???, Eye of Terror

The black and green Thunderhawk descended through the dull grey sky, ducking and dodging past lightning of kaleidoscopic colors, that seemed almost as if they were guided straight at the bulky aircraft. Below, the blackened rocky ground awaited the machine, life having never touched this world. A cloud of dust formed as it landed near the peak of the mountain, and its ramp descended to the barren rock. Three figures stepped out of the machine and surveyed the area they now found themselves in.

“What could we possibly find that could help us in our fight on this barren rock, Ahriman?” The tallest of the group, a Space Marine armored in bulky black armor asked, his gold and green helmet swiveling back and forth while his red cape followed the breeze. Upon his breastplate were a pair of golden wings extending from a silver skull, the same design decorating his right shoulder pad, and the power fist of his left hand, which bore a large, belt-fed gun. His left shoulder pad, Black with green trimming, bore the Roman numerals XVII.

“This planet is not as barren as it seems, Hulk.” Ahriman replied. Like Hulk, Ahriman was also a Space Marine, though of shorter build. The parts of his ornate armor that weren’t covered in his velvet robes were of a bright blue, and bore much golden decorations. His helmet was gold, with a symbol of an eye set with a faintly glowing jewel just above the lenses, and four horns sprouted upwards, while two smaller ones thrusted forward. Clasped to his side was a thick book with a red cover, held shut by a lock.

In his hand was a large horned staff, the pole pure black while the top was gold, with several fetishes clasped to it. The horns seemed to be made of real bone, and on the other end of the staff was a blade, seemingly made for a spear. “You can sense it as well, can you not, Midnight?”

“Yes, my lord… this planet is utterly brimming with the power of Tzeentch!” The last of their party said, though her tone was a bit venomous when she said ‘my lord’. Unlike the other two, she was barely armored, with a light purple breastplate, gauntlets, and cuisses, with wavy gold decorations inlaid with glowing blue jewels. Her skin was dark purple, and her legs bent backwards to end in hooves, while two brilliant purple wings were folded to her back. A single horn jutted from her forehead between her wavy dark violet hair, which extended down to her waist, with a streak of pink in it. Like Ahriman, she held a staff, though unlike him, hers was made of twisting gold all the way up to the top, which extended in a six-pointed star which held a similarly designed pink gem within it. “Of course, a mere mortal with no connection to the Immaterium wouldn’t be able to notice such things.”

Hulk scoffed at that, “From what I’ve seen, I’ll take that as a complement.”

“Sometimes it is indeed a curse.” Ahriman nodded as the trio trudged towards the peak. “But this planet is quite… deceptive, Hulk. I have not set foot here in…” Ahriman trailed off for a moment. “Roughly ten thousand years.”

“Gee, I feel so honoured…” Hulk murmured, crossing his arms, looking around them for anything of note to distract himself.

“We should be able to see the city from the top of the peak, but keep an eye out for any Tzaangor Herds. They will likely attempt to tear us to pieces.” Ahriman spoke again. “I’d rather not have our mission ended by them…”

“What the slag is a Tzaangor?” Hulk seemed to have tensed greatly, looking around a bit more wildly.

“Some of the lesser children of Tzeentch.” Midnight shrugged. “They’re usually blue, with goat legs and bird heads. They prefer melee weapons for the most part, but some use ranged. They’re nothing more than pawns.” Midnight then smirked as she turned to Hulk. “They remind me of you, now that I think of it.”

“Ha ha, very funny…” Hulk spoke dryly, but thought better than to fire back. After a few moments of silence, Ahriman spoke up once again from up ahead.

“There it is…” Ahriman muttered as he stopped, letting the other two catch up. “Hulk, Midnight, welcome to Tizca… my former home.” Beneath them, spreading out for miles, was a large city of gleaming spires bathed in sorcerous fire, lighting up the empty sky. Pyramids rose almost to the height of the mountain they stood on, but the one thing that drew their attention was the massive spire in the center of the city, reaching up into the sky. To Hulk, it looked like a thorn bush made to be a tower, with some strange purple gas being pushed up into the sky.

“Oh my…” Midnight muttered, gazing at the city in awe as Ahriman began walking down the mountain. “This is Tizca…?” Midnight then realized something. “T-then, this means that…”

“Yes, Midnight.” Ahriman said. “We are on Sortiarius, the Planet of Sorcerers. Now come on, we’ll be there sooner than you would think.”

Hulk trailed behind his two companions. Everything they said was white noise to him, and he wasn’t sure how much of their back and forth he could take. Still, if he felt calmed by something as simple as heavy rain, he wondered what about this place made Ahriman feel at home. If he even did.

After what felt like mere minutes, the trio found themselves at the edge of the city, with a group of nine space marines in bright blue and yellow armor blocking their path, pointing glowing Boltguns at them.

“So these are Rubric Marines…” Midnight seemed to almost marvel at the group standing before them, fidgeting excitedly to herself.

