Sergeant Marius stood at the reinforced window, looking out onto the dead airless surface of Zeta. It was hardly even a moon, and yet was one of the most important planets in the direct path of the Imperium Vanguard now bearing down upon it. The moon was almost completely made of precious metals like Adamantium and Ceramite, vital to the continued defense and survival of the union. Of course, Marius was not thinking about that right now, in fact he couldn't.

He stood, weapons in hand, staring into the void. His helm was at his side, and he gripped his power axe hard. All that ran through his mind was, "Blood, Death, Blood, Death, Blood, death, BLOOD DEATH BLOOD DEATH BLOOD DEATH BLO-", no... no the rage had been cured. Right? It was cured yes... yes? The thirst and rage... rage and thirst... no wait was it? Of course... it didn't matter now. He turned to his squad, the four marines were attending their own weapons, all no doubt similar in mindset to their sargeant... all had once been in the throws of the Black rage. But they were cured...

"Sergeant?", Marius turned to the speaker, Brother Karik who held still his humble bolter, "Yes Karik?", Karik seemed to hesitate, wondering if interupting the Sergeants thoughts had been a good idea, "Should we not prepare to meet with the other leaders in the Complex?", Marius furrowed his brow... the humans... what a bother. "Yes, brothers we must meet our... comrades now.", he clicked his helmet down on his head, the air tight seals hissing as they locked down. He turned and marched out of the viewing deck, his four men filing out after him.

A meeting was to be held amongst the defenders in the center command facility of the compound... it was time for the gods of the Union to meet their worshippers.

Imperial Transport – Fiery Purger.

Col. Antunes Howlard. 64th Tiparingan Penal Legion

Col. Howlard finished wiping his face, sparing one last glance towards the mirror before striding out of the makeshift bathrooms mounted in the belly of the colossal transport ship. An officer of his rank should at least had received personal quarters, he was a Colonel for the Emperor's sake! But Howlard was already used to it, the slights, the snubbing, jealousy and spite of others. But it was useless to rage over it now, he had a meeting to attend. And he wouldn't give his so called “betters” the satisfaction of watching him rant and rave like a spoiled child. He knew how they whispered among themselves, laughing at him behind his back, at him and his regiment. But he would show them, maybe not today or tomorrow. But the time would come, no matter how long it took, he would show them.

The guardsmen on the entrance snapped crisp salutes when the Colonel finally emerged from the makeshift tents. Howlard nodded slightly at them, glad to see that this particular lot had taken at least part of their training to heart, before making his way towards the large elevators.

After a short walk through the rows of tents, which for the most part were up to his standards, he finally met the rest of his party for the imminent debriefing. Major Farzbard, as usual shadowed by that hideous creature of hers, and Commissar Torcharian, who at least had the decency of showing up sober this time.

The Major gave a quick salute, and her second did the same. While grinning at him with those disgusting sharpened metal teeth, couldn't she at least brush her mouth once in a while? And take a bath too while she was at it? He nodded back to the Major and the Commissar. As Farzbard's pet Sergeant took the hit and left without further ado.

“Shouldn't we bring more people with us?” The Commissar asked. Howlard noticed with some relief that his breath was actually clean. “At least the Captains. To save time later.” He finished, fidgeting with his coat.

“I doubt they would let us all in.” Farzbard snorted as she leaned over the control panel to call the elevator. “We might steal something.” She chuckled.

“Besides.” Howlard added, almost gritting his teeth. “We already know what will happen; they will put us in the vanguard and have us bleed the enemy white.”

“We are a Penal Legion, Colonel.” The Commissar replied. “That's what we are supposed to do.”

“But unlike the rest, we actually got a chance of seeing this through.” Farzbard added, still bent over the control panel. “Usually, maybe this time. We've never fought in an airless rock before.”

“At least we've got masks for everyone.” The Commissar offered. “So we've got that going for us.” He sighed as if going to continue, but then the elevator arrived and he changed his mind.

Directives flashed in front of her eyes, she had been sent here to prepare defenses, and aid those already there against the Imperium. Vanassa had been surprised when the Magos had given her orders that included so few Skitarii. At least her request for combat servitors had been approved, they would definitely be needed in the upcoming fight. Turning Vanassa looked at the force arrayed before her. She had served with them for so long now, ever since they had been Imperial Guard. Before her stood forty hyspasists, twenty rangers, ten praetorians, and one hundred gun servitors. That wasn’t counting the ten enginseers that had come with them wielding power axes and bolt pistols, or the case with the prototype being carried by two servitors with hydraulic arms. She let her bright blue glowing eyes scan over the skitarii women gathered before her, and moved through the lines making sure none were malfunctioning in any ways. “Skitarii, what is our function this cycle?”

“To defend the Mining Complex. Let no Imperium Soldier pass.” A nod was given towards the Cohort. “What are secondary directives?” As one the Skitarii women spoke again. “Ensure that as many Mechanicus return to the home world as possible, ensure that the Mining Complex does not fall into enemy hands, even at the cost of the Complex itself.” Vanassa stopped as she stepped beside the case with the Protoype inside of it. She tapped her fingers across a pad entering a complex code that had been kept memorized. A hiss emitted as freezing cold air was released from the case. The Prototype slowly activated, her body coiled up tightly as eyes began to glow bright. Slowly but surely she unwound out from the box her rifle coming to her hands as her vision flickered between different viewing modes. “Unit Medusa ready for combat Master.”

Vanassa nodded and turned away heading back towards the front of the formation. The perfectly lined up, perfectly uniformed, in sync formation. The Medusa unit’s directives flashed in front of her eyes and she shot off down a dimly lit corridor. The slithering metal body quickly disappearing into the shadows. Vanassa stared at the formation long, and hard. “We await orders from the Graven Brothers on where they wish us to set up defensive positions. At ease.” The entire formation immediately put their weapons at their sides, standing with a single hand behind their backs. They didn’t move though only continued to stare forward.

Aquilla Lander - Aegis Dawn
En Route to Briefing
On Board - Colonel Jericho Cross, Perdition 23rd Armored Cavalry

---

"It's never a good thing when the fact the surface of this place being completely airless is the least of my concerns..." The battered older man sitting in the Aquilla Lander, several of his senior tank commanders, the surviving ones at least, sat around him talking quietly or getting some sleep in before they wouldn't be getting any for some time. Barely six thousand strong, and they had more tanks then men that could crew them. To be fair, his tanks were built to operate in the void of space, most his men, himself included, being spacers press ganged into service before the fall of Perdition.

His carapace armor sat comfortably, it had to since he often was sitting either within the cramped confines of a Leman Russ, or sitting in the commander's copula directing the fight from where he could see. It's how he lost his eye, directing the last stand on Perdition before Ork fire finally hit him, damn greenskins could hit something eventually, put enough rounds in the air. His men dragged him off the battlefield, him and tens of thousands others and they escaped. Over the years between now and then, the regiment dwindled and died off slowly, leaving him with barely six thousand now. They had no homeworld to recruit from, and their unique situation and training left bringing in outsiders abnormally difficult.

Pinching the brow of his nose with a sigh, he focused on the situation as they knew it. Secessionists, no signs of overt Chaos yet, thank the Emperor, but that was about it. His boys were Ork killers, not rebel fighters, but he really had no say in the matter, nor would he shirk from the duty. They would drive into the maw of hell eagerly, every last one of them, and it made him proud every day that he yet lived to lead such fine men. They had nothing left to lose, so they had nothing left to fear, it seemed.

