Saga of Fenris - Boris Grevane 

Now, it is time to begin the Saga of Ferin, Part 2: The Forge. If anyone has read the original 512th writing I did, you may recognize some of the areas touched on by this part, the whole thing takes place on the Fenris IV campaign, the first writing. Although, I consider this much better than my original writing.

Chapter 1: Into the Fire
“Only in death does duty end.”
   A scream of a shell was the only warning announced before it slammed into the ground in the trench, sending Ferin airborne, slamming him into the side of the trench. He blacked out for several seconds, until he felt something hitting his face. He opened his eyes, everything blurry before his focus returned and the muffled talking of someone near him. Suddenly sound returned and he saw Torenz, a man from his squad, hitting his face.
“Ferin wake up!” he kept shouting into Ferin’s face, a look of panic on his own.
Planting the head of his axe into the muddy ground, Ferin levered himself up onto his feet, shaking his head.
“Ferin, you’re in command now. What do we do?” Torenz said.
“Im what?” Ferin asked with a groan.
“Everyone in the chain of command above you in the platoon is dead, the Lieutenant, the Sarge, everybody, your in charge.”
“Well, hell. Ok, Get back up on the line and blast anything coming at us.” Ferin said.
Torenz looked up at the top of the trench.
“Fine, that’s an order!” Ferin shouted at the man, and he scrambled to the top and began shooting away.
From down the trench, Sergeant Grevane came running.
“Where’s the Lieutenant?” he asked.
The scream of another shell came rocketing overhead, and impacted not far away, showering them with dirt and mud.
“Hes dead! Im in charge. names Ferin!”
“Very well, we are pulling-“ Grevane began but was cut off with Torenz’s scream.
The man flipped back from the trench wall, onto his back at Ferin’s feet.
“They…they…are getting closer…” he said before he died.
Ferin took out his pistol, as he swung his axe around, stretching his muscles as he readied.
“Ferin! We are pulling back, get your men and let’s move!” Grevane shouted.
“We’re what? Sir! We can take ‘em!” Ferin protested.
“No! Fall back! That’s an order!” Grevane shouted back, the sounds of bullets zipping through the air.
“Yes sir.” Ferin said in defeat.
   He ran down the trench, axe in hand, getting men back from the wall. The stench of blood, and burnt bodies, and dirt filled the air. Several areas of the muddy trench were destroyed from artillery shells, and bodies lay sprawled everywhere. The men who were alive were dirty and bloodied. Ferin got the last squad and was heading back when someone suddenly yelled.
“Look out!”
Ferin wheeled around in time to parry a blow from a chaos cultist’s blade.
The forces of Chaos had finally reached the lines, and were pouring in, their battle cries ringing out.
   The cultist swung again, and Ferin ducked, driving the hilt of the axe into its stomach, and kicking it into the mud with his boot. He aimed the pistol at the cultists head, letting out a resounding crack as a lasbolt ripped through its head. Ferin looked up to see his men fighting off an ever increasing wave of cultists. The men had their faces set in grim determination as they fought off one Cultist only to be jumped by another. Ferin looked around quickly and saw a bunker down the trenches not far.
“Men! This way! To the bunker!” Ferin yelled, slamming a Cultist into the side of the trench with his arm.
   The men broke form combat and ran full speed for the trench, shouldering and stabbing anything that got in their way. The screaming of shells were getting louder now, and the slams of their impact shook the ground, showering the men with dirt, bodies and mud. Smoke rolled through the trenches, blurring sight and burning the eyes and nose. It seemed as if the end of the world had come. Ferin got to the steel blast door first and stood at the opening as the others got in. His laspistol cracked out as he let a shot go into a cultist running after one of his men. The cultist took it in the chest and collapsed onto the muddy bottom of the trench, turning the mud red. The forces of Chaos were beginning to flood the trenches, and several rounds pinged off the steel door as Ferin dove in, his men slamming the door shut and locked.
   The sounds of small arms pinged off the door as Ferin sat, resting against it. He looked around the bunker and saw that it had another door on the far side, locked shut, and small gun ports on either side of the door, for just this kind of problem. He was surprised no grenades were flying in yet, it seemed the cultists wanted to kill them with their bare hands. He got up with a groan. He had an ache in his side from the blast, and a large cut across his arm and brow.
“I want everyone ready for when they get through those doors, bayonet’s set. Use the door way as a choke point.” Ferin said.
“Yes sir.” The men responded.

   The vox network was down, and Ferin and his men we trapped in the bunker, in the middle of a horde of Chaos cultists, none had come into the bunker, none could. They banged and hammered on the bunker, but failed to even get near to penetrating the thick bunker. It was just becoming a constant irritant to the men inside who sat against a back wall. The firing ports had been closed, a thick sheet of steel pulled down on the ports. The only light came from ‘lo sticks hung about the room. A couple of the men sat, sleeping against the wall, while the others just sat, looking at the darkness.
“Sir? When is the counter attack coming? Not that I mind a little relaxation time, but this is ridiculous.” One of the men asked.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know if we still hold the spaceport. The Chaos forces could have even made head way and are bogged down this section of trenches. We have no idea of knowing.” Ferin said, laying his head back against the wall.
They had supplies in the bunker enough for a week. Every bunker did for scenarios just like this. Unlike the more sophisticated bunkers of permanent emplacements though, this one had no tunnel connecting it to main buildings inside the spaceport.
So they sat and waited. They had no idea how long they had been there, several hours now at least.
A good many things ran through Ferins’ head in the dark of the bunker. He traced the design of the wolves on his axe blade absentmindedly as he thought. He only had about five or six men left from the whole platoon. They had done their job and halted the advance of the chaos troops long enough for the company to fall back. Now first platoon was on the verge of being destroyed. With the vox down he had no idea of what was going on. He feared the worst.
“Things don’t look too good brother.” The voice of Koran came to Ferins ears. His eyes snapped open.
“Koran? How in the Chaos hells do you do that?” Ferin asked, sitting against the wall.
Koran walked around the room leisurely, looking at the men.
“Not good indeed.” Koran repeated, seeming as if he hadn’t heard Ferin. He was garbed in Fenrisian warrior dress, a great sword slung on his back, and thick skins covering him, tied down in places with leather straps.
“Why do you appear to me now brother? Because if you have any bright ideas, don’t even try. Those cultists are right outside, and there are only six of us.” Ferin said.
“I am here to support and encourage Ferin. I know nothing of your situation, but I am here to warn you about something else. Your company is already pushing towards this bunker, and events have begun that will change this force forever. Be ready. The foe will be near unstoppable, but it is important you fight them, to try. If you don’t, you will die, plain and simple.” Koran told him, crouching down next to Ferin.
“Oh good, just what I need, more surprises. Maybe you could tell me the enemy?” Ferin asked, looking up to his brother, but Koran wasn’t there.
   Suddenly the concussion of an explosion hit the door, and the crack, crack of las weapons. The chatter of bolter fire could be heard as well. Then the rumble of an engine and the grinding of tracks filled the air in the bunker. Ferin and the men got up and went to a firing port, sliding the plate away. Outside, smoke, and dust drifted along the battlefield against the fiery orange burning of a sun set. The trench was unrecognizable through the bodies and blown out walls, it was no more than a dip in the ground now. Dead cultists lay sprawled among dead Guardsmen; a vehicle laid smoldering, spewing oily, black smoke into the air. Lasbolts streaked through the air, crimson streaks following their passage. Men advanced from the Imperial lines, running, ducking, and throwing themselves into cover, loosing off las rounds sporadically, as they ducked from cover or advanced further up. The hulking form of a Leman Russ came crawling through the smoke, fire from the heavy bolters on its hull and sponsoon’s pouring out across the field. The great cannon roared, spewing flame and smoke. The sounds of officers yelling orders mingled with the blasts of explosions, whistle of artillery, and cracks of small arms. The men emerging through the smoke and dust looked like wraiths.
“Ok, men. The advance has arrived! Let’s move out! Stick together in sight of each other; we can’t afford to lose anyone else. Let’s go!” Ferin yelled, leading the way out of the charred, smoking bunker.
   The six men left followed him closely; leap frogging along the battlefield, linking up with the Leman Russ tank and many others using it as mobile cover, and a land mark. The familiar and reassuring growl of the engine was comforting to many a Guardsman, who valued the Leman Russ for its durability, bulk, and over all ability to lay waste. Ferin whipped out his laspistol, firing shots into the smoke at vague characters. Sometimes the shadows would fall, and Ferin would find another target. His men took more careful aim, loosing off small volleys.
   The advance was slow and methodical, the Imperial Guard saturating the area with men and armor, blasting into every hole, and killing any survivor that managed to slip passed the line of Guard. The forces of Chaos were successfully pushed back, far from the spaceport, and the Imperial Guard once again occupied their own lines and trenches, the Spaceport secured once again.
   The Leman Russ rumbled and turned one last time before the engine cut off, the black smoke from the exhaust petering out. The men of 1st Platoon sat down heavily in the mud, leaning back against the hull of the massive battle tank. Their faces were brown with dirt and streaks of sweat, their hair disheveled, their uniforms unrecognizable. Talks, the voxman, began trying to work the busted voxcomm system. Ferin doubted it would work, it had chunks shot from it, and dents from enemy fire. But he was proven wrong, Talks jiggled a few wires and components and it began babbling with voices. Like the lasgun and Leman Russ, a Guardsman’s voxcomm was built to withstand anything and keep going.
“Talks, radio in Company command, let ‘em know we are still alive and kick’in.” Ferin said.
Talks began turning knobs and switches and talking into the head set.
   Ferin looked out at the setting sun, setting the sky ablaze in an orange and yellow glow. In the background, he could here the chatter of heavy bolters, and the rolling thunder of artillery and shells. Somewhere on this world another platoon was going through the exact same thing. The whole world was ablaze with warfare. Ferin watched as a cloud of smoke rolled across the field towards the chaos lines. It had been 24 hours since planet fall. Already the company was at less than 50%. Ferin shook his head, standing up to look into the distance, into the territory of chaos. He feared he had been placed into another ill-fated company.
“Lieutenant Ferin. I fear revenge is in order.” A voice said, as the sound of crunching boots drew near.
Ferin turned and snapped a salute.
“Sir! This is all that is left of my platoon.” Ferin said.
Boris looked at the other six men, who had stood up and saluted.
“Lieutenant. You did well this day, as did the whole company. Apparently, we were the only ones holding this position.” Boris said.
“But, sir. I saw men down the trench from us.” Ferin said, a blank expression on his face.
“Ours, they were from our company.” Boris said.
“Sir. Are you saying we held this whole side of the spaceport long enough for reinforcements? By ourselves?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, I am. Good work. 24 hours after planet fall and we are already known. We have just been thrown into the fire Lieutenant. Only in time will we see what we are forged into.” Boris said, looking at the last of the blazing sun set.

