Victus was deep in thought, getting to the armoury would be simple enough but getting out could be a problem. After a few moments of idleness Victus still couldn't think of a way to escape with the equipment he wanted to retrieve, it would have to wait until later. After checking the hallway once again for the followers of Khorne Victus practically launched himself off the elevator, breaking into a full blown sprint as the Harlequin followed closely behind him. Though she had to hold back to prevent herself from rushing past the Astartes the lighter MK 6 armour meant that Victus, while lacking anything in the way of grace, could easily reach a speed comparable to that of some of the Eldar though he wasn't going to be outrunning a Howling Banshee or an Exarch anytime soon.

"If we continue at this speed we should reach the armoury in little over a minute. Now if you'll excuse me I need to send a message so this plan can go ahead." With that Victus re-activated his vox-link, this time he attempted to contact Santana and was both surprised and worried about the lack of chatter which would normally have prevented him from contacting someone organising a defence. Instead what he heard was the unmistakable sounds of bolter fire and the unquenchable rage of the warriors of Khorne. Undeterred, Victus attempted to speak to the Crimson Fist anyway. "Brother Santana? This is Victus. If you can hear me then you may be glad to hear that I have a plan to deal with some of our problem. As soon as you are able I need you to tell me of any large, open locations you can think of between the mess hall and the bridge. Storage rooms, smaller armouries, anything like that. I'm on my way to the main armoury right now but I shall keep this vox-link open so we can stay in contact." As Victus finished speaking he took the opportunity to check his weapons one last time, reloading his pistol while he still could. Though there was still little signs of battle in the halls the sounds of marching and fighting were getting louder. It was clear to the apothecary that no matter what happened he was certain that all hell was about to break loose. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the ordeal to come, this was going to be an encounter to remember.

@BruticusTheGoreHound @Maensith

@BruticusTheGoreHound

The Autarch and six banshees were firing at the advancing khornates from above with shuriken pistols - having encountered no enemy reinforcements in the confines "assigned" to them by the space marine and unable to engage the foes in melee, they were forced to provide the defending imperials with only distracting fire for their shurikens couldnt possibly inflict some serious damage to the enraged blood-crazed monsters.

"There is no beauty in their deaths, they pass from this world the same way they spend their miserable lives - fruitlessly, gracelessly, ugly and quickly," Exarch Elisseria commented the current onslaught as she was eagerly and inquisitively observing every death, no matter whose, beneath her squad's position- guardsman's or khornate's - Khaine cared not where blood flowed from, just like his father Khorne didnt. Her war-mask was inhaling sweet aroma of bloodshed being committed by primitives, fuelling her rage and joy like a furnace.

"Shouldnt we help this human, my Exarch?" one banshee asked the Exarch and pointed at Santana below who was preparing to engage the Terminator in a deadly duel. Elisseria snorted in contempt and replied, "havent you heard what this primitive said, sister - he doesnt want us to interfere into his plans. And until those mines below are destroyed I'm not going down".

The Exarch let out an ululating cry when Santana was pierced by the Terminator's lance - to her fellow banshees it was obvious that the cry wasnt that of grief, compassion or anger - it was a cry of savage joy. "I can feel his life essence leaking out of him, this is so pleasent, my sisters, if only you could fully taste it....." Elisseria whispered fervently. They felt Santana's grievous wound as well, space marine's emotions of pain and anger pouring from his psyche with much stronger intensity than the same emotions from ordinary guardsmen, their war-masks soaking space marine's misery like a fine juice yet their true identities, somewhere deep below their war-masks, were feeling compassion towards the wounded warrior. When the chaos champion was destroyed by Santana's grenade Elisseria jumped on her feet with mirror swords in her hands and commanded her fellow warriors with barely suppressed eagerness, "now, my howling ghosts, our time has come at last! Keep our retreating route safe while I deal with the rest".