The lander shuddered, indicating that it had docked with the flagship of the fleet gathered to put down this secessionist force. Jericho stood, barking orders at his commanders. "Right lads, let's go. Let's hear what brilliant plan the powers that be have for us." The commanders nodded, falling in with the Colonel as he walked down the ramp of the lander, following the directions towards the briefing chambers. Sooner this was done, the sooner he could go organize his men and prepare to make war in the Emperor's name.

---

---

The Lord Commissar fixed his hat and adjusted his collar for the fifth time as the transport rumbled through space from the ship of the 14^th Vultis Bloodborn Light Infantry Regiment toward the main HQ ship where the briefing was taking place. No matter how many campigns he had been on or how many meetings he went to, there was always something ever so nerve racking about the trip there. His fidgeting with his clothing was almost a force of habit on such trips, one of the few quirks that the "model commissar" had on his person.

"Stop playing with your clothes, you look fine." Enola rested a hand onto Karis's as they balled into fists before releasing to his lap.

"Its not my appearance I'm worried about..." the Lord Commissar let his voice dawdle a bit as he mentally recited litanies and hymns to the God Emperor to calm the nerves, "The trip always makes me a tad jumpy for some reason."

"I can relate to that, even some of the vets in the Drop units still get jittery when they prep for a drop." Ridolan the Elsyian Drop Trooper bodyguard spoke up, pausing the polishing of his prized flamer to insert his own anecdote, "I guess there are just some thing ain't no one can fix."

Karis sighed and sunk into the seat a bit more, doing his best to ignore the soul-piercing stares of the Vultis Bloodborn he commanded. He sword that their Krieg-inherted fashion sense could make them scare daemons if they tried hard enough and make even an Astartes avoid their gaze. To be quite honest, the Lord Commissar didn't even know why he was in charge of them. He had received word that he was to be assigned to a unit in dire need of discipling and reorganizing, not a bunch of Catachan-Krieg love children. No doubt that many a commissars would have killed for a position like his, barely having to do a thing to get the troops into battle.

Thankfully it would seem that the unit itself was more than well suited for many environments and combat doctrines that would inevitably be used during this Crusade; the airless planet probably wouldn't prevent such a massive deal for the Bloodborn seeing as the surface of their home planet had long since been polluted to hell and back. The fact they wore their rebreather masks on all the time probably also meant they'd have little compliant about having to wear another mask.

At this point the Lord Commissar was questioning how the other regiments would react to his troops. They certainly had the same effect and look of the Krieg Death Corps and knowing how the Kriegers were seen. He could only hope that people would be mildly more accepting of his faceless soldiers who marched off to death willingly. The two he had brought along with him should prove to net some valuable data on such interactions between the Vultis and the other regiments of the Emperor's glorious armies.

“Reconnaissance Drones returning to their bays now Admiral,” came the calm, light tone of the Air Caste pilot as his thin and dexterous fingers ran across the control panel in front of him with practiced ease and skill. The holographic display in front of his responded as the Drones were locked into their bays, the feeds from their memory core instantly being uploaded into the ship’s data banks.

Admiral Firestorm sat upon her command throne, dressed in the snuggly fitting pilots uniform of the Air Caste, a Pulse pistol holstered against her hip. The bridge of the massive Custodian Class Battleship was sleek and smooth, the material an all white color that contrasted sharply with the dark red and black uniforms of the pilots and crew members of the bridge. Admiral Firestorm brought up her own holographic display without a word, bringing up the data from the Reconnaissance Drones and examining their findings. Her fleet lay at the very edge of a new system that the Tau fleet had just recently arrived. Several planets had been observed on their sensors, and as a common practice they had laid in wait within a defensive formation as they sent Drones to scout out the area ahead. The hiss of a door behind her and the steady thumps of cloven feet on the hard floor went nearly unnoticed.

Commander Warstrider, the defacto leader of the ground forces after the untimely demise of Shas’o B’shase, strode confidently into the bridge. He was dressed in a black robe trimmed in red and white, synced around his waist with a white cord. The emblem of the Farsight Enclaves adorned his right shoulder, as it did on all of the uniforms of the Enclave Tau. His voice was curt but respectful when he spoke, for he was within the domain of the Air Caste here, and the woman seated next to him still technically outranked him.

“Admiral,” he started, giving a small bow, inclining his head slightly. “Shas’el,” came the soft reply, with barely a glance toward the Fire Caste veteran as Firestorm perused the data. Warstrider ignored the small insult. He had been at odds with the Air Caste leader since he had ever set foot within her fleet. Guidestar and Firestorm had been close, and he felt that she resented his eagerness to replace the old Commander. More so, she forever seemed distasteful of his strategies and plans. As long as he was on her ship, he would hold his tongue. He knew his place, and knew that on the ground there would be nothing stopping his orders from supplanting hers.

“Is there anything worthwhile for us here?” Warstrider continued, and Firestorm nodded. “Yes, there indeed is. Initial scans show many planets rich in mineral resources, though we have picked up an abundance of life already here.” The answer brought a nod from the male, mulling over the information. Rich resources were something very much of interest to them on this mission. So far they had been unable to find anything that made their expedition worthwhile, only a few loose agreements that could very well fall through later. He would not return home empty handed. “How many? Do we know who they are?”

In answer to his question Firestorm brought up the main holoprojector in the bridge, allowing Warstrider to see for himself. The image showed a planet, no too small for a planet. It was a moon, and there was a fleet laying in orbit over it. Warstrider squinted at the image, suddenly recognizing the shapes of the ships hovering over the lunar body.

“Gue’la,” he spat, the word rolling off his tongue like a poison. The shapes of the anchored vessels was unmistakable, with their sharp prows, jutting command decks like fortresses, and gun decks bristling with weaponry. “How many?” He repeated.

“Too many for us to fight alone. It looks like a force far too large to be merely planetary defense either. They may be waiting for resupply, or staging for their next move. I would advise that we wait, engage the stealth drives and watch until they leave.”

“And what if they don’t? You know as well as I do that we are running low on supplies and fuel. We can’t afford to sit around and wait for them to move on. They may be waiting to attack or colonize this region. We should strike at them while they are at anchor, cripple their ships and hit them before they even realize we are here.”

Firestorm shook her head, “No. We cannot hope to defeat such a large force in open combat. But you are right, waiting could prove to yield nothing. We will compromise then. Approach from the darkside of the moon with stealth drives engaged here,” her slender fingers traced a line along the image, projecting their course. “From behind the planet and out of view. We wait behind the planet, and send a small force of your Fire Warriors with Water Caste diplomats to make initial contact. They won’t know the size of our fleet, or how many warriors you possess. We may lose the initial element of surprise but that fleet will have no idea that our forces wait just behind the planet. If things turn sour, we can still hit them with speed and surprise and make our escape before we are badly damaged.”

Mont’ray did not like the idea. They had a perfect opportunity here to launch an ambush while the human fleet was vulnerable in orbit. However, they did not know if there were reserve force on the way. If he acted rashly, the entire fleet may be destroyed and their mission a failure. “Very well Admiral. Our lives are in your hands,” he finished, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his last words almost like a threat in the air as he went to prepare his soldiers.