Chapter 2: The Mystery Begins
"We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
   Ferin looked out over the dry, cracked riverbed, towards the nearby hills. He hefted his long-las onto the rock he crouched behind and peered through the scope. The hills suddenly jumped into detail as he moved the rifle slowly along them, starring through the scope. Dust kicked up from some wind, temporarily blurring his image. When the dust cleared he saw a pair of Chaos Space Marines, looking around where they stood.
“Sarge, I got two Marine sentries and that’s it.” Ferin said into his voxbead.
“Very well, take them out.” The crackling voice of Boris returned.
The company laid hidden a short ways back. Ferin had taken his small command retinue out to scout. Their mission was to asses the enemy main base which lay close to the spaceport. After being dropped down well into enemy lines at night they had struck out for where it was, given a location on a map.
   Ferin peered back through his scope and turned the energy settings up on his Triplex Pattern Long Las. The best long-las out, due to its adjustable power setting. He turned the power up to maximum. This gave him only three shots instead of the usual twelve, but they were very powerful. Not even ceremite armour could stand up to it, which was the point. He sighted, the scope moving a little until he held his breath. The scope steadied on the helmet of the chaos marine, and a beam of white energy lanced out and struck through the head of the marine. He fell back with the force of the shot, and before the other Marine could look up from his fallen comrade, Ferin had sighted and pulled the trigger again. The gun bucked a second time and the second marine fell dead. He stood still for several seconds, making sure nothing else would come before turning the power back down, and slinging the rifle back over his back.
“Sir, the sentries are taken out, you can move in.” Ferin said.
   From over the hill, the company came cautiously, crouching and moving from cover to cover. They had learned to always move with caution and to always doubt the given situation. Their new motto, “Always doubt intelligence, always over estimate.” Had saved them time and again now that the company was essentially down to a platoon. Ferins first platoon was designated as a scout, recon squad. Second platoon had four whole squads with some heavy weapons. They were debilitated for front line duty, so they were put into special operations which needed small type, quick forces.
   The company advanced to the hill, staying low to the ground. They crossed the riverbed quickly, and ducked into the rock strewn side of the hill, moving up between the rocks, trying to move as quietly as possible. Only the sound of boots on rock could be heard. The sudden wail of engines high in the air startled many. From over the hill, several fighter-bomber class aircraft roared out, their engines loud and ear piercing, like the sound of demons. The aircraft had protrusions of spikes, and encrusted in Chaos symbols, several corpses strung out on the prows, blood smearing along the hull from them. Ferin thought he saw organic growths coming from one of the aircraft but he wasn’t sure. They were a terrifying sight. The men threw themselves flat into the dirt as the aircraft flew over and off towards the Imperial lines. They got up cautiously as the ships disappeared into the distance.
   As they neared the top of the hill, the sounds of machines and yells of men came to their ears, the cries of inhuman creatures rang out, and the roar of drop ship engines. They came to the top of the peak and the men’s eyes went wide. A great wide, long gorge opened up beneath them, shear rock walls on either side. Men and machines filled it completely, Chaos Marines walked, towering above the Traitorous guard, and several packs of demons. Great vehicles rumbled along the side of the canyon, sounding more like beasts than machines, some of which seemed to be beasts, great tentacles and open maws of teeth. What stood on the side of the valley though was what caught there attention. A whole legion of Titans. Massive constructs, part demon, and part machine, stood silent sentinel high above the rest of the enemy. They were awe inspiring and horrifying at the same time.
“Ferin, look at this.” Boris said, lying in the dirt next to Ferin.
Ferin took the binoculars and looked up the valley to where Boris had been pointing.
   A great, black obsidian, monolithic structure stood there, as tall as the Titans. Worn symbols could be seen on the structure, worn totems on the top in an odd design. It was very out of place amid the forces of Chaos, who seemed to keep away from it. A great door, large enough for a Leviathan command vehicle was recessed into the front, the rest of the structure disappearing into the side of the canyon. It was ancient, that was for sure.
“Sir, I suggest we head out now, we have a lot of important information for command.” Ferin said, sliding back and turning around.
   The rest of the men stood, looking at the valley. Ferin looked from them back out to the riverbed. Koran stood there. He just smiled, and nodded, before a cloud of dust obscured his form, and as it cleared, he was gone. Ferin shook his head, and called back to Grevane, “Sir, we need to go.”
   A man crawled back from the edge, and stood up. Suddenly his chest exploded into a red and white mess, his body flipping backwards, his lasgun flying away. Ferin dove to the ground behind a rock, looking around it. He saw about five squads of Chaos Marines and several platoons of Traitor guard heading towards them. The enemy opened fire, las rounds and bolts chipping the rock away, showering Ferin with shards of rock.
“Ferin!” Boris yelled from another rock.
“Yes sir?” Ferin yelled back.
“Get your men to plant the beacon! NOW! Enacting Alpha Protocol!” Grevane yelled, twisting around the rock to let off a burst of Bolt pistol fire. Alpha Protocol was a last resort, when they wouldn’t be able to return from the mission and the information on the base whereabouts would be lost. Alpha Protocol launched a force immediately upon activation to the beacons sight.
“Aye sir!” he yelled back, putting up his pistol and opening his pack. He took out the large silver disk, and pressed a button. It began to beep.
“This is Sergeant Boris Grevane of the 512th Company Cadia. We have located the enemy main base, enacting Alpha Protocol, and confirming on a full titan legion. Over.” Boris began yelling into his vox. The transmitter acted to increase the voxcomms range.
   Ferin leaned out from his rock, and fired several laspistol rounds at the advancing traitors. One of the guard toppled over, hit in the stomach. The rest of the company was firing now, crimson streaks of las fire coming from behind rocks in a wave. The chatter of heavy bolters suddenly opened up as the heavy weapons teams set up. The traitors were caught in the open, and the enemy guard were getting cut down, chewed up by heavy bolters or shot dead from las rounds. The Marines though just waded through the fire being poured on them. They suddenly opened up and bolt rounds detonated on the rocks, gouging pieces out. A couple men near Ferin flipped back, heads missing, and chunks blown from their bodies from the explosive bolt rounds. Something suddenly hit Ferin’s shoulder, slamming him around and face down into the rocks. Rock shards cut into his face, and his shoulder was in pain. He got up onto his knees, behind the rock.
“Sir! Are you alright?” one of his men asked, firing from the side of the rock. He duck back behind the rock, and looked at Ferin.
“Yea.” Ferin said and grunted with pain.
“Sir, your shoulder looks dislocated. Can I help?” the soldier asked.
“Sure, how?” Ferin said.
The soldier got on his knees and raised the but of his lasgun and slammed it into the back shoulder blade of Ferins arm.
Ferin yelled in pain, but the pain quickly subsided and was left with just a dull throbbing as the arm popped back into place. He flexed his arm and grinned at the man.
“Thanks, usefull trick.” Ferin said.
“No problem sir. Works on bionics, knock ‘em back in place so I figured it might work on people.” The soldier said with a grin.
“Wait, your telling me you thought this MIGHT work because you do it with bionics?” Ferin said, a bit angrily.
“Sir! They are getting closer, you might want to pay attention to your command.” The soldier said, his grin gone, as he quickly found something to do.
Ferin shook his head and took up his sniper rifle.
   Placing the rifle on the rock, he sight through the scope, and pressed the trigger. The white beam pierced the helmet of a marine, and he collapsed into the riverbed. He quickly found another target, and pulled the trigger. The gun recoiled and another Marine hit the ground. Ferin sighted again on the head of a third marine, and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He checked the power meter and found the gun was depleted. A hail of bolter fire suddenly washed over the company. Ferin fell behind the rock as the enemy fire rattled over the rock. Suddenly the rock began to crack.
“Oh hell….” Ferin said, and threw himself to the ground as the rock exploded behind him from the load of bolter fire, showering him with dust and rocks.
   Ferin got up on his hands and knees, coughing from the dust he inhaled. His rifle lay on the rocks a little ways away. He upholstered his pistol, and crawled along the ground, bolt fire pinging and whistling around him. A bolt suddenly hit his axe, twisting him onto his back. He quickly checked his axe and found it undamaged, and continued his way towards his rifle and cover. Suddenly the sound of heavy boot steps came to his ears. A boot came down in front of him. Looking up it, he saw it attached to a Chaos Marine.
“It is time to meet oblivion corpse-worshiper.” The marine said in a deep grating voice.
Ferin looked up into the barrel of the bolter and bared his teeth, “Not today you horned ****.”
He twisted under the marine as it opened fire, bolts pounding the ground where he had been, unsheathing his axe, he swung it into the ankle joint of the marine. His axe cleaved through the thin joint armor, and through the bone. The Marine was thrown off balance and fell to the ground, Ferin rolling out of the way of the falling marine. He jumped to his feet, and with both hands, brought down the axe on the marines’ neck, cleaving off its head. Blood spurt from the artery, spraying him in red blood. He turned, and faced the charging marines, the blood dripping from his axe as he brought up his pistol.
Suddenly there was a roaring in the air. Looking up, it seemed the sky was falling. Balls of fire came streaking down from the heavens and slammed into the ground with a boom all around them. One hit near Ferin, sending a wave of dust up, almost knocking him off his feet. When the dust cleared he saw the massive object of a drop pod. The sounds of small detonations around the door announced its opening, as it clanged open. A Marine with green armor jumped down, a salamander emblazoned on its shoulder. The Marine immediately turned to the enemy traitors, and opened fire with a burst of bolter fire. Several traitors fell back from the impact of the bolts.
“Salamanders 5th! On me!” a Marine roared over the sudden and intense fire fight that was occurring with the Marines entry.
   The Marine was obviously a captain. He bore finely crafted armor with gold shin guards that rose up into the form of a cawing eagle on one knee, and a downcast eagle with a blindfold on his other. A salamander crawled across his chest, gilded in gold like a dragon, and a flowing black cape blew out from behind him. His face was ebony black skin with piercing white eyes. He hefted a masterfully crafted warhammer, emblazoned with Imperial iconography. He led a squad of Marine’s charging into the traitors, his hammer held high and back with both hands, ready to strike, bolt rounds ringing off his armor. Lightning suddenly formed on the hammer, crackling and blue.
Ferin glared. He was not about to be out done by Marines.
“1st Squad! Charge!” Ferin roared, swinging his axe forward.
“512th! For the Emperor!” Boris roared, standing up and unsheathing his sword next to Ferin. The two grinned at each other, both thinking the same. They wouldn’t let some Marines take all the glory.
   The Chaos Marines were quickly being reinforced by soldiers from the valley. Hearing and seeing the drop pods coming down, the Chaos forces now knew they were under attack, and were coming to kill for their gods. Ferin and Boris ran after the Marines, catching up quickly. The Marines were fast, but their power armor slowed them down enough for the Guard to catch up. Boris, and Ferin caught up with the Captain. The three exchanged glances, and the Captain grinned, his teeth seemingly impossibly white in the dark face. Ferin hefted his axe in both hands, holstering his pistol, as Boris let loose a salvo of Bolt pistol rounds. The Chaos forces were beginning to gain strength. The Marines and Guard were now equal to the Chaos Marines instead of outnumbering the patrol that had found them earlier.
   Sound left Ferin’s ears, and time seemed to slow as they ran at the enemy. The two ancient enemies about to clash on this field, like many had on both sides for millennia now. The Captains cape flew out behind him, his hammer crackling with energy, and his mouth open in a roaring challenge and battlecry. Boris ran, sword back lightning running the length, and pistol out, the muzzle flashing, his face set in grim determination, Ferin thought he saw a brief flare of black flame in his eye but ignored it. Running with the axe in front of him, his hands apart along the haft, light glinted off the twin forms of the wolves on the blade, he was ready to bring it back at the last second, his chameleon cloak flickering and shimmering, changing colors to try and match all around it. The Marines and Guard behind the three roared battle cries, and let off shots. Bolt rounds whistled through the air, and the crimson streaks of las weapons joined them. The air became thick with fire. Suddenly fire dwindled as they came within 5 yards of each. Ferin could see into the glowing red visor lenses of the traitors, just before he brought back his axe, roaring a battlecry in Fenrisian.

