[Kallidor]

“What are you doing?” Draconis had snapped his head around quickly looking at Lomak with a furrowed brow.

“Opening the hatch brother Falzone. We have landed.” The Sentinel was a ship of such fluid grace that there was no perceptible announcement that it had passes through the planet’s atmosphere and landed but even so the Astartes should have noticed.

Lomak did not press the issue as he lead the way onto the barren surface. There was little by way of vegetation or natural landmarks and overhead the sun beat down incessantly. The heat was dry and prickling and it had hit Lomak instantly as if he had opened an over door. On the surface and out of the shade of the Sentinel he began to perspire immediately.

Lomak had prepared himself by donning a Van Saar stillsuit. He pulled a mask of the lower half of his face, and pulled a thick mesh hood with integral filters down over his head. Engaging the suits systems he was instantly cooled as refrigerated moisture, began to pump around his body and the glare of the sun became a pleasant glow as the filters darkened.

Behind him Falzone’s own enhanced physiology went to work a waxy sweat coating his exposed skin and his melanchrome organ darkening his flesh appropriately. Behind the Astartes the Sentinel flickered like obsidian before fading into invisibility leaving the Space Marine and the Inquisitor seemingly abandoned in the forbidding ash wastes.

“You have a mountain to clime Brother, physically and spiritually.”

“I will not flinch from what has to be done Inquisitor but nothing in my career could possibly have prepared me fully to face this challenge.”

“It is said that when the Emperor faced the Warmaster he hesitated. With Sanguinius dead at his feet and with the malign energies of Chaos coursing through his corrupted frame Horus was still the Emperor’s son and He saw his as such. He hesitated before the ultimate evil and was nearly destroyed.

“If even the God-Emperor could not fully prepare Himself for such a test do you truly believe that you could do any better?”

“I suppose not Inquisitor.” Draconis replied after several long moments.

“It has long been my opinion that the superhuman loyalty and fidelity of the Astartes is both a strength and a weakness. The strength of kinship between Astartes is such that they will fight through hell itself side by side, enduring hardships that no normal man could bear in order to support their brethren. But when that loyalty is tested or broken then the shock is all the greater the fall all the more precipitous.

“An ordinary man with all the weakness and frailty of humanity can stand before his brother, even his own kin, his human fallibility softening the blow of betrayal. For an Astartes it is a battle the likes of which they have never faced.

“Rejoice Brother Falzone for today you know what it is to be human, you know how it feels to be a man. All of the trials you have faced so far have turned a boy into an Astartes, few of your kind face the trial you are about to, so imagine how this coming conflict will reforge you anew into an ever more accomplished warrior. Have faith in the Emperor and you will see the truth of my words.”

[Necris]

Nero paused as alerts went down the line his eyes scanned the wreckage of the hive before him nothing half turning while keeping an eye on the ground before him he spoke.

"What is it?"

"Movement captain, off to the left the auspex registered it then it vanished."

"To arms all of you, we make our stand here as one, Falzone needs the optimum vantage to put his bomb to maximum effect and we stand between him and his goal."

The Mourning One strode up beside him planting it's massive feet it bellowed it's vox amplifiers set to maximum.

+Death to the Traitors!+

Nero joined the cry adding his own voice

"Luna Wolves! Lost Sons! For the Emperor!"

They all joined in as they formed a defensive line bolters held ready for what ever Falzone could throw at them.

[Draco Silverhand]

Draconis locked his helmet in place as he strode from the Inquisitor's location. The ash wastes had an eerie yellow hue to them, which did well to mask his form outside the hive before him. As he marched towards the citadel, his armor uploaded auspex readings from the Thunderhawk ships that had already made passes overhead. He locked onto a singularity in the citadel's outer walls, and began running towards it. Minutes later, he arrived, and examined the oddity. A culvert, presumably an original portion of the wall, but it had been sealed off. His personal auspex showed the wall culvert was made of weaker stone than the wall, with no thought to re-enforcement. He removed a melta charge from his belt, priming the bomb and setting it at the base of the door. As he dove behind a nearby boulder, the blast went off, and a quiet crumbling followed. Draconis leapt to the culvert, but found only a small opening had been made, due to partial collapse of the stonework. Half-way through the thickness of the wall, the hole stopped abruptly. Draconis crawled in, and placed a second Meltabomb, fusing it for a long enough delay for him to crawl back out. A second after he came out of the hole and rolled aside, a blast of superheated gasses shot out of the opening.

