The Alpha Legion was responsible, so many lives lost so to their treachery. Only time would tell if he could truly believe what this man had to say.
Victus starts addressing Rackham directly through his Vox-link again. "Commissar, I need you to give me communications with anyone who might be in the mess hall when you have time. I have a plan to deal with a good portion of our "problem" on the ship. I'm headed to the armoury right now. I'll update you as appropriate." After he was finished Victus sighed and rubbed his brow, he didn't even know if the armoury would have enough munitions to cause a sufficiently destructive explosion. Was this really going to work? Either way he'd have to try and find out.
@Jammysod @BruticusTheGoreHound "Contact Brother Santana, he is in charge of the defenses in the mess hall." What did the Emperor have planned for them? Why must he resort to dealing with the current filth standing before him? So many questions, and no answers!
@RuinaImperii @Maensith The hallways was ablaze with the gunfire of the soldiers of man, and the slaves of Chaos. The mortal guardsmen, their reactions almost childish when compared to those of the Astartes, open fired upon the berserkers by the time Santana called out towards them, a volley of las bolts streaming through the air, followed by a beam of melta that heated the corridor as it passed. The hallway, built for the men and women of the navy, would prove only wide enough to accommodate two of the berserkers at a time, and as it was, they would soak up the damage from the humans, the las bolts cracking against the armour of the charging leader, his head snapping off from the remaining sinews of his neck, a lucky las bolt cracking against his helm. The remainder of the volley would impact against the next eager slaughterer, as the melta beam struck the being right at his waist, the superheated gas burning through the ceremite plate, and into his flesh, whilst the las bolts slammed against his armour, burning small holes into the plate, and knocking him off balance. As the berserker would suddenly find his waist and upper legs melted away, the creature would crash to the ground with a frustrated roar, below it continued to claw it's way towards it's foes, snarling and snapping over it's vox. Yet, their foe did not simply allow themselves to face Imperial aggression, as the kick and roar of their own pistols would sound off, firing in return. Though the attentions of the khornate marines had indeed been drawn towards the newly arrived loyalist warrior, the bloodthirsty brutes already had guardsmen in their sights, and the desire to shed easy blood overruled the desire to launch a volley at their ancient foe. As such, as the guardsmen unleashed their wall of fire, four shots would be shot back in return, whizzing through the air before striking their targets. One would scrap against Santana's pauldron, nearly causing the Space Marine to lose his aim, while the others sought out the less armoured guardsmen. Two would simply drop down, the bolts tearing through their coats and flak armour, piercing flesh and muscle with ease, and sending them to quick deaths, craters of bloody impact bursting from their bodies. The third it seemed, was made of sterner stuff, as his bolt encountered enough resistance to detonate while still inside of him, showering the hallway in a spray of gore and ichor. All this would occur before Santana had finished shouting at the foes, and yet, Santana saw it all, his mind almost slowing down the details as he reacted to it. Time was a relative matter, and to the enhanced biology of an Astartes, in moments, it seemed to travel slower than it would to a mortal man. With adrenaline pumping through him, and his dual hearts beating, Santana felt time grow sluggish, as his thoughts processed everything in a state of hyperawareness, as he finally trained his sights on another of the berserkers charging. With two falling, one dead, one crippled, he'd look to fire a burst into the third oncoming traitor, pulling the trigger and letting his bolts fly. Yet, he was not the only superhuman here, as the enemy were made up Astartes themselves, in service to a God that knew only war. As his bolts flew through the air, the enemy would reach out to the falling form of the casualty before him, and would draw him up as a shield, in time to block the second and third shot aimed for his throat, the first carving a hunk from the side of his helm. His speed only marginally slowed, and now bearing a shield, the traitor's charge came on towards Santana, who quickly tried to come up with a solution. The guardsmen had begun to run by this point, a flash of an insignia catching Santana's eye, recognition going through his mind. These were the soldiers he was to board this ship with, which means the were combat ready. Which would mean they were expecting his inspection, which would mean