Chapter 3: Awakening
"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing."
“Syna neinn miskunn!” Ferin roared as the forces crashed into each other.
   The Marine captain slammed his hammer into the enemy, sending several traitor marines flying back, their armor crushed, and roaring praises to the Emperor. Ferin ducked under the butt of a bolter, and swung his axe into the midriff of a chaos marine, the axe biting deep and opening its stomach. It was far from dead though, and Ferin had to dodge away from a knife as big as a sword. The Marine turned to him, his organs spilling out of his armor. Ferin crouched in a ready stance as the Marine charged at him, impossibly fast. The steel rang as the knife hit the haft of the axe. Ferin spun low, swinging his axe for the ankle of the marine, but his axe just scraped off the armor of his shin. The Marine kicked out with his foot, catching Ferin in chest and sending him airborne. He landed heavily a ways away from the marine, and was almost immediately jumped on by traitor guard. He punched one in the jaw, dislocating it, and slammed the haft of his axe into another. Jumping up, he gave a wide sweep of his axe, cutting into several guard, their blood spilling out onto the ground as they cried in pain and rage. They looked nothing like men anymore. Many had growths, spikes, and other odd things, their clothing in tatters.
   Ferin kicked a traitor to the ground, and slammed his axe into its chest. An artillery shell suddenly slammed down from no where next to Ferin, shredding his armor and clothing, pain filled him, and he suddenly saw the ground rising to meet him. He slammed into it, and stayed there. He coughed, and blood came up, spattering onto the ground. Suddenly a traitor jumped on his back, wrapping its hands around Ferins throat. The man had an iron grip, his claws digging into Ferins throat. Ferin let go of his axe, grasping at the traitors hands. His vision began to blur as his breath left him. The image of a second traitor came into view, and the pain came dully as the traitor kicked him in the gut. Suddenly the traitor holding Ferins neck was ripped off. Ferin began going unconscious. When he saw his rescuer, he was looking on Koran, his great sword held in one hand, blood dripping from it taken from the bodies of dozens of traitor dead and dieing around him, holding the traitor up by the throat with one hand, before driving the sword through it.
Then darkness engulfed him.
   Ferin awoke to the icy bite of wind. He opened his eyes and found him high atop a mountain, a great snow storm raging around him. The sky was dark, and the mountain top had rocks jutting up all over, great drifts of snow being blown onto them. He braced himself against the wind and waded through the snow, crouching down behind one of these rocks. The wind howled like a banshee. Suddenly Ferin saw a form in the blizzard. He reached for his axe, but suddenly realized, he did not have any weapons. He got up into a crouch, his fists balled ready. The form began to materialize itself.
“Brother, there is no need to fear.” The sound of Korans voice came to Ferin’s ears.
The form suddenly appeared as Koran, standing in front of Ferin. His great sword bloody in one hand, his clothes whipping about furiously in the wind.
“You have discovered what must be defeated.” Koran said.
“And what is that? You speak riddles, give demands, and give nothing for which I can work on!” Ferin yelled into the storm at his brother.
“I can not give you all the answers. They must be found out for yourself. Only you can realize your destiny and take it.” Koran said.
“Then why appear to me? Why speak to me like this if you can not do anything? What is-“ Ferin was cut off by his brother.
“The Necrontyr brother!” Koran yelled, frustration evident in his voice.
“The Necrontyr?” Ferin asked. “What in the Chaos hells is that?”
“An ancient enemy brother. They once ruled this whole galaxy, killed the gods, and enslaved all mortal beings. They are unstoppable, and indestructible. They can not be allowed to reawaken. Even the forces of the warp shudder at their name.” Koran said.
“If they are indestructible then what can I do?” Ferin asked.
“Forestall their awakening. You must find the tomb of the Trickster. He holds all things in the palm of his hand, even the Imperium and its Eccesielarchy.” Koran said.
   Ferin sat against the rock, looking at his brother. He knew this being was not his relative. It knew too much. Could it be trusted? Ferin Got up and walked towards the being.
“Who are you really? I know you are not Koran.” Ferin said, standing face to face.
Koran grinned and nodded. Suddenly his form wavered. Ferin stepped back in surprise, as he watched the beings form change, becoming more slender, and taller. Armor formed on its body, crafted in such beauty, Ferin wondered if it was an illusion because no being could possibly craft such armor. It was pure white with gold engraved in the form of trees, faces, whole mosaics and pictures engraved on the armor showing scenes of battle, and soldiers. On his shoulder, were two faces. The right shoulder bore an open smiling face, the other bore a shut, sad face. The sword too changed, forming into a blade of pure silver, engraved in glowing purple material. The hilt was gold, and the handle of white leather. The sword glowed in dull white. The helmet of the thing bore a laughing face, and peaked up high, a plume of white hair coming from the top. The being reached up and pulled off the helmet. The face was long, the eyes black, ears pointed. He smiled at Ferin.
“I am Cegorach.” The being said.
Ferin backed away.
“You’re a xenos! One of those Eldar!” Ferin yelled in surprise.
   Ferin kept backing up till he tripped over a rock in the snow and fell onto his back. Cegorach just smiled and walked towards the man, kneeling next to him. He never stopped smiling.
“No, I am a god to those beings. There is nothing to fear from me unless you provoke my anger. Now, will you listen to me and save lives, or be stubborn, ignorant, and close-minded like others of your race?” Cegorach said.
Ferin glared at the man, the thing, whatever it was. His mind raced with thoughts. Could this be a trick of Chaos? It could be. Or if the Eldar really needed his help in defeating these Necrontyr, then why should he help? Cegorach said they would destroy everything though, so maybe he should pay attention and help, until the time was right to take on this Cegorach. He would watch himself closely.
“Very well, what do you want? Do I have to do some ritual to bind myself to you or something?” Ferin said sarcastically.
Cegorach laughed.
“There will be some pain.” Cegorach said, reaching out and taking Ferin’s arm in his hand.
Ferin tried to recoil in surprise, but suddenly blinding pain overwhelmed him and darkness once again engulfed him

