Re: OPERATION CALAXIAN - KILL TEAM CAMPAIGN

[Dearg_Doom]

''Heretic' I heard them shout. 'Defiler' I heard them scream. It no longer had the same effect as it once did. The venom it held 10,000 years ago seems to have dried up and an age old rhetoric has taken its place. Not one of their voices held the same bloody minded rage that the Imperium used to have, during the heresy days...'

Planet fall on Calaxia had been easy. With the newly looted Thunderhawk class gunship detection was easily avoided. The gunship had been salvaged from a conflict Ellion and his brethren had taken part in as a member of Lord Hazarat the Belied's campaign of slaughter 357 years ago. Its sleek black hull now all but obscured its Blood Raven heraldry and the imperial dogma which had adorned the once proud vehicle. Now its machine spirit had been ripped out to make room for its daemonic replacement, which now controlled the craft. The warp distrubance over Calaxia meant that the Imperial authorities on the ground would have little chance of detecting them, and even less chance of following them.

Once one the ground Ellion got straight to work. A ritual of divination to pin point an exact location on an a planet this size was no easy feat, even for an accomplished sorcerer such as himself.
Five of the local sentry nodes had been befouled with the taint and daubed with sacred sigils in order for this to work. Such a surge in the warp would attract plenty of attention but a Space Marine had no such concerns. The Planetary Defense Forces of most worlds were less than usless and why should this one be any different?

Once the ritual had been set up, Ellion returned with his guardiens to the gunship to await the right solar conditions for the spell to have full effect. At mid day the Thousand Sons Squad returned to harvest the fruits of their labour when an explosion sounded on the perhiphery of the area their work had taken place in.
'No!' cried Ellion as he felt the intensity of the warp lessen around him.
One of the beacons had definitely been destroyed.
'Split up and search the area, flense the souls of the ones responsible for this!'
As his marines set off at their stoic pace, Ellion sprinted for the nearest of the sentry engines. The ugly, squat cylinder sat a few dozen yards away when another explosion occured from behind it. Despair nearly over came the sorcerer as he saw his work enveloped in flames, but to his relief, still felt the stir of the warp in the machine. There was no time to lose, the ritual had to be done now lest all the nodes became lost to him. As he began his work communing with the warp a figure came, screaming hate at him.

'Die vile Heretic' spat the Space Marine, raising his chainsword to strike down his prone Chaos foe. Before Ellion could react two bolts of luminescent blue slammed into the front of the marine, exiting out the other side. Astoundingly the warrior would not fall, wavering but a moment before he continued in his attempt to strike.
Two more bolts from another direction caught the marine again and this time there was no doubt his dual hearts had been obliterated. As the corpse fell and the two Thousand Sons ressumed their protective duties, Ellion finally pierced the veil.
'Greeting sorcerer,' spoke the Daemon T'Zarrkal, Ellion's patron and link to the warp, 'why have you ventured to this dismal world?'
'You know very well daemon, as do all your kind,' replied Ellion, 'Aid me now. I call upon the rites that bind us.'
'Very well, what would you know of, mortal?'
'Where is the xenos warp gate on this planet? where can i find it?'
T'Zarrkal chuckled softly to himself. 'And why would you want to know that? Your precious master sent his dogs on another fruitless errand?'
'I have no time for you games daemon!' Ellion replied, 'Tell me what i need to know and be done with it.'
The daemons mood evidently turned sour, seeing his favourite sport wasnt going to take the bait.
'Such haste? Well another time for games. I have eternity to play. In answer to your question however, I dont know.'
'You dont know?!' replied Ellion, 'you expect me to believe that?'
'Believe what you like, but the Eldar gate is protected by their magics. You dont think they would have survived this long if we could so easily enter their precious web way do you? All i can tell you is north. Head north and there you will find a cult which have dedicated themselves to the great God of Truth, as they have feebly envisioned our Lord. They will be able to tell you more and perhaps you can play a few games with them yourself' spoke the daemon and with a vile grin faded away, the power of the warp diminishing.

'Enough my brothers, we must fall back. We have what we came for.'
The psychic message reached all of the Thousand Sons simultaneously and they began to retreat in defensive formation.
As Ellion started moving through the undergrowth towards his ship the unmistakable bark of a heavy bolter sounded and soon he was thrown against the wall of an abandoned Imperial building, blood seeping through his left pauldron where a bolt had struck a weak joint. With a curse and a prayer, Ellion summoned up the full destructive power of the warp and let it loose at his attacker. The marine weilding the heavy weapon was instantly reduced to a writhing mass of biological matter.
Berating himself for his carelessness, Ellion headed back to the gunship. Upon arriving he discovered that one of his brothers had almost been split in twain by the weapon of an unknown foe. Ellion surmised it must have been yet more of the loyalist foe. No matter. Though his servants armour was destroyed his soul belonged to Ellion and after repairs were made the warrior would be restored to fight another ten thousand years.