---

Lying in wait, ships cloaked and engines running at the lowest level possible to conserve heat signature but still be primed for a lightning quick attack, the Enclave fleet lay in wait just behind the planet. Two shuttles launched from bays on the flagship, streaking out into the void. Within each was a dozen Fire Warriors and four Water Caste diplomats. The Warriors checked their Pulse rifles and equipment, the Shas’ui barking orders and inspecting their respective squads as the diplomats discussed their plan of action. Trusting in their stealth drives to get the shuttles close enough for the message of parlay to reach the moon and the fleet, the shuttles broke from one another. One aiming to make a landing on what their scanners showed as an inhabited colony on the moon, while the other went for the fleet hovering above the surface.

• Location:
  Aboard the Phantom Queen orbiting Zeta
• Objectives:
  Meet and form a plan with Imperium Forces.

---

---

Battleship vs Battle Barge?

What type of dumb debate topic is that?

Its good enough, what are your opinions?

Both are made from the same technology base. Navy ships are designed for ONE thing, to blast other ships, where as the Battle Barge is far more multi-purpose as a planetary assault craft, which would be more viable for this mission?

Space Marine chapter fleets are designed for a specific purpose. That purpose is getting Space Marines themselves into the action. A battle barge, for instance, is basically a siege ship. It is designed for planetary assault. It is exactly what you want when staging an invasion of an enemy planet, or supporting ground troops. It lumbers up into orbit, slags whatever planetary defences are present, and drops Space Marines, which it can then support with its extensive drop bays and bombardment cannons.

It, and Space Marine fleets in general, are emphatically not designed for large scale fleet engagements!

With that, the debate was over. The Marine had clearly displayed his knowledge over the logistics an schematics of Imperium vessels. Debates amongst the battle-brothers of 3rd Cohort (Banshees Feet), was the norm. It was a tradition, whether they were riding through the wastelands of thier homeworld, or speeding through deep space. The tradition was being continued as always did among the battle-brothers of the 3rd Cohort.

Shangus Dario, the Chapter master had sent Octavian, the 3rd Cohorts Commander to deal with the insurrection of sorts in the newly named Tímise Énosis sector. Once news came out that a Union had been created from the traitorous Graven Brothers, the Black Banshees were one of the first to respond to the call for action. For one of thier own to betray the Empire, there fallen Emperor, it was sacrilege, disgusting, and the Black Banshees would wipe there existence off the face of the universe.

Octavian stood on the bridge of the Chapters 3rd ship, the Phantom Queen, techmarines and serfs hustled and bustled about the ship, attending to the needs of the 3rd Cohort, and readying the ship for the Imperium forces that would board the Barge as the flag ship of the fleet. Octavian would have rather taken care of the situation himself, but with the appearance of Skitarii and the multitude of planets involved, it only made sense that more be involved.

"Sir, the transport vessel is ready. a serf mumbled, walking up behind Octavian.

"Well lets give them the official Black Banshee welcome." as he turned around to face the tiny serf. "Gather the Captains, and tell them to meet me in the docking bay. Ill be leaving to the Naval Flag ship. he said unenthusiasticlly as he turned and made his way down to the bay.

Fallum Harvest Guard
Zeta Mining Complex

Brigadier General Garroway still had trouble coming to terms with how much metal surrounded her even as she was escorted to the meeting chamber at the behest of the holy warriors of the Emperor reincarnate. Angel of Death, savors of Fallum and countless other worlds, their Gods and leaders against the corrupt Imperium who used the name of the Emperor to disguise their greed. She was being drawn into a world beyond her own, not just in terms of being sent to a world of previously unimaginable death and inhospitability even compared to her native homestead but in the scope of war she was expected to lead her women into. She stood surrounded by

In such a war, what place was there for citizen-soldiers like her? Drawn from the planetary militia raised to defend Fallum, only be to called upon by the Gaven Brothers to instead march to the protection of a distant world where there was no life, only precious metal. No protection save what was built by the ancients. A grim inversion of the world she hailed from. A battlefield no Fallum Harvest Guard had ever fought on before.

Striding into the command center with her XO Adriana Kaltin and the Harvest Legate in tow, Garroway already began to feel out of place and practically plain compared to the arrangement of other officers (men even!) and the decorations upon their uniforms compared to her simple field-ready battledress. Nonetheless, she had her duty to the Gods, and it would be done. "7th Fallum Harvest Guard army- Brigadier General Garroway commanding as ordered." She announced herself, awaiting the arrival of the gods while one of her aides went to find her a proper chair.

“Tempestor.” Commissar Vaughn greeted the commanding officer of the 903rd with a tilt of the head. Which was returned in kind. Both men walked wordlessly entered the shuttle that would take them from their stationed Light cruiser to the flagship of the Recclemation fleet for the Dauntless sector. Neither man spoke for length of the journey.

The Tempestor did not speak because it was simply not his way to talk without having anything to say. And the Commissar new that his companion wasn't exactly a stellar conversationalist, and knew better than to try. In many ways the Tempestor was happy for the commissar's presence. He often served as the mouthpiece for the company. Talking to people with sophisticated and proper mannersisms that the Tempestor didn't have. Attending socialite functions that neither the Prime nor any other officers in the company could be bothered to attend.

Even as briefings like this the commissar would often take it upon himself to be the one to actually communicate with the generals and admirals. The Tempestor happy to watch the proceedings in silence and take in all of the relevant tactical information. Offering words only when directly addressed by a superior and even then, the number of words was minimal. Just to clearly deliver his point and then no more.

Neither of the officers in the shuttle expected much to come out of this briefing. His regiment would mostly likely be deployed as it always was. Pointed to the most fortified and machine gun laden point of the enemy line and told to have at it.

His regiment was routinely bounced around from battlefield to battlefield. Seconded to this regiment or that battlegroup. Being ordered to shore up weakened defences or help smash through a difficult enemy line that was holding up imperial progress for weeks until the 903rd arrived.

Surprisingly they took relatively minimal casualties despite this constant and rapid re-deployment. Well losing over five hundred men over the course of a years hard fighting wasn't nothing to a company that originally only numbered under five thousand. But considering some regiments were decimated entirely by the sector's conflict. Having over four thousand men at arms was pretty dam good.

They were probably going to be attached to another regiment now. He would prefer that his regiment have their own leash instead of being attached to someone else's. Depending on the regiment that could work well or get his men killed. Either way the colonel would need to learn that he wasn't in charge of the storm-troopers.

Sergeant Marius marched into the central council room first. He and his men took their positions arounf the massive holo-table that dominated its center. He growled as he stood, looking at the fleet in orbit, the Imperium had rolled out in force. The Vanguard was dangerous indeed, luckily they were on the defense here, and if his guess was correct they would not be able to bring the fleet or their heaviest weapons to bear. And now, it was time to wait for his fellow 'commanders'.

Brigadier General Garroway took her place at the holo-table with trepidation, feeling the Space Marine's presence be felt even if his focus was upon the formations depicted on the arcane display of images and symbols suspended in mid-air. Unwilling to let weakness define her, she instead turned to her aide for a pre-loaded dataslate listing her army's assets and what they could contribute. She stood awaiting her God's commands, to be fulfilled to the best of Fallum's ability.

Finally there was Master Vanassa, her body standing stoic, and still before the table arms crossed over her stomach. Glowing blue ocular lenses turned to take in those others that had assembled. "I believe we are all in attendence Astartes, perhaps you would wish to discuss directives at this time." Behind her stood a Enginseer that was tapping his fingers across a dataslate to input any new directives the Astartes might give during the meeting.