Chapter 4: Secrets
"These are weighty secrets, and we must whisper them."
   Ferin opened his eyes. He registered a dull throbbing pain on his arm. Lifting it up to see it his eyes snapped open and he crashed back into reality like a shot down Valkyrie. Engraved into the skin of his arm like a gold scar was an eye, seemingly crying, done in a hieroglyphic form. He rubbed it but nothing happened. He sat back and rubbed harder at it, trying to get it off his skin.
“Sir, what in the blazes are you doing?” a voice said.
   Ferin looked up and saw a couple soldiers in beds next to him. Beds? He looked around. He sat in a bed himself, bandages on many parts of his body. The whitewashed floor and walls told him everything. He was in a Medical Facility, a medfac. He quickly stuffed his arm under a blanket and looked at the men. One was missing an arm; another was in less bad shape, a cast on his leg.
“Nothing. It is nothing.” Ferin said.
Suddenly the doors to the facility burst open.
“Ferin! By the Emperor it is good to see you up and not laying there dead.” Boris said as he entered with a grin.
The Sergeant walked up to Ferins’ bed, standing next to him. Ferin gave a half grin. Things would get bad if Boris saw the scar on his arm.
“So how are you my boy?” Boris asked.
“Good sir….what happened?” Ferin asked.
“I don’t know. You just showed up on the steps of a HQ bunker near the front. During the battle you just disappeared. Some men from your platoon said they saw a man in skins and fur with a great sword just appear near you, save you, then, with a great flash you were gone. Where have you been?” Boris asked.
“I.” Ferin began then thought, “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is blacking out from that traitor choking me.”
Boris nodded.
“Are you ready for duty again?” he asked.
“Yes sir.” Ferin said nodding.
“Good. Get out of that bed and get into uniform. Seeing as you thoroughly destroyed your last one, here’s a new set of armor, chameleon, and fatigues. See you in the command bunker.” Boris said, turning on his heel and leaving, after setting down the equipment.

   Ferin left the medfac, taking a deep breath. The smell of the planet came to his nose. The smell was of war. Exhaust, dirt, men, and metal. The sky was dark with rain clouds, and as Ferin made his way along the dirt street, lined in barracks, tactical facilities, Mechanicus depots, and many other things, fat raindrops began to fall on him as he walked. Suddenly the sky opened and rain poured down. Ferin did not bother with paying attention to it. It was only water, and he wasn’t concerned. He continued along the street, a chimera rumbled passed, turning the street into loose mud under its tracks. Men jogged through the rain with gear strapped on them, lasguns in hand, mud splashing up from their boot steps. Lightning suddenly light up the sky, briefly freezing everything it seemed. The rolling sound of thunder followed a short time after. Ferin thought how amazing it was that this was real thunder, and not that of artillery.
   He finally arrived at the door to the HQ bunker. One of the largest buildings in the base, next to the Mechanicus’s building, it sat wide, and low. They were built tough and could act as a strong point in times when the Imperial Guard became surrounded. Firing ports, cannons, and heavy bolters surrounded it. He opened the steel door with a groan of metal, and stepped inside. Closing the door, the sound of rain suddenly became muffled, only coming through the firing ports. The inside was stuffy and smoky from cigars. Men moved around the room on their own agendas, ignoring each other. Guards stood at strategic points, arms at the ready.
   Ferin walked passed the men around the interior of the bunker and through another steel blast door. A hallway stretched for a ways, doorways on either side leading into officer’s offices. He walked down the hallway till he got to a door on the left. Only a piece of tape with the words Sgt. Grevane, designated the office. They used tape because junior officers never survived long enough to warrant a full name plate. Ferin stepped inside the office. It was very basic. A steel desk, an overhead light, some maps and a few other odds and ends. A metal box on the wall was the interstructure voxcomm. Boris looked up and motioned for him to have a seat. The sergeant was looking intently on a map of a hive city, arrows and writing scribbled all over it.
“Well, it is good to see you up. Too bad for the rain, hope that is not a bad omen.” Grevane said with a grin, leaning back in his chair.
“Bad omens provide a challenge, I’m not worried. How are my men?” Ferin asked.
“Very good actually. They conducted themselves phenomenally well in the destruction of the Chaos base. On that note, our objectives were achieved above and beyond. Command expected us to high tail it out of there when the Marines dropped, considering we are a young unit, with little experience, they thought little of us. Well, we proved them wrong. Our boys worked closely in the assault and even managed to prove useful as well. Your men took very little loses. Second platoon lost a squad and had a couple casualties from the others. Our company conducted its self very well under fire. The Salamanders Captain, Captain Morind I think it was, even commended us. We grabbed command by the nose, and now we have a lot of attention. Which is bad.” Boris said.
“Bad sir?” Ferin asked.
“Yes, bad. It means they think we are a prodigy, able to do anything if given the right equipment. After this campaign we are assigned for elite training. Along with this, we were given some new recruits for the duration of this campaign. And not a moment too soon. During your little slumber, the Imperium hit several critical locations of the enemy hard. The forces of Chaos are utterly crippled, and with our upper hand now in orbit, they can’t get any reinforcements. Now they are trying one last gamble. They have all forces ready to assault the capitol. We are going to be there to help in the defense.” Boris explained.
“Great. What’s the plan and who do I get?” Ferin asked.
“You are receiving a full platoon, five squads. Your veterans will be within your command retinue. Two squads are veterans of a previous unit that was mauled in a Chaos ambush a month ago, and three squads are new recruits. Good luck with the white stripes.”  Boris said.
Ferin nodded and leaned back.
Boris took out a cigar and stuck it in his mouth, clipping the end, and lighting it. The room began to smell of smoke rather quickly.
“It is speculated that all units present in this last defense will take heavy losses, so I want you fighting smart. No heroics. If I tell you to pull back, you pull back. The enemy may be crippled but that’s when they get dangerous. Ever stab a snake? They get more aggressive as desperation sets in. It would do anything to get to the one who stabbed it. Well, we stabbed this serpent a good deal and it is ****ed. This is its last ditch effort, so they will throw everything into it. Fight smart.” The Sergeant said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“Yes sir, don’t worry.” Ferin said.
“Good, now you are dismissed, I got work to do.”