As the Thunderhawk took off and headed north, Ellion of the Thousand Sons couldnt help but wonder why Imperial Space Marines were here at all. Did they know about the warp gate too?
More study of the situation was needed before the next mission. They could ill afford any loses to deadly foes and if Space Marines were present on Calaxia then more enemies must be on the planet for their own purposes. The Thousand Sons must tread carefully....

[KharnForBloodGod]

The repair chamber hummed loudly as the pariah was restored to operational standards. The pariah knew of emotions long since dead that it should have been experiencing, annoyance, rage and disgust.

They had been slow to react after the centuries of slumber. The first humans culled were of no benefit, not challenging enough with their small arms weapons to assist the newly awoken force achieve battle effectiveness.

The rescue beacon and the direct link to the necron collective had now been severed by a well organised and well armed human force, totally catching the consignment of pace. The pariah freshly repaired could not assess if the beacon had transmitted the location of the stranded force for long enough before its violent destruction by the future cattle. But if it had, rescue and re-integration into the collective would be a possibility.

The direct link to the C’TAN mind broken, the pariah had noticed oddities in his units. The immortals were showing signs of individuality, Immortal designation 10011101 had questioned commands whilst Immortal 110111010 had been repaired on several occasions due to many attempts to remove its own cranium. Now The Immortal units were in conclave passing rudimentary commands between units and reacting. The warriors also did not escape the loss of command control, although not as reactive as the Immortals the warriors looked lost and pained their voice units had to be deactivated because of the tormented screams that exploded from the standard design units.

The pariah had not been unscathed either, it could think! Something it had not done in millennia since his rebirth as a necron. Over and over the pariah reviewed the previous engagement, the failure and the satisfaction that was now flooding his construct. The glorious death he had dealt the assassin woman, cleaving her in two with this warsythe, being the only unit to sustain damage of any type in the conflict, the twisted faces of agony as the enemy were consumed by gauss. The cattle paid for their sins heavily in pain, doomed agony as many more it would insure do. Death had been dealt and it believed if not mechanised in this form it would be smiling.

LET THE HARVEST CONTINUE!!!!!!!

[Dearg_Doom]

As the Thunderhawk sped north, guided by the sentient entity bound to the ship, Ellion sat in meditation once more. He knew well that if he focused his will he would be able to pin point any disturbances in the warp in the barren north of Calaxia. The scent of sorcery had already been aquired and the ship had subtly altered its course to bring it to the mining outpost of Sigma-Alpha. There, according to his patron, a cult which blindly followed the Changer of Ways held information which would lead the Thousands Sons to the web gate and one step closer to ultimate knowledge.

As the sheer grey walls of the mining complex came into view Ellion was once more reminded how far the Imperium had fallen, that its citizens were reduced to living like penned cattle. The Change could not come quickly enough for these people, whether they knew it or not. Absolute freedom, with all the pain and uncertainty that it brings, is far better than the enslavment in which they now lived. If the Thousands Sons couldnt give them the freedom they deserved, then they could at least give them merciful death.

The gunship touched down on the landing pad and the sorcerer noted with puzzlement that no hailing frequencies had been recieved nor requested. Something was wrong here. From the veiw ports it was clear to see las scorches and low grade ballistic weapons had been fired recently. Someone or something had come to Sigma-Alpha and the miners there were less than happy to met them.

Regardless of the threat Ellion had to find out what had happend to the cultists, his sole link to the location of the Xenos dig site.
'Fan out,' Ellion ordered his oldest friends and servants, 'find out what happend here.'
As the marines silently filed out and began their search, Ellion headed for the control tower where the signal for landings should have been sent from as well as a log of all the security monitors.

On his way to the command centre he discovered corpses. Corpses of labourers, of security forces and of PDF troopers. From the battle it would appear they had killed each other in protracted fire fights and brutal close comabt struggles. At the command centre nothing was different. Corpses of miners where slumped over consoles and lolled in chairs. The same signs of struggle. A bayonet in the throat here, a burnt out eye socket there. Could it be that in all the chaos and stife in the 41st millenium that mere human nature had been the undoing of these people? Doubtful, thought Ellion. A cult of Tzeentch was here and as such madness and chaos are often a recurring end to such groups. But there was none of the usual signs. No bloodied teeth or claw marks. All the deaths here were preformed with tools and brutal efficiency. Something was deffinatly amiss.

A quick scan of the security cameras showed the bloody conflict acted out before his eyes.
Two Valkyrie gunships dropped off storm troopers in quick succession and as the deligation for meeting such arrivals went to greet their guests the storm troopers opened fire. Through the recorded footage he watched the systimatic slaughter of these people until he paused at one image. The pict image captured a man in a robe, wielding a flaming brazier and a large leather bound tome. Ellion had deffinatly seen this sort of 'warrior' before. Zooming in on his heraldry left the sorcerer in no doubt.
'Inquisitors.' spoke Ellion quietly to himself.
It was safe to assume now the cult had been discovered and reported by a loyal member of the mining facility and as reward, recieved complete extermination of every family living here. A typical reaction of the corpse-gods most devout minions. All they know is fire and blood. That Chaos should be considered the ultimate evil was sometimes a laughable concept when presented with the evils already lurking in mankinds heart.

