As Gabriel listened to the transmission from the Magos he couldn't help but grimace. The amount of leadership that would be one place would be crippling if someone managed to get to them. But on the other hand the Imperium needed this Forge Moon which would mean going along with what the Magos wanted. Add Chaos into the mix and it made this situation even more dangerous. When Gabriel heard the suggestion of deploying troops he already had thoughts of how he would accomplish it, but there were complications in the way.

"My Emperor, as much as I would want to deploy our soldiers down onto the Forge Moon we will not be able to. Not until the Magos gives us permission. If he is anything like the Magi of the Old Imperium then he will not take to kindly to us landing troops on his planet without his permission. As unfortunate as it is we may have to go along with the Magos's request. If we do I volunteer to go down as the military coordinator."

As Gabriel spoke an aide came in and delivered a datapad to him. As he read through it he scowled.

"My Emperor. I have found the location of Captain Lattore. He is currently down on the surface of the Forge Moon with most of his chapter. Also of note Lord Karthis decided to transmit a message to the Chaos fleet on all vox channels, giving up any hope of surprise that we might have had. Both were done without any orders. I would recommend that both be disciplined after the Forge Moon has been taken."

@Hecticlord

Inquisitor Alexius turned to Lord Corbec as he relayed the locations of Captain Lattore's forces and those of Lord Karthis, a man who he had yet to meet, but had heard of his Hulk's reception by Emperor Gregori.

"Fret not about such matters Lord-Militant, this whole operation is a test for the Relictor Chapter in the eyes of the Inquisition. At present, I do fault the Captain for forgoing the chain of command, but applaud his efforts to not giving the Archenemy an easy time adjusting to our entrance. The reason as to why, we shall have to obtain from him after, in the meantime, we should make the most of his entrance. Any further insult to the Magos cannot be helped in that regard, Lattore's brothers are giving their lives to take back his Forge-World as we speak, if the Tech-Priests prefer to have their own Skitarii and who knows what else they have within their forces take the wounds for them, he's more than welcome to tell us.

As for Lord Karthis, indeed one could see his actions as either exceedingly foolish at best, or outright treacherous at worst. Considering our current relation to him, I favour the former explanation, but indeed, there shall be a reckoning once we've concluded our operations here."

The wolves readied themselves for the new onslaught of heretics ready to throw themselves into the wolves' fury. "Spear formation," Tyrfingr commanded, forming the spear tip and immediately being flanked by the bloodclaws that readied their storms heilds for the approaching tide. Within moments his terminator armour and the hunter's shields were bombarded with fire that did little more than heavy rain would do to a regular man. The warcries of the charging heretics were met with roars of their own, which were puncuated by the opening of bolter fire into the charging mass. Tyrfingr only felt pride for his men and for the machine men he now worked with as it was made clear quickly which side's resolve was truly steel. As clouds of phosphor consumed the forces of chaos, the wolven bolter fire turned to those that had managed to avoid the burning material and shred them to ribbons well before they could gather any valuable foothold. "How fares you," Tyfingr asked as he waited in anticipation for the forces to fall upon his claws. "Do you still have the energy for more of your magics, old friend?"

"That I do," cracked the ancient voice of Tyfingr's mentor, who took a moment to focus on unleashing another volley of bolterfire before continuing. "Though I fear it would be best if given some time." Tyrfinger nodded, near imperceptible in his armour, but he had little need for answers now. The runepriest had confidence in his lord's trust of him and trusted him in turn to respect how taxing those mighty winds early were.

Askeladd roared as he swung his claws forward, impaling the first of many to make it past the Magos's artilery and their combined firepower. The cultist squirmed and would have scream had he not been pulled apart across the middle by the wolf's claws. On either side he could hear the sound of cracking armour and pulping flesh under the might of his Blood's shields and hammers. "Lord Tyrfingr," the sharp voice of officer Merrill said into his ears, interrupting the blissful sound of battle. "There is a chapter of space marines that has touched down North of your position in one of the nearby valleys. They belong to the Relictor squadron, a former-"

"I am aware of the heretics," Askeladden interrupted, stepping forward to wildly swing his claws through a pair of men whose blood now painted the front of his armour. "They shall fall like all else on this day."