Five banshees ran towards five remaining khornates who were chasing the retreating guardsmen while the Exarch along side the Autarch leapt downwards towards kneeling Santana aiming at the three berserkers running towards him. The Exarch landed a meter away from Santana right in front of him, obscuring his aim with her body and briefly glanced backwards, snapping "dont shoot, human, this is the dance of blades you will never forget!" the two traitor marines rushed at her just in time to be greeted with a paralyzing shriek from her mask but the same trick couldnt work twice - with their helmets' systems lowered accordingly the piercing psychic scream hasnt fully affected their nervous systems. One axe reached to Elisseria's head to be perfectly parried with her sword while the second berserker lunged at her with his talon aimed at her chest only to find its claws being stuck in the second sword several inches away from her body. The banshee twisted her second sword, breaking the talon's claws with its blade and rolled aside letting the axe of the first assailant to land with a thunderous impact on the empty floor. The axe reached at her almost an instant later in a broad sweeping arc, intending to split the Exarch's body in two - the banshee somersaulted backwards and landed on the berserker's shoulders with her feet - using the brute as a tramplin, the Exarch pushed off from him and leapt again, with sheer force of her legs kicking him downwards and avoiding the second berserker's attack with a metal club. She only had time to bring both of her swords in a defensive position to deflect a horrendously powerful strike of the khornate's club aimed at her chest - the sheer force of its impact hurtled the Exarch several meters away and crushed her at the metallic wall. The hulking brute didnt wait for her to restore and lunged at the banshee who was slowly standing on four limbs with both swords still held in hands. He was on her two seconds later and lowered the giant club on her back but his strike found only the empty floor - the Exarch rolled aside, cut his thigh with her right power sword and pierced his under knee with her left one - the brute howled in pain and rage and swept his immense gauntlet downwards, punching the Exarch and hurtling her away once more - the banshee landed on her belly, sprawled, her mask cracked and small rivulets of blood trailing from her torso. Two berserkers howled in triumph and, ignoring their third comrade who was duelling with Slau Dha, rushed towards Elisseria again who was slowly trying to stand..... (@BruticusTheGoreHound , your turn to assist )


@kanila

Tandreus sighed with a slight relief when two of his brothers he sent to Rackham's help arrived just in time to save the damn too eager for battle Lord Commissar from inevitable death - he needed Rackham to stay alive until Alpha Legion's plans reached their conclusion. Fully half of the enemy's forces engaged 40 banshees in melee while the rest of the forces with two Terminators concentrated solely on Tandreus's legionnaires.

"Striking Cobra pattern, now!" Tandreus shouted through his helmet's vox and the remaining 18 warriors under his command shifted their positions accordingly. He quickly realized that in a head-on attack against Blood God's traitor marines he had no chance, their superior brute force would utterly crush his defence. The khornates represented a powerful behemoth, lumbering and unstoppable in its might yet extremely unflexible to the changing environment - Tandreus's squads were like a serpent, slim and highly maneuverable, its strength in deadly speed and precision of its bites, not sheer brutal power. With his orders received the Alpha legionnaires spread out, hiding behind transports and using them as vantage points - every legionnaire concentrated their fire power on a single khornate identified by captain Tandreus - he was a serpent's head and his warriors its teeth, together biting at the mighty behemoth's body, tearing small chunks of its meat with every death of a single khornate. The warband's leader seemed to realize Tandreus's tactics and ordered his warriors to spread out, he himself lunging on Tandreus's personally. He ran straight to him, gathering his momentum and crushing one Alpha legionnaire like a battering ram who wasnt quick enough to get away from his path - the warrior was split in two by the champion's immense axe. Tandreus turned around and ran himself, ducking beneath one eldar Nightwing in a belief that it will slow the Terminator's advance - he was proven greatly wrong when the warband's leader simply rammed through the aircraft, tearing a great chunk of wraithbone and steel from its port side.

"That's not good," Tandreus murmured and rolled aside to avoid being split in two by the giant axe.

Remaining khornates - 210

@Maensith @Jammysod

The kick of his bolter, the roar of the enemy barreling towards him, the flash of lasguns being fired wildly, Santana was surrounded by the chaos of battle. His injury, still dripping red sanguine liquid, would throb with pain, each shit fired sending another wave of agony through him, as the jaws of death seemed to come closer and closer. Yet, despite this, Santana's breath was steadied, for if death wished to claim him, he refused to have it find him in fear, for he was an Angel of The Emperor, and he knew no fear.