Marius looked at the two other commanders, a Skitarri and a Militia guard General. With his helmet on, they could not see his resting glare as he began to speak. "We are the first line of defense for the Union. This is the first Planet under their attack and with our zeeal this may be the [i]only[i/] one. We have several advantages our opponents do not. For instance,", he pointed at the only hangar they had not collapsed out of necessity, "They will attack here. The Administratum will not risk the destruction or heavy damaging of this facility, as it is unique. Their fleet will not be able to bring their power to bear, and our enemies will be funneled right here.", he jabbed a finger at the hangar before looking back up to his fellow commanders, "Input as to our strategy?"

Garroway mentally mused on the scene of the fight to come. No flanks, one (very big) way for enemies to come in, and orders to limit collateral damage on this grand facility. Even her militia could handle this. "The 7th Harvest Guard can form the main line of defense. We could assemble a temporary wall or line of fortifications in the hanger, form a three-layered gun line they would have to overcome. If we have time to lay down tank spikes and barricades, we could funnel armor down paths of our chosing. Though how resiliant our defense is may depend on weight of heavier weapons than just my militia's. Can our other forces provide extra heavy support?"

The Skitarii looked to the Enginseer who nodded a bit, a strange series of beeping, and clicks passing between them. Vanassa turned her head back to Garroway, and Marius and begin to speak in a synthesized vibrating tone. "We believe it would be best to set up Servitors as front gunlines, rather than sacrificing the Harvest Guard in their stead. The Servitors would be more than up for the task of holding them down, while we also set up turrets, and perhaps any other defensive machinations you have at your disposal. Also we would suggest local Guard to bolter the frontline defenses. While down the passages we set a series of squads to slow the enemy forces considerably. Allowing them to fall back, and join up with other squads."

Marius nodded curtly, at least these humans were competent. "Good. We will do what the Skitarii suggest. Garroway, your troops will reinforce the line where needed and man what complex defences that are not manned by servitors. Me and my squad will assault key enemy positions as they set up, as well as sow fear and terror amongst their lines. However,", he pointed at the center of the mining complex, "If we fail, all of you, and your soldiers will re-take the hangar and escape. My squad and I will make our way to the base and planets core, and detonate it. This will insure the Imperium does not recieve the resources here and that we lose as few men and resources as possible. Objections? Additions?", he was extremely curt... possibly rude.

"If we are planning a more interior defense, perhaps it would be best to utilize the mechanized forces I have as a interior reserve." Garroway suggested. "Otherwise, I have nothing more to add My Lord. The Harvest Guard will serve to the best of it's ability." This plan was straightforward in her opinion, but such was the nature of defense as described in the Tactica, relying upon the enemy to make mistakes and to make few oneself.

The Skitarii tapped a finger on the edge of the holotable listening to the two speak, the enginseer speaking in binary in her ear. She gave a few clicks, and beeps back before once more speaking out among the leaders. "While the plan is sound, there are a few things I would think should be changed." She took the dataslate from the enginseer fingers scrambling across the surface as the map pulled up zooming in on the Hangar. "I would suggest that we set up traps in the hangar that would disrupt any vehicles they might bring to bear, but would not upset our own means of escape. Mines perhaps. They should be sufficient in stalling them for a moment's time. Now Another problem would be if they disabled our own ships. We need another exit." She pulls up a small small exhaust port. "This port is large enough for three average sized humanoids to move through side by side, and a single Astartes. We could utilize this as an escape route for important personel in the case of a loss of the hangar so severe we could not make use of it." She finally zooms in on the core. "I also suggest that we do not utilize such High end assets as yourselves Astartes for detonating the Core, rather that we assign a squad of the Harvest Guard to stand prepared for a signal to detonate the core. The squad would be a more acceptable casuality than Astartes."

Marius stared at the Skitarii for what may be considered an unhealthy length of time before responding, "I apologize to the General Garroway, but I do not believe ordinary militia have the resolve required to end their lives in the core of this world. However, to appease you, one marine will remain back no matter what. Brother Arakis", a marine with his jump-pack and a bolter stepped forward, "Will retreat through this port with you and the humans. The rest of my remaining squad will remain to detonate the core.", Brother Arakis nodded at his sergeant. The sergeant then turned back to his allies, "Now-"

Master Vanassa clicked several times and held up a hand. "The flaw is still there. The Astartes assets are of the upmost importance, my Magos has given a underlying directive to ensure the survival of as many of the Astartes as possible. Therefore I will assign a squad of hyspassists to the core to detonate it as their primary objective should our defenses fail. Will this appease you? They will stand even more resolute than anyone else I believe as their directives will not falter."

Again, Marius stared at the Skitarii for an uncomfortable length of time... like he was sizing her up... or imagining her dead, "This will appease me then. Your squad of hyspassists will detonate the core if we fail. Now, General Garroway, I understand you have data on what forces of the dying Imperium we will be facing?"

Garroway scowled at the presumption of the cyborg, questioning the will of a living God. Focusing more on the task at hand, she turned to her dataslate to bring up the profiles she had on the enemy. "According to a grain merchant that happened to slip upon their logistics manifests, we are facing at a minimum a Penal legion, a armored regiment called the 23rd Perdition Armored, the 14th Vultis Bloodborne drop regiment, and a company of enemy space marines from the Black Banshees. While their regiments are smaller than our field armies, they are either high-strength or have considerable supply reserves for a prolonged campaign, so twenty to thirty thousand troops at a minimum. Unfortunately, the primary manifest for the unholy marines was not in the trader's access, but his contacts said there was a single Astartes vessel among them."

Marius tore his gaze away from the Skitarii to nod at Garroway, "We are heavily outnumbered, as expected. Regardless we know where they will be coming from and we have our plan. Me and my squad will engage the Space Marines where we must.", he stood up from leaning on the table and made the Union salute to the other Genrals, saying, "For the Union.", before turning on his heel and lleaving the room followed by his men.

Master Vanassa turned towards the Enginseer, and began tapping her fingers on the dataslate as they discussed who was going where. "General Garroway, if you would like to join in the discussion I will gladly put what we are putting on the dataslate upon the hologram so you are not left out... I would suggest not standing too close to me as I do not believe your body would be capable of handling my radiation output."

"Thats not all she's outputting." Grumbled Kaltin, earning a sharp elbow from Garroway as she tapped the runes needed to allow the dataslate's cogiators to accept the tech-priest's connections.

"We need to consider ways to safely extract from this base if it does come to having to evacuate." Garroway said, suppressing her own sympathy for her XO's words as she reviewed the display. "The enemy holds orbit and our ships will need time to arrive. Perhaps we should relocate all the shuttles we have to someplace outside the base perimeter to ensure they are intact when needed."

"Ah yes I was going to suggest just that General. Though I would not relocate all the shuttles as there will not be the possibility of all Troops being able to escape. We should howerever place two shuttles near the exhaust port where we can extract Important Persons and officers, such as yourself, me, and the Astartes. The rest of the shuttles would have to remain in the hangar, should they be destroyed, and should we have to leave the mining complex all other troops would be considered acceptable losses once detonating the core."

"Acceptable losses? Servitors may be replacable, human troops are less so. Our Lords have decreed our evacuation should the most dire scenario occur. We must be ready for a prolonged campaign, senseless expenditure of lives when the task can already be completed without their loss would be counterproductive. Furthermore, if the facility is kept, the cargo shuttles there will be critical for production after battle." Respect for the land crawlers of home equally applied to the shuttles used here, for they both served humble yet critical purposes.

Master Vanassa seemed to have to stop, and compute for a moment. "The vast amount of troops that would need to pass through the exhaust port would be incredible. The evacuation of every troop would be very improbable, and likely cause the shuttles stationed by the exhaust port to be in the most grievous danger if they were all stationed there.

