Operation: Silent Storm

[EmperorsChampion]

The cries of help rang through Captain Brann's headset as he turned his head and watched the sky fill with a cloud of flapping black monsterous Gargoyles swooping down at the landing platform. The shuttle must not be boarded at all. Brann knew this, their mission was complete but they are the protectors of the men and women of the Imperium, that was their duty. Brann thumbed on his powerfist, its silver surface was blackened by the blood of the Tyranid Hive Tyrant now gleamed with a blue energy. Swatting down one of the Gargoyles that attacked he smashed it in his fist and threw it aside as he unslung his bolter.

"Captain Brann! They seem to be everywhere!" Brother Lanius, with matching black power armor of that of Brann's. The diference was that of their right shoulder pad. Brann's was bright yellow and a clenched black fist in the middle, the symbol of the Imperial Fists. lanius was blue with the symbol of the Ultramarines. Lanius's readied his bolter and opened fire into the oncoming airiel swarm above them. Comming beside him another black armored space marine, that of the Dark Angels began firing along side Lanius.

"Brother Aratus! Report your location!" Brann yelled over the vox, as he fired one handed, taking steps backwards to cover a group of civilians retreating to the shuttle.

"This is Brother Aratus, Me and Brother Faunus are taking care of a probelm along the south end of the landing pad!" Aratus shouted out, his helm ripped off by a large claw from a winged warrior. The warrior forced Aratus to the ground, a clawed hand gripping around his throat.

The tyranid warrior raised one of its talons into the air only to have it hacked away by a masive axe. Brother Faunus of the space wolves leaped in. Rolling away from the creature Aratus picked up his sword and swung in a wide arc, cutting away at the warriors head while another warrior lept into the air at the two Death Watch space marines, Brother Faunus side stepted and swung his axe cleaving away at the warriors side, wounding him but not killing him. Aratus stood fast and drove his power sword into the rib cage of the warrior, with his other hand he drove his fist up through the warriors jaw, releasing his sword he matched his first hit with a powerfull swing to the side of his head, dismembering the warriors jaw clean off and then slung his bolter to his hand and grabbed his swords hilt and fired a bolt into the warriors skull, the impact shot the xenos clean off his blade.

"Captain Brann, south area secure. Just a few more groups of civilians are left now. May the Emperor be with them." Aratus reported in as he ran next to Faunus who was aiding the Civilians up one of the access ramps to the landing pad.

[NecromundianLord]

Every muscle burned with use, the fires of adrenaline scorching his veins as Sergeant Treiga's boot shod feet pound against the shattered surface of the bridge. Another crackling hiss of energy pops in his right ear as trooper Pyrins screeches like the banshee she is and fires a las bolt point blank into the screaming face of a civilian man trying to hold onto her foot. The dull thunk of a rock bouncing off a helmet catches his attention, spotting the wiry figure of trooper Hashii stumble from the blow. Grabbing the back of the trooper's flak jacket Sergeant Treiga hauls him back to his feet, his hand free now since his laspistol's battery pack had overheated and turned the weapon into useless slag two blocks back from the bridge the squad was now pelting across. All around him the screams of the desperate civilians filled the Sergeant’s head, as did the soft hum of the thin bladed power sword in his right fist, that with a flick of his wrist scorches the face off of a man in noble's finery before cleaving it in two like an over ripe melon. The steady hissing crack of las bolts being fired off into the rampaging crowd that was now desperate to drag down its once protectors to be sliced apart by the tyranid hoard that sweeps over the crowds flanks in a visceral scene of carnage, told the sergeant that his old friend trooper Odium and the team's medico little Roslin were still at his back. The fall of alien blood and gore that rains from the sky every two seconds just before the sound of a rifle's crack reaches his ears keeps the Sergeant from worrying about the gargoyles sweeping towards the space port, the teams sniper, Sniper First Class Yasliv was busy at work as he ran.