With a hole clear through the culvert,  Draconis readied his plasma pistol and crawled through the breach. As he emerged on the other side, he looked around. Dead bodies littered the room, but to be sure, as he crawled out, Draconis kicked each in the head, if it didn't have sufficient burns from the meltablast to justify death.

Moving into a nearby corridor, Draconis found a small hallway leading into the hive proper. Passing through the doors, he heard the screams of citizenry being butchered, bolterfire echoing across the hive and, looking up to the center, he saw a slow-moving elevation platform with what appeared to be ten Astartes slowly ascending to the next level of hive above. His data-feed read-out of the hive mapped the quickest path to the elevator platform, and possible means of out-flanking the platform as it headed to the top level of the spire. With the miracle of his ancient suit's machine spirit, he knew what to do, and began at a sprinting pace towards his objective.

[Kallidor]

Lomak watched the Astartes sprint away but hung back to check on the corpses uncovered near the ingression using his psy powers to mask his presence so that he might examine the bodies without interference. As he stooped to look at the nearest body his vox crackled faintly. Static wash laced the channel and an eerie disembodied voice could be heard too faint to understand what it was saying. With a loud beep the channel cleared instantly and a voice boomed from the bead in Lomak's ear making him wince.

It was one of Nero's marines, infroming him of some attempt to delay their advance. Since they had already made their way into the hive it was likely the transmission was long overdue. Peering down his nose at the body at his feet their was no obvious cause of death and their was no rigour although the bodies were icy cold. The ways of Chaos were many and strange but there was a creeping sense of dread that forced Lomak's gaze upwards, toward the tiny receding form of Draconis. Checking his rifle Lomak stood and stalked after the marine.

[Draco Silverhand]

Bounding down a long corridor, Draconis sprinted past hab blocks, shoppes, administratum buildings, a medicae clinic, many had been damaged in the fighting, some from disrepair or neglect. Draconis knew how these backwater worlds could fall prey to the dereliction of attention from their governorships. This world, being such a hostile environment probably garnered only the merest attempts to maintain habitability. Draconis shrugged the thoughts of this from his mind. As much as neglecting the Imperium's faithful irritated him, he needed all his focus on the task which loomed above. Killing his own uncle.

As he rounded a street corner, Draconis snapped off two plasma bolts with his pistol, barely even registering the act, his battle training so ingrained into his reflexes that he simply killed the cultists without a first thought, let alone a second. The hive's lower levels were so ingrained by soot and yellow ash that as he ran, and was showered with explosion debris from nearby skirmishes, his armor became more and more soiled, until only he could know the chapter markings painted on his pauldrons. This alone seemed to explain why neither cultist nor defender was assailing him.

Draconis' in-helmet display showed him a path that led away from the actual fighting to a service route. The Mechanicum shed he found to be in disrepair. It had a stairway descending into the bowels of the hive's life support and enginarium, several tunnels linking up with other service stations, and a service elevator shaft which had a warning reading that the elevator was exceedingly fast, and only Astartes or Mechanicum had the fortitude to not pass out on ascention or descention between decks. Draconis entered the service elevator, punched the highest deck he could access, and planted his feet firmly as he stood at the center of the elevator. The G forces made him wince, but Draconis had enough presence of mind to prep his plasma pistol with a fresh cylinder, check the power level on his sword, and read where his path would lead on the HUD map in front of him.


Tigurio stood amidst his diabolical entourage. The daemonhost, several cultists to each god, and a handful of marines wearing various traitor markings. They were near the top of their ascent. The massive lift had been neccessary to bring the device safely to the elevation Tigurio needed. He simply observed by this point. His minions knew what to do. The Astartes had decades, sometimes centuries of experience in matters of battle, deployment and even extermination. Normally an astartes ship would drop a devastating volley of virus bombs in order to affect exterminatus. However, this occasion called for a more personal touch. If all went right, Tigurio anticipated his life would be forfeit, as would his followers. However, unlike the prognosis of failure, if Lord Falzone died, his body would perish, but Nurgle, Khorne, Tzeentch and Slaanesh would see to it his soul would live on. In servitude to the ruinous powers, but still with more power at his fingertips than ever before. The only question Tigurio had on his mind was, would he be dying for Chaos? Or was his death really for the Imperium... to eradicate this system, and bring in a new source for attacks on the Empire of Man, that they might bolster themselves against their hated foes from beyond...