However, he did feel surprise, as a shadow descended upon him, and a lithe figure landed on the steel floor without so much as a thump. Truth be told, in the fires of battle, Santana had forgotten of the Eldar's presence here, his focus on dealing with one enemy eclipsing his desire to keep track of another, and for a brief span of time, he'd feel the revelation of this process in his mind. The being spoke towards him, it's arrogant tone somewhat tainting it's voice, before it moved to engage the berserkers, offering the astartes a much needed lapse of relief, one he did not intend to waste. Getting to his feet, he'd watch to see the banshees moving to engage the other renegades howling for the blood of the guardsmen, only now noticing the arrival of more sporting prey. With this, Santana would quickly check his bolter, before an alert rune manifested on his helmet's eye lenses. Almost blinking it away, believing it to be another signal of the damage he'd sustained, he'd instead realized it was a communication channel opening up between him and the other Space Marine on this ship.

As Astartes, one might think that Santana and Victus would have been in close contact with one another during their travels aboard the Sword of Orion, for the bond between their forces was legendary to those who heard the tales. Yet, the truth was that there had been little dialogue between the pair. Victus was a member of the Deathwatch, an elite force of warriors trained to hound the alien foes of mankind, and purge them with all the training and specialized gear granted to this honoured position. To reach the hallowed halls of that establishment, one needed rank, skill, and the approval of their parent chapter, to act as a representative. In comparison, Santana was a brother of the Crimson Fists, a being who had seen relatively less war, who's status was merely that of a soldier in the chapter, and very little else. In addition, the Space Marines had differing sires, that of Dorn and The Lion, and their traditions, beliefs, and methods were separated not only by distance, but by different teachings of their progenitors. To say that Santana did not trust the Dark Angel would be a harsh judgement, yet, when dealing with the warriors of The Rock, one would often see a secretive nature held by it's residents. In his more introspective moments, he figured the Dark Angel might view him with the same qualities attributed to the children of Dorn, stubborn, blunt, and perhaps naive, so he could not simply cast all the blame one way. All this manifested in the relation between the two Astartes, where Victus spent much of his time dealing with the Lord Commissar, and the running of their objectives and the ship's command, while Santana remained with the rest of the soliders down below, ready to be ordered at will.

Opening up the channel, the Crimson Fist would listen to the words of the Deathwatch operative. He'd be pleased to hear there was a plot being formed to dealing with more warriors, more pleased with the fact that the other warrior had not fallen in the boarding yet. Considering the situation, Santana would speak, his tone, by sheer will, holding steady, despite the damage he'd sustained.

"Greetings, honoured cousin. It is glad tidings you bring, that the traitorous dogs have not yet found themselves mighty enough to face Imperial might."

As he spoke, standing tall, he'd watch the engagement growing between the Eldar and the crazed warriors of Chaos. Reaching to grab at the broken hilt of the lance that had pierced his flesh, he'd give it a slight tug, narrowing his eyes as he felt the pain erupt. The weapon had been barbed, and would not be removed so easily, and yet, he would be less combat effective if he let it remain. With this, Santana would grit his teeth, before speaking into his vox, before cutting the channel.

"I will review the schematics of the ship, and notify you if I find a sufficient area. Good hunting Dark Angel."

As the vox link closed, he'd coil his fingers around the haft, and would pull. His mind was filled with pain, as he let loose a roar of fury and anger, flesh muscle and bone tearing, as he withdrew the weapon. His wound would bleed freely now, as Santana forced his mind to focus, gripping the newly removed lance, while his eyes locked upon the battle between the Eldar and the khornates. He had a job to do, so he'd begin moving forward to engage, his injuries healing with each step, his body knowing it was not time to relax yet.

As the Khornates came for the Exarch, who would have impacted against the ground, in their blood crazed fury, they might not notice the sound of something hissing through the air. It was because of this, that the fight sight they had of the incoming projectile, was when the tip of the broken lance pierced the left eye lense of the brute carrying the club, stabbing into his vision. This was swiftly followed by the roar of bolter fire, As Santana unleashed a volley of shots towards the warrior, would turned, glaring at him with his one good eye, letting loose a roar, before a shot turned his visage into a gory mess. Before he could hit the ground, his ally moved to charge, only to find the Crimson Fist unwilling to allow him the chance. His foe stood here, without cover, and exposed, and before the brute could so much as raise his axe, Santana put him down with decisive fire, hit bolt rounds tearing through already damaged armour, exploding within, casting blood and gore all around his enemy, before he finally dropped.