The bridge was quaking under them as the jungle fighters that had been dropped into this mess earlier began to fall out, laying down gouts of fire and hails las bolts into both the crowd behind them and the tyranids as they advanced, the sergeant's squad had dropped in to help bolster those men and women, but he didn't have orders to die with them because they weren't fit enough to keep up. The crump and roar of bolter fire up ahead gave the whole group a new boost of adrenaline, they were almost to safety and with a scream upon their lips like the deamons of the warp ripping through into real space, they tore free of the crowd and pelted through the unhinged gates of the space port. The last civilian shuttle tore off from the deck at a bad angle, the wing clipped by an acidic shot from a lucky gargoyle, spinning lazily about in the air before the acid seeps into the engine and the whole thing comes swooping down through the air to smash into the bridge just behind the squad. The concussion of the exploding engine and cracking armaplast support beams of the bridge drowns out the screams of the hundred or so passengers and civilians on foot that die in the crash, the blast throwing the squad a good ten feet forward.

As one the entire squad rolls upon impact, Trooper Pyrin springing to her feet minus her helmet, blood red hair uncoiling from the top of her head, gleaming bone picks keeping multiple snakes of braided hair together in one long braid that shines in the fire light. Even these hardened veterans of the Karosian Sky Dancers pause in awe of the god-like might of the space marines before them, the shuttle was a short sprint away and their bodies were so fired up from adrenaline and the rush of escape that their muscles twitch under their flak vests and combat fatigues. Not a single member of the squad was under six feet tall, every one of them was long limbed yet lacking any of the gawkiness of such a condition, graceful fighters and fair boned people save for the preacher whose body was the thickest across but was also a touch soft around the middle. The tallest man in the squad was the sergeant, standing at seven feet flat, his skin the darkest tanned, turned that way from countless alien suns, where other members of the team were various shades of tan, but it was clear they had all been very pale before entering the emperors imperial guard.

Sergeant Treiga's voice was a deep combat roar that would carry over all but the largest of weapons "GET ON THAT TRANSPORT!" The reaction was immediate as if the squad had all been given a jolt of electricity through their posterier; they throw themselves towards the open ramp. Reaching it the sergeant stands at the bottom of the ramp, cold green eyes as hard as the steel he stands upon watching the carnage and death sweeping towards him and his squad, who form up along the ramp and just inside the transport's door, firing shot after shot into the onrushing horde, the space marines waited for them, they would wait a few seconds longer for those near mythological men to board, but after that they were getting the hell off this rock and leaving them to their fate.

[EmperorsChampion]

Aratus watched as the alien blood ate away at his armored fists, hissing and popping as the acid slowly desolved his gauntlets. Brother Faunus aproached next to him and removed a vile from his side pack and broke it over Aratus's hands, stopping the acid from eating to his flesh.

"Thank you brother" Aratus nodded and shethed his sword and unslung his bolter again and rammed a clip home into his weapon and strode off towards the shuttle with Faunus.

The space wolf brother Faunus was masive man in space marine standards, a whole head and shoulders above the rest, his fiery red braided hair and fanged teeth made him seem more menacing to face.

Captain Brann made it to the ramp of the shuttle, watching as the rest of his squad made it back to them. Brother Castor of the Dark Angels aided a group of civilians to their death as he slammed a clip into his bolter again. Saying prayers to the Emperor and the civilians they were killing.

"By the Emperor! Get moving!" Lanius yelled out, his voice metalic from behind his helmet. Firing one handed with his bolter he gunned down two more gargoyles. Lanius of the Ultramarines started to make his way back to the shuttle, his movements swift and fast as he hacked away at a tyranid trying to make its way to the transport.

"Death Watch, we have done all what we can, head back to the transport now!." Captain Brann ordered out, his voice demanding and orderly.

Aratus and Faunus made it back, both covered in alien blood, Aratus's helmet having been ripped off of him, blood leaked across his fresh slices on his cheeks, but the blood and now just started to clot, the alien claws somehow slowing the process of his blood instantly cloting, but his body fought off the virus and was good as new. Faunus climbed into the shuttle along with Aratus. Lanius and Castor fallowed in after them, lastly was Captain Brann, firing off the rest of his clip into the swarm of aliens.

Saying a quick prayer Brann slammed the rune key on the doorway and shut the hatch. Everyone possible was secured aboard the shuttle now.

"May their souls rest well with the Emperor." Aratus said, standing next to his first founding brethren, Brann.

"The xenos will perish by the holy flames and will not be aloud victory." Castor said to them. "Virus bombing is now the only answer to this."

The engines roared to life, lifting the masive bulk of the shuttle off the ground, slowly speeding up as they got higher and higher. Its light defence guns trying to clear a path to break free of the tyranids.