Tigurio had little time to fathom this issue. He looked up at the sky through the hive dome. The energy shield flickered, and sand and ash beat against the clear armaplas plates. Someone was trying to sabotage the plan. Let in the outside heat and, perhaps, kill off all the invaders. A foolish attempt, when Tigurio was so close, but even so.

"Hurry up! If we are a moment too late, the power of our efforts will be wasted!" He extolled. "Move that virus bomb!"

"Halt!" Draconis shouted as he rounded a turn, his plasma pistol already leveled, his power sword crackling.

"Who are you, boy? Who are you to meddle in the affairs of Gods!?" Tigurio sneered.

"Who, indeed, uncle." Draconis  spoke grimly, as if addressing a corpse. "Who are you to meddle in the affairs of Gods?" Draconis leveled a shot at a marine standing near the bomb. "I am Draconis Argentus Falzone, sergeant of the Imperial Fists. You are a traitor to mankind, a heretic and an apostate knight errant." He pointed his sword as he said this. "I am here to arrest you, try you for treason and have you sentenced according to the measure of your evil!"

[Necris]

"And we are here to put a spot to your foul plan."

Nero's voice boomed from the darkness as he strode forward power sword blazing brightly, behind him came half a dozen Luna Wolves their armour strangely unmarred by the environment much like their commanders, with a gesture the six marines moved to stand behind Draconis their weapons levelled at the marines behind Tigurio.

Nero himself moved to stand beside Draconis looking at the young marine.

"As agreed."

He snapped his head up looking at Tigurio while he still spoke to Draconis.

"You and him have business, we'll deal with his whelps."

His hand moved his bolt pistol flashing into his hand and discharging before anyone could react the round tearing into the daemonhost's chest with a thunderour boom pitching it violently back into the lift.

[Draco Silverhand]

The daemonhost hissed, louder and louder it screeched, its eyes glowed lightly in a dark orange haze which seemed to whisp away like smoke. Its mouth was moving in endless chant as a pool of ichor and blood began to form on the lift around it. A sudden movement, and its body seemed to judder, shake and then contract before finally collapsing and releasing a horrid stench. Feces. Foetid, foul and horrendous, the odor wafted outward from the lift, causing one of Nero's marines to hesitate, almost costing his life, as a traitor fired a volley of bolter shells his way. The marine managed to swerve his body to evade the impact of the majority of shots, but Nero and Draconis both had taken notice of the growing mound of feces in the lift. The daemonhost had expired, it seemed but his excrement had not. It embodied a life of its own, and re-animated the daemonhost body, spreading itself over the mishapen form. As the fecund daemon rose, it began to laugh a long, greasy, throaty laugh. As a horn began to grow from its belly, the daemon clutched the horn and pulled, again and again, until the horn was more than two meters long, made of festering iron, and separate from its body. The bloated [EXCOMMUNICATE] demon raised a hand in challenge to Nero Vipus with a yellow-toothed grin.

Meanwhile, Draconis had rushed Tigurio. The younger marine had blasted the elder with a bolt of searing plasma, but Tigurio's rosarius had reduced the majority of damage to almost none. The two clashed blades with fury rarely seen, the hatred of true family betrayed combined with the wrath ingrained in Astartes for their traitor brethren seethed and roiled between the two, as blades crossed, plasma pistols fired past each other, and kicks, punches, elbows, headbutts, parries and slashes all exchanged. Tigurio gripped Draconis by the neck, and squeezed.