Hulk looked to Ahriman and waited for his signal. Before one could come, the marines turned in perfect synchronization and parted, revealing a more ornately armored marine with a staff walking up to them.

“They send Phosis to greet us?” Ahriman grumbled, sounding upset. “I’m almost insulted.” He stepped forward to greet the space marine. “This will only take a moment.”

“Welcome back to Tizca, brother!” Phosis called, stopping just in front of the Rubric Marines, who closed ranks once again. “Father is expecting you!”

“Of course he is… no wonder it was so easy to land.” Ahriman sighed. “Then why do you bring an armed escort?”

“Do you truly think that we’d forgive you for what you’ve done, Ahriman?” Phosis growled, the lens of his horned helmet glowing. “Our father may wish to hear you out, but I shall end you here!”

Ahriman shook his head, planting his staff in the ground. “You really think you can defy his will?”

“Oh, I’m sure he will get over the death of a traitor like you…” Phosis growled, raising his staff. “Now, Rubrics, Fire!”

There was a tense moment of silence. The Rubrics remained still, and after a few seconds Phosis turned to look at them. “What is wrong with you?! Open fire! Kill the traitor!”

Ahriman stepped forward. “Using Rubric Marines to try to kill me was your last mistake, Phosis.” He snapped his fingers, and the marines all turned as one, before opening fire and gunning down their leader in a hail of bullets. Once Phosis was nothing more than a pile of ruined armor, the Rubrics parted once again, allowing the trio to pass.

“As showy as ever, Warmaster.” Hulk playfully remarked.

“Quite the spectacle!” Midnight nodded as the marines formed up behind them and followed. “Pray tell, how did you manage to tear away that sorcerer’s control of the Rubrics, Ahriman?”

“That is a secret that should belong only to the Thousand Sons.” Ahriman replied quickly. “Besides, I would rather you not know how to use my soldiers against me.”

“Oh, but Ahriman~! I’d never betray you!” Midnight complained, pouting and crossing her arms.

“Oh pipe down, you’ll look for the answers later anyways.” Hulk stated with a bemused tone. “Was that your only adversary here that you forgot to mention?”

“No. Almost every sorcerer in this city would love nothing more than to kill me.” Ahriman replied, looking at the massive tower that seemed to now dominate the sky. “But the majority won’t, if he’s expecting me. Some are just incompetent, like Phosis was.”

“Comforting.” Hulk sarcastically quipped, falling silent shortly after.

“So then who are we meeting with? One of the Sorcerers who doesn’t want to kill you?” Midnight asked, holding her staff behind her. She then stopped when she realized they were standing in front of the gates of the massive tower at the center of the city. “How did-?”

“Of a sort.” Ahriman said as the gates opened silently. “We are meeting with my Father.” He then walked past the gates, the Rubric Marines turning and facing outward into the city. “Come along, and hopefully he won’t kill me before I can speak.”

In that moment, Hulk started to realize how mortal he was with those words.

The group wandered through the shifting halls of the Tower, doorways appearing and disappearing into the walls while light seemed to come from nowhere.

After about an hour, they found themselves in a massive amphitheater of constantly shifting colors, Around the amphitheater, other Sorcerers and Daemon princes stood atop of strange floating discs, and the floor was lined with hundreds, if not thousands, of Rubric Marines, a veritable sea of multicolored crested soldiers standing utterly immobile. But what stood in the center of the Amphitheater stole their attention away from the lesser details.

“Ahriman… you have a lot of nerve coming here after all that occurred.” The giant growled, surrounded by crackling spheres of hieratic sigils that occasionally dispersed into raw energy, and flew to his outstretched hand before reforming into an entirely different set of text. He was utterly massive, a humanoid giant towering over all others, his skin a majestic crimson. Massive wings sprouted from his back, changing to a variety of different colors every few seconds. His legs were bent backwards, similar to Midnight’s, but instead of ending in hooves, they split into avian talons. His chest and legs were covered in armor, and he wore something that seemed like a horned crown atop his head, with his long hair kept behind it. His face was regal, seemingly perfect save for the empty socket where his right eye should have been. His left shoulder bore armor as well, with a golden and blue lump shaped like a bird’s skull dominating the majority of it.

“Father… I have come here-“ Ahriman began, but the towering giant cut him off with a hand.

“No… you aren’t truly Ahriman.” The giant said, the power in his voice alone causing the air to crackle with malcontent energies, and by the time he finished waving his hand Ahriman had changed, armored Ceramite shrinking into tanned flesh, blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Ahriman stumbled backwards in shock, looking down at himself and seeing oddly familiar hands. Everything about his body felt so alien, and yet so familiar, like a man returning to his childhood home. “A being of great power changed you from this, a mere mortal, into a replica of my treacherous son… interesting.” With another wave of his hand Ahriman reverted back, and Ahriman clung a hand to his chest and visibly shivered, armor plates clinking together as he steadied himself. “Now why should I lend my sons to a fake such as you?”