[NecromundianLord]

The ramp was already starting to shut before the marine had the chance to hit the rune, the sergeant jumps down from the cockpit rather than using the short ladder, his height making it useless on the way down. The power sword was slung across his shoulders now and the man's re-breather was clipped into the front of his flak jacket rather than covering his face. A jagged scar runs down the length of the left side of his face, narrowly missing his eye, and he was shaving the stubble off his cheeks with a bayonet, helmet tucked up into his right armpit. He holds out a gloved hand towards Hashii, the wiry little man grunting and tugging on the bottom of a thick, pleated black beard. The trooper's long, thin fingers are curled around a small, crushed brown box of paper with a little bit of the paper band around it that shows the logo of a Iho-stick production company, he holds the box out towards Sergeant Treiga. Taking one of the pre-rolled Iho-sticks the sergeant walks down the row of seats on the left side, where his troopers were strapping themselves in and checking each others harnesses. He pauses in front of trooper Pyrin, whose flamer had run out of enough Promethium to fire another shot but as he stops she thumbs the pilot light rune. With a dull whoosh the pilot light flairs up, lighting the Iho-stick, which promptly goes into the right corner of the man's mouth as he sits on the bulkhead bench beside trooper Pyrin, checking her harness and then letting her do so after he pulls his down over his head and straps himself in. A faint blue smoke haze lifts in small rings from the smoking sergeant, who was clearly ignoring the warning sign that’s paint was chipping off the gray wall beside him.

The whole squad was watching the space marines in silence, they have a somewhat rag-tag appearance in their weaponry, though their armor and uniforms are all identical, smoky gray fatigues and dark blue flak jackets, with blood red marks on their helmets to identify them during drops. Their flak jackets have built in grav chuts on the back, the shoulders fanning out to either side somewhat, and their boots are thicker, armored hose lines dropping from dull brass rings in the small of their back plates that connect to a small canister of fuel built into the back of each boot. Those canisters allowed them some maneuverability in the air, and were spent by the time they hit the ground. After an uneasy silence stretches on the sergeant rolls his Iho-stick to one side and growls "Hashii, pass out the fragging Iho-sticks you prude, and lets hear a hymn Preacher." The last words were directed towards the only man in the group that was larger than the sergeant, though not nearly as tall, the only person close to the sergeant's height was the red head sitting beside him. The Preacher begins to hum as the Iho-sticks get passed around and lit up, the smoke a faint mockery of incense smoke at a cathedral. When the Preacher begins to speak, his voice fits his hard life, deep and gruff, but at the same time somehow it sounds angelic. In the pauses where the others should respond, the squad does so, but they don't use any form of gothic, instead they use their native tongue which activates both vocal cords, which makes their voices boom almost demonically, with apparently two voices coming from each of the men and women's throats. The Preacher however speaks in high gothic and doesn't at all seem to be bothered by this.

[EmperorsChampion]

"Templar... You dropped something." Brother Faunus boomed out, smiling, his wolf like fangs, rune tattoos covered the left side of the space wolfs face. From his side Faunus held out a black helmet, tear marks across his surface.

Aratus grabbed the helmet and looked at it, holding it in his pock marked gauntlets. Glarring at him. "Thank you brother Faunus. I will have a tech priest repair it once we get aboard the ship."

As the space marines straped themselves in a few seats away from the Imperial Guard they picked up the strange laungage of the guard next to them. Castor glared over at them from behind his helmet. Not knowing what they are saying he turned his head over to his Captain.

"Brother Captain, what kind of people are these Imperial Guard?" Castor questioned to him.

"Castor, it is most likely their native launage that they still practice. You shouldnt dwell on it to much." Brann replied back to him, sensing his unease.

"Aye Brother Castor, I wouldnt worry about it." Faunus said to him as he placed his helmet next to him, a wolf tail hung from the top of it. "Your to stuborn to realise that its their native way of speaking."

"What did you say you barbarian!" Castor bellowed out, standing up infront of the space wolf.

Faunus stood up infront of him, towering over him. His masive bulk making Castor seem inferior. "You repeat those words to me Dark Angel!"

Castor glarred at him through his helmet, clenching his fists in anger. "You heard me!" Removing his helmet and throwing it to the ground. "Now you can see that im saying it! Maybe you couldnt comprehend it before!"