With the threat handled, Santana swiftly moved over towards the fallen Exarch, taking a knee, his helmet's HUD looking over the xeno. He did not reach out, or attempt to aid, yet he needed to know if the creature lived, if it would be an asset in later fights. He'd listen for the sound of the alien's heartbeat, and, once assuring it was stable, would stand, and bring his bolter up, searching for more targets, seeing how the other creatures faired in their battles against the Arch-Enemy.​

The assistance, as unexpected as it was, was still appreciated. The Lord Commissar and guard Sergeant made their way back to one of the final defenses, throughout the hangar the destruction inside the hangar from the burning vehicles added to the chaos around them. Even as he moved back his vox-bead was being flooded with reports from other sections of the ship reporting similar reports, the defenders were being quickly overrun and forced to fall back. For every berserker that was felled, at least 10 of his own gave their lives. The hangar was quickly following suit, it was time to begin moving further towards the bridge to prepare for their final defense. If something didn't happen soon The Sword of Orion would fall to the ruinous powers.

Falling back he caught sight of the monstrous terminator plowing through the defenses as if they were merely grass in an open field. The target of its rage seemed to be the supposed Primarch of the Alpha Legion. Cursing under his breath, it would seem that he was forced to assist. Any other situation he would let the dog face his fate alone, but in his current situation he needed all available forces to repel the invaders. Moving from his cover he quickly cleared the distance killing one berserker with a shot from his plasma pistol, rending a hole through the ceramite armor melting through flesh and bone alike. Firing the superheated plasma at the towering figure of the terminator, it impacted the back of where it's shoulder would be. The plasma merely popping and sizzling on the armor, barely penetrating the thick armor. But the result was achieved nonetheless, the terminator halted its advance to find out what had the audacity to interrupt the hunt of its prey. "YOU TINY INSOLENT WORM! YOU DARE THINK TO CHALLENGE ME!" The terminator bellowed, its voice sounding like gravel thrown in a meat grinder. "YOUR SKULL WILL JOIN THE REST! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" Standing his ground the Lord Commissar stared down the terminator, "I will not go down so easily! Face me you dog of Khorne! For I don't fear death!" He rushed forward firing his plasma pistol into the brutes knee to slow him down. The terminator swung down with his large double sided axe which the Commissar was barely able to deflect with his power Saber. Before Rackham could react the terminator's massive hand swung up in a backhanded motion, slamming into him. The impact sent the Lord Commissar sailing through the air, crashing into one of the wrecked chimeras. The impact to the terminator's knee popped and bubbled as it ate away the flesh hidden behind the armor. Hiding a limp as he approached the Commissar still trying to recover from the blow he had just received. "YOU PATHETIC WORM! WHERE IS YOUR FALSE EMPEROR NOW!" His deep bellowing laughter intensified as he watched the Commissar spit a gob of blood on the hangar floor. Lord Commissar Rackham was still picking himself up off the floor when the terminator picked him up by his bionic arm. Crushing the bionic in its massive gauntlet. The terminator held the Commissar at eye level, "YOUR SKULL WILL MAKE A FINE ADDITION TO MY COLLECTION!" The words were not only heard but felt from the close proximity to the vox grill. Spitting a gob of blood in his face, "Better have tried and failed. This isn't over yet." Rackham's breathes were painful from at least a few cracked ribs and he no longer had the use of his bionic arm, but he could not show fear, even in death he would have to remain a symbol for his men.

As the terminator raised the double sided axe to deliver the killing blow, it stopped at the height of its backswing. The moment seemed to last for an eternity before the axe dropped from his grip. His grip also released the crumpled metal that was once Rackham's bionic arm, dropping the Lord Commissar to the plasteel decking below. Before he knew what was going on, the massive form collapsed to its knees. Rackham was barely able to roll out of the way before the massive terminator collapsed onto the deck where the Lord Commissar was moments before. His power Saber stood from the hole in its back where his earlier plasma shot had hit. Standing there with a smug look on his face was the leader of the Alpha Legion, "It would appear that you owe me now Lord Commissar Rackham." With a heavy yanking motion he pulled the blade free from the terminator and tossed it to Rackham as well as his plasma pistol, before returning to the fall back point.