"Lord Tyrfingr," Merrill implored, being met with a low growl by the Wolf. "Lord Tyrfingr. They come to offer us assistance. They've already helped our men secure several other sectors and have cut off the pass for the one you're in now. Everything is pointing toward their alliances crossing paths with ours."

"Our allegience is to the Emperor, to Russ, and the wolves," he said, his point being punctuated with the scream of a man.

"They're working with the loyalist Mechanicus, allies to the Emperor and the wolves," Merrill added, opting to ignore the information she had begun to acquire about their dealings with one of the latest emperor claimants. The silence of Askeladd's vox channel was enough to make her wonder if something had disrupted communications or if he had terminated the link. Only when she listened as well as she could, could she make out the shallow breathing and heavy footsteps of the Wolf Lord's armour which when compared to most other things was usually deafening.

"I understand. Share their coordinates with us. If they come to relieve us of our burdens it is only right to do the same for them in turn." Askeladden switched his channel to the Magos immediately and continued on with his brothers listening in. "Magos, we shall begin to push forward and make contact with a supporting chapter North of us. Rain fire to those on our sides. We shall cut our path through their middle ourselves."

"Officer Merrill. Inform the Relictors that they are not to die before we have shown them our gratitude."

So the meeting began Ishitta looking at the embodiment as he listening to every word he spoke. As always it was the level of respect he was entitled to, and so it was what Ishitta would give.
Still, the news that the forces of Chaos had taken 90% of the moon made Ishitta want to order her ship to being bombardment the moon and send her sisters into the fray. Sadly such an act right now would only make this difficult situation worse.
"Emporer as always I'm grateful for your tests ... please reward us with a chance to strike the at Chaos in your name." Ishita thought as the embodiment spoke off a vox transmission from the machine cult leader.

Listening to transmission, Ishitta felt her blood boil. It was this reason she hated the machine cult. However, time had shown her that they simply too rare and too useful a commodity to simply purge. As the transmission continued, Ishitta had to bury the urge to punch someone or something. Whoever this Magos Dominus Xerxes Fekten was he was a dithering old fool. Here he was demanding them to meet with a delegation. When Choas had taken nearly all of his moon, it was utter foolishness.

As the message came to an under Ishitta played the message again in her mind shaking her head. Looking back towards the embodiment as he started to talk about this Xerxes Fekten how they had some records of a man by the same name. Ishitta remaining silent as he spoke watching as the embodiment asked angrily about the heretic Captain Lattore and the regent who were still yet to show for this meeting.

Ishitta hadn't paid much attention to the fact the heretic captain had not shown. To her, the less time in his presence the better and part of her hoped the forces of Chaos would claim the captain's life. It would be a fitting end for the heretic. Although, part of her hoped one day to purge the Marine herself to make him repent his heresy before putting him to the flame. Ishitta shook her head such thought while valid where not appropriate for someone of her station. She needed to clear of mind if she was to be of use in the situation.

"Embodiment. If we are to deploy troops to help defend this Manufactorum Prime, I would like to offer some of my Hospitaller sisters to support the Lord-militant forces. With your permission of course. Also Embodiment if you are planning on sending represenataives I would like to offer some of my celestian's to act as the delegations guards. I'm willing to fill the role as a representative of the Imperial Creed and Faith. Should you desire it. Otherwise, I have several other sisters that could act as representative if you would prefer one of them." she said looking somewhat unhappy as a situation as a whole. Unable to get over how foolish this situation was and how much she'd rather be in the thick of battle with her bolter in hand, bringing holy wrath to those would worship the dark gods. She was sure back on her ship her sisters were thinking the same.