Faunus snapped his wolf like teeth in the face of Castor, taunting him. Castor quickly reacted with a hook to the jaw, throwing Faunus back a few steps. Faunus touched his jaw with his hand, seeing some blood he grabbed at Castor crashing his fist into his face.

"What in the Emperors name!" Lanius yelled out as he rose up to hold the bulk of Faunus back. Brann pulled Castor back and stood in between the two mighty warriors.

"Stop this at once!" Brann bellowed out. "You are the Emperors finest! Stop your fighting now!" His voice was loud and strong, both of the warriors stopped, Brann glarred at Castor and sat back down in the seat. "I will have no more of this fighting!"

Faunus sat down smiling and placed his helmet on. Lanius retreived Castors helmet and handed it to him and sat down next to him.

[NecromundianLord]

Galien Hashii was sitting closest to the marines, his thick pleated beard shimmering in a haze of blue smoke from the Iho-stick dangling out of the corner of his mouth. The responses he had been giving whole heartedly before drop away into automatic murmurs as his hard green eyes watch the marines argue with each other. It took a whole of a half second for the words that he had heard but filtered out to click into place, so they were fighting because of the way they spoke, well maybe they weren't so different from them after all. Casually he pulls a combat knife half as long as his forearm from its sheath on his calf, flipping a pocket open on his combat pants with the tip before pulling a wet stone out of the pocket. The rattling hum of the engines, the heavy breathing of the squad along with the other usual noises jump into focus with the addition of his blade scraping across the stone.

Roslin Jalinson was next down the line, her eyes closed as her innards shiver and roll violently, even after so much combat she got the shakes on the ride out. The medico's limbs shake visibly and her knees make a soft clack as they bang together from shivering so badly. No one had ever been able to explain it to her, why she got so scared after the fighting was over, she didn't care to know why anymore it was just good to know that some things didn't change. Cold sweat trickles down her ribs and rolling across her forehead to drip over her eyelids like a familiar stroke of a lovers finger tips. Reaching up she pulls her helmet off, setting it in her lap, fingers gripping the smooth, cold surface until the knuckles are a stark white. Her face shines with an unhealthy looking sweat, the right side a patch work of vicious little scars that show stark white against her sun baked face. Dark blond hair was cut close to her head, only an inch thick and she kept her bangs cut back, it may make her look more like a man but only a blind one mistakes her as such when she wasn't in a flak jacket so that wasn't the reason, no it got too heavy when the shakes kicked in and she started to sweat like this. Roslin's lungs were burning finally, the familiar sensation from singing the responses to the hymnal bringing her back to the dull, stained, gray transport hull they were inside where the bellowing of the space marines hadn't. Her eyes were green as well, just like all the others, a cold clinical mask sheens across them as she watches the marine's armor coated fist slam into the others face, a faint giddy flutter in her chest a much more desirable and just as familiar friend as the shakes surfacing within her.

Jasrink Yasliv's rock steady hands were stripping down his sniper rifle, keeping up with all the parts even as the transport rocks and sways, his hands working on autopilot as he pulls out a cleaning kit. His soul and mind however were not on the task of his rifle, they were locked onto the hymnal, belting out the responses in a clear booming voice that surpasses all the others, having been brought up in one of the cities of their home planet the pale sniper was more firmly indoctrinated in the imperial faith than even the Preacher was, or at least the version of the faith supported on Karosian IV. When the hymnal stops he had already cleaned, oiled, reassembled and adjusted everything on the sniper rifle to his preference, something that took at least three times as long for most men to do. His clean shaven face twists into a scowl as he turns lethally sharp eyes upon the pair of fighting marines, a warm hand falling upon his shoulder the only reason he doesn't let his mouth put his ass in trouble.

Karliv Odium, affectionately known as the Preacher to the squad had ignored the argument amongst the space marines, his strong, clear voice continuing on with the emperor's word until the crash of a fist into another’s face stopped him short of the end of the hymnal. Seeing the young sniper beside him tense up he reaches out and rests a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. Leaning his still balding head forward so his forehead touches the top of the younger man's helmet, the ring of black hair around his skull giving him the look of a clergy man, he whispers "calm yourself, they mean no insult to your faith." Then he looks to the marines and in a voice that carries easily across the distance says "would the emperor's finest do such lowly servants of the emperor, such as ourselves, the honor of joining us in praise to Him upon the golden throne of holy Terra?" He feels the younger man relax finally and removes his hand from his shoulder.