The Sergeant from earlier, with two other guardsmen rushed forward to assist the Lord Commissar. His bionic arm hung loosely by his side as he holstered the plasma pistol. Carrying the power Saber he allowed the Sergeant to assist him to the fall back point. The two other guardsmen fired into a berserker with their meltaguns, before quickly following the pair. Rackham's ribs were causing him some trouble with his breathing but he powered through it to issue his orders. "Fallback, we need to secure the final defenses of the bridge." He continued his movement trusting in the men under his command to do what was needed to slow the enemies advance.

Remaining Khornate Berserkers: 198

@BruticusTheGoreHound

The Exarch managed to rise on four limbs - her chest and head were aching with pain, a long crack trailed her mask from its grill speaker to mane and her torso armour plates were broken in several places, slim blood rivulets streaming from there and covering her bone-colored armour with little crimson lines. She raised her head to see the space marine standing nearby her with his bolter scanning the surroundings for any sign of threat - even in her weakened condition it would be so easy to just stab him and drink his life essence, partly restoring her strength - yet the primitive just saved her life and the honour dictated if not to respect him then at least allow him to live.

Elisseria felt an arm gently enfolding her waist and her own right arm being thrown over someone's shoulder, carefully pulling her up - she turned her helmet right and saw one of her disciples' mask several inches away from her face. "The retreating passage is secured, my Exarch," the banshee spoke grimly and nodded forward - of Elisseria's five disciples only three survived the skirmish with khornates, of which one heavily wounded banshee was being carried on arms of her sister, her slender limbs hanging helplessly - a six-strong squad was reduced to only two warriors fully capable to fight.

The Exarch hissed in anger and snapped to the space marine, "your and your unworthy kindred's salvation costed two lives of my sisters, mon-keigh - this is the debt you'll have to pay me personally, mark my words." Slau Dha, finally decapitating his own opponent, was marching towards the space marine and the Exarch, his resplendent armour scathed with several deep cuts which, surprisingly, didnt reach his flesh. He inclined his head towards the dead banshees and said, "gather their spirit stones and retreat, that's my order," he paused and looked at one banshee holding her wounded sister on arms, adding "we cant afford ourselves to be slowed down by additional burdens, I need every warrior capable to fight to hold his blade." The Exarch snarled quietly and, as if guessing the Autarch's intention, the banshee carrying the wounded warrior stepped back, shaking her head. Elisseria gently freed herself from her disciple's support and headed towards the banshee, slowly approaching her wounded disciple who was moaning quietly. The Exarch placed her palm upon warrior's belly wound and the warrior grabbed her hand, seeking reassurance and having no idea what the Exarch really intended to do.

"Her flesh is dying, sister, only the spirit can be preserved. I wont allow my disciple to be finished by some corrupted mon-keigh," Elisseria whispered grimly to the banshee carrying the warrior. The Exarch clasped the dying banshee's hand in hers and raised her left power sword. "It was an honour for me to stand with you, sister, shoulder to shoulder, blade to blade - in life you served Khaine and in death your duty ends. Your spirit will join your kin on the craftworld, I promise you," Elisseria whispered ahd sharply plunged her sword into the banshee's heart, with one quick strike ending her disciple's agony and inflicting only a brief pain to her conscience. The warrior carrying her sister on arms gasped and shuddered as the psychic scream of the banshee's departing spirit reached her mind, slowly quitening as it was gradually delving into the spirit stone. Elisseria let her hand free of the dead warrior's grasp and stood immobile for several seconds, her head lowered.

The other banshee gently lowered her sister's body on the bloodied floor and reverently plucked her spirit stone from her chest, storing it in her waist satchel. The Exarch muttered several prayers before turning back and heading towards the Autarch, leaving her living disciple slumped on her knees, alone, nearby the corpse of the warrior. The banshee who had previously helped the Exarch to stand knelt in front of her living sister and enfolded her, tightly embosoming her shuddering body to chest and plunging fingers into banshee's rich mane, stroking her head.

"Three lives, human," Elisseria snapped through gritted teeth standing face-to-face with Santana barely a half-meter away from him. "Now lead the way, we cant hold the enemy reinforcements back," she added as the sound of roars of newly arriving khornates reached her sharpened hearing.


@kanila

"One of the enemy's sergeants is dead, captain!" Tandreus's vox bead crackled with report from one of his legionnaires while he continued to dodge and roll from the warband leader's clumsy yet impossibly powerful strikes.