"Any more danger than being left in the line of fire should they remain in the hanger and in the gunsights of invading Imperial troops?"

Admiral Marko sat impatiently waiting for his many guests to show up in order to begin their planning to hit this little ball of shit. He hated he was going to have to be the one to give them the bad news about new orders from on high.... they did not make things easy on anyone. He sighed, and wondered who would be the first through the door. His legs were kicked up on the table and he appeared extremely dissinterested in what he was supposed to be doing... but anyone with a modicum of perception could see the deep bags underneath his eyes... he never slept well in the lead up to a campaign.

Colonel Howlard was the first through the door, followed closely behind by both the Major and the Commissar. Frowning slightly at the Admiral's posture, he saluted nevertheless.

"Colonel Antunes Howlard of the 64th Penal Legion reporting for the briefing, sir." He intoned in his best professional tone. No reason to antagonize an Admiral so early in the campaign, even if said Admiral looked rather unprofessional at the moment.

The hulking mass of genetically mutated flesh and muscles that was Octivian and his Sergent Commander walked into the room next. Thier transport cruser had taken them quickly from the Phantom Queen after he a quick talk to his Captains about what was going on.

Octavian hated meetings like this, he would hav much rather be on the field of battle, but feelings such as impatience had no place in his heart, or heart's. He didn't bother saluting, he technically out ranked them, in some way shape or form. Without much or a word, Octivian took a seat at the head of the table, his huge body barely able to fit in the seat. His SC imitated him and sat on his left. Thier unnatural silence created tension so thick that it could be cut with a butter knife.

The young Commissar followed the Tempestor through the armoured door to the breifing room. The tempestor prime didn't acknowledge any particular person other than the admiral and other pertantent ranking officers. Even then only with small nods and a stiff ramrod straightening of his back.

Commissar Vaughn said the hellos and good days that his commander was not capable or willing to do. "Greetings sir, My name is Commissar Vaughn and this is Tempestor Prime Ulskar. Of the 903rd Scion Company." Doffing his hat and clicking his heels together smartly.

Flanked by his assistant and the Elysian bodyguard weapon specialist, Lord Commissar Karis made his enterance into the room, a slight feeling of confidence emboldened him as he felt like one of the more in-charge people at this gather, "Greetings gentlement, Lord Commissar Tristan Karis attached to the 14th Vultis Bloodborn Light Infantry Regiment."

With his hat and uniform adjusted to suitable levels, Karis made his way to the meeting table with his assistant Enola right behind him. Ridolan the Elysian found himself a bench off to the side where he landed his flamer with a heavy metal thud.

"So..." Karis folded his arms as he panned his eyes around the rest of the party goers, "How shall we deal with these little inssurectionists?"

The Admiral sighed heavily, removing his feet from the hollow table and gesturing for everyone to sit down. He clicked several buttons on the table edge and a 3d model of the the heavily fortified mining complex. He jabbed a finger at the hologram, specifically at what appeared to be a hanger, "This, Ladies and Gentleman, is the only entrance on the entire station that has been left working. This is the only Hangar our 'secessionist' enemies have not welded shut or collapsed.", he looked around the table, looking into the many hardened faces, "This, is the only way we will be able to enter, thanks to a recent order from the Administratum.", he cleared his throat as he picked up a data slate to read, "Attention noble warriors of the Imperium. As you bring the fight to the so called 'Union' the mining planet known as 'Zeta' requires special attention. The Mining complex on the surface is the only onne of its kind and is irreplacable."

He paused to again clear his trhoat, "Because of this, you are ordered to use no super heavy or particularly damaging ammunition against the complex. We know that you, our greates soldiers, will be able to defeat these insurmountable odds. The Emperor Protects.", he tossed the pad to the table and growled, "Meaning, you will be recieving little to no support from the navy and this,", he again jabbed at the hangar, which was the epicentre of a massive killfield, "Is your only way in.", he paused to let the surrounded leaders, many of them commisars, accept and absorb this information.

"And once again the Administratum shows its true colors." Major Farzbard snorted. "You're sure they haven't told us to take the complex with kind words and positive thinking too?"

"Silence, Major." Colonel Howlard snapped at his second in command before turning back towards the Admiral. "What's the terrain like around this hangar? Do we have any reliable info on the state of their defences? Numbers or disposition?" Of course, he thought, the bastards wouldn't make it easy for them. Just another slight to add to the list.

Octivian rubbed the stubble that had began growing a few days before, he would have to shave soon. The breifing was grim, orbital artillery was a no go, which meant that they would be going im with little air support. Assuming the complex housed aircrafts, use of air superiority would be usless. Playing the mole was also impossible, digging through adimantum would take to much time, and they would be noticed soon enough.

"We have no choice but to come at them head on, theres no useing sleath with this mission. Were basically going to have to run at them with Rhinos and Land Raiders as shields. Trying to have a firefight with them behind the flimsy cover that the terrain with provide." Octivian said simply, hundreds of years of experience behind his words as he leaned back in his seat, his armor creaking quietly.

If there was one advantage to the emotionless roboticizing that was the stormtrooper training regiem. It was that moral amogst the 903rd wasn't about to dip just because the odds were now hopelessly, if not hilariouslly stacked against them. They would fight and they would die all the same. Still, neither the Tempestor Prime or Commissar Vaughn liked the idea of the assault very much. Not fearing death was not the same as immortality. A bloodbath was a bloodbath was a bloodbath.

"Are we certain there are not access shafts or other avenues to infiltrate kill teams through." Commissar Vaughn spoke up. "Fine, we will only use the specified entrance as the main avenue of attack. But surely we can have men crawling around without breaking everything in sight. Give them a few plasma charges and explosive satchels and they may be able to weaken the initial defences at the mouth of the entrance. It would help us establish a toehold at the very least."

The commissar didn't add that the lives of the kill teams would almost certainly be forfeit after completing their task. But better twenty or thirty men die than two thousand trying to break through that opening.

"The Vultis 14th will be more than happy to take on such a task, Commissar Vaughn." Karis faced the commissar as he shuffled his hands once more, "They can carry the explosives forward in fire teams and throw them over. My men will not run from such a task nor will they shy away from it. To be honest, I'm not even sure if they know how."

Karis had rationalized such a thought in his head as a decent trade off, the fire team approach would mean that the martyrs could hopefully punch ever so slightly deeper into the enemy before discharge. Should they survive, then that's extra men to lead the charge, should they not, the teams were small enough to be of little concern.

"Alternatively we can always send the convicts in first, glory to the Emperor and all that jazz." Karis dismisevly waved at such notions, they were meat shields plain and simple, Whitesheild conscripts that were even less prepared for war. It wasn't like that the God-Emperor would be all to willing to accept someone who had wronged him once before back into his enlightening grace.

"However, I propose another idea," Karis stood up and pointed to several spots on the planet surface, "I suggest we attempt to do a twin-progged attack. Some forces will be used to pin down the enemy in a prolonged firefight in which they shall think that we are focusing our main efforts on that established frontline. Once enough resources and manpower has been diverted to that front, we could use a smaller force to try and sweep them up through the back."