The Emperor grit his teeth, Gregori clearly upset at the news of about half his marines deploying without orders, and that the ones that did were the Relictors. Marines who wielded Daemon weapons, boltguns and blades that writhed like living things and spewed death, who's ammo was enchanted by foul sorceries. This... heresy would not be seen by the Magos Xerxes as anything other than a declaration of war by their mere presence. In the face of this disaster the loss of tactical surprise was secondary... at least in Gregori's mind. All that mattered now was ensuring the Magos could not learn of the Relictors and their ways before Gregori could ensure his allegiance. The actions of Captain Lattore and his men not only endangered their precious lives as a commodity of the Imperium Reborn, but had just put this entire operation on an extremely short time table. Gregori drummed his fingers on the holo-table, his mind racing with solutions to this new problem.

"Lord Corbec... is correct. We must not deploy anymore troops without the Magos' blessing lest we spark a war within a war... Captain Lattore's actions and those of the Lord Karthis will be dealt with when the time is more appropriate. For now we must do damage control. The delegation shall consist of myself, Lord Corbec, Lady Thamus, Lord Inquisitor Alexius and the highest techpriest with the fleet. Our Escort shall be made entirely of your finest sisters Lady Thamus. We must make the correct Impression. Lord Corbec as Master of the navy order all ships to deploy magnetic chaff in the atmosphere. This should disrupt all long range vox channels temprarily on world. Hopefully, long enough to ensure the Magos Xerxes meets us before he hears of the Relictors. If the Magos confornts us on it, we will... say it was meant to disrupt only our enemies communication and the effects on his vox is an unforseen consequence. It should last for less than a single rotation. Any damage it does to our allies defence will be repairable. especially with our forces on his side. YEs... this may be our only recourse now. Any objections?"

He stared around, challenging any of them to speak in objection, but hoping there could be improvements yet upon his plan.



The Relictors new formation proved quite effective against the cultists, cut down in droves by their boltguns and blades, only those who sought some form of cover able to effectively escape the Adeptus Astartes fire, and the screaming death that awaited them at the hands of the armored warriors. But even still they came. The bodies of their fallen friends becoming barricades and or limp fleshy shields for the foolish and brave. The tide pressed hard into the Astartes lines, but was completely unable to break it or even come close. The tides began to slacken, and it seemed as if soon they would break, and the Relictors would be victorious! So it seemed...

Great screaming roars cracked the air, and they came. From above the throng of mad and frothing Heretics seven great, writhing things with thousands of teeth and claws, some with long limbs and thin claws, another rounded with a single massive eye in the middle of its body surrounded by great spines. Terrible spawn of chaos itself, frothing and mad they pressed past the cultists, cutting down any not smart or quick enough to get out of the way. But the first seven paled in horror to the eighth. Its body massive, as big as a dreadnought the spawn growled, its 'face' obscured by an ancient horned helm with brass horns and sigil in the center, perhaps it had once been a marine just like them, its eye lenses long since dark and its cables running into the deep crimson flesh of the beast. It had two arms, in each was grasped a massive brass weapon, one a cleaver and the other an axe. From its back sprouted tendrils covered in spines, they seemed to writhe and squirm in agony.

Atop the great beast rode a single Heretic champion, his armor red and brass. Under his arm was slung a heavy stubber, which he fired at the marines wildly while cackling, leading his war beast with two great chains hooked in its flesh. The eight beasts of Khorne caused a resurgence in the lines of the heretic, charging the Marines lines with these creatures. The marines fire cut down one of the twisted monstrosities before it could reach the line, its mutated and disastrous form crumpling before them only to be trampled by its brothers and the onrushing heretics. The first beast clashed with the marine line in melee... the wolves would need to arrive soon, for the spawn would prove far more deadly than their mortal followers.