Ellion was shaken out of his reverie by contact from one of his men. It wasnt so much a message as an impression. A quick flash of a wounded man and a sense of urgency. It was all Ellion recieved but it was more than enough to convey the message. A survivor had been found.

The spellcaster followed the link he shared with all his marines to find the last remaining living soul in Sigma-Alpha. It would seem his servant had located the hide away the cult used as their meeting place. Amateurs. If a semi-sentient automaton could find the place then no wonder they had been discovered. Tzeentch had no time for fools.
The survivor was in no place to talk, lingering as he was upon the cusp of death. From his garbe he was clearly a nobody but it could be he knew the location of the gate, or at least held some clue as to its location. Using his psychic ablities he reached into the mind of this wreck of a human. No intelligant thought could be deciphered from his damaged brain but images made themselves clear in flashes at the forefront of his mind. The Inquisition arriving, the cult gathering here in panic, the activation of a secret passage and the pain of being struck several times by las bolts before collapsing and seeing his friends and comrades leave him behind....

Ellion pulled his consciousness back from the now dead man and promtly steped over his corpse to activte the concealed escape route.
'My brothers, come to me now. We have work to do.'

[Dearg_Doom]

The tunnel had come out in a collapsed mine shaft, age old and abandoned. The shaft itself led out into a derilict mining camp and it in turn was surrounded by desolate wasteland and rolling dunes. As the Thousand Sons began to enter the camp proper, Ellion once more picked up the scent of the warp.
It would seem that the cult master was near, he thought to himself relishing the chance to once again pick up the trail of the Xenos warp gate and punish the foolish dabbler in the dark arts for delaying him in his sacred task.

It was with this in mind that Ellion and his marines approached the centre of the small group of decayed and weathered buildings and from there saw their quarry. Four men, dressed in the garb of those who thought to seek favour with gods in order to better their worthless lives, cowering in a ditch beside the most intact of the buildings.

With his victory soon to be one step closer Ellion began his approach towards his intended target. Suddenly, two Valkyrie transport crafts passed overhead.
'Halt and submit yourself to Inquisitorial justice, scum!' came a voice over one of the ships external speakers, as the transports hovered on the other side of the cultists. The pathetic wretches dropped to the floor, hands over their heads, bodies heaving with sobs of terror. Without pause the storm troopers descended via zip line from one of the ships and got into covering position. The second ship landed further back and from its belly more important figures emerged.

The groups Inquisitor, priest and cherubim and combat servitors emerged. With a short, sharp enunciation the Inquisitor ordered his men to secure the prisoners for interogation immediatly.
Bounding forward and yelling incomprehensable dogma, the priest with his cherubim headed for the heretics in their midst, his desire to punish the enemies of mankind far outwaying any instinct for caution.

'Stop him!' spoke Ellion and in response his brother marines bolters spoke as well.

The priest and his servitor were both riddled with explosive rounds, turning them into a cloud of blood and metalic shrapnel.
Without waiting for orders both forces engaged in full combat, the Thousand Sons walking into the hail of fire and the Imperial forces taking cover and advancing in flanking manouvers.

Another volly of fire saw two more of the guards men shot down, the incandescent bolts from the forces of chaos tearing through their reinforced armour. With their opponents low tech weaponry, Ellion was sure his brothers would triumph with minimal resistance.

To the sorcerers right however, a scribe weilding plasma weaponry had other ideas. Letting lose a bolt of superheated energy at one of the Space Marines opposing them, the projectile striking the armoured suit on the helmet, destroying it. As the marine died his essence escaped his armour, travelling across the ether into one of five gems placed around the waist of Ellions armour.

As the battle continued more and more of both forces dwindled, the superior numbers of the loyalists were taking its toll on the traitor marines.

Ellion slipped his blade out of the plasma weilding scribes chest and looked around him. He knew without looking that four of his five marines had fallen, their sould bound to his armour now, waiting for the moment they could be returned to combat. The combat servitor which had taken cover opposite the still cowerting cultists was trading fire with the sole remaining Thousand Son brother. Even its over powered melta beam could not breach the sorcerise enchantments lain upon the warriors armour and in return, bolt after bolt slammed into the rocky outcrop the servitor used as cover.

Ellion realised that his remaining warrior would not triumph unless he lent his aid. Charging to where the servitor hid from the incoming hail of bolts from the marine. Whilst the machine-man was no longer human he stil retained enough of his former self to have a look of surprise perminantly etched on his face as the sorcerer clove him in twain. Hoping that the battle was firmly in their favour, Ellion gazed around once more. Just in time to see his foe, the nameless Inquisitor who sought to ruin everything he had suffered for, disabling his last warrior with well placed bolt rounds from his gun.