Sitting back down and crossing his hands once more, the Lord Commissar muttered in a muted, harsher voice, "And if that fails... the God-Emp

Listening to the assembled leadership while simultaneously looking over the holo-map before pausing as the others spoke, "Well... thats interesting.", he zoomed in a small section near the back of the station. There appeared to be a small exhaust pipe. "It would appear they have not blocked this exhaust port... but its very small. As far as I can tell, ordinary men could get through three by three if they were shoulder to shoulder, or Astartes one by one. Meaning the one advantage we do have becomes useless, numbers.", the Admiral sighed and pushed himself up before continuing. "I know some of you may not want to hear it but our enemies, with our most generous estimates, have barely ten thousand troops and probably far less than that. They are outnumbered by... a frankly disheartening amount. We can afford to turn this into a meatgrinder gentleman, and it looks like thats what we will be doing... even if we try to exploit this exhaust port they will just clog it with bodies.", he looked around the table again, "Unless anyone else has suggestions on how to possibly use this new avenue?"

"I see no problem with turning this into a meatgrinder." Colonel Howlard started. "But we have to think of the future, don't we? Why waste all of our force here in this worthless piece of shit of a moon?" He turned to face Commissar Karis. "Your idea has merit, Commissar. I'm more than willing to organize an assault against the main entrance to distract the enemy while another group sneaks into their backdoor." The Colonel paused for a moment. "With that said, if we do follow this plan we would still need to deploy overwhelming force to the divertionary attack while at the same time keeping a reserve ready in case our infiltration team manages to open up another entry point." He shifted on his seat. "The main problem is the order from the Administratum. The lack of artillery or heavy support will only make things harder for us. Most of my regiment is mechanized. We're supposed to strike hard and keep moving. This whole situation is exactly what we are not supposed to be doing. But then again." He chuckled mirthlessly. "We are a Penal Legion. Who better to go first?" Not that Howlard enjoyed the idea of sending his troops to die in this meatgrinder. Penal Legion or not, the 64th deserved to be used well, not thrown around carelessly like a hammer.

"Why not all at once?" The tempestor prime spoke up for the first time. "Launch a frontal assault to distract them. Push forward with vehicles for cover. Then have some hit the location from other directions while infiltrating through the vent." The man's voice was disturbly calm and emotionless while describing what would still only end in a bloodbath. And when filtered through his re-breather mask, just a bit robotic.

Commissar Vaughn looked hard at the holo map and nodded in agreement. "It could work. If the frontal assault was damming enough to forcce them too keep all attention and resources to hold it back. They wont be able to notice the kill teams and the other attack force until it's too late. We can either destroy their frontal defences or further weaken any rearguard they have."

"With luck the killteams can even survive long enough to continue raising merry hell long enough for the main assault to catch up to their position."

"Killteams provided by your regiment, Commissar?" Colonel Howlard asked. "As it stands, my regiment has no specialists of the sort. And your Tempestus lot have quite a reputation."

"Certainly" Vaughn nodded. The 903rd could easily spare a few teams to get the job done. And his men would have the best chance of surviving aside from the astartes themselves.

"Still, I'm not so sure about the merits of deploying all of our strength in this battle." Major Farzbard spoke. "There's only so much space and too many soldiers will just give our enemies more targets to shoot at. Specially now since we won't be able to use our full firepower." She raised her hands defensively. "I'm not saying that the plan won't work. But if we rely too much on mere numbers we might suffer more casualties than necessary."

"As soon as the administratum gave their edicts and prohibitions. There were already going to be more casualties than necessary." Vaughn leaned back and let a grim scowl paint itself over his handsom features. "At this point our best bet is to try and get this over quickly. This will be bloody no matter how we handle it."

"I guess you're right." The Major conceded, leaning back in her chair. "We really don't have any other option." She sighed, more distraght over the fact that her company would no doubt get mauled and as such would lose influence within the regiment than the overall costs of the battle itself.

"And what about prisoners?" Commissar Torcharian asked the Admiral, finally bringing attention to himself. "Any special directives or do we just deal with them as usual?"

"Hmmmmm...", the Admiral had actually recieved no orders regarding prisoners here or during the war at large. He supposed he got to decide how to deal with them then... alright, "For now... any prisoners will be thrown in ship brigs, for further questioning. There is no know Chaos taint amongst these rebels, so the usual turn-and-burn tactics for rebellions. Besides, they could have useful information... try to capture generals alive.", he paused for a moment before continuing, "However, for those who have yet to be informed... there are scattered reports that our opposition may have a small Astartes compliment, we aren't sure how large. The Graven Brothers have a presence here as far as we know...", he knew that the others knew how dangerous even a very small squad of Astartes could be, especially on the defensive.

The Commissar nodded, the Admiral probably wouldn't mind if the 64th delivered less prisoners than the others. Still, he would at least try to get his troops to follow protocol this time. The regiment certainly didn't need a repeat of Trastamara. As for the Astartes, not really much that he could reasonably do about it. So, why bother? Let the Colonel worry about it.

"Well..."The Commissar said. "We got Astartes on our side, so at least there's that."

"Do we know how many Traitor Marines could be deployed here?" Colonel Howlard asked. As if the situation couldn't get any worse.

Whether or not Octivian's Astartes were on the inside, collapsing them from inside, or outside, pushing towards the enemy with Rhinos and the Mech unit, they would prove to be highly valuable on both fronts.

"The Graven Brothers numbers were hit hard before this, I wouldn't expect more that 200 or so, but as was mentioned, they are lethal none the less. One of their men, is 10 if not 20 of yours." Octivian said bluntly. "So were do you want us, I'll leave that decision to all of you." He said with a shurg.

The Admiral nodded to the men and women around the holo-table, "In the end, without my assistance its up to all of you down there. I wish you the best of luck, may the God Emperor be with you.", and with that, the meeting was adjourned.

Imperial Transport – Fiery Purger.

Colonel Howlard grumbled as he watched the companies of the 64th loading up the landing craft. Thousands of guardsmen and hundreds of vehicles filling up the large holds of the ships. Absent of course, the Basilisks and Griffons because the Administratum couldn't pass the opportunity to remind everyone just how much of an asshole the whole organization was. But stewing in his own anger would do nothing now. That was for later, after this battle was won, preferably with a bottle of amasec and Major Farzbard to hear him rant off through the night.

Now however, it was time for the meatgrinder. The regiment had never faced such bad odds, and internally Howlard was half excited and half scared to see just how well his efforts in training his troops would bear fruit. If he were to be honest with himself however, the Colonel feared that this battle might just irreversibly maul his regiment. His best companies were being deployed into a killing zone, and if the rest of the Imperial forces refused to pull their weight then the 64th was done for. Or at least until someone decided to send more prisoners his way. Though he wasn't going to count on it happening anytime soon.

The Colonel's musings were interrupted by a junior officer (one of the noble sorts who had bought her title, if he recalled correctly). She saluted crisply and reported:

“First, second and third companies have finished loading up, sir. Pre-battle drug and alcohol rations are being distributed to the troops. And the post-battle doses are already prepared and under guard by the usual detail.”

“Very well, return to the transport, Lieutenant Boroca. I will be there shortly.” Howlard replied. The Lieutenant saluted again and left quickly.

Colonel Howlard was about to follow her when his nostrils were assaulted by the unmistakably strong and pungent smell of Torcharian's bootleg perfume. Howlard turned, face twisted in disgust, to see the Commissar casually approaching him, flask in hand.

“Colonel!” Torcharian smiled, offering the flask. “How about a sip of fortificante before we throw ourselves into the kill zone?”

“Speak for yourself, Commissar.” Howlard replied, accepting the flask and taking a sip. “I am very comfortable directing the battle from a safe distance.”

“Careful now, Colonel.” Torcharian smirked at him. “I wouldn't want to execute you for cowardice and unbecoming conduct.”