they were standardized, which would mean.... Santana, with a flick of his armoured boot, would kick one of the corpses of the dead guard towards the charging enemy. Raising his bolter, he'd track the flying impromptu projectile, watching it sail by the enemy would shifted to avoid it, before Santana made his shot, hoping these men and women had obeyed their standardization procedure. A bolt flew through the air, shooting past the meat shield and it's wielder, cutting through the left waist pouch of the guardsman, and detonating against the trio of frag grenades that had been placed there, denied their original mission for boarding the station. In an explosive flash, the band of marauding warriors would be engulfed in light, his HUD adjusting to see into the explosion, taking advantage of the distraction he'd made against them. The head of the column, his balanced rocked by the force of the explosion, had his body exposed once more, as Santana open fired with two bursts of three shots, watching the bolts tear into the already damaged armour, one luckily piercing the helm, the damage of his first shot marking a weak point. Santana would give thanks to The Emperor for this fortune, and would begin backing up, as from the blazing pyre, the remaining foes would rally to continue charging. He could see the anger in their eyes, at being denied their prey, and as such, their bolt pistols would be raised in their fists, the two sides firing at each other at almost the same instant. Santana would let his bolter crack with shots, looking to shoot the knees of the next charging warrior, trying to hamper his movements, only to feel a bolt shell slam home, cutting into his waist. Thankful the hit was shallow, the bolt only scrapping the flesh, he'd keep up his fire, rewarded as the knee joint of the one warrior seized up from the damage, his leg halting, as he'd be slowed down. Fury roared, as from behind, those who's bloodlust was up, and would not wait, reacted by bringing up a power sword, and cutting down the crippled warrior before him, a swift stab through the back, blade erupting from the khornate's chest, the dying warrior cackling at the blood he shed in service to Khorne, before he'd be tossed aside, head crushed under the boots of the two remaining enemies that charged. Santana turned to sight the next foe, but found that the distance between the two had been closed, and his bursting bolter was slapped aside by the sword of the incoming, roaring renegade. Releasing his grip on the bolter, letting it be tossed aside, Santana thrust forward with both hands, one reaching out to grab at the sword wrist, the other crashing against the gaping maw of the berserker, who's fanged helm split open in a roar. Feeling his fist shatter the teeth of the beast, Santana would hammer three more blows into the face of the brute, even as the Khornate, unimpaired by the strikes, fought against Santana to bring his sword towards the loyalist's throat, it's free hand scrapping against his chest plate. The strength of the traitor was immense, empowered by the God of slaughter, and truthfully, Santana only endured due to his greater bulk, the blood of Polux running great in him. With his longer reach, and natural size, he barely equaled out against the raging marine, but even he knew that in a test of endurance, his strength would eventually ebb, while the khornate would give him everything, until his hearts stopped beating. Muscles aching with effort, the snapping maw of the traitor would lunge forward, looking to rip his throat out with teeth alone. In response, Santana swiftly reached down to his hip, and filled with gaping jaws of his foe with the barrel of his bolt pistol. With a crack, the brains of his enemy would splatter out, and the Crimson Fist would wear the ichor of the fallen renegade over his plate. Yet there was no time for respite, as he kicked away the corpse he'd just wrestled with, sending it into the final of the enemies coming towards him. With whirling chain axe in both hands, this final creature stalked towards him, swatting aside the corpse, with a dark chuckle. When he spoke, his voice was as grinding stone, rumbling and cruel. "Now now, Son of Dorn, do not tell me your endurance, almost fabled in your blood, is waning now? This fight is not over, and if I am to claim your skull, I wish for it to be a sporting affair. You have felled five of my pack mates this day, no small feat...." "Four..." Santana would reply, his hearts beating, as he motioned with his head towards the ground. The crippled berserker, the second casualty of this engagement, charred from the explosion of the frag grenades, would still drag itself onwards, it's legs hanging loosely behind each pull. Looking down, the khornate marine would snarl, before bringing up a foot, and crashing it down into the head of his fallen comrade, with a wet crunch. Letting loose a