   Ferin stepped out of the bunker into the downpour again. The streets were very empty, as any off duty Guard were in their barracks, and any on duty were at the front. The sounds of distant gun fire, and artillery could be heard. The forces of Chaos were probably making another assault on the Imperial lines. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of his vision. Then pain flared from his arm, and he could see the faint outline of the mark through his sleeve. It was brief and then went away, not even a residual pain was left. Then movement again. It was a large form. Ferin upholstered his pistol and went chasing the shadow into a small alley where it had disappeared into. He moved slowly, looking around him. The alley was dark, due to two large Mechanicus depots on both sides, and the sun blotting out the clouds. The constant sound of rain runoff falling from the structures could be heard, a loud patter of water on the ground. Ferin by now was soaked. His hair matted to his head, and water running down his face. The mud in the alley was thick, and sucked on his boots whenever he lifted them. The symbol on his arm flashed briefly, and he felt warmer, lighter, and stronger. It was an odd feeling, and Ferin stopped. It was fortuitous he did. Lightning lit the sky and the alley, showing a still scene of it like it was day. Crouched in the shadows just ahead, was the form of a dark purple power armored demonic marine with a bolt pistol. With a roar it jumped at him. Ferin cried out and let off two quick shots with his las pistol before diving to the side. The shots did nothing, just making sizzles on the wet armor where they hit. His side jump did, and he found himself in the side of the building he jumped too. For some reason he had jumped a lot farther than he had meant to, going nearly twice the normal distance he could jump. He shook his head and looked for the marine. It had disappeared into the shadows again. It was amazing the stealth it was capable of for its bulk. Ferin peered around the alley. He slowly took out a ‘lo stick from his belt and snapped it. The chemicals mixed and a flash of light lit the alley for him as it lit up. The marine had been crouched on the opposite side of him from the alley and now charged at him. Ferin threw himself on all fours at the last second, the marine could not stop. It hit him in the side, but Ferin was successful in his act, and the marine went head first into the side of the Mechanicus depot. The wall chipped away, showing a hole where its head had hit. The marine reeled around, obviously dazed. Ferin wasted no time. He unslung his axe, which felt oddly lighter, and with both hands swung the axe at the marines feet, cleaving off the left foot. The marine fell to the muddy ground, and Ferin quickly chopped through the other foot. Now footless, the marine was very handicapped. Ferin jumped onto the chest of the traitor, and put his axe blade to its throat.
“Guards! Guards!” Ferin roared.
   The heretic suddenly bucked under him, sending him into the mud. Ferin rolled over and got up quickly, looking for the marine, and finding him running down the alley on the stumps of his ankles. Ferin ran after him, but the marine seemed to be demonically possessed and kept getting further from him. Suddenly, claws sprang from his ankles, and wings sprang out from the ceremite armor on his back, sending pieces of it into the mud. With a demonic howl it leapt into the air. Ferin slid to a stop in the mud, watching after the traitor. From behind him the squelch of boots could be heard as men came running down the alley. The first to arrive threw his lasgun to his shoulder and let off a few shots with rapid cracks. The chaos marine was too far by now though.
“Hold your fire, it’s useless by now. Go to the commander, and let him know about the infiltrator.” Ferin said to a sergeant next to him.
“Will do Ferin.” The Sergeant said.
Ferin looked at the man with a raised eyebrow.
“You are very easily recognized you know, the whole axe thing really gives it away.” The sergeant said with a grin.
The man held out his hand, “Sergeant Falco, at your service. I command the 1st Squad of your platoon, sir.”
Ferin took the mans hand and slung his axe back over his back.
“Good to meet you Falco. We are the same rank; I don’t think I need to be called sir.” Ferin said with a grin.
Falco grinned, “Very well Ferin.”
   Ferin went with Falco and his squad back to the command bunker. The rain was not letting up, but the thunder seemed to be rolling off into the distance. Ferin gave his report and once again left, and headed for his barracks. He made it this time without any problems, shutting the steel blast door behind him. The barracks was merely a large plascrete structure, with four areas, separated by thick walls. Each area held two squads, and one barracks was plenty large enough for a whole platoon. Men were filling each area, playing cards, cleaning themselves or equipment, or just sleeping. A soldier’s worst enemy is boredom, and when they can’t do anything but sit in barracks, that enemy becomes over whelming.
As Ferin entered he checked each area. The men gave him a warm greeting.
“You’ve become rather well known in this campaign, Ferin. Mainly due to the defense of the spaceport, and the assault on the traitor’s main base.” Falco said next to him.
“Hate to tell you, but I was knocked out pretty quick.” Ferin said.
“Which what makes you famous. You’re knocked out, eyewitnesses and everything, and suddenly you vanish for almost a week, only to turn up at the steps of a bunker at the front. Rumors are you had crawled, wounded back, for miles through Chaos held territory, fighting the forces of Chaos on the way. Pretty big theory though if I say so myself.” Falco winked.
“That is a rather bold theory, I wish it were true, but it is not. I simply blacked out and woke up at the medfac.” Ferin said.
   He headed to his area and took off the muddy cloak, hanging it up on a hook, and leaning his rifle, and axe against the wall. He sat down heavily in his bed, unlatching the shin plates on his boots, and untying the laces. He placed these at the foot of his bed and laid back. He fell asleep almost at once, and slept deeply. No Eldar gods, or battles, or his brother disturbed him. He slept in quiet, dark oblivion. Unknown to him though, a figure enter the room while the platoon slept. The shadow was silent but for a whisper, as it hovered over the bared arm, showing the Mark of Cegorach.
“So, that’s what you have been doing while you were gone Ferin….”

Chapter 5: The Imperial Wall
“Carry the Emperor’s will as a torch, with it destroy the shadows.”
   The Hive could be seen from miles away before you came to it. It dominated the plains it was built upon, massive spires reaching up towards the sky on gothic arches. The city seemed like a mountain more than a city, rising to pierce the sky, its clean white stone and shining steel catching the eye. The governor kept the capital hive as clean as possible, to show off his standing and wealth. He used the hive city as his own large badge of pride.
   The chimera transports rumbled along the cracked and war torn road toward the cities main gate. It was one of hundreds rolling in a long, wide column heading for the city to boost its garrison for the coming battle. Reports had come in telling about the Chaos forces mustering to the north of the hive. They would be ready to launch in little over twelve hours. The arch-enemy had powerful engines of war at their disposal, including a titan. Due to this report, a Shadowblade, and Baneblade rumbled along within the column. Seeming like shepherds to a flock of sheep, their sheer size dwarfed the chimeras next to them.
   The column rolled through the gates, a good five hours after coming in sight of the city, which arched hundreds of feet into the air. The gates were of white marble and polished steel, a massive Aquila spread across the gate, engraved in gold with fine workmanship, picking out every detail down to the feathers. Gargoyles lined the inside wall, their wings spread and teeth bared to all who enter the city, a warning.
   Ferin sat in one of the many Chimeras in the column, axe held in his hands. He sat back against the metal at his back, rocking with the vehicle. Around him sat his command squad. Each man had been with him through the whole campaign so far, and showed their hard earned skills in combat. The company had been given a supply of chameleon cloaks, and these shimmered on the men’s shoulders. Boris had said they would be given some of the expensive and rare Carapace armor upon return to their transport upon completion of the campaign. That is when the training will begin. They will not return to Cadia, instead they are to head to the planet Dominus Prime, a Scholo Progenium world, and receive training in spec-ops, aerial drop, and special weapons and tactics, training Stormtroopers receive.
   The chimera ground to a halt and Ferin stood, heading to the back hatch. He hit the button and the machinations whirred as the door lowered. It hit the ground with a clang and Ferin strode out, slinging his axe onto his back and pushing back his cloak. His men followed him out, and the rest of the platoon formed up where he was. Ferin looked around where he stood. The city soared up into the sky above him. Bridges and cross walks, pipes, and power lines crossed so thickly above him that sunlight could barely penetrate. Men and equipment crowded the street, the fumes of vehicles were strong in the air and stung Ferin’s nose.
“Ok boys.” Ferin said to his platoon, “Let’s keep this nice and simple. Shoot to kill, obey orders, don’t be stupid.”
Ferin noticed Boris walking up to him.
“Ferin! I got the orders from command. We are in the North West section, defending the small gate there that leads to the utilities, and factories directly off that wall. We are in luck that the chimeras dropped us here as the wall is no more than a mile from where we are. Move your men out, just follow this main street.” Boris said giving Ferin a copy of the orders.
“Yes, sir. You heard the man, let’s move out!” Ferin yelled to the platoon.

   The area they were defending was a small gate, big enough for a Leman Russ tank, but anything bigger would be hard pressed to fit through. It was a good choke point. The Chimeras parked about a hundred yards back from the gate on the road, the companies Leman Russ, nicknamed Iron Angel for it’s actions thus far in the campaign in saving men from immanent death, stood at the center of the chimera road block. The men spread out through the gate, taking up firing ports, filling the buttressed walls, and towers.
Only they held the gate, as it only took a company their size, it was very small. As the men settled into their positions, Ferin walked around checking on the men. Their cloaks had already begun to blend into the wall, making some of them hard to see. Now the wait begins. This period is the most tense, the calm before the storm when men thought, about their lives, their future, and many things. This is the period men crack mentally, and Ferin had to keep close tabs on his men too make sure they don’t show anything unusual in their behavior.