As the waves of enemies poured forth, the Relictors' circle of death was miraculously holding. No other space marine chapter could have cut down foes at such a rapid pace as they could. The daemon weapons gleamed and howled, spiking the air with laughter and other chaotic wailing as they tasted a feast of souls and blood. And yet the enemy tried to break them with sheer numbers, fearless with insanity, they charged in, heedless of the statistics, hundreds of them, for every one Relictor.

Yet above all Lattore's warriors, there was one that slew far more than any of his peers. Clad in slate grey and black with an unusually large, possessed heavy bolter that appeared to be made of flesh and ceremite and dripping ichor, Faustis Krol laid waste to to the enemy from the front of the defensive formation. With endless ammunition of immaterial bolts of psychic energy that curved mid-air to strike targets even around corners, his wrath was inescapable. Hundreds upon hundreds died in whatever direction he faced, and every death seemed to fuel him and his daemonic weapon. Krol's eye slits had taken on an unnatural hue of red, with tendrils of glowing vapor rising up from his helm as he fired endlessly. He wasn't responding to vox hails to check on his status, and it had to be presumed that he had been lost to some kind of battle rage.

Still, the warrior was invaluable. He alone had opened up a swath in the northern front and had taken out any and all ranged enemies that would have suppressed Relictor engagements. The marine was a monster, possibly literaly. May the Emperor have mercy on his soul.

Just as the tides seemed to lessen and victory glimmered like a morsel of food to a starving wretch, the enemy brought out its more serious forces. Large and monstrous chaos spawn, creatures so horrid they were an insult to the very essence of existence, ambled forth by impossible means. These things had both physical and psychic attacks that tested even Relictors' disciplined minds and bodies. They took a lot more damage, and regular weapons couldn't even touch them.

The first one charged in, and by its sheer mass, it broke the Relictor's line. A few astartes were trampled and coated with gooy slime as it passed over them. A living axe bit into its side, eating into its flesh and causing a howl of agony. The company struggled with their dwindling numbers to bring it down. The other spawn were fast approaching.

As it fell, it was Faustis Kroll, or what was left of him, that climbed atop the thing's body and fired an array at the next creature. A hail of energy bolts flew into it, exploding one after another into an ever-deepening crater to its heart. Demon blood and flesh splattered into the air in a sickening rain until the beast toppled to the ground in a melting heap. As long as Krol stood, the center of the circle formation would remain intact.

But there were more, and the Relictor forces were going to be critically spread out between each of them as they hit the ring simultaneously. It was hard to gage whether or not any Relictors would be left standing before all the chaos monstrosities had been dealt with, and there were still more mortal enemies to come after that.

All hope of victory or even survival seemed to die in an instant as the eighth monstrosity appeared with its rider. Blasting Relictors as he went, the heretic drove his warspawn into a charge directly at Krol in the middle of the ring.

"Faustis!" Leal shouted in futility, charging toward them from out of distance.

Too late, as a spiked tentacle shot out from the abomination and lashed itself around Krol, picking him up like the trunk of an elephant. The daemonic heavy bolter never stopped firing, but its damage wasn't enough. The spikes dug into the grappled Relictor, then shot through him suddenly as they elongated like swords with him in the tentacle's grasp. Blood poured from Krol's now limp body and the firing ceased.

"No!" Shouted Leal and he raised his weapon against the creature and its rider. The light seemed to blind and repel the thing, and Leal's attacks seared deep into its body. Nonetheless, Krol was dead, and that was a great loss to their firepower.

The spiked tentacles dropped Krol's remains and went for their next target. Leal slashed at them, holding them at bay. In his visor, he could read the sudden spike in losses of his men, the breaks in their formation were widening as displayed on his helm UI. The moment was turning desparate, and in that desparation, Leal felt a familiar voice enter his mind.

"Leal. Give in and accept my power."

It was his Godemperor-damned sword, and it scared Leal more than the prospect of death itself, which loomed over him in that very moment. He remembered Garwyn's warning to him aboard the starfort not long ago, and refused the offer. "No, I can't." This was probably exactly what had happened to Faustis before he was killed. All the daemonweapons did this, and the only reason the Relictors could use them, the only reason they alone had that right, was because they knew not to listen to those voices. It was their duty!