grumble, he'd spit upon the floor, his eyes, burning in their sockets, glaring down at the still twitching corpse. "Fool, to be felled by the mortals upon this ship. I will be sure to collect the skull of the one who bested you, Ghearic, I owe them that much....." Before turning back towards Santana would had already taken a step back, bolt pistol in one hand, combat knife in the other. Watching this, the khornate would let loose a laugh. "Slinking away? I thought Dorn's bastard offspring would stand until the end, and we are so close to this. Do you think you can flee? If so, turn cur, and let me bury my axes in your back." Santana, flexing his shoulders, would say nothing, for what reward came with trading words with a traitor. Raising up his knife and pistol, he'd simply glare back at the marine waiting. To this, the khornate would reply with a gunning of his axes. "So be it." The violence was explosive, for one moment, the brute stood still, the next, he came on like a one man stampede. The distance between the two would be closed in an instant, as the berserker raised both axes, and cut down, looking to fell his foe in a single strike. Santana, in response, would drop both his knife and pistol, and reach out towards the whirling teeth of the oncoming weapons. Standing in the hall, the traitor howling with fury, Santana would stand, his fists enclosed around the hafts of the chain-axes, holding them mere inches from his face, the teeth hungrily shrieking for the blood they sought. With a grunt, Santana would push his muscles forth, moving the axes little by little, so that they came further apart, until he stared his enemy, lens to eye. With that, he'd lunge forward, helmeted head crashing into the bare skull of his enemy. Blood spurted, and a howl was heard, yet he did not halt, slamming once again. He felt the grip upon the axes weaken, as with a rush of strength, he'd rip them from his foe's hands, tossing them aside, as he hammered his helmet again into the face of the berserker. Stumbling back, snarling and cursing in his bastard tongue, the traitor would attempt to rally, before Santana swung his fist forth, crashing into the marine's head with a satisfying shatter of bone. Yet still, he did not let up, hammering him back, again and again, knocking the enemy to the ground, and following him with more strikes. Slamming his fists repeatedly into the khornate's face, Santana would feel the claws of the marine scrap against his armour, in defiance to his death. By the time, the scrapping halted, only a pulp of blood, and gray matter would remain of the traitors head, the ichor dripping from Santana's fists. His hearts still beating, Santana checked his timer before the doors were closed. He still had a minute to get back, wondering how this entire engagement had been so quick, yet swiftly banishing the thought. This was no more than a skirmish, he'd think, as he swiftly recovered his fallen weaponry, and began running back. The real fight had yet to truly begin. (Remaining Enemy Counter: 266)
@Schalli @TuskatheDaemonKilla "Silence" Having taken the strange device, Okantakht scoffed. While he was slightly irritated that Nurrahk had not only commanded his court but also about his seeming amusement, the Arbiter was not wrong; his lowers had acted strangely respectless as of late. That confused him more than a little bit because he saw no reason for their actions; they were simply not following proper conduct, unimaginable for any necron. Normally. Maybe he would have to enact punishment. Concentrating on the device at hand, his experienced sight soon revealed its nature; it was not one device, rather there were two: One part clearly made by primitive technology that seemed to be build by a human, and the other made of wraithbone, the trademark of the wretched eldar. The human device was some kind of explosive detonated by radio, it seemed like a miniaturized version of what they called a "melter-bomb", but the strenght was far too weak.... It would do nothing but damage or destroy the other device it was build onto. Peculiar indeed.... As for the part fabricated by Eldar, Okantakht could only guess. Wraithbone was near imbossible to reproduce by even the best of cryptecs, and to understand its purpose even he would probably need a certain amount of time, and that only because he gathered some interesting tidbits of information about the eldar while he watched their ascend and downfall. Aaaah... the downfall of the eldar empire..... One of the few memories he had about them that were nearly....pleasant... Well. If he had been able to feel anything. As his right hand unfroze the transmission, the Phaeron seriously considered to just obliterate the humans. "What is the meaning of this?" He held the device in Sabios direction. "You dare to dirty a noble with Eldar craft. And your primitive explosives. One does not parley with Eldar minions."