"If only you knew..." But Draconis interrupted by pushing back enough to kick almost straight up into Tigurio's jaw. As his kick landed, Draconis saw the true horror of what Tigurio had become. The elder marine's skin had changed. His cheek bones were puffed over, while the cheeks themselves were rotted away, revealing a mouth of sharp monstrous teeth. The Black Marshall's eyes were indeed black, glistening in the orange glow from above. His forehead revealed a third, black, lightless eye which seemed to actually devour the light which fell upon it. His nostrils were flared, like a lizard or a bat, and horns sprouted from his bald pate, like a crown of reddish white bone.

"If only you didn't..." Draconis said quietly, backing away, he kept his blade ready, but was trying to grasp what he saw, what should not be his Uncle...

[Necris]

Nero strode forward as his marines held their ground preventing the traitors advance he looked the daemon over and smiled.

"I've bested better than you daemon."

The gutteral chuckle sent a wave of efulent stench over him but he stood in the face of it as it raised it horn blade to strike.

"Unfortunatly for you I am not the one to be besting you this day."

As if on cue the wall expoloded inwards debris scattering across the floor pulling both loyalist and traitor from their feet as chucks of masonry sweep under their feet, the Daemon snarled as a lump of masonry struck it and Nero was forced to leap back he lifted his sword aiming for the hole and the daemons gaze followed the point of the weapon.

+I COME, FEAR ME SERVANTS OF THE WARP FOR I AM YOUR DEATH+

The Mourning One stepped through the hole his dreadnaught armour tearing more stone work away from the wall, it levelled it's assault cannon at the daemon.

+COME WARP SCUM FACE YOUR DOOM+

The daemon snarled a the venerable dreadnaught charged towards it power fist ignighting the air around it as they clashed the daemon striking against the Dreadnaughts armour which bore the brunt of the attacks The Mourning One's power fist driving the daemon back with powerful blows each one threatening to pulp the unearthly body.

Nero truned to regard Draconis as he backed away from his fallen uncle his voice echoed out a he shouted.

"See young pup what happens to those who loose their faith, those who give up their souls for powers that should not be theirs, there is no salvation for the fallen, no quarter to be give you must end this with his head!"

[Draco Silverhand]

The fallen marines had been caught off guard, but rallied swiftly to return a volley of bolterfire at Nero's marines. The older marines did not dwarf them in size, but by some strange virtue, they seemed to radiate a calm, controlled sense of violence, and a hard-earned wisdom of ages that seemed to make them appear the bigger for it. Each Fallen Templar present fighting against Nero's men seemed to falter in his steadiness, as if possessed of the knowledge they had stepped one footfall too far down the wrong path many miles ago.

Tigurio hurled himself at his nephew, intent on incapacitating this nuisance child, and returning to his work. He struck for the killing blow, knowing Draconis could block it, but would follow up with a slice at his sword hand, his knee, or his elbow. The Black Marshal snarled as Draconis scored a plasma blast along his leg armor, melting off the outer layer on his left greave. In reply Tigurio punched Draconis across the face. The sergeant staggered backwards, but gathered his wits quickly, holstered his plasma pistol, and with both hands gripping his sword, lunged forward, thrusting the tip of his blade at the elder Falzone's hearts. His sword sparked as it grazed against Tigurio's breastplate, but he evaded the majority of damage as he twisted sideways. Draconis twisted to recover and face his uncle, but the elder was able to land a power sword blow to Draconis' right leg.

The blow caused the Imperial Fist sergeant to fall, but the opening had been lost, and he fended off Tigurio's attacks until the Marshal of Chaos relented to gloat. The Imperial Fist sergeant growled as he tried to stand. Unable to, he drew his plasma pistol. He addressed it with a littany of accuracy as he disabled the safety. The split second he took to do this was still too long to avoid detection as, even though Tigurio had turned his back, his second sight kicked in and he spun on the spot, drew his own bolt pistol, and snapped off a shot into Draconis' left hand. The bolt round liquefied his hand, shattered the pistol grip and ruptured the containment field on the plasma pistol. The explosion burned the Fist sergeant's face, fractured his arm plates, and sent him sprawling sideways.

"You see?" Tigurio smirked. "Chaos is power... Power to detect your pathetic attempt to kill me. Power to take a system against the odds, and even the power to save the Imperium from its own destruction." There was a glimmer in his eyes. "You understand? I have bargained a portion of my soul, and the system you are trying to save in exchange for forces aligned to Chaos, which will serve under my leadership to strike at the cancers rotting the Imperium. I will help to make our Emperor's domain sovereign once more!" Tigurio smiled as he stepped towards Draconis. "Now, this is my one offer, join me." He held out his hand.