Furious, the Thousand Son sorcerer charged at the impudent whelp, matching the rightious mans oaths with blasphemous curses. Matched in combat skill, the duel seemed to last for the two combatants, but the sorcerer had something the Inquisitor did not. His mind. Focusing his will through his psycho reactive blade, Ellion charged the sword with enough power to slice cleanly through his opponents armour and into the humans vital organs. Spitting curses mixed with his own blood the inquisitor finally slumped to the floor.

Perhaps drivin mad by failure or a need to avenge their fallen hero, the two remaining guardsmen charged the sorcerer, their high powered las rifles on full auto the bolts trying to match the pitch of their wordless screams of hate. As the las bolts bounced of his armour like rain Ellion allowed himself a smile. Finally an end to this foolish confilct. All three met at once and in an instant Ellion had killed one and had the other on their back.

Fear gripped the guardsmans heart as the Chaos Space Marine held a blade over his throat.
'Leave here mortal and take this message back with you along with the burden of your failure. The time of change is near.'
The terrified man needed no further instruction, fleeing as quick as able into the wastes, for a long death of starvation pales in comparision to what Chaos can do to a mans soul.

Rounding upon the sorry sights still sitting in their grovelling huddle.
'Come now my friends,' lied Ellion, 'our god has sent me to deliver you from the tyranny of the Emperor. Together we shall over throw the regeme that has held you in shackles your whole lives.'

At this the leader of the pitiful group stood and spoke saying 'Praise be to the God of Truth for he has delivered us from our enemy. What would you have us do my lord?'
'Help me with my fallen brethren,' replied Ellion as the Thunderhawk saled into view. 'We need to get them back on my ship. After that, you and I must discuss what you know of this planet and what the future holds in store for you....'

[KharnForBloodGod]

The thunder hawk impacted with a violent and sickening crunch, burying the drop ship deep in the bedrock bring it to a halt in its final resting place. The pilots were dead killed, the sacred machine sprit snuffed out in an instant. Silence descended on the crash site momentarily until the escape hatches blew outward, the thunder hawks last act in service to the emperor.

The surviving space wolves emerged. Slightly dazed the Sergeant took in his surroundings and rallied his remaining forces to him. Two of his battle brother had died in the impact and he vowed that they would be revered in the great feasting halls, drinking and eating to their past glories. ‘’ death of a brother in such manor is not befitting of a mighty wolf, we will avenge our kin.’’ The sergeant bellowed to his troops.

Vox was down, in fact the sergeant recalled the last cries of the pilots, ‘’ Power is down all systems failure!!’’ ’’ ‘’Some sort of EMP Field.’’ The sergeant knew he had to get his unit clear of this polluted zone if they stood any chance of assistance, any chance to hunt these Xeno’s filth down.
‘’South, keep low and fan out.’’ The sergeant signalled to his brothers in battle sign. For 4.5 clicks nothing, then the contingent froze, a scent, unfamiliar, strange and utterly evil. The sergeant could not with all his years as a wolf brother comprehend the odour. ‘’ Our hosts me thinks.’’ He uttered to himself.

Before he could react two of his closed brother combusted, vaporised stripped to atoms in agony in a matter of seconds by the savage volley of fire. Two more brothers dived for cover to be meet by the same fate. Beam fire raked trough the forest, replies by the bolters hitting nothing but foliage. More of the evil beings materialised from the thin air. The sergeant spotted the enemy commander; he engaged his massive power fist and charged. In reaction to their sergeants actions two of his remaining troopers laid down a hail of rapid fire to cover their friend and brother. Bolt rounds struck with force blasting the abomination to pieces. The warriors looked on in astonishment and horror as the creature gathered its self up, stood and resumed the attack. The charging sergeant roared at his brothers. ‘’get clear call assistance! Now brothers! ’’

An Epic close quarters battle ensued, power fist vs. warsythe dive, parry, sweep, duck and strike. The creature’s leader had sustained damage in the tremendous encounter. The power fist had removed half of the creature’s face, blue green sparks raining from the wound; this had not impacted on the ability of the mechanised warrior attack but possibly intensified it.

Brother Krieger had engaged 3 of the monstrosities in hand to hand combat. Three times he had been the victor only to have his hearth ripped out every time one of the creatures re-assembled and re-engaged. Krieger slowly was weakening through blood loss and injuries he had sustained finally his body failed. The mighty wolf warrior collapsed striken by the sheer number of strikes. He died in glory roaring his primarchs name!

Brother Villon knew it was up to him, he made for the dense tree line were his covert skills would achieve his ordered goal. Has he reached the line he knew he shouldn’t look back but did. Horror filled his body, horror froze him to the ground, his sergeant, brother and long serving friend, shorn in two from groin to jaw split in two lengthways crashing to the ground! Unfortunately this lapse was Villon’s last, first his arm, leg, torso and finally his face, consumed buy the relentless beam fire pain, agony extreme agony was the last thing Villon knew!