Leal lept back in the nick of time, rolling up to stand again, and he suddenly wondered where Garwyn was that he didn't yell at him again for losing his focus. Was he dead? There was no time to think of it. Leal attacked again, casting a bolt of energy from the tip of his daemonweapon, causing the giant eighth spawn great pain and to step back. This left him another moment for thought.

"Yield Leal."

Why was there no support from the ships in orbit? Surely they could have been bombarding the bulk of the enemy army all this time. Were the chaos spawn not detected? "Shut it, and do your duty soulblade!" Leal retorted, but the truth was he was running out of reasons to deny the voice in his sword.

Inquisitor Alexius listened to Emperor Gregori's orders, he shook his head and silently sighed, returning his attention to looking out at the Forge-World below.

One of the one of the various crew aides, orderlies who perform the various odd-jobs aboard Saint's Chariot, walked onto the bridge and approached the Master of the Inquisition, a folded sheet of paper in his hand only roughly bigger than his palm.

"Master Inquisitor? Communique from the Ordo."

Alexius looked over briefly and took the small note in his hand, the aide retreating from the room promptly. This communication method was extremely primitive, but it was one of the few ways to keep a message more secret with the right people involved rather than just regular vox channels. And this was a message he did intend to keep to himself, it was from Inquisitor Malodrax, the Inquisitor he had on Special Assignment within the Starfort of the Relictors. Officially, Malodrax was not there, and certainly not operating under Alexius' orders, but unofficially he was Alexius' eyes and ears within the ship and over the Relictors for at least this operation.

He hadn't received any messages from him until now, as was expected. Special Assignment dictated only communication when absolutely necessary, and only to Master Alexius through particular channels. The message itself was short and simple:

Lattore and Co. engaged with Rogue Astartes against the Archenemy on Forge-Moon Surface. Heavy Resistance. Communications suggest some foes of Daemonic nature, Dark Mechanicus involvement hypothesized. Maintaining Assignment.

Alexius glanced up and over at the others in the room before folding up the note into his coat and looking over at Emperor Gregori.

"Seems my people may have uncovered some potential other factors at play down on the Moon. The Relictors rushed to the aid of fellow Astartes down there, a Rogue Chapter of former loyalists by appearances, and may both be facing forces of the Warp. These Astartes must have struck a bargain with the Mechanicus to have been fighting down there before our arrival, and obviously these Heretics are more than just a mere insurrection, even though it may have started with Traitors from within the Magos' circle. Who knows? Maybe it'll help give us an angle in our negotiations?"

"You're in, captain." Merrill announced, her focus already shifting to another more pressing matter at hand; the new ships joining them in orbit. "I'll attempt to hail them and see if they're as friendly as the other Astartes."

"Understood, officer. Carry on." Aristov nodded and took a moment to compose himself, adjusting the collar of his coat and his cuffs, as though the Astartes would be able to see him through the vox. "Lord Lattore of the Relictors, the wolves are minutes away. We're readying our bombardment cannons. You need only direct us and we shall rain death upon the heretics and daemonspawn." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he steadied himself to deliver another one of his lord's stoicisms that only made him feel like a fool repeating. "Also, Lord Tyrfingr requests that you not die before he has a chance to repay his gratitude."

---

"Brothers," Tyrfingr hailed through his vox, interrupted by his own grunt as his claws rended through the body of a particularly large daemon worshiper. "Do you feel it?" The scent of blood was in the air, thick enough that the aura alone permeated his armour and took hold of his senses. "Our greatest battle is only moments away."