The hours stretched on, and night began to descend. The world’s single large moon rose high in the sky, lighting up much. Men sat along the wall, chewing on their reheated dinner. The one good thing about defending a city was that many times you get a hot meal, and sometimes, the citizens give you a hot meal. This is what Ferin chewed on as he sat on top of the crenellations, looking out at the dark plains. An elderly woman had come up the street, pulling a cart laden with several native foods of the planet, and three large pots of a stew that tasted much like the fish stew his mother had made many times back on Fenris. It was very good, and hit a spot that had been empty for a long time, and helped the moral of the men.
Back on Fenris. Ferin thought about it. It had not been too long since he had been the blacksmiths son helping his father in the forge. It had been a little more than a year. He often thought of his lost home in these quiet times, wondering how his family was doing, whether they were alright or not. He had no idea what season it would be on Fenris. The planet was near this one, but still a long way away. He looked up at the sky. The lights of the city drowned out the stars so only a few very bright ones showed in the blackness.
Fog was creeping onto the plains, thick and low. It came about halfway up the gate, giving it the look of being held back by the gate. It was eerily quiet. Ferin looked back into the street and saw fog forming there now. Pain suddenly flared on his arm, and the mark of Cegorach glowed dully. He had found out what this meant. He leapt off the wall, throwing the bowl of stew over the side. He never saw it crash, and shatter on the damp grass below.
“Man your posts! Weapons at the ready!” Ferin roared, walking quickly along the wall top.
Men jumped up from their slumber and dinner, grabbing lasguns and helmets.
“The arch-enemy draws near! Keep your eyes sharp!” Ferin yelled.
Boris came along the ramparts, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Ferin. Why are you calling the men to their posts. Command does not have any Chaos movement on recon, and the surveyors are showing no-“Boris was cut off by a sudden whistling. A shell slammed into the side of the wall, fire and smoke washing up it as the wall trembled with the impact. Boris and Ferin grabbed the side to steady themselves.
“Frag it! Lasguns to max power! Waste those heretical bas-“ Boris was cut off again as another shell slammed into the ground near the gate.
   Shells began raining down on their position, tearing chunks from the wall, and ripping up the dirt. A shell slammed into the gates suddenly, and Ferin heard them groan and buckle. He ducked under the crenellations as shells slammed down on them. The wall trembled, and dust and smoke rose, clouding their vision, burning the nose and eyes. Men all along the wall were in the same position, trying to stay safe as the world ended.
“We need to get off this wall or we will die!” Ferin roared to Boris next to him over the thunder.
“I think I agree!” Boris yelled back, then into his voxbead, “All units! Fall back! Fall back!”
   A shell slammed into the ramparts, obliterating a squad of men in a firey inferno, their silhouettes burning to skeletons in the fire, their screams drowned out by the other shells. Men began leaping off the wall to the stairs, landing on top of each other in their haste to get away from the hell. Ferin got up to run during a small lull in the barrage, only to be sent airborne by a suddenly blast from a lucky shell. He hit the edge of the rampart and began falling. He scrambled to gain purchase but couldn’t find any on the rubble strewn rampart. His legs slid off and he began to fall into the smoke and dust below. Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and began pulling him up. Ferin grabbed the edge of the rampart with his hand and levered himself up. He rolled onto the rampart and took a breath before getting up. The wall trembled under him.
“You should be more careful Ferin, you are kind of important.” The voice of Falco came to him.
“Thanks Falco, I owe you one.” Ferin said.
“No you won’t if we don’t get off this wall.” Falco said, and began running for the stairs.
   Ferin followed and went down the stairs, taking several at a time. When he reached the bottom, the cracking of stone was suddenly heard. Looking up Ferin saw cracks running up the wall. A shell slammed into the gates, and with a storm of fire, they were knocked open and out into the street. The wall couldn’t handle anymore now. Ferin began to back up as rocks began to fall, and the shells began raining down like hail. He turned quickly and began running, Falco right next to him. The wall erupted in debris, dust, smoke and flame. The two were thrown to the ground as rocks rained down on them. Several pieces of debris bounced off his flack armor as he got up with a groan. His ears were ringing and small rivulets of dust fell from him. He shook his head and looked at Falco next to him. The Sergeant was rubbing his ear with a grimace. Ferin hauled him up, and they began heading towards the Chimeras and the rest of the company. The dust was thick in the air, and blocked  their vision, sending everything into pitch black as the moon was blocked off.
   Ferin coughed up some dust as he breathed, Falco had an arm over his shoulders as he limped along. They saw large shapes and lights in the dust, just ahead and yelled out so they would not get fired on. Several soldiers came out and helped them in. He set Falco down against the treads of a chimera, and sat down next to him, pulling out a canteen. He poured some of the water over his face, washing away some dust, and handed it to Falco who did the same.
“Thanks.” The sergeant said, handing it back.
He tried to move his leg and grimaced in pain.
“I think it’s broken. Move me to the front so I can at least shoot the cheap spawn.” Falco said.
A couple men helped him to the front of the chimera. Boris came up and gave him his bolt pistol and a couple clips.
“Here sergeant, use this, it will help a bit more in your position.” Boris said.
“Thanks sir.” Falco said, checking the clip and resting the gun in his lap. He had both his laspistol and Bolt pistol in his hands.
The men looked down the street as they heard a clanking, and grinding. The dust was still thick in the air, and the lights from the lamp-acks couldn’t penetrate it.
“Stand ready!” Ferin roared to his platoon, which was behind a roughly made rubble wall. The men shouldered their lasguns.
The grinding and clanking grew louder.
The men crouched at the wall, staring down the street. Ferin felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead in anticipation.
Suddenly a massive machine came ripping through the dust with a roar, its huge claws out ahead of it. Iron Angel roared at the same time as the chaos machine came through the dust, at almost point blank range, the battle cannon shell slammed into the front of the machine, ripping into it, and exploding, throwing burning metal all over the area.
Suddenly, with a mighty yell and roaring, traitor guard came charging from the dust, Chaos marines scattered among them.
“Fire!”
The command rang along the line, and crimson fire lit up the night with flashes.
   Iron Angel roared a firey battle cry the flash sending light over the area, cement and traitors were thrown into the air by the shell, fire blooming. Small arm fire whistled all around the men as the traitors returned fire. The dust near the ground began to blacken as the lasfire scorched and burn it. The dust began to clear through the fire fight. The forces of Chaos throwing themselves at the Imperial line. The heavy bolters on the tank began to open up as its cannon roared again. Streams of fire spewing from it. It became an engine of death, the hand of the Emperor as it ripped the traitors apart through heavy bolter and battle cannon fire, cleansing the unclean.
   Ferin fired lasbolt after lasbolt in grim desperation against the coming tide. The Guardsmen began to roar their own battlecries as the forces of Chaos neared the line. Lasfire intensified, the field burning bright with crimson fire, the traitors falling by the tens if not hundreds. Ferin roared an incomprehensible cry. He pulled the trigger, and nothing seemed to come from the laspistol. Throwing to the side in contempt he hefted his axe in both hands, ready to receive the charge. The Chaos charge began to falter though as it neared the Imperial lines. Chaos soldiers were falling in droves, their cries of rage and pain filling the air. Then with a roar of rage the enemy began to move back, retreating into the dust.
   The Guardsmen continued to fire for a time at the shapes, until they could not be seen. Men reloaded and aimed back into fog of dust, as night closed in once again. After several minutes they began lowering their weapons and standing up. A cheer broke through the line as the dust began to blow away and they saw the last of the Chaos forces retreating over the rubble of the gate.
“Men! Forward! Retake what is ours!” Boris yelled, leading the advance over the rubble trench, laspistol up.
   Iron Angel roared as it rumbled forwards, pockmarked and scorched from enemy fire. Men advanced up the street, guns up and ready. Bodies lay thick in the streets, and the men had to walk on the bodies to advance. Iron Angel crunched over the bones and armor as if it were nothing, and the men's boots began to make tracks of blood. They skirted the burning wreckage of the Chaos Defiler. When they got to the ruins of the wall, they saw the damage that the enemy had done. It was no more than a pile of rocks and steel.
“Clear defensible areas, get some trenches going here! We have the high ground now! Let’s keep it!” Boris roared. Men immediately split into work teams, one platoon standing guard one working.
   The work took several hours. The men slumped down in the new rubble trenches and defenses as Iron Angel clawed its way up the rubble and into the tank hole they made. They could see the Chaos lines, not two hundred yards from the walls. They had made small probing strikes at the Imperial line throughout the digging, but each time the company had driven them back with losses. Vox reports were telling about defeats and victories all around the city. The Chaos titan had breached the walls and had led a spearhead passed the walls and nearly a mile into the city before it was immobilized and the advance faltered. The city was completely surrounded and besieged now by a massive force. Command had no idea about the numbers in the siege, but many had said it was all of them in a sarcastic manner. The men figured that was probably right.
   Ferin sat; looking out into no mans land. The screams, yells and roars from the chaos lines were somewhat unnerving in the night, and he knew that it was supposed to be. Chaos used the tactic of instilling fear into their enemies, they were good at it. Ferin told himself he would have to keep an eye on the recruits. This would be the first time they experienced it and would probably have a hard time coping.
   A scrapping sound came to his ears. He looked up, surveying the area around him, but saw nothing. The scrapping continued. It was coming from the tank. He walked towards the battle tank. Suddenly a man popped the hatch and looked out behind the tank.
“What the blazes?! What is-hey! Drop that!” the man yelled and Ferin went running over as the man leapt out of the tank and down the back, chasing after something.
   Ferin went chasing with the man, following him. Finally he saw what was being chased, it was some kind of metallic beetle, and in its mouth was a couple tread plates to the Leman Russ. The man pulled out a laspistol and fired after it. One bolt hit and it swerved a bit but kept going, and suddenly disappeared into a manhole cover. The man dropped to his hands and knees looking down the man hole.
“Get back here you little bugger! Ill rip your metallic legs off!” he shouted after it.
Boris and a good many men came running up.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, confused.
“Sir, a little robot beetle just immobilized us, it took two of the tread plates off the Iron Angel!” the tanker said.
“A robot… beetle…” Boris said, raising an eyebrow at Ferin.
“Yes sir, I saw it too, odd design. Not chaos, but not imperial.” Ferin said.
Boris nodded.
“Then I will take a squad, you Ferin, and the tanker and head down there to check it out.” Boris said, shirking out of his great coat.
“Falco! I want you and your squad here with us.” Ferin said.
“Will do boss!” Falco said coming to his side, he had a battle cast over his leg, allowing him the full use of his leg without further damage or pain. It was very handy, but one use only as its power pack was not replaceable. It was usually reserved for the officers.