[KharnForBloodGod]

Reserved for the fluff

[BloddshotDAVE]

After Action Report:

casulaties sustained: 3
K.I.A: 3
mortalily wounded:0
surviovurs: 0

enemy pressence: Substantial

classified: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.
three battle brothers on the northern poiont of the forward operating base came under attack by wat seemed to be a forward element of a necron force. the battle brothersd were out numbered and out gunned last transmission from brother sargent yelion reported at least 7 enemys. also reported that two dammed legionaries appeared on the battlefield and resulted in the death of what seemed to be a Phariah. unfortunatly the legionaries were unable to hold back the relentless and unwithering force the necrons had sent and the leginariees them selves were lost to the fire tough no bodys are detected par from the three brothers of our chapter. ( legionarries seem to be spirts so thus immune from death)

Classified:>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>..
having lost our ground forces and base of operations an immedate strike seems our only option.

reccomend deployment of devastators, terminators and dreadnoughts for initinal assualt then rapid eployment of assualt and tactial marines. we can not allow to be forced from this system until we understand why there are so many imperial and xenos teams here.

classified>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

signed: Commander 2nd company Cato Sircarius Signed: Chief Librarian Tigurius

[Dearg_Doom]

The Cultists had been more useful than he could ever had imagined. Not only had the location of the Xenos dig site been revealed but also the presence of two other Chaos Space Marine war bands were here, on Calaxia at this very moment. The brutish and simple war-dogs of Khorne and the decadent and perverse minions of Slaanesh were both on the planet for their own reasons.
The implications of this were two fold.
Firstly, one group of any of the traitor legions may perhaps work undisturbed on a planet such as Calaxia, but three independant groups would not only come to blows over spoils but attract the attention of every Imperial authority in the system. This could not be allowed to happen.

The second implication was that against all odds, the forces of Chaos on Calaxia may have allies with one another, given the right leadership. In order to unite the factions of Chaos on this planet cunning would have to be used. The forces of the Blood God would have to be bested in combat. This Ellion did not relish. He was no light weight when it came to close comabt but the reputation of Khornes followers was well deserved and much to be feared. As for the legions of the Pleasure God, a show of superiority and something for leverage was in order. Luckily Slaaneshs vile hunger for all things Eldar were widely known amongst the fallen and Calaxia was the best place to find them in the galaxy.

Finding the World Eaters was simple, the trail of beheaded corpses easy enough for a blind man to follow. Relations with the group went as expected. The challenge came from a monstrous Astarte named Korus. Fighting on Ellions part was almost entirely defensive until the moment came that his psychicly charged blade could strike the Skull Champion just one single blow. After his victory, the promise of skulls and blood in honour of Khorne if his followers would pledge their blades to the conquest of Calaxia was all Korus needed to hear. After all, it wasnt like that was a change in his plans anyway.

After Khornes Champion fell in line, placating the followers of Slaanesh was next. After pulling at a few strands of Fate, Ellion had learnt that an Eldar artifact had been unearthed by the change in climate caused by the mass deforestation of the world. The lure of soul gems would no doubt attract Slaaneshs warriors. With his prior knowledge of future events Ellion had no problem laying an ambush for his enemy. The small expeditionary force was decimated and forced into retreat, leaving with the message that if the Space Marine in command wanted the soul stones within the artifact, and many more besides, he would lend his aid to the growing forces of Chaos. It took only an hour for communications with the Emperors Children to be opened and only fifteen minutes after that to broker a deal. All souls to Slaanesh if the Emperors Children help breach the warp gate. Again, the agreement hadnt exactly differed from their original plan.

And with that Ellion had an army to call upon when the end game began. Now to search the ruins that his cultists had informed him of. Tzeentch had truly blessed him.....

[Revic]

Woken by the searing pain in its frontal lobe the Broodlord stood to its full height, the pain was recognised as the call to arms by the hive mind.
For the first time in months the hive mind had appeared on this planet. The syker scream was far away but closing in and the rest of the brood would be enveloped by it shortly.

The Broodlord was struggling to keep its thoughts separate from this new presence that had entered his mind. It bellowed a mighty roar that would chill to the bone any create that had heard it, this triggered the rest of the brood to awake, the Broodlord was capable of suppressing the new hive mind presence but it could not resist the chance of battle. The full brood broke into run hungry for the battle.

##Meanwhile##

The two warriors were marching side by side, together they had tracked the humans this far unable to properly catch them with their numbers so light. As one instructed the lesser minded troops the other projected forwards checking for the presence of other enemies.
Moments later it connected with the mutant scum that claimed to be their own race. Simple minded vicious brutes that could be controlled easily. There was obviously a strong minded among them as it fought against the controlling psychic connection. It must have finally given in as the new ally raced forwards the enemy that was between them.

The Humans had realised they were surrounded and had dug in to make a Last Stand. All the lesser minded troops were instructed to assault without fear and claim the leader’s skull as victory for the Hive Mind.