Sagiel Pyrins sat there on the bench seat, harness cinched tight across the smoky gray shirt she wore, her flak jacket clenched between her boots and her helmet sitting in her lap. Sweat stains her shirt and makes the fabric droop, something that damn up tight sniper Yasliv got onto her about all the time, some fraged up idea that she was trying to seduce them into sin just because she had a good body and didn't like to keep it trapped inside of flak when she didn't have to. In fact the only reason she responds to the hymnal at all is because if she didn't it was a sure fire way to get that man riled up and with her laspistols so close, her muscles all tightly strung and the memories of all that beautiful fire flickering through her mind she was a ticking time bomb and he was the best trigger around. The circular dip of her neckline shows a pattern of scars across the skin just above her collar bone, kill marks, each with a different hue of dye according to what it was she had killed. A combat knife identical to Hashii's was being spun absently in one of her hands, flipped and tumbled about without ever so much as grazing the skin. In fact, save for the obviously self inflicted kill marks, there were no visible scars upon her eerily fae figure. Her facial bones were all fine and delicate looking, hardly fitting of a soldier, but the bone picks in her hair and her eyes said otherwise. Sagiel's eyes were absolutely void of any and all emotion, they may as well be chunks of flat green and white glass. Sinful lips curl into a smirk as the commotion stops the singing, knowing that it would irritate that overly religious fragger two seats to her right. Turning her head slowly she watches as the marine throws a blow into the face of the other. Her voice was a low purr, hardly loud enough for those right around her to hear. “Well I guess we know which one of them has a better kick in the pants then.”

Oseol Treiga was sitting there with his head tipped back against the bulkhead, the side of his face that could be seen by looking down the row the good one, some people were even good enough to peel away the layer of campaigns, carnage and the cooking of so many suns to see that at some point in his life he had been a handsome young man. Those days were long gone by now though and he sings with the others, eyes closed as the vibration of his vocal cords sooths his nerves a little, the rest soothed by the sound of his squad singing and simply existing at his side. When the argument broke out further down the transport his eyes slide open, turning to look down along the way at the hulking space marines as they go at it. His face twists up in a rather ugly fashion as he smiles and spits out the stub of his Iho-stick to go bouncing across the metal floor. His voice was bellow his battle field roar but loud enough to carry over the whole squad "Pyro, I wish you would stop thinking like a woman, you always make it sound so disturbing, only damn thing that’s given me the chills in years." The air of tension that had swept across the squad suddenly ruptures into laughter from everyone, deep, high pitched, all of it hearty and hail, for after spending so many years together it didn't take any of them that hadn't heard the red headed woman's words much time to imagine what she had said.

[EmperorsChampion]

Aratus watched the two marines fight, his eyes drifting back to the sight of his helmet. Three long claw marks sliced into the black adamantine armor. Removing his gauntlets he set them next to his helmet, the finger and wrist joints were almost stuck togeather due to the acid.

"Prayer cleanses the soul." Aratus spoke softly to himself, lifting a amulet from his chest he rub it in his right hand, palming it. "Where there is uncertainty I shall bring the light. My word in the soul shall be as my bolter in the field." His eyeslids drifting shut over his cold blue eyes. A fresh scar across his cheeks had already healed. Aratus looked up at Captain Brann. "Death, war and blood. In vengeance serve the Emperor in the name of Dorn."

"Aye Brother, for the Emperor and his will of Rogal Dorn." Brann replied back in prayer.

"An exerpted from High Marshal Gerwald's prayer of Repungance my brother." Aratus said to Brann.

"Begin Brother"

"Kill aliens and warp-spawned filth where you find them, and in whatever circumstance you find them. There is no such thing as tolerance for such as them as far as the Emperor is concerned." Aratus stopped for a moment."I hate the xenos of the Tryanids. They destory so much and we are forced to destroy our own worlds to stop them."

"Battle Brothers... We are docking in a few moments." Castor spoke out to the rest of his brethren, noting of the green indicator light.

The shuttle slowly began to deccelerate and starting its docking procedures. The ship they were docking with was a masive Imperial Mars class battlecruiser. The Battlecruiser had one of the most potent weapons made by the Imperium. The nova cannon.

Docking inside the launch bays of the imperial ship the shuttle came to a hault on the bay floor. steam hissing from jet ports as the access ramp slid down and the hatch opened. The warriors of legend stood up and exited out of the shuttle and got into a single line at attention while Captain Brann aproached them.