They descended into the manhole, climbing down the ladder for a good ways before stepping into knee deep murky water. They turned on their lamp-packs, and looked around. It was a tunnel, about ten feet around. Ferin looked up and down the tunnel.
“So which way did the beetle go?” Boris asked.
Ferin looked at the wall and noticed some scratches.
“This way sir.” Ferin said, heading down the tunnel, into the city.
   The men followed Ferin, heading deeper into the city as they walked. The tunnel smelled rancid from trash, and dead animals, and Ferin sometimes felt things hit his legs in the water. They walked for a good half hour before they suddenly came to a tunnel dug in the side of the wall. Shining their flashlights down into it, they found it descended, a flight of steps, leading into darkness. Boris was the first to enter, gun up at the waist and ready to fire. They descended the stairs.
   The stairs were black, and carved from the rock. The walls were jagged, and in some places water ran down them. They eventually lost sight of the entrance, as the stairs twisted from side to side. Then the lights illuminated an arch-way. Boris held up his hand to stop them, and advanced slowly to the door. Poking his head slowly into the room below.
“By the Emperor….” Ferin heard him say as he let his hand drop to his side and step through the doorway.
Ferin jogged down the stairs and stepped into the room.
   His breathe stopped as he saw that it was no normal room. It was a vast complex, with huge pillars, that went back, disappearing into the dark on either side, and ahead of him. Dark portals were in rows around each pillar and along the walls. Looking around he noticed more of the metallic scarabs. A lot of them. They skittered across the floor, zipping back and forth about half a foot off the ground, the sound of carapace on carapace was a constant sound in the cavern. Suddenly green lights flashed on, casting an aerie glow about them. The men threw their weapons to their shoulders, but nothing happened. They slowly moved into the cavern, the scarabs moving about their legs as if the humans were just being ignored.
One of the men reached down and ran a hand across one of the robots carapace.
“Don’t touch them you idiot!” Ferin hissed to him.
“But, it is cute.” The man said.
“It is not cute, it is not even human, don’t touch it.” Ferin said angrily to him.
The man pouted but brought his weapon back up.
   As the men walked into the tomb like complex, the lights flashed on, as if following them. They walked for a good ten minutes before they came to a large contraption in what seemed to be the center of the complex. It looked like a massive sarcophagus stood up on end. It was engraved with murals of battles, and skeletal figures. Ferins arm flashed.
“What the hell is that?” Boris asked Ferin as his eyes saw the flash.
“Nothing sir, probably my lamp-pack malfunctioning.” Ferin said, quickly turning in his arm.
Boris raised an eye brow and returned to looking around the tomb and at the sarcophagus.
“Is this what Cegorach was talking about? The Necrontyr?” Ferin mumbled to himself.
“Ferin, I hope you are not muttering something blasphemous, cause I highly doubt that was a lamp-pack malfunction. But I am willing to believe it is. Don’t make me believe Chaos has gotten to you.” Boris said.
“No sir, I was just talking to myself about the pictures and such on the stone box here. It is amazing really. I wonder how old it is.” Ferin said, running a hand on the stone.
“I don’t give a damn how old it is. All that matters is-“ Boris suddenly went quiet as a click was heard from the sarcophagus.
All of the men slowly turned to look at it. Faint clicking and whirring could be heard from it. The symbols began to glow with green energy for a moment before they faded and a faint line could be seen running down the center of the sarcophagus. Stone ground as it opened. Inside stood a massive, metallic, skeletal form, with great shoulder plates, and claws on the fingers. Bale fire leapt into its eye sockets and the being pushed itself up, out of the coffin. It stood up tall, looking around the tomb. A sudden pulse of power radiated out from the platform along lines that were hidden before, and activity sped up in the tomb. The men just looked at it in horror and amazement. Runes and hieroglyphics covered the metallic being. Suddenly it looked down at them. Grevane locked his jaw and stepped forward to it. The being dwarfed the man, who only came to its chest. The alien looked down into the face of the Sargeant.
“Well, good mornin’ there beautiful.” Grevane said. With a blink of an eye, he had his power sword unsheathed, and with a roar plunged it into the chest of the alien
   The being made no sound as it was stabbed. It doubled over, and suddenly, its arm connected with the Sergeants chest and Boris went flying off the platform, his power sword still stuck in the aliens’ chest. It reached up and wrenched the sword from its torso with a grinding of steel. It tossed the weapon to the side and reached its hand out to its side, looking at the men on the platform in the process. Suddenly a staff sprang from the floor, floating up fast. The machine grasped it, and brought it up with both hands. There was a faint click and suddenly green fire sprang behind a vicious looking blade.
“I think it’s time we leave!” Ferin yelled.
“Good idea!” Falco agreed and turned and jumped from the platform.
   The men ran like madmen for the exit, stopping only a moment to grab Boris’s semi-conscious form. They ran as fast as they could, the small scarabs chittering and rustling around them. The door was directly ahead.
“I’m good, let me run, we will go faster.” Boris said.
They set him on his feet, but instead of standing, his face went white, and he collapsed, a grimace of pain on his face.
Ferin looked down and saw a burned stump about mid way down the thigh.
“Oh damn! Sir! Stay with us.” Ferin yelled at Boris.
“I’m with you Ferin, now stop yelling, it ain’t helpin’ the situation.” Boris said through gritted teeth. When his eyes opened, Ferin was startled with what he saw. Boris’s left eye had turned obsidian black.
“What is it?” Boris asked.
The men around them had gone to a knee and were pouring lasgun fire into the advancing scarabs.
“Nothing.” Ferin said looking back. He saw the metallic form of an alien, suddenly fall to the ground from one of the columns. It landed with a thud, and stood up unphased, lifting an axe with a green glow like the leaders. Ferin raised his laspistol and unloaded with full auto into it.
   The lasrounds hit the armored warrior, seemingly to not even phase it as it advanced. It lifted its weapon, and the fire flared and sprang from the gun, straight at the men. It caught a man in the chest. The man screamed in pain as the fire consumed him, stripping his clothing, then skin, muscle, and blackened the bone. When the fire stopped, the skeleton stood for a second before it collapsed, the bone turning to dust.
“We need to keep going, throw the Sarge over a shoulder and let’s move!” Ferin yelled, more warriors appearing. The commander unit walked in slow, long strides. Although it had no facial features, Ferin knew it was relishing the moment of the humans death.
The men picked up the sergeant and began to run. They got to the entrance several moments later, bale fire flying all around them, hitting the wall and floor.
“Keep going; take Boris back to the surface! Falco stay here.” Ferin yelled.
The two man exchanged glances and Falco figured out what the Sergeant was about.
   He unpacked his bag and took out several long tubes. He then jammed some wire into the top of each of the tubes. Ferin took out some det-tape, and taped the explosives to the walls of the tunnel. He did not even bother with a controller. He lit the wires and ran. The two men ran so fast, they practically never even touched the black steps up to the sewer. They got out to the sewer, and suddenly the ground shook and a muffled boom could be heard. Suddenly heat and fire blasted out of the tunnel behind them, making them throw themselves down into the dirty water.
   They quickly got back up and scrambled for the ladder. Climbing up several hands reached down and helped them. When they broke to the surface, it was all in chaos. The men were holding the line against a chaos horde. Cultists were climbing the bodies of their comrades trying to get at the Imperials who were firing from point blank range, falling the chaos forces no further than several yards from the position. A pile of Chaos Marines and cultists was growing, and explosions and the sounds of lasguns broke loudly through the air. Iron Angel was surrounded in bodies, its treads blown off, and a Heavy bolter shorn from the chassis. The cannon roared, and not far from the tank at all, fire and dirt bloomed into the air.
   Men shouted curses, and screamed in pain, some yelled orders, others just yelled. Ferin quickly got up the rock pile and into the trenches with his second in command. He had dirt streaked face, his chain sword bloody, and his armor dented and cracked, his clothing frayed.
“Report!” Ferin yelled over the gunfire.
“Sir! Chaos attacked a little more than twenty minutes ago, they have been launching attacks since. We have seen a lot of armor, but thankfully our heavy weapons have been popping those.” The man said.
“Good! How long do you think we can hold out here?” Ferin asked.
“Sir, I think we can hold out. The men are already prepped to fall back though if needed.”
   Ferin looked out at the combat. A man stepped up the trench wall and knocked a cultist back and unloaded into its chest before jumping back into the trenches. He looked back and saw the medic attending to Boris. How were they going to write the report on this one? Oh, by the way, you built a city over top an unstoppable race of machines.
   A bolt cracked by his head, making him duck for cover. The Chaos forces were pushing hard; men were beginning to yell for laspacks, which was bad. When a Guardsman asks for a laspack, then the fight was going bad. The men had their bayonets fixed, and were firing into the stomachs of the enemy right in front of them.
   Ferin hefted his axe, ready for the fight. He stood up and unloaded his laspistol into several cultists who were about to jump into the trench. His shots burned into the cultists, but one of them kept charging. It leapt down onto him, and Ferin swung, his axe connecting with the cultists’ chest, and knocking it to the ground, blood spurting from the wound. The traitor did not get up.
   Suddenly there was a screaming in the air, and from the left, a flight of Lightningbolt Fighters unloaded on the Chaos horde, stitching the ground with autocannon, heavy bolter, and rocket fire. This was quickly followed by promethium bombs. The dull thud and concussion of the bombs hit his ears, and heat washed over him as the fire storm engulfed the traitors near the trenches. Men roared a cheer along the lines as they redoubled their efforts in stopping the enemy.
   