Rushing forward and assaulting the power armoured scum the battle lasted no time at all, few beings in the universe can with stand the might of a fully fledged assault wave by a genestealer brood. Their greater numbers ripped through the enemy. A storm of mechanical bolts erupted from enemy weapons trying to thin the number before they were overwhelmed. It was to no Avail as they were far too fast, the assault stopped when the two sides met in the middle of the fray.

When the battle was over and the dust had settled, looking around only human corpses lay at their feet. No more successful a victory then when your enemy is completely exterminated and not one of your allies are dead.

When the Broodlord realised the battle was over it tore from the hive mind control, it and its brood could not be controlled by such a weak mind when there was not the promise of battle. Sensing that more enemies lay to the east the brood broke into a swift run to fight its next battle.
The warriors collapsed on the ground exhausted from the strain exerted in trying to hold back the mind of the broodlord, they knew the scum was moving away from battle but they did not follow yet. As the strength they had left was required to keep the other creatures at bay.

The Genestealers may be of use in the future.

[GeneralDisarray]

Here is some fluff from my encounter with Gary's Crimson Fists:

A red mist hung over the impact site; the mid day sun drew a piercing halo over the earth like an unearthly beacon. The earth continued to groan at the shock as the dense and smoldering remains of the ship sang in eerie reply. The marines were pouring over the waste identifying the mess. The crash site lay strewn over a mile from first contact to where the behemoth finally was laid to rest. There was the stench of chaos in the air and the crimson sediment that hung in the air reflected the marines tension. Like a drawn bow, ready to take what seemed inevitable. In the front ranks, a Testudo of regal blue storm shields advanced ponderously down the wreckage. The crimson fists had appeared out of the blue three days ago to begin analysing the hulk that was assumed to have contained a warband of chaos marines and their peripheral cultists, slave force and warp forged daemonic companions.

The ground heaved under their feet as the adamantium and ceramite of the cruiser shifted towards equilibrium. As precaution, the testudo reformed tighter and the front line defenses of the crimson fist line resumed combat formation. A squad of five sternguard veterans and five terminators led the reconassance. After no survivors were found after the first two days, the remaining crimson fist assignment followed behind. Four squads of tactical marines with rhinos, a dreadnaught, company chaplain and apothecary held up the rear; protecting a mechanicus analysis team. Their goal was to identify the lost ship and give its machine spirit final rest from the powers that had assumed control. There would be nothing to salvage, not with the taint on the machinery; this was a mission of respect for a fallen spirit and of pity for its loss.

Another wail was rent from the earth below their feet.

Veteran Seargent Ortiz steadied the shield wall; "Hold Formation!" The ground shifted as the detritus below shuddered. "Hold the line steady, I didn't have you down as a dancer Kadena." A low rumble of laughter echoed over the vox channel.

Behind the advancing party the machanicus were futtering with slag metal and meltted ceramite, they had already collected enough to identify the ship but were keen to check the entirety of the vessel. Suddenly and more violently than beofre the earth resonated and exploded.

The mechanicus were thrown over with the force of the blast and a ball of white hot metals and plasma erupted under the leading party. Three sternguard and two terminators were vapourised instantly, heirloom armour adorning the rainbow inferno. Three stormshields held the remaining white metals at bay protecting the sternguards behind them. From the ashes of the explosion an adamantium case emerged from the ground, electromagnetic shields protecting it from the explosion. It was a sarcophogas unmarred emerging from the metal crust of the crash.

The mechanicus voice scratched down the vox channel materialising into vocal sounds from a binary code; "Extreme caution is advised, extreme caution." The mechanicus signed in awe, "An archeotype, a standard template construct," they gathered at a distance, " a planetary impact chamber, emerging from the ground; it can protect vital objects in the event of a massive global collision."

The electromagnetic humming ceased and pressure valves released sending jets of plasma venting across the red mist, burning the airborne sediment. A large door opened and white low lying fog clung to the floor, flowing elegantly across the mechanised waste around the surface of the planet. A low rumble, gaining volume and resonating through the chamber began to emanate from the chamber forming twisted words, and daemonic rites. From the tranquil fog of the archeotype tomb and the red mist that doused the crash site came the howls of the blood god; a twitching enraged line of red clad warriors led by Khorus the blood gods servant; in his brazen brass helm eyes of hatred pierced the crimson fist lines.

"Quick, quick, tactical one through four esscort the mechanicus to the thunderhawk and prepare form orbit NOW!" screamed veteran brother Ortiz, "We will hold the line." The dreadnaught fired plasma cannon bolts in the priceless tomb vapourising berzerkers to protect the mechanicus contingent at all costs. As the rhinos were being filled a lasconnon shot rang through the air felling the walker and sending shrapnel ricocheting across the site. Binary muttering filled the marine vox channel as rite of passage were unttered for the fallen brother in his machine grave. "Now, Now, Now!" screamed ortiz, EVACUATE NOW, WE WILL STEM THEM RUSH!" The rhinos sped off as the two sternguard and the terminators were engulfed in red, berzerkers hacking wildliy with insatiable battle lust.