[NecromundianLord]

Pyrin sits there going through the motions as the squad prays, she wasn't impressed by the simple sight of the space marines anymore, sure they shocked her when she saw them at first and she was sure they could fight like gods, but not much impresses her after the initial shock, ever. As the transport begins its landing procedures she sheaths her combat knife and watches as the rest of the squad begins stowing their gear. Unclasping her harness she stands, stretching like a cat that had just woken up, arms above her head and spine curved. Bending down she grabs her flak jacket and pulls it over her head, securing the armor as the metal plates under her feet jerk and shudder. She flops back down into her seat just as the final burners kick in, searing the decking moments before the loud 'whumph' and clang of metal touching metal screams through the transport.

Lifeless eyes watch as the space marines get up and start down the access ramp as it begins to descend. The rest of the squad was out of their harness by now and with a bellowed order to "shift your lazy arses and get off this transport!" From the sergeant, they all got up and clomped out the door. The space marines were naturally more impressive to the crew bustling about than just a few more guardsmen, but when the sergeant corners an ensign the height difference between them is shocking. Pyrin stands just to the left and behind the sergeant, the bone gleaming in her hair and the faint sneer mixed with her dead eyes made the ensign twitch almost as much as having the sergeant yelling in his face.

It didn't take long for the ensign to get the squad to a free bunk room, after leading them through a maze of twisting corridors, their boots just adding to the thump and bang of machines all around them, tech priests scurried all over and navy arms men with shotguns and carapace armor patrolled the halls. As soon as they were in the bunk room Pyrin claimed the top bunk closest to the door leading to the community ablation room. Stripping her flak jacket off and tossing her helmet along with it into the netting bellow the bunk, she lays her precious flamer on the thin mattress itself before sitting on the bunk bellow hers to pull her boots off. A shadow falls across her as she's tugging the second boot off, the hiss of the fuel tubs being disconnected a sharp familiar sound. Green glass eyes look up through bloody red bangs and into the pale face of Yasliv. "What the frag do you want, finally come to try your luck with me have you, done with all your silly penitence and ready for sin?" Her lips were twisted into a smirk and her purring voice was edged with razors.

Yasliv's scowl was so sweet to the sadistic vixen, who throws her arms up quickly to bounce a bunch off of her forearm, it was half assed because they were both tired though. Glancing behind her, she notices just how much like a comfortable brig the room looks like, it was small, there were only three bunks and then the other half of the room was a table. It looked like Yasliv had gotten stuck with bunking under her, the sergeant and the preacher were sitting at the table with a deck of tarot cards between them, and the other members of the squad were already passed out on their bunks, still in full combat gear. She took all this in within a few seconds before looking back at Yasliv "I'll get my sinful little ass off your bunk in a minute you up tight frag head." She did too, leaving her boots right in his way as she pushes past him, using her height and body strength against the smaller man. Hitting the rune to open the door to the ablation chamber, she steps inside and washes up.

When Pyrin comes back out of the ablation chamber she's naked as the day she was born, which doesn't attract so much as a cat call, everyone had seen everyone else naked in this squad before, but usually there was a healthy dose of teasing from the hard eyed recon man Hashii, but he was too busy snoring loud enough to wake the emperor. Yasliv looks up from where he is kneeling in front of his bunk, praying no doubt and he does it a moment too late. Pyrin was holding her clothes, tossing them under their shared bunk save for her soaking wet shirt that had fallen in with her, spinning it between her hands until it was a thick cord of fabric she cracks it across the sniper's back side with a loud crack and a yowl from Yasliv. Laughing like an impish little deamon, she dances around the man's clumsy lunge, he was a sniper not a close combat specialist and she purposefully let him almost catch her several times so that he was forced to rub up against her. Finally she hauls herself up onto her bunk, crouching there with her tongue stuck out at the sniper who reaches up to try and grab some of her now loose and cascading hair, managing to get a hold of some of it his arm tenses to pull her down when a voice behind them booms "That’s ENOUGH, you've had your fun Pyro now for emperors sake put some clothes on before Yasliv's head explodes! And you Yasliv, need to stop letting her bait you so easily lad." Biting back a few choice words of retort she answers the sergeant with a "yes sir" at the same time Yasliv does.