"That's damn good news, brother! Now, if you dont mind, could you please get this damn beast away from me!" he shouted and rolled aside once again, a giant axe streaking past his helmet barely an inch away so he could hear daemonic whispers of the possessed weapon. The chaos champion constantly snarled and swore with each of his strikes missing his target - no matter how masterfully he wore his Terminator armour he couldnt be more maneuverable than Tandreus in less bulky war gear and the Alpha Legion's captain wasnt stupid enough to brawl with him on equal terms, relying on physical strength.

"Fight me, you cursed coward! Son of the Lizard Primarch!" he roared at Tandreus, swinging his axe and declaring an intent to strike again but twisting it aside at the last moment and punching Tandreus's chest with his powerfist - the Alpha Legion's captain was hurled a dozen meters away and landed on a pile of guardsmen corpses, his power armour cracked open and several ribs broken. That he was alive was a miracle - a miracle and the result of his last-instant dodging that prevented him from facing such horrendous strike with full weight of his body. Tandreus swore and coughed blood, trying to push himself up as the chaos champion roared in triumph and sprinted towards him again. He was slowed down by a missile launcher's fire which hit his torso and made him stagger back but did no more damage to his armour than to leave several scorching marks - the khornate levelled his wrist bolter and fired in return, turning his attacker's helmet in a bloody mess of brain matter, gore and steel. Of previously 20 active runes on Tnadreus's helmet's display only 11 were still flickering with life signals and, as far as he could see, of previously 76 khornates assailing him and allied forces less than half were killed - he saw several dead bodies of Eldar warriors as well but had no time to count their casualties.

"Retreat, all squads, retreat!" he shouted into his helmet's vox and pushed himself up. He spotted one of the eldar Exarchs circling one Terminator sergeant and a plan quickly formed in his head. He raised his bolt pistol and emptied the entire clip at the warband's leader, not a single shot truly inflicting serious damage to his opponent yet it wasnt Tandreus's plan to down the chaos champion from a pistol. Suppressing pain in his chest aching with every inhaling breath Tandreus sprinted towards one of the Exarch, making sure that the other Terminator was following behind.


@Jammysod

The sounds of battle drew inevitably closer as the Shadowseer and Victus travelled down the passages. Until now they encountered only bloodied corpses and no living survivors or attackers - whether this was a bad sign or a good one they couldnt say for sure. The Shadowseer gestured Victus to stop, changing her appearance once again to a handsome female guardsman.

"Approach the corrupted mon-keighs from behind and join their ranks, I'm going to join the other side," she said. "When the tainted ones leave their positions gather all weapons you need and as many explosives you can find, then retreat and await my arrival".

OOC: remaining berserkers - 190

The marching... it was getting louder and louder as Victus got closer, it wasn't long before it was all Victus could hear. He thought he heard giggling from the Shadowseer behind him but the sound was drowned out by the sound of power armoured boots. Thankfully Santana's reply to his message was the lucky exception.

Looking back, Victus quickly slowed down as he saw the Shadowseer gesturing for him to stop. Paying the carnage around them no notice, Victus simply nodded at the Harlequin's plan. "Very well. Good luck, Harlequin." Victus said as he turned away and continued down the hallway, he was almost there now. There was nothing between him and the hordes of Chaos, he could see them through the ruined remains that were the heavy doors to the armoury, he couldn't see the fighting from so far back but it was clear there were dozens of these vile savages. As he drew closer to them Victus started mouthing various oaths and litanies as a final attempt to cement his resolve before stepping over the remains of the bulkhead and strode straight into the horde before him...

@Maensith

@Jammysod

The Shadowseer took another turn as Victus headed towards his own destination - she giggled quietly, hoping that the human didnt hear her. The sounds of commands and orders issued, oathes vowed and screams cried filled her ears but she felt no fear - everything was part of the Great Play and, if something had no place in it, it was certainly fear - the humans she was about to encounter soon didnt know it, but they played their part quite well and now it was time for some performers to leave the stage....

She sprinted towards the barricades with her facial expression reflecting a genuine terror and slender hands clasping a las-gun as if it were her own child. The guards shouted to her and waved hands, encouraging to join them as fast as she could.