Draconis pushed himself up with his good leg, gripping his sword as tight as possible, and thrust his blade towards Tigurio's hearts. In spite of his speed, Draconis was no match for Tigurio's limited wytch-sight, and the Black Marshal dodged the strike, following it up with a crippling hamstring blow, sending Draconis sprawling in his face. The Fallen Templar raised his sword high, with the blade pointed down. As he gripped the blade tighter, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Pity... And I saw such potential in you..." He muttered as his last words to the nephew he just met.

[Necris]

He drew the blade back for the killing blow but as he struck forward another sword smashed it aside as Nero stepped in standing over the fallen Imperial Fist, with a snarl Tigurio turned the vicious parry into a counter attack but Nero had his footing now and their blades met locking as the two marines stared into one another's eyes.

Tigurio's black pits looked into the cold icy glare or the older marine there was no anger there no blind hate only a calm fury controlled an directed but deeper yet there was cunning and wisdom, intelligence dare he think it belief in purpose, this was unlike anything Tigurio  had ever seen, marines were zealous to the Emperor their devotion shone in their eyes their righteous fury ebbed from their every being and their faith in the God Emperor shone brighting from them yet this man was different there was no hint of the religious zeal about him no righteous only the hard truth of him.

Their blades parted and as quick they were connected again locked in a different position this time it was Nero who's struck and he parted the blades and struck again and again riving Tigurio back several paces, he dodged a wild swing from Tigurio's fist and delivered on of his own crushing the fallen marshals nose with the blow which sent Tigurio reeling as his own blood pumped from his ruining face.

Nero did not press the advantage instead he turned to the fallen Draconis and dragged him to his feet his voice harsh as he steadied the young Imperial Fist.

"On your feet Son of Dorn! You are not bested yet, you are his Astartes you fight in his name for his glory! This wretch has sullied Dorn's name, sullied your name and that of the Emperor himself, are you about to let your minor injuries get the better of you and bring more shame upon your chapter and family?"

Draconis looked him hard in the face.

"You uncle is lost, do not think of his salvation think only of his death for that is the only place his salvation lies Ave Imperator."

[Draco Silverhand]

Draconis heard the truth of these words. His legs were already mending, the damage to his muscles would hamper him, but he still had one hand, his head and a service bolter. Sheathing his power sword, the Imperial Fist reached behind to unholster the gun from under his back power unit. Raising it quickly, and using his ruined arm as a brace for aiming, he lined up his left eye with the iron sights. Tigurio barely managed to recover from Nero Vipus' smashing fist when the bolter shells began exploding against his breastplate. Some of the shells flared up against a shimmering barrier, as the Black Marshal's iron halo kicked into gear. Even so, the fallen paladin staggered under the full-automatic hail of mass reactive slugs.

"In Imperium, mortus te!" Draconis snarled with the roar of bolter fire. The curse seemed to have an effect, as Tigurio staggered backwards as the last rounds from Draconis' magazine shorted out the iron halo, and one of the shots broke through Tigurio's abdominal armor, rupturing many internal organs as it exploded. He did not fall, however, and merely began to laugh as cultists flooded into the chamber, swarming towards Nero.

"I have not had the pleasure of meeting one so interesting as yourself, renegade." Tigurio said between laughs. "However, I do hope we meet again," he strode towards the virus bomb assembly, still guarded by a small number of marines yet to be slain by Nero's forces. "But, as only one of us has a ticket back from oblivion, I highly doubt I will ever see you... in your entirety... ever again." His broken face shifted shape into a hideously grinning devil mask. "Though, perhaps, I will take the time to recover all your lost shards of soul and reassemble you as my pet..." As Tigurio reached for the activation runes, he was cut short in his rant, as the area echoed loud with a single metallic explosion. A shot that stopped all combat momentarily, as everyone sought the origin of the sound.