[EmperorsChampion]

Lanius marched through the main halls of the imperial warship. His size dwarfing all those around him. Trying to find the shooting range that Captain Brann ordered the squad for firing drills.

"Brother Lanius, this way." Castor said to him from the other side of the hall as he entered in a code which the door slid open. Castor went in fallowed by Lanius.

As they walked in, it wasnt a firing range but a urban set battlefield. Captain Brann awaited with the rest of the squad in the safe zone where ammunition and other supplies for this training might be needed.

"The record time for this mission is fourteen minutes. There is eighty combat servitors in the main building." Brann noted, pointing at a complex in the middle of the field. "That time was set by another Death Watch squad. We can do better."

The Deathwatch prepared themselves for the combat exercise. Loading thair specialized bolters and checking their equipment. Aratus led them in a quick battle rites prayer, his helmet and gauntlets still in repair.

Their captain entered in a code on the controll panel facing the arena sized battlefield. A red light turned on and started flashing in the safe zone.

"Get ready Brothers. This will be tough." He said, cocking his bolter and stood in the ready zone along with the rest of the death watch kill team. They all stood ready as the red light quickly flashed green.

The space marines sprung forward all at the same time, rushing towards the complex. Their bolters trained, searching out the enemy. Low powered las bolts crackled from the windows of the main building, its surface pock marked with bullet holes and years of training wear. The area around the building was built up defences that wernt manned at the momement. Brother Castor gunned down two combat servitors with a quick surpression of the trigger, their bodies exploding from the bolt rounds. Aratus unshethed his power sword and stormed forward, his bolter's rounds meeting with a fleshy mechanical body of a servitor, dismembering its across the wall as he charged inside the complex. Lanius and Brann fallowed in after him, breaking through the entry area into a room filled with make shift defences, manning those were the space marine's targets.

Battle Brothers Faunus and Castor unknowling were moving with each other, in precise quardination. It was how they were trained, trained to fight and nothing else. Nothing else mattered on the battlefield expect defeating the enemy. Taking the side entrence, Faunus's masive size smashed through a receiving bulk head which lead to a mess hall.

"Its been three minutes, The three of us have a total combined kill count of twentyeight. Faunus and Castor meet up with us on the second floor entry way." Brann voxed out, firing his bolter one handed while swinging his powerfist into a servitor, bashing away its torso leaving its robotic legs still standing. Aratus charged forward, slinging his bolter across his back and gripping his power sword with two hands, cleaving away at a group of servitors, not a single one of them got a shot off.

Faunus ducked behind a corner after a hail of heated las bolts flew by his head. Castor standing across the hall from him on the oppisite side of the entry. Nodding to each other they spun from the edge of the wall and unloaded into the mass gathering to take them out.

"Castor! Room is clear!" Faunus yelled out over the entense bolter fire, moving forward, kicking over lunch tables and chairs to clear a path to the exit.

"Aye Brother. Brann ordered we meet them on the second floor. So far eight minutes of passed. We better hurry!" Castor replied back to the space wolf, running past him out to the hallway, the sound of his bolter going off again."

Brann re-loaded his bolter again and stormed up the stairway, firing off a well aimed surpression at the servitors, their bodies falling over the railing or simply exploding due to the bolts. "Faunus and Castor, I want you to take the lower levels and clear them out, No need to go to the second floor!" Brann voxed out his orders as he ran up the stairs, fallowing him was Lanius and Aratus. They came to the top of the stairs, the hallway was clear, and there was one door. Lanius pointed out to Brann and moved up along side of the wall closest to it.

"How many do you think is in there?" Lanius asked, checking his ammunition and loading the clip back in his bolter.

"I dont think it matters." Aratus replied back, his black armor covered in gore and oils from the servitors.

"Well over a dozen by the count of it. We have two minutes left. Lets make this quick. Prepare frags." Brann said to them, slinging his bolter and removed two frag grenades. "Ok..Lets do this!" Brann yelled out as he kicked in the door and threw off his grenades, spitting out the pins on the floor and quickly snatched up his bolter, the explosions rocked the building as the rest of the Deathwatch moved in along side of Brann, quickly they despersed and wiped out the room. The last servitor was finialy gunned down.

"Well done battle brothers, twelve minutes and fourty seven seconds." Brann said with a pleasing smile as he wiped the blood from his silver blood stained power fist.