"What the hell were you doing over there, girl??!!!! Where is your commander? Any news from the Lord Commissar??!!! Say something, damnit!" one guardsman cried at her, his words partly drowning in deafening sounds of fire. When he saw nothing useful could be gained from this green horn he waved his hand with irritation, "God damnit!!!!! We are fucking bleeding down here with those cursed bastards and no reinforcements arrive! Doesnt this damn Rackham realize we are defending the god damnit main armoury of his damn ship!!!!!!" the disguised Shadowseer ignored his vicious swearing and plunged deeper into defensive forces - there were at least several hundreds of men, but the terrible stench of charred meat and blood meant that many hundreds had died yet, leaving their less fortunate comrades to handle with the nightmarish creatures from the other side. Despite their superior advantage in numbers, the mon-keighs wouldnt last for long, the Shadowseer saw it - if these poor creatures were about to die then it'd be better for deaths not to be in vain.

The Harlequin was here to make sure that it would be exactly this way.

Reaching the center of the defending forces the Harlequin raised her hands upwards and blindingly white blasts of lightning flashed from her fingertips, filling the air around her with flickering images, phantoms and spectral hallucinations - the terrified guardsmen in their hundreds suddenly opened fire at one another, becoming oblivious to the nightmarish forces advancing on them from the other side. Each human saw in endless seas of ghosts his worst nightmares brought to life and tried to bring them down with his or her weapon - if they had any protection from the Shadowseer's psychic manipulations they would see their own comrades being blasted apart from their fellow warriors. The Shadowseer took her true image at last and playfully maneuvered amongst terrified humans killing each other, with each step running closer and closer to the front lines - the khornates obviously detected some confusion in the imperial forces and were trying to realize what was happening.

The Shadowseer stopped when she could see three towering Terminators leading their forces and raised her hands again - azure flows of psychic energy danced on her fingertips and flashed towards the Terminators, engulfing their towering forms into electrical discharges but making them no harm - the Blood God's servants were protected from any magic attacks. The Terminators roared in anger and sprinted towards the Shadowseer, their subordinates quickly following behind. The Harlequin giggled and disappeared, leaving the guardsmen consumed by phantom and non-existent nightmares alone with the advancing nightmarish horde - every single human would be butchered soon, but it would buy Victus enough time to gather necessary weapons and prepare the trap.

"I will now transmit the coordinates of the meeting point. You are certainly capable of arriving earlier than us, but I would suggest that we jump coordinated, unless you want to enter in negotiations with whoever you might find, if you arrive before me. For the 'punishment' I am bound to receive at the hands of your acquaintance, I suggest that this is postponed until the goals of this alliance are met. Even if your actions will not interfere the reactions could even if the ones undertaking them do not try to achieve this outcome. I will now prepare the ship for the warp-jump, if you allow."
Sabios kept the transmission open, knowing that his negotiation partner would like to have the last word.

Santana stood, his gaze scanning what remained of the mess hall, the destruction here brought by the renegades having transformed the chamber of camaraderie, and relaxation, into a battlefield, drenched in blood, and scarred with fire. Seeing the approach of the other banshees, the Crimson Fist once again fought down the urge the open fire upon the enemy, the compulsion being relatively lower at this moment, if only due to their actions allowing for the last of the Guardsmen to escape. The enemy denied further blood, Santana would bring up the plans of the Sword Of Orion, to begin looking for another point to defend, that he might transmit to Victus. Yet, his attempts would be interrupted, by the accusative words of the Eldar Exarch, now standing, supported by one of her sisters.

Turning his helmed head to stare at her, the emotionless lenses glaring back towards the angered alien. For a moment, he considered snarling back at her, demanding that she cease her prattling. War was war, and in it casualties would be faced, the Exarch had to have known this, their arrogance could not be so great that they'd believe they would emerge unscathed. Lowering his bolter, he'd instead consider her words, letting their significance be processed in his mind.

"your and your unworthy kindred's salvation costed two lives of my sisters"

His eyes turned, away from the Eldar, to look back across field of slaughter, the reek of ichor fresh in the air. The corpses of dozens of fallen guardsmen littered the ground, each sprayed and splattered about in different patterns. The toll here had been great, and yet, this would be one of the more successful engagements, as at the very least, the enemy had been destroyed, and there were survivors to tell of it. All about the ship, Santana heard the death count grow and grow, the Khornate's rampage breaking the bastions of the mortal guardsmen, the blood of the defenders filling the halls of the ship they died to protect. The dead of the Imperials would number in the thousands, each life snuffed out due to the machinations of a God that cared only for slaughter. And yet, the Eldar was weeping over two of her own lost.