   The tankers popped the hatch to Iron Angel and jumped out. The tank was charred, and smoldering bits of other vehicles lay on and around it. If Ferin had not just seen it in battle, he would have thought it was not operational. Men stood up from the trenches, clothing burned, and torn, and armor cracked and dented. The company advanced down the war made hill, into the killing field of traitors. Fire burned along the scorched ground, and the blackened bodies lay, seemingly writhing in pain. Random cracks from lasguns told him his men were finishing off any survivors. They made their way out to the chaos trenches, receiving almost no enemy fire. A flight of Valkyries suddenly screamed up from ahead of him, and over his head, roaring towards the city. Looking at the hive city he saw destruction. Spires were toppled, and great plumes of smoke curled into the sky from all over it. The wall around the city was crumbled and half destroyed.
It was still in Imperial hands though. The Cadian standard waving proudly on the wall where the companies’ standard bearer flew it.
Now, to explain the incident from the sewers.

Chapter 6: Destiny
“Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.”
   The sky was blood red. The sun was rising off on the horizon over the destruction of the hive city. Banners fluttered in the faint wind on the field, smoke and dust blowing by them. The bodies were still on the ground where they had fallen, thousands upon thousands of them. Carrion animals were already gorging themselves on the feast laid before them, nature already reclaiming what was hers.
   Ferin stood upon the rubble of the gate, the hulk of Iron Angel next to him, pitted and burned. It stood silent sentinel upon the rocks. He stood looking out on the field, Lieutenant’s Chevrons flashed on his shoulders, and a red power sword hung on his belt. The company had held the back door against the tide of evil, and the men were ecstatic with their major victory. Ferin, though, had other things on his mind. They had reported to the commanding officer after the battle in private to explain what had happened under the city. He was not responsive though, thinking them trying to gain even more credit by giving some made up information.
The crunching of boots behind him got Ferin’s attention.
“Sir. The General wishes to see you and Lieutenant Grevane sir.” A private said.
“Very well. I am coming.” Ferin said and turned, the rubble shifting under his foot.
   He walked down to the street and boarded the waiting chimera. The vehicle rumbled along the street as Ferin looked through the gun ports. The city was in ruins. Some areas still had fires blazing, and small pockets of chaos fighters were hidden deep beneath the hive. Imperial Guardsmen helped to rebuild the city while they were still here, along with some Adeptus Mechanicus engineers.
   The transport ground to a halt in font of a blasted building. It was built like a fortress from the former Arbites building, and had become a strong point during the fighting when a chaos advance made it to here. The solid building broke the offensive, and had the scars to prove it. Many had died during this battle, whole companies were wiped out, and the hulks of vehicles lined the street. The blackened wreckage of a Stormblade sat crumbled no more than a hundred yards from a toppled Chaos Titan, which had fallen onto a block of stores and houses, crushing them beneath its weight.
   Ferin strode up the steps and into the building where Guards immediately brought up weapons but then lowered them as they saw it was a lieutenant. Everything was on heightened alert in the aftermath of the storm. He walked into the office in the back and found Boris sitting across the desk from a paled General. Ferin looked to Boris quizzically who just shrugged.
“Gentleman. If you would have a seat please?” the General asked in a weakened voice.
“May I introduce you to-“the General was cut off as a man stepped into the doorway and spoke.
“Inquisitor Lord Alimente of the Emperors most holy Inquisition, Ordo Maleus.” The man spoke, and Boris went pale.
   The man was tall and broad. He had a deep red cloak, with the hood pulled up over his head, casting a shadow on his face. On his back was a great Thunderhammer, and on his belt was an engraved bolt pistol with the Inquisitons “I”. He wore finely crafted Artificer armor, a laurel going across his chest and an “I” on both knees. He stepped into the office as if all of his gear weighed nothing. Around his neck was a great necklace with the Imperial Eagle, a holy icon.
“General. If you would be so kind as to leave us.” Alimente said.
The general scampered out of the office leaving the two hapless officers behind.
Alimente pushed back his hood showing a hard face, steely eyes, and what looked to be a small smile.
“Your report has reached my ears.” The Inquisitor said.
“Sir, it was not chaos.” Boris said, his courage on the thin line.
“Oh, I know. Which is why I am here. Your unit is running a very remarkable record on this planet, nominated for special training and equipment. You see, the Inquisition does not have a very large fighting force. I come here looking to recruit, Lieutenant. I will be inducting your unit into my service. You will receive the training and equipment, and there may be benefits for you and your men besides.” Alimente said.
“So, you’re making us your own private fighting force?” Boris asked.
“In a manner of speaking. You will still answer to the Imperial Chain of Command, and go where the Cadian High Marshal says, but you will answer to me first if I need you. Plus, there are some things in your company that require close supervision.” At this last statement the Inquisitor looked at Ferin, and nodded.
“You will also get what little information we have on the Necrons so you can better fight them. It already seems your company is very good at fighting chaos. Now. I will hold you up no longer. Boris. This is for you. It will let you disobey orders from your superiors to keep to mine.” Alimente held out the Inquisitorial symbol on a chain.
With that the man left. The two officers looked at each other and down to the chain.

Several hours later found the company at the war racked spaceport they came down into when they originally landed, seemingly ages ago. They were the last to board the transports, heading back to Cadia. Apparently the same Chaos Warlord who sent an army to this planet also sent a strike force at Cadia. They had to return home to defend it. Grevane stood with Ferin at the boarding ramp as the somewhat repaired Iron Angel rumbled up the ramp. The sky burned in the distance, and for the first time the lack of sound sunk in. No rolling thunder from artillery, or pops of small arms. Just the whistle of the wind. This was what peace was like, a taste of it. His heart fell though as he realized that this was probably the last of peace he would see for a long time. He boarded the lander, the door clanking shut. The engines thundered as fire swept the landing pad, the lumberous vehicle slowly gaining altitude. The roar was earsplitting and the gale force winds blew chunks of loose rockcrete from the ground. Finally it began making head way, fighting the force of gravity.
On the ground, Koran watched the last Lander leave with a smile on his face. His form shifted and then disappeared, blowing into the wind.
Ferin and the 512th was thrust into the fire, hammered, and shaped, and now left the forge as a keen, sharp blade.

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