The other wolves acknowledge him with their grunts and growls, too focused on the tide of heretics that they continued to cut through to offer an appropriate answer. As they pushed through the undulating mass of heresy, they would find themselves against and again encircled and have to squander precious time culling their numbers once more. The fighting that had come to feel endless had only gone on for mere minutes each time before the wolves had broken their ranks and continued to push forward bearing little more than the pocmarks of their slugthrowers and lasguns. The only fear any of them shared was for what awaited them when they returned to the ship. Sigurd's biting words stung far more than these peashooters.

"By the Emperor," Eiryk said, barely more than a raspy whisper into the vox channel at the sight of the Relictor's and their greatest foes. The writing flesh-beasts of chaos that slammed into them, that even tore apart the nearly heretical astartes. Their bodies looked as though hundreds of men and beasts had been grinded to slush and molded into a creature of agony. As the others reached the edge of the canyon that the Relictor's had set up in, they all took pause beside the hunter and surveyed the carnage, the creatures, and the astartes. "Your command, Askeladd?"

Askeladd watched silently for mere moments, taking in the ferocity of the creatures and the heretics that surrounded the Relictors on all sides. "Claws. Guard Canis with your lives and see that his next storm dwarfs the last. Prevent more heretics from joining the battle, Canis. Worry not about the beasts. Eiryk and I shall assist the Relictors." The claws each slapped their gauntlets onto Askeladd's arms and barked out a salute. "If you must die," Askeladd began, turning to face the final heretics that barred the way between him and the relictors.

"Die well!" Aesir was the one to speak now and sealed his lips, bowing his head as he willed the psychic energies within him to bubble to the surface and build until he'd be read to boil over. Already the Lord and his hunter were cutting into the final heretics in their way and beyond the Relcitor's formation, where the daemonspawn and heretics laid he poured his focus. He could hear the slicing of the Claw's ax and the crunching of bone under the other's hammer, the rumbling of bullets against the storm shields, and slowly everything began to melt away until there was only his consciousness and the place he had planted his focus. The skies above the heretics began to blacken as clouds formed and twisted, moving like writhing snakes in the skies. Lightning burst out from the clouds then, searing the heretics it crashed into and launching others to their feet with the following boom of thunder. Then came the hail which fell like blades and punched bodies and earth all the same, turning the forces of chaos into pincushions.

"Lattore," Askeladd boomed through his vocal channels, "Leave more than scraps for the wolves."

A Spacewolf icon flashed onto the left upper corner of Leal's powerarmor interface. "Incoming Command-Level Transmission, Urgent Priority..." Behind it, he could see the hulking #8 and its rider turning toward him with intent to kill.

"Lord Lattore of the Relictors, the wolves are minutes away..."

The grotesque visage of the chaos marine atop the abomination focused on Captain Lattore, lowering his hand-cannon at him. Disregarding the bodies in its path, the creature-spawn he rode began a charge as well. Leal jolted into action.

As he moved, the bleak communication icon remained illuminated in the corner of Leal's screen, as if the scene playing beneath it were merely a recording. But it was not. The transmission continued to play. "We're readying our bombardment cannons. You need only direct us and we shall rain death upon the heretics and daemonspawn."

Leal dived to the side and rolled, dashing for cover behind a ruined and burning edifice which took the brunt of the blast. With the swarm of heretics and lesser enemies around them, the Relictors were spread thin, leaving few who had the proper weapons to fight these giant monstrosities able to do so. Leal was currently on his own. He looked up. With a metallic groan, the structure above him began to collapse.

"Also, Lord Tyrfingr requests that you not die before he has a chance to repay his gratitude."

Sharp lances of torn metal shot downward as the structure gave way. The top half buckled and slammed down on its side, stirring up a cloud of smoke and ash that obscured vision.