[Kallidor]

Lomak doubled over and coughed up a wad of bloody spittle. His arms may have had the strength of ten men but his body was old and unused to such physical activity and climbing a hive was a feat few ordinary men could boast. As he settled himself down his vision swam with exhaustion and vertigo as he observed the distant conflict over a vast chasm. Laying down on an old gantry he used his pyschic powers to gather himself and then hide his frail body from any glances that might be directed his way.

He used a range finder to determine the distance to the swirling combat between Brother Falzone and his fallen  uncle. Nero's men were slowly culling the traitor's forces and pressing them back but the hideous grin on Tigurio's face belied the loss of his troops, no doubt savouring his final moment of victory. Lomak was too tired to allow himself a smile at the thought that that victory would never come. Tigurio's death would not be at the hand of ancient loyalist from a far blacker Chapter that Tigurio's, nor would it come by way of his nephew. There would be no poetic end for the mad man, only an anonymous execution at the hands of unseen enemy.

As the ebb of battle turned in the favour of the loyalists Lomak set up his rifle, aiming the majestic sweep of the barrel at the far distant roof of the dome. At ranges such as these a sniper rifle became more akin to an artillery piece and conventional shooting became redundant. Instead, the shot was boiled down to a set of numbers, an equation of death if one wished to use such verbose language.

One of Nero's men was down and his topknot ruffled in some faint breeze that swirled in the dome. Lomak used that to calculate the wind velocity between him and the target and with that it was down to a matter of skill to time the moment. Tigurio moved away from his nephew a sly grin splitting his features as he approached a console. As always there was too much talk. Lomak recalled the moment he finally caught up with the fallen Magos that had sided with the Silver Emperor, there had been no talk, he had just killed him.

The shot was quiet and Tigurio was still speaking long after the bullet had been fired. Lomak watched through a spotting scope until he saw the target terminated. At this range the bullet was not flying horizontally, just like an artillery shell it came strait down onto Tigurio's exposed head. His skull blew apart like an unpeeling fruit and the force of the projectile drove him down onto his knees and split his armour where it had already been rent by bolter fire, a gruel of blood spraying from the out in a semi circle. Had he been without his power armour Tigurio would be no more but the smoking ruin of his armour was fixed upright on it's knees, headless and totally still. The shoch of the unexpected and spectacular death froze every other warrior present and even though he had heard nothing of the distant conflict the silence was palpable.

[Necris]

Nero turned his eyes scanning the area the shot had come from he though he caught the tale tale sight of the shooters origin but it was a passing visage and he lost it as soon as he'd seen it, his face was hard he surveyed the clearing.

"Dammed Inquisition."

There were a handful of Tigurio's marines left still fighting falling back in good order at the death of their lord, and the daemon still fought with 'The Mourning One' it's dreadnought armour marked by dozens of hits and fluid pumping from one of it's legs where a servo had been ruptured his aspect grim he gestured to a group of his marines.

"Secure the bomb, disarm it and make it safe, one stray shot and we're still dead."

Under covering fire they moved forward in pairs supporting one another they approached the fallen dark marshal, Nero turned looking at Abdul his head hanging his sorrow for all these years they had fought together and to see his life blood slowly flowing from the gaping wound in his chest was a dark occurrence and he would be missed sorely on board, he dwelt on the death wondering how many more would not be returning Sol and Brak had already lost so many and he knew that after this the mood on his ship would be bleak it was always the case when brothers fell, to have survived the heresy and those long years this had been a trying time for them all and the company would need time to recover.

"Falak see to our brother."

Falak lifted his head and gave a sharp nod moving from the combat he dropped down beside Abdul and Nero's attention turned to Draconis.

"It is done, not in the best way but his curse is over,"

He gestured at his ruined arm.

"You'll need that seeing to lad."

He attention was grabbed as 'The Mourning One' smashed the Daemon back effluent scattering across the ground corrupting the stone work where it landed he roared another powerful blow crushing the body but the daemon weathered the punishing blows, it struck back driving it's long blade into the abdomen the dreadnought roared it's powerfist closing round the daemon.

+YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME DAEMON I ENDURE YOUR CORRUPTION+

The dreadnought twisted it's assault cannon coming round it fired at point blank range into the daemon pulping it'd twisted and corrupted body into nothing more than thick slime upon it's powerfist. With the daemon dead the dreadnought faltered staggering on it's damaged leg, Kesta one of Nero's finest assault specialists moved closer to the ancient warrior.