@Jammysod The Shadowseer didnt reply Victus at first, opening the door and letting several terrified guardsmen out, they exchanged several phrases before turning quickly to the left and disappearing in the next turn. Then she turned to face Victus who was still disguised as a nightmarish khornate and smiled again. "Lead the way, human, but make it quick." Several hundred meters away and fifteen meters below Victus's current position the armoury was being desperately defended by three hundred and fifteen guardsmen - it was all that remained from previously a thousand-strong imperial force when they encountered one hundred khornates led by three Terminators. @kanila Tandreus was about to argue with Rackham when a sound of several powerful explosions reverberated through the walls. Exarch Agrinalia was first to restore her balance and she quickly rushed to the room's transparent glass where the entire hangar below could be seen - there was panic down there, hundreds of humans hurrying to their positions behind hastily built improvised barricades, their terrified gazes directed at many sideway entrances to the hangar - the doors were torn apart and massive clouds of smoke poured out from there - nothing could be seen behind them. Agrinalia was proud and eager to see her fellow warriors reacting with a perfect coherence with each other and without any fear, swiftly leaping and dodging aside to cover behind their ships and, some of them, even behind the barricades along side mon-keighs who wasnt sure how to feel of daughters of Jain Zar's presence - fear or relief. She noticed a single squad of her sisters separate from the rest of the banshees and following some slender figure with flamboyant cloak trailing behind him - Autarch, Agrinalia realised. Wherever he was leading them and their Exarch, Agrinalia sincerely wished her fellow comrades good luck and victory. Tandreus's warriors responded in a no less coherent pattern, albeit much less gracefully which wasnt of surprise to Agrinalia. They quickly divided into four squads of five warriors and crouched behind the barricades, bolt guns, heavy bolters and las-cannons aimed at the breached entrances. The smoke continued to pour in giant clouds obscuring the vision of defenders and slowly filling the hangar's inner space. By the time Tandreus marched to the glass to see for himself what was happening the Exarch coarsely grabbed Rackham's fleshly arm and literally pulled him to her left. "Look, the Skull King's minions are coming. We shall see soon who is worthy enough to bear a title of a warrior, commissar," she snarled with a mixture of rising bloodlust and hatred. "I can feel your blood chilling with terror in your veins, petty human, and you're right to fear," she addressed Rackham mockingly. Some figures started to appear from the smoke - limping, crouching or simply walking like zombies, first they were dozens, then they became hundreds, spilling in waves - they were naked, males and females, their bodies mutilated and bleeding, runes of the Blood God carved in their flesh. Poor creatures were moaning, pleading, screaming and whinning, hands raised in pleas towards the utterly terrified defenders. "By the Lord of Serpents....." Tandreus whispered, tightening his grip upon a chainsword. As if he spoke some secret command hundreds of mutilated humans began to scream as sound of firing behind them suddenly burst out - they were encouraged to run at the defenders by invisible butchers following somewhere in darkness. The waves of naked bleeding humans charged forwards at the defenders, intending them absolutely no harm but serving as a living meat shield for the khornates.... "Your orders, captain?" Tandreus's helmet's vox crackled and he briefly glanced at Rackham as if looking for an advice. @BruticusTheGoreHound Brother Santana was exhausted after his titanic clash with six nightmarish creatures. He was going to return to the Mess Hall when suddenly two more berserkers rammed through the sealed hatch and lunged at him, quickly covering twelve meters separating both sides. A piercing ululating cry greeted the charging khornates and both of them stunned as if paralyzed, their faces distorted in grimaces of pain and fury. Three leaping forms emerged from the darkness, two of the bone-white color and the third one with a blood-red helmet. Three of the screaming maidens descended upon the stunned khornates with their power swords sweeping and dancing in blurring arcs of strikes, leaving energy trails in the air after impacts. The first maiden kicked a khornate's head with her knee, a heart beat later the second one landed in front of the snarling beast on almost four limbs and with a scything graceful sweep of her boot kicked his legs out from him, throwing the giant on the floor with a heavy thud. Without even pausing to give him a reprieve the third maiden landed on his chest and pierced his two hearts with two blindingly fast strikes, somersaulting forward from the corpse. Two more maidens leapt at the second khornate who recovered his condition and he managed to deflect two swords aimed at his head, his clumsy heavy sweep of immense axe reaching not a single warrior. Five maidens began to circle the khornate, constantly ululating and never pausing, their swords cutting him with breath-taking speed like serpents, leaving dozens bleeding wounds with every passing second. The deadly magnificent dance was over when the berserker was literally cut