Santana would remain silent on the matter for now, it was not worth the waste of breath. Instead, he'd watch, as the Eldar dealt with their casualties, and moved to offer some measure of peace to their injured comrade. The Space Marine felt as a stranger, for he knew what he was witnessing right now was not something many humans would ever get to see, and so he respected the gravity of the situation. Despite himself, he even felt a pang of sympathy for the creatures, dealing with the loss of their kindred, his own mourning of his battle brothers coming to mind. Curiously, he'd look in at the strange stones they creatures seemed to grasp, before understanding that these would carry the essence of their fallen, a small boon, in the face of bodily death. With the ritual complete, the Space Marine would again look to find a point of defense to rally towards, when suddenly, the Exarch seemed to be standing directly before him, her eyes alight with more accusations. His silence would be the only answer that Elisseria would win from him, as he turned and began striding towards the northern door, his wound still occasionally dripping some blood.

Flexing his shoulders, feeling his injury coagulating and mending, due to his advanced biology, Santana brought up a combination of ship wide schematics, and a feed of deployments of the guardsmen. The progression of the enemy was alarming, as it seemed a large procession had broken through the main hanger bay. Disturbing news for the defenders, and the ships currently out fighting, that their landing zone was no longer secured. It would seem that the Lord Commissar, and his unconventional allies had been beaten by by the Red Tide. The scene at the armoury was going no better, with reports of frantic fighting erupting among the defenders, a massacre taking place. The Astartes could only imagine the weapons employed upon the Imperials down there, and would swiftly offer up a small thanks for their sacrifice, idly wondering if the Dark Angel still lived. Regardless, he'd send co-ordinates towards the other Astartes, who still awaited his advising on a point to defend. What he would upload, would be a hangar, one of the few aboard the Sword Of Orion, that was not designated for combat craft, such as the one the Lord Commissar had defended, but instead for transportation of goods and resources aboard the ship. It was smaller, and not as important, and if the other Marine wished to employ an ambush, he already had reports of a band of marauders heading in that direction.

Sending off this to the Deathwatch, Santana would usher the Eldar to follow after him, before moving towards the western passage leading from the now silent mess hall. They needed to move, and Santana had business to attend to, so it was not use waiting here, idling by. Charging forth, the Astartes would again seek a communication with the Lord Commissar, sending word through the command deck that his defensive position in the mess hall had met with the enemy and annihilated them, yet in the face of a second wave, he'd be moving to a new, more fortified position. Going through the halls, he'd keep running, knowing the Eldar, in their agile suits of armour, would be more than capable of keeping pace with his long strides. Moving up a staircase, he'd ping the remaining units of the guard he'd fought with, noting that while they moved slowly, they would be heading to his designated rallying point, four levels above them, into a small recreational chamber, utilized for soldiers who sought to let off some steam, and enjoy the quieter moments of transport. He believed they had called it a pub, the last time he'd been there.

He himself had another destination in mind, as he'd lead the Eldar towards where the fighting had been ongoing for some time now. The spine of the ship, the central passage, the main procession of anyone looking to traverse the length of the vessel quickly, it would be the fastest way for the enemy to reach the bridge. As such, it had the heaviest defenses, and so far, the luck to not draw to much of enemy attention, for the simple fact that working their way up had slowed many of the enemy from reaching it. Should they manage to rout the defenders here, the Khornates would have a swift means of slicing the head from the enemy, and taking command of the ship for themselves. As such, Santana would begin navigating his way to reach this spot, knowing full well that the defenders would require every able body to hold against the tide of blood and fury.

​

"Go on, human. Your audience is over."

Having finally finished this bothersome conversation, Okantakht cut the live-feed. He let Ahthor take the Eldar device, commanding him to bring it to the only fitting place for warp-sorcery and artifacts with chaos-bonds;
the Prison of Tranquility. Completely isolated from the warp, this pocket dimension was filled with various artifacts tainted by psychic powers. These were either unclear in their influence or simply too dangerous to exist but could also not safely be destroyed.

Okantakht himself remained on the bridge, overseeing the preperations and reminiscing about the probable owner of this"artifact". He would soon get his answers.