Howlard snorted, handing the flask back: “Says the Commissar that goes to battle drunk and snorts with the troops.”

“It's called bonding, Antunes.” The Commissar smiled. “You should try it someday. Maybe then you will have more people to listen you whining every night.”

“Well, do be careful out there Commissar.” Howlard said as the Commissar took another swing off the flask. “I would hate the idea of having someone actually competent replacing you.”
“You always says the sweetest things, Antunes.” The Commissar chuckled. “But don't you worry, the worst that can happen is that I will have to redo the painting on the Brawny Fisherman after we are through with these rebels.”

“You mean your men will do it. While you drink and sit back. As always.” The Colonel replied.

“I'm just taking the teachings of the late Commissar Bolange to heart.” The Commissar smiled again. “But enough of this. We're running late and there will be too many Commissars there. Better not give them any excuses.”

collab between @Fallen Muse and [@agentmanatee}

Ambrosius sat in his personal chamber, a massive finely wrought wooden desk sat at its back, just in front of a window overlooking the endless void. Atop the desk were a myriad of papers and datapads, but most striking was the massive power spear lain across it next to Ambrosius's crested helm. The Marine himself stood near the center of the room, a datapad in his hand as he appeared to disinterestedly thumb through it. His Half shaved head sported a crop of blonded hair, and what of his exposed scalp could be seen had several apparently intentional brands, including a black coffin.

Yes His face was largely free of scars save one rather vicious one running from his chin to the top of his ear. His pale blue eyes appeared to be reading the datapad, his black armor carried little ornamentation save the red X of the Death company and the Red coffin of the chapter. A long black cape was attached to his back, the featurless cloth did not quite touch the ground. He was growing Impatient waiting for the Dark Eldar to show... it was making him antsy as he darted a glance to his spear on the table.

The ship of Astartes, even the Renegade Graven Brothers, was not a place that Xydratha would have enjoyed herself being at especially when surrounded by terminators, at least though she also had Shessa with her as well as a small contingent of trueborn. All of them stopped outside of the doors to Ambrosius' chamber, and a terminator motioned that only she was allowed to enter. With a nod she stepped through the doors her hips swaying as her armor shifted easily along her body when she came to stop in the middle of the room. "Very nice chamber you have here. Seems a bit, plain." She looked to the spear moving towards the desk and placing both her hands on it and leaned over. "Did you finally decide to take me up on my offer? Asking me to come to your personal chambers." She grinned a bit showing the sharpened canines that were now more like fangs than regular teeth. Her tongue slid across her lips a single hand lifting from the table, and sliding down her torso.

Seemingly unfazed by her display of sensuality, Ambrosius immediately rebuked her, "No Xydratha, I am not taking you up on your 'offer'. You are here to discuss the coming campaign at length,", he stood next to her, placing a hand on his spear and pulling it away from the xeno, "and provide tactical insite, as well as to recieve assignment to where you will be most needed.", Spear in hand he walked around the desk, standing behind it and placing the spear back down before leaning forward, the table creaking somewhat under his weight, "The Imperium is on our doorstep. Their Vanguard have reached Zeta and I need to know how much you will be contributing to the coming war. If the Union falls you lose our alliance seeing as I do not intend to abandon what I have built.", he fixed her with a hard look, the Dark Eldar were flighty and although Xydratha had been a stalwart ally thus far he still did not trust her.

Frowning at being turned down by the Astartes she sighed and stood up straight stepping away from the desk. "I see." her voice took on a venomous tone in response to what Ambrosius had said. With a flash of her finger she flicked off a speck of dust that was sitting on the arm of her armor. With furrowed brows she stood up straight. "If you expect me to take orders from you, you are sorely mistaken. We are partners, I am not your dog. Now you can ask for my help, or you can watch me leave. Your choice monkeigh." She said with a snarl, her demeanor had completely changed now upon hearing Ambrosius speak to her in a way that she might be beneath him.

Eldar, so damn touchy. Why couldn't they just take orders like the soldiers of the Union or his brothers? All this political maneuvering annoyed Ambrosius... but he really had no choice. "I apologize for my brashness, the encroaching Imperium has pre-occupied my mind. You are correct I shall not deign to order you like a soldier of the Union.", he sighed gruffly and pushed himself off the table beefore pressing the vox in his ear, "Captain, I require a serf to bring refreshment to my Chambers. They are to hand it off to one of my bodyguards.", the Dark Eldar seemed to enjoy having the pleasures of food and drink during these meetings... much to his annoyance. "Now, for your help... what do you request of me Xydratha?"

Xydratha turned and found a small lounging couch that had been placed within the chambers the first time they had met. She slid down onto the cushions, and leaned back placing her hands being her head, and letting a single leg fall to let the tip of her boot touch the floor. "What do I request of you." She tapped her lips for a moment staring at the ceiling, all the while she took out a small vial and put the tip of bottle to her right nostril, and inhaled deeply. A visible shiver rode down her body and her eyes rolled back for a moment. "Imperial Prisoners... And treasures." She gave a deep satisfied sigh. "Mmph, and a kiss."

Ambrosius sighed audibly as Xydratha made her demands, he needed clarification on one and another simply seemed pointless. "The Imperial Prisoners are yours, I only require officers for information extraction. Any you find and any others we do not need will be handed over. However, what do you mean by treasures?", he walked out from behind his desk as one of his terminators entered with the 'refreshment' in the form of the finest wine and food the ship could provide, anything else and Ambrosius was afraid the Eldar may storm out in anger. He took the wine and food and offered her a glass, he had learned this tended to smooth things over. "Do you mean loot from Imperium Forces?"

She took the wine and tilted her head at it slightly before taking a sip. "Swill, but I suppose it will have to do." She gave a sight and sat up completely setting the food on the table for now, and not even giving it a second glance. "yes, i do mean loot, from Imperial forces." She purses her lips for a moment and takes another sip smacking her lips. "And the kiss of course. It would need to be a good one." Her nostrils flare for a moment. "Just point the direction you'd like us to go, and I will see about making sure my Kabal is there."

"Perfect. You will recieve any prisoners and loot you aquire from Imperial forces in addition to un-needed prisoners and material taken by ours.", he sighed at the final request but acquiesced to it. He heavily sat down next to her on the frankly ridiculous couch, looking at her with rather unenthusiastic eyes, "As for your last demand, very well. Take what you believe is required for this kiss.", frankly he felt this was a pointless addition, but the sadistic xeno seemed fixated on it.

She put the glass of wine next to the plate of food, her body turning to face him as she stood from her seat. She stared him right in the eyes, and tilted her head slightly. "That grim demeanor you always have. Very arousing." He leaned down and pressed her lips against his a hand sliding over the crop of hair atop the astartes head. As she pulled her head back she let her teeth bite down on his bottom lip enough to draw a bit of blood before letting it go back into place. "That was probably the best part of this transaction." She started to walk towards the door. "Do you have a place you wish us to go now, or will you send us a message the normal way?"

Unintentionally Ambrosius growled as the Xeno woman bit down on his lip, a reaction to the slight pain before she pulled all the way back. The bit of blood dripped down his chin before the small wound quickly stopped bleeding. He wiped the bead of blood away as Xydratha began to walk away. "Currently the Imperium are expending their resources on the Planet Zeta. I will send word where I need you once I know Xydratha.", he stood, watching as she walked towards the door, his last words, "Do not become used to that being the end of our transactions Xydratha.", he almost growled it at her. That said, the prick of pain... the blood that had been drawn... the xeno knew what felt good, and Ambrosius could not deny the slight pleasure he had felt with it.