into pieces within several seconds, leaving only a pile of dismembered armour and meat in his wake. The maidens stopped as one and turned towards brother Santana, simply watching him and making no movements. "You've fought well, human, but you cant win this fight alone," a male eldar with glittering witch-blade held in both hands stepped from behind the maidens accompanied by the sixth banshee. Slau Dha studied the space marine intently under his helmet before nodding curtly to the Exarch who, in turn, nodded to her warriors and they sheathed their swords as one. "My name is Slau Dha, human, this is Exarch Elisseria of the Howling Blade shrine - I want you to memorize the name of the shrine and its Exarch whose warriors just saved your life. We have come to help you, I require you to show me your defensive position and mark the forces you have at your disposal," the Autarch said and waited for Santana's reply. A Terminator and fourty of bloodied monsters following behind him almost reached the southern gate which was supposed to lead them to the Mess Hall when they found the bulkhead sealed shut. The sergeant growled furiously and prepped his electrified power fist to smash through the bulkhead when one of his warriors hurried to the bulkhead and placed several melta charges. The pack quickly found shelter in the corridor a second before an immense explosion boomed, hurtling the bulkhead's remains several meters onwards and sending a shockwave in both sides. "Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!" the Terminator roared and raised his giant sword, charging onwards. (OOC: remaining number - 264)
Victus looked confused as to why the guardsmen looked so terrified as they passed. Remembering what the Harlequin said earlier about looking at his own reflection Victus pulled out his dataslate and stared at his reflection, suddenly realising what was going on when he saw the helm of one of the Khornate Warriors staring back at him. Blood covered his armour, blending in with the red paint underneath and a single skull hung off one of his pauldrons. Despite this rather annoying detail he was left unaware of Victus briefly switched off his vox-link before deciding to make light of the situation. "Heh, well I make a rather good looking heretic if I do say so myself, wouldn't you agree?" He stated with a blatantly sarcastic tone of voice as he looked over at the Harlequin, barely suppressing a slight chuckle at his own sarcastic remark as he walked past her into the room beyond the door. It was a small storage room of sorts that seemed to be used for storing cleaning supplies. "If the data I have on this ship is correct this room should have a small cargo elevator somewhere in here that leads down to the same floor as the armoury... now... it should be..." After a brief look around Victus caught site of the elevator and broke into a slow jog in order to reach it. "Here it is, we should be able to get a little closer to the armoury from here. All joking aside, though, if we meet other Loyalists I'd appreciate it if you changed me back to my regular appearance. I'd rather not be gunned down by friendly forces. In the meantime though... this could be very useful, they won't expect an attack from within their own horde or well, they would but as far as I know such in-fighting among individual soldiers is common in warbands dedicated to Khorne." Once he was done speaking Victus spent a couple of second keying in which floor in the ship he'd like the elevator to go to before looking over at the Harlequin. "Ready to have some more fun?"
From the sound and tremors from the explosions it would seem the attackers had reached the hangar. Before he could even make it to the transparasteel the banshee grabbed hold of his arm. "Ha! You know nothing and prove yourself a fool yet again!" Yanking his arm free of her grasp he unsheathed his power Saber and plasma pistol. The energy crackled to life as he turned for the doorway. "I see you even keep secrets from the Eldar, maybe next time give them a background on WHO they are asking for assistance from!" Standing in the doorway he finally halted to address the Legionaire, with a scowl upon his face he responded. "A Primarch asking ME for guidance!? Now that's rich! Do what you said you could do. Kill the invaders!" He turned and the door sealed behind him, shaking his head, offers of help and they ask me how to do it? His boots rang out on the catwalk stairs as he made his way to the defenders. "End their miserable lives! Open fire!" Lasguns and autogun shots rang out through the din of smoke and battle. "Activating his vox to the squad leaders in the hangar. "Hold heavy weapons fire until the true enemy shows itself. Put down our cursed brethren so they might finally find rest." Leaping over the barricades the Lord Commissar strode amongst the firing line. "Steel your hearts men! See what they have done to torture those before you! Give them the eternal rest they deserve!" To illustrate his point he fired a super heated ball of plasma into one of the poor souls being used as a meat shield. The head melting away in mere moments as the blast continued on into the next tormented soul. "The Emperor is with us this day! Show them that we will not die so easily!" He glanced at the closest Alpha Legionaire, "Have you been given your orders yet? Or am I to direct you?" He still could not understand why an Astarte would bow command to him. What game was he playing?