Khorus serveyed the field, rage at letting the other marines escape. "We had them at our mercy and they ESCAPED!" He violently replaced his shimmering blue axe into the terminators skul with ferocious force as his voice boomed across the Chaos vox channel, "ESCAPED! Imperial Filth!"

They had been monitoring the movement of the marine above frm within their Collision chamber using technology lost millenia ago, waiting with all the patience Khornes minions can, until the perfect moment to emerge. And it had failed. The terminators had prevented them over-running to the rest of the force.

"It seems now we find out the real reason the blood god has left us to rot like carrion on this emperor forsaken planet." Khorus was not talking to any of his followers in particular. He lost the need to talk to other a long time ago.

[Dearg_Doom]

Ellion was more at peace with himself now than he had been during his entire stay on Calaxia. He was on his way to the digsite where the Xenos artifacts had been found. This could only be the entrance to the Eldar web gate. Easily locating the mine shaft indicated to him by his cultists, the Thousand Sons proceeded quickly below the surface of the planet. The shaft led leagues under ground and seemed to continue forever until suddenly the rough stone and earth gave way to smooth black basalt, with delicate gold script along its length. This was the place they where looking for.

'Fan out, scan for hostiles' spoke Ellion, his marines responding by silently carrying out their task. With no enemies reported the sorcerer entered the chamber proper to begin his examination. It didnt take long for Ellion to realise that something was terribly wrong. Fear struck Ellion, its icy cold fingers burying beneath his skin, etching itself into his very bones. It was a fear he hadnt known since the day the Wolves of Fenris came for his home, burning and slaughtering everything he held dear. A clear and palpable threat was in this, this tomb, not only to his life but to his very soul.

'Thousand Sons, fall back. This isnt what we are looking for' Ellion communed to his men. With much haste the Chaos Space Marines put the distance leading back to the surface behind them, entering into the cold light of day. With the sensation of dread lessend, Ellion composed himself. They must get back to the gunship. Its position was just beyond the ridge at the edge of the mining facility.
'With all speed my brothers, to the ship'

The flame of hope, rekindled by the sight of the edge of the compund, had started to warm Ellions bones again but it was all to soon snuffed out. A surge of force, like a primal wave of energy, engulfed the sorcerer and he knew fear again, redoubled and focused. He had heard of beings which affected psychers and mages of all races and creeds. Null entities, souless ones. Those few beings in the universe which cast no light in the warp, merely a shadow. They who are anethema to all psykers.

The beings who would use such creatures came from the west, their bodies made from living metal, their will not their own. Their silvery hides shone in the sun, mimicking the eerie glow of their weapons. They began to move, the quick pace they adopted belying the appearance of their slow, purposeful motions. And there, in the midst of his lesser bretheren, was the devourer of souls and extinguisher of spirits. His poise spoke of martial prowess learnt in a former life and the eligant yet deadly weapon he wielded spoke of a technology from a by-gone era, but advanced beyond comprehension.

The stunned seconds in which Ellion veiwed all of this was time wasted. He tried to shake away the head ache and restore his blurred vision, for a psyker to even look upon such a being was to invite madness for a lesser being.

'Move,' Ellion cried, 'Move my brethern. Lay down covering fire and head towards the ship. Protect me from that....thing!'

The Aspiring sorcerer forced his men to move at a pace that hurt his mind, but all pain was secondary compared to the fate that awaited him in the claws of that monstrousity.

Ensorcelled bolts crossed paths with molecul stripping beams. Rounds of luminescent fury tore through plates of living metal, bringing the foe to ruin, whilst their enemies ribbons of harsh energy through starburst of light of magic runes, making sounds as of soul shattering screams as though the magic binding the suits together was begging release from this torment.

But wards held, metal melded and the two inimical foes could find no advantage, yet this soulless out cast, this universal....pariah approached yet further. Ellion could allow this no longer, escape was essential and all other considerations secondary. He hurled a bolt of pure warp enery at one of the vanguard units, reducing it to a molten slag and broke from cover. The sustained fire from the Thousand Sons had begun to take its toll on the non-dead fiends as the rest of the elite auotomatons fell crashing to the floor, their ability to self repair rendered useless by sheer overload of damage. However the battle was not one sided. Two of the marines had been felled, their rune encrusted armour preserved but the weak joints and seams in the suits reduced to their component atoms. Without the support these provided, the warriors collapsed into the lifeless suits they truely were.

Ellion spied his moment and ran, lest the scythe wielding monster come any closer thus turning his sorcerers soul against itself. The exit was in sight, the end of the camp mere meters away. Hope was dashed a second time as three of the creatures appeared from the sand dunes, lash after lash of vile green light slamming into his armour, trying to find the weak spots behind his magic defenses to flay his body to mere molecules. Under the weight of continuous fire, Ellion fell to one knee and the metallic monsters surrounded them. His force weapon lashed out again and again, trying to bring his foes to ruin. But no matter how he tried, nor how many wounds he inflicted, the xenos metal flesh knitted itself shut once more. Finally they bore the sorcerer to the ground, his arm pinned to the floor defenseless and claw marks hissed and spat as they trialed across his armour, searching for a weak spot to finsh their prey.