She stopped by the door ignoring the growling, in the end she felt all these others were her play things anyways."I wouldn't assume so, I'd like it to go even further." A smirk climbed at the corner of her lips before she walked through the doors rejoining her warriors, they would return to their ships, and await further requests.

Ambrosius watched the xeno leave, once she had gone he turned back to the window in his chambers. Dealing with the Dark Eldar was certainly always... an interesting experience. Xydratha's advances had once begun to wear on him but... no, he had more important things to worry about now, the worrying attraction to the xeno temptress would need to be pushed aside for now... besides, he knew not what secrets she still kept from him.

The Path of the Witch was one that did not come without price, as all things do not come without a price. Alivien knew this well as she meditated in her quarters, in front of a window that faced the inside of the Craftworld. Silence had become a great value to her. The silence was something that she had long since wanted as the life of a Farseer was that full of stress due to sheer responsibility. It was always great to hold some time to herself every now and again. The silence was a pleasure that she had needed for a long time coming. Though, her silence was broken as she heard her door shift open to reveal a warlock.

"Preliminary scans of this sector have finish, Farseer," The Warlock Gerald stated, his voice holding that sound of frustration. He continued walking to Alivien. "It seems that there may be some strife for the Apes; there is a so called Union has gone to war against the Imperium and there may be more conflict to come across this sector. I suggest that we take our chance to cause as much damage to both-"

"Ssshhh," Alivien silenced Gerald, annoyance flooding her as she began to hear the Warlock drone on about the state of affairs within the sector of space that they had come upon. "Silence, silence can be relieving can it not? I feel that you should enjoy its company at some time since you sound stressed." Alivien desired for that silence to continue, though she knew that Gerald would not feel the same way since he is a warrior at heart.

"Farseer, this is no time to belay! We must take whatever advantage we have against these Space Marines," Gerald countered, his voice becoming more frustrated due to Alivien's persistence into silence.

"So be it," Alievien sighed, rising to her feet while turning to face the Warlock, revealing an obviously annoyed face. "We shall not act, we shall not do any brash and arrogant actions. What we must do, is simply wait. We must analyze the situation further before we can truely do anything," the Farseer explained. Her eyes pierced into the mask of that warlock and instilled a feeling of authority. "Do you understand that, Gerald?"

Gerald stared back at the woman, obviously giving a face of defiance behind that mask of his. "As you wish," the Warlock spat, giving into the Farseer's demands before turning and leaving the Farseer.

Alivien sighed before straightening her robes, a conversation with Gerald was always one that she wanted to end quickly due to the arrogance the man held. She turned back to the window that faced the temperate rainforests that inhabited the Craftworld before sitting on her knees once more. It was time to meditate on the possible futures once more.

Sergeant MArius crouched low behind the ridge, his men similarly crouched behind him, tending to their mix of weapons in silence. No one spoke, it was tradition to be silent as the dead and buried before battle for it may be that soon a marine could join them. Marius looked out acroos the massive crater filled area in the lead up to the hanger. He could see even from this distance the many thousans of Combat servitors dug in outside, thier orders to hold until they were dead. The auto-sentries and turrets dotting the mining complex swiveled around searching for targets, and just within the hangar were the emplacements of the Fallum Harvest Guard could be seen, ready to rain fireand death down on their attackers. He turned back to his own men, all in the black and red of the Death Company, all had once been in its throes... and now they were cured... but the blood still sang in his ears, he could hear his own bones creaking and muscles constricting... he needed to kill. Soon he would, his squad had jumped out to the this far ridge, intent on using the vantage point to see where they would be most needed and use their Jump-packs to arrive from the airless sky in fury and glory.

They were more dangerous than other marines, all veterans and all still had the strength of the Black Rage in their bones, the visions were gone but the strength and hate remained. THey would spill much blood this day. But they would have to be careful, they each carried several patch kits for their armour, but could only use each so many times. After that they would need to return to the Mining complex or suffocate slowly. It didn't matter, Death came for all and if they died this day it would be in glory... it was then the sound of thrusters filled the air. The Imperial Forces were descending, and soon the Brothers would be upon them. All at once this silent coven of marines had stopped adjusting their weapon and turned their heads skyward, watching as the ships of their enemy passed over, coming to land a short distance out from the killzone. They shifted impatiently, the beast inside the armour begging to escape from all of them as gauntlets gripped weapons tighter, breaths came in short growling pants, and teeth were unintentionally barred. Even so they had to sit and wait, for Marius was their sergeant, and he would not order the attack until the time was right.

Marius himself gripped his power axe and Bolt pistol all the tighter, his knuckles white beneath his gauntlets who's servos whined and protested at the strength with which he gripped the axe and pistol. His corvus pattern helm peered with red tinted eyes hungrily at the Imperial forces... soon Marius thought, very soon the killing would begin. Soon the screaming blood and creaking bones would stop. Soon the screaming in his head would stop, 'Blood, Death, Blood, Death, Blood, Death, Blo-', he shook his head, paying the screams no heed. Their was work to be done... luckily such work would include what they screamed for, all they had to do... was wait. And even that, seemed like the worst sort of torture.

Craftworld Selis

That seer did not know what she was talking about, all about delaying their entrance into the sector. The Empire needed to be rebuilt into its former glory at some time and this newly found sector would herald in the rise of the Eldar Empire once more, no sense in delaying the inevitable. Gerald wanted to have some sort of forward outpost built, though they would need to find a suitable location beforehand. That would be the goal of this recon, so that an outpost location could be found and the remnants of the Eldar would not have to be confined to the likes of the Craftworld.

"Dire Avengers with line yourselves!" Gerald ordered upon arriving to a small Barracks within the Craftworld. He would need some sort of exploration force with him so that everything could be assured to run smoothly if they had to investigate a planet themselves.

The soldiers hurridly began to get their armor and weaponry, some had been asleep while others where doing trivial tasks such as chores. Threre we fourty soldiers in the barracks at the time, mainly resting while the others did some combat training or did other tasks outside of the barracks. Quickly they lined against the wall.

"I need volunteers to go on an exploration mission in the new system, we will take a Hellborne to get there, and we will be locking for a suitable location for a location for a new outpost. I come to chose twenty of you to come along for this task," Gerald briefed, pacing back and forth in front of the men. "This my be a dangerous task, you can never know what will be held within the sector, especially now that it has fallen into the hands of filthy Space Marines. Now, who wishes to come along?"

Every soldier raised their hand, leaving Gerald having to choose men to come along. Though there was a better solution.

"Due to your excitement all of you may come, however, I am only bringing more as reinforcements if we are to run into trouble.," Gerald announced, signalling the soldiers to follow as he proceeded to the doorway.

The group would make their way to a Hellborne that had been prepared per the warlocks orders, of course none of this information had been given to the Farseer as not many would expect Gerald to lie reagrding having the Farseer's blessing or not. The group of fourty entered the ship. Now, it was time to go.

The Webway gate activated, allowing the ship to proceed forward to choose among a set of exits. Whn the ship had exited, the crew would find a blue dwarf and scanners indicated there was a nearby asteroid belt that may prove to be useful in what they would need to find. Of course, Gerald found great pleasure in this, yet he wished to have a planet under his control. The Warlock would even settle for a moon, though the asteroid belt would be a good place to begin surveying.

Thus, the ship began headed to the location of the ateroids.