+I ENDURE BROTHER DO NOT FEAR FOR ME THERE IS MORE FIGHT LEFT IN MY OLD BONES YET+

Kesta nodded once and turned back to the battle.

[Draco Silverhand]

Standing, Falzone staggered slowly towards his uncle's corpse. The shock had faded after a moment. He had suspected the Inquisitor would interfere. He was actually grateful. He felt shame for failing, but gratefulness that the Inquisitor had not given an oath to leave it to him for the kill. Otherwise, now, they might all be dead. With that in mind, Draconis kicked the body over and turned to where he suspected the shot came from. Was Orin Lomak still hiding there, somehow? If he were a sniper worth his salts, he probably had moved by now. Regardless, Draconis tilted his head and raised his bolter to his chest in salute. The kill went to Orin Lomak. Draconis would return to his chapter, and relay the occurrences of this day.

One second after saluting the Inquisitor, Draconis turned, leveled his bolter with a fresh magazine in it, and unloaded into the remaining forces of Tigurio's retinue. One Word Bearers marked marine stood out as more stout hearted than the rest, and Draconis took it upon himself to level the majority of his bolterfire at this individual. Soon, he fell, and the remaining marines were routed as they fled from the chamber into the upper hive area. Nero's men followed in hot pursuit, but Draconis collapsed. The cuts to his legs, the wounded arm, various other seemingly small ricochet and frag injuries were catching up to him, and his body was beginning to run through metabolic slowing processes. They would allow him to remain conscious, battle ready in his position, but unable to engage in pursuit or retreat without someone carrying him.

Looking to Nero he sighed.

"It seems I have failed." He paused a second. "The Inquisition was able to remedy my weakness with a long shot in the dark, but were it not for the assassin's bullet, my uncle would have killed us. Your honor bound you from taking his life. My youth and inexperience with... this." Draconis lifted what was left of his left arm. "I only hope I can do better for the Emperor, for Dorn and for the chapter in the future, if they will have me."

[Necris]

Nero knelt beside him resting his sword at the youths side.

"The powers of chaos are strong pup, if your uncle had not been corrupted and filled with their dark gifts the day would have been yours."

He looked at the hand and gestured to Falak

"See that our cousin returns to his chapter whole."

Falak nodded curtly and drew a tool from his belt as he knelt on the other side of the fallen marine.

"Rest no little cousin we'll see you right."

He forced the tool inbetween the soft parts of Draconis' armour and injected the powerful sedative into his blood stream he would stay awake for a few minutes as Nero stood pacing away from the Imperial Fist. Speaking in a quieter voice to Kesta

"Secure that for removal back to our ship."

Kesta nodded lifted his hand to his ear sending the machine code signal to summon their stormbird, four marines stood round the bomb their weapons held ready for any threats.

Nero boosted the signal of his vox and spoke again.

"Sol?"

"The bastards have taken flight, some dammed daemon of khorne is leading them but they are withdrawing and taking the bomb with them."

"Brak?"

"We've neurtalised the Slanneshi dogs the bomb is dismantled but safe."

"Tass?"

There was no reply

"Tass?"

"Forgive me captain these bastards are still putting up a strong fight around the bomb though they had yet to set if off."

"Paval?"

"Their ship is dead in the water captain, we have also recovered Commander Grave."

That lightened his mood and he  nodded as he watched two brother reverely collect Adbul from the ground a makeshift stretcher bearing his weight as two more lifted Draconis, Kesta came over to him.

"Stormbird enroute two minutes, I'll remain and sweep up the rest of his filth."

"No need."

He keyed his vox.

"Chaste, the wolves are yours."

"With please Captain Nero."

Kesta looked at him for a moment.

"I would still like to remain to make certain."

"Agreed then but do not tarry longer than you need."

The Stormbirds boom of entry echoed around them and he turned barking out commanded.

"Be ready I want to off this world with two minutes."

The marines round the bomb slung their weapons and lifted the bulk weight carrying it to join the other mairnes with the dead and injured, Nero clapped Kesta on the shoulder and turned to join them.

"You have command sergeant select your men and luck be with you."