A surreal quiet followed, and Leal laid very still. He was covered in debri, with a fractured support beam having landed only inches from his head. It was hard to believe he was still alive, and he uttered a silent prayer. He heard the heavy footfalls of his enemy as it approached, searching for him. Finally, he spoke a reply to the Hand of Bjorn. "This is Captain Lattore, Chapter Master of the Relictors..." It was quite a gesture that a Spacewolf battlebarge was asking him to direct their cannons. It probably mean that Lord Tyrfingr was already dead. "Target at my location, and aim a precise strike at the chaos beast in that area. On my mark..." Any weapons fired from orbit had the potential to do massive damage, and Emperor Gregori had given specific orders not to damage the forgemoon so that it could still be of use after the battle. Leal had to hope the orbiting battlebarge had a fusion beamer or lance weapon for a precision strike on the surface. Surely they realized what he was asking. Leal waited a moment for the Spacewolf forces to get a sufficient lock-on, and mentally braced himself. The shot at the beast was going to kill him as well. The ground shook ever so slightly as the massive creature tromped around outside the wreckage. It was time....

"Leal!"

The captain's eyes flew open as he recognized the voice of his lieutenant. Garwyn was alive! "Garwyn, get back!" Leal commanded, but already the eighth beast and its master had begun to move away, going after the fresh prey. Leal struggled to free himself from the pile of stone and sheetmetal. Beams of light filtered through the smoke and toxic air around him. He could get out, he had to get out.

Moments later, Leal and his soulblade extracted themselves with a final shove to behold the scene before them. The sky had grown dark and a fierce wind had picked up. Thousands of strands of lightning shot from the clouds like a rain of light, striking enemies dead in an instant, one after another. Shards of lance-like hail followed, and Leal knew the Spacewolves had a powerful shaman among them.

With the majority of the mortal enemies now dead, the remaining Astartes forces could finally concentrate their efforts on the 5 final chaos spawn. Leal ran with all his might to join in and finish off the last of the enemy for good. In the corner of his vision, he saw Aesir with his arms raised, surrounded by warplight. Wolves and Relictors stood side-by-side as they closed in on each of the vile abominations. Black blood poured from the wounds they inflicted, limbs were severed, soul-energy was consumed. The smaller fiends began to topple.

A tattered red cloak marked the captain of the Relictors as he withdrew his burning blade from deep within chaos-spawn flesh, and he turned to behold a stern-faced, fanged spacewolf, with a black pelt across his shoulders, blonde, braided hair, and an Imperialis on his chest, performing a similar action. Leal nodded at him, but words would have to wait, for one final abomination remained.

Finally locating Garwyn some distance away, Leal was astonished to see him not only standing face to face against the last and greatest foe, but wielding a blue, feathery daemonblade as well. For a Relictor, Garwyn had always been the voice of reason, oddly shying away from the employment of obviously tainted weapons unless absolutely necessary. He'd said it would interfere with his objectivity as a commander, a sentiment undoubtedly inspired by Leal in light of the mistakes of Arekus Bardane. He was a goddamned noble soul.

But there he was, daemonweapon in hand, in complete control of it, putting all doubts of his ability to shame. The spiked tentacles lashed at him, only to be repelled by some kind of blue forcefield, as were the gunblasts of the chaosmarine rider. Finally, just as Leal and the entire battlefield were watching, the beast drew back its immense arm and struck at the noble warrior. Fierce blood-red claws pressed against the sorcerous forecefield until its breaking point. The energy exploded outward as the shield shattered and Garwyn was taken in its grip with a defiant roar. "For the Emperor!!"

The monster's master laughed as the creature brutally slammed Garwyn's body over its head and into the ground. All eyes beheld in horror as it did this over and over. Garwyn was surely dead, a bloody pulp inside his crushed armor, a sacrifice for the cause.

Leal stopped dead in his tracks, as if the loss of his best friend and most trusted advisor had been the weight that had broken him. As if delighting in the emotional pain it caused to defile Garwyn's corpse, the malicious fiend continued beating his dead body like a toy.

Leal linked up to the Spacewolf battlebarge overhead. "This is Captain Lattore. ... Mark."

The distracted chaoslord and his monster never saw it coming, and within seconds, they were enveloped in a column of bright white fire, incinerated, along with everything around them. The enemy was finally broken.