'No, no.' Ellion racked his brain to think of a means of escape, anything to save him from the horror that was approaching. There was only one thing left for him to do if he was to live, possibly the most dangerous thing a weaver of magics can attempt even under the most optimistic circumstances. Travelling through the warp by spellcraft, even a short distance had huge, incalculable risks. But nothing was worse than the fate that awaited him if he were to stay. With a final mental message to his closest friends to continue fighting to the death against the foe, he cast the spell of teleportation. In a burst of red, Ellion dissapeared only to reappear beyond the dune. The spell seemed to be a success. Checking his internal chronometer he wasnt overly shocked to learn that almost a week had passed since his battle with the xenos. With trepidation he cast out feelers in the warp, trying to find any of his minons. Against all hope and all odds he found one.

He returned to the area of the conflict, expecting to find total devistation but once more he was to be surprised. Four suits of Thousand Sons armour lay in heaps where they had fallen with one intact, standing sentinel over the rest. Of the enemy they had fought so desperatly, there seemed no sign. Puzzled but not looking Tzeentchs blessings in the mouth he signaled for his remaining servant to start bringing the ruined suits on board the ship. Ellion prayed that he would never again have to face such terrifying opponents and swore to all the Gods of Chaos that those wretched cultist scum were going to suffer an eternity for their error in sending him here.

With that, the Thunderhawk Gunship flew back towards Sigma-Alpha for some much needed repairs and revenge.

[sir_m1ke]

M'ikaell knelt before the Council of Seers, the power of their combined presence causing the air to crackle with static. His mission to Calaxia had been a mission of repentance, to absolve his failure on Arkham. Before him stood Farseer El'wye, one of the few survivors of the Assault on Arkham, sitting uneasily as the battle wounds suffered in that campaign bothered him still.

Mik'aell's mission had been a bold one, to halt the foolish Mon Keigh before they could unleash the horror that was contained within the planet. He replayed the battles of the past few days in his mind, and tears formed in his eyes at the Eldar lives that had been lost..

...emerging from the mineshaft into the sunlight, the threat within the mine contained...only to be greeted with the sight of hissing, lighting-quick monstrosities of the Tyranid race...watching his warriors being torn to shreds by their diamond hard claws as the rest of the team ran for the distance, hearing the death-screams of his people ringing in his head, barely escaping the battlefield alive...his armour torn, his body bleeding from a dozen places...

...regrouping with the shattered squad, only to be met with howls in the distance....the Mon-keigh wolves of Fenris, amongst them a mutant abomination caused by their tampering with the very genetic structure that they were born with....such horrors the Mon-keigh force upon themselves....meeting the howling warriors in battle, slaying their leader in honourable single combat before his force was gunned down...more Eldar lives lost...and for what gain? Yruui, of the Fire shrine, sceaming in anger at the death of his twin brother Yluui, blasting the wolves into cinders with his gun before being knocked of his feet by a single swipe of the beasts clawed hands....M'ikaell remembered it all as if he were witnessing it now...

...attacking the communications relay, trying to stop word of the mine's fall from reaching the Mon-keigh city....succeeding in destroying the communications, the thrill of success....only to be met by the sight of Blood Red mon-keigh, their black rage and thirst for blood so strong that the sensitive Eldar psyche could feel it emanating like waves from them...watching as his army was torn apart, slaying the enemy leader but at the cost of his left arm and with irrepairable damage done to the helmet of his Exarch armour, worn by so many warriors before him...

Ultimately, as the Seers had predicted, Calaxia was saved, but not directly by M'ikaell's team. The Tyranids and Necrontyr had battled it out, and between them would scour the world clean of any who could disturb the daemonic force trapped at the planet's core. Both species had no feel for the warp, the Tyranids masking it with their own psychic power and the Necrontyr as the polar opposite of warp-based existence. Only the cursed marines of the Changer of Ways had threatened to unleash the dread force, but they lacked the numbers to deal with the threat posed by the other two dominant forces

M'ikaell stood, the black tattoos of shame having been removed for his valiant efforts. His left arm had been replaced by one of solid wraithbone, the spirit stone at it's centre allowing him to bend and flex the arm as if he was born with it. He knew nothing but war, the desire to spill blood and the thrill of battle, and he would return soon.

The seers stepped forward, each representing one of the WIld Rider Clans of Saim Hann. M'ikaell nodded in respect to his brother Mik'aell, the seer of his own birth clan, the Black Serpents. Long ago he had abandoned the clan to devote himself to the Path of the Warrior- a decision that commanded both respect and sorrow from his clan, for he was forever trapped in a Path of war- a path that can only end with his death.

The seers had pardoned him, his honour was restored at last. Now, his true mission on Calaxia could begin....

(cue Eastenders cliffhanger themetune.....)

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