“T-to think he was this powerful… so this is the might of the Crimson King…” Midnight muttered to herself, her eyes wide in shock.

“I… I will break the Cadian Gate…” Ahriman muttered, though his voice sounded almost weak even through the vox-grille of his helmet. “The armies of the Imperium, and of that fool, will easily fall before what I intend to do.” As he spoke, Ahriman’s voice seemed to return to form, as powerfully arrogant, and almost mocking in tone as usual. “The Cadian Gate will be yours to do with as you wish, Father, so long as you grant me warriors to accomplish this goal.” He tapped the end of his staff against the podium, and one of those strange discs floated up to him, green flames blazing underneath it. It’s surface was golden, with at least a dozen symbols and images that held no meaning to Hulk or Midnight embedded in its body. Ahriman stepped atop it, and it swiftly raised him to be eye level with his apparent father.

“With the Cadian Gate under your command, your warriors could pour into the territories of the accursed Emperor’s domain. The rest of the Legions would be forced to treaty with you for access through that accursed system, and all of the relics would be ripe for the taking!” Ahriman bargained, causing the Primarch’s eyebrow to raise slightly. “All I shall need warriors, and servants to pilot my ships. And in return, father, I shall give you the Cadian Gate.”

For the first time since they arrived, the massive amphitheater had fallen silent, save for the crackling of warpflame. The red giant’s face was unreadable, his cold gaze flicking to Midnight and Hulk, and his eye widened only a fraction of an inch. He extended his hand, and Midnight's staff flew into it before she could react, the giant raising it towards him.

“What is this?” He asked, pulling the pink gemstone from Midnight’s staff, glaring as it began to glow.

“A… magical artifact, from her homeworld.” Ahriman explained, finding himself unable to lie as he gestured to Midnight. “It is an… Element of Harmony.”

“It is one of six, Lord Magnus.” Midnight spoke up, kneeling before the giant. “They were weapons used by the forces of ‘good’ in the country I resided in. That one is the Element of Magic, and was bound to me.” She smirked as she stood. “I have long since made it submit its power to my authority, despite the… ‘disagreements’ between our powers.”

Magnus seemed to ponder this, the Element of Magic floating in front of his eye. “And you say there are six of these powerful gems?” He asked after several minutes, turning his attention to the Daemon Princess. She visibly shivered as his energies washed over her.

“Yes, my lord.” Midnight nodded, and like Ahriman, found herself unable to keep the information from slipping from her mouth. “We currently possess the Element of Loyalty as well, but the Elements of Honesty, Kindness, Generosity, and Laughter have disappeared, along with their bearers.” She breathed out a relieved sigh as Magnus turned his attention away from her.

“In addition to giving me Cadia, you will find and give me all of these ‘Elements of Harmony’.” Magnus grumbled, a demand more than a request. He returned the Element of Magic to its place in Midnight’s staff, and it flew back into her grip. “I will return this one to you, only so you may use it to find the others.”

“As…” Ahriman nodded, bowing before Magnus, much to the surprise of Hulk. “As you will it, Father. How many of my brothers shall you lend me?” Ahriman looked up at the Daemon Primarch.

“Six Thrallbands, from Sects of my choosing.” Magnus grunted, as if he was already tired of the conversation. “They will present themselves when they arrive in orbit of your pitiful planet. You will have to make your own servants for your ships, however.”

“Understood, Father. I shall be departing immediately then.” Ahriman nodded, returning to the balcony that Midnight and Hulk were standing upon. “Let’s go.” Ahriman grumbled as he stepped down from the disk, walking past his two servants. While Hulk simply followed, Midnight bowed to the Crimson King before following the marines.

“Warmaster, why did you ask for servants for the ships?” Hulk asked once the gates closed behind them. “We already have crews for our warfleet.” At this, Midnight stifled a laugh, giving the bulky marine a haughty look.

Ahriman didn’t even turn to look at him as he answered. “Ritual Sacrifices.” He muttered, and his tone brokered no argument.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Eye of Terror

A Space Marine coated in blood roared a wordless warcry as his oversized chainaxe descended upon yet another victim, the gore-drenched teeth ripping through Ceramite and bone alike. As one marine fell, another blood red marine rose to the challenge, only for the upper half of his body to vanish as a plasma bolt hit him. The marine dislodged his roaring chainaxe and took a brief moment of pause in his slaughter, examining the pile of corpses under his boots. His armor was blood red, like the armor of those he had so mercilessly butchered, with bronze lining that was mostly covered by blood. His left arm was unarmored aside from chains that rattled against each other, wrapped around his wrist. His pauldron bore the symbol of Khorne emblazoned in bronze, and his armor was decorated with skulls.

His wide crested helmet twitched upwards as the sounds of boots slamming into the deck thundered down the hallway, and he quickly fired his plasma pistol, the searing energy melting through the armor of one of the Berzerkers scrambling into the doorway he had torn apart earlier.

“Servants of Khorne!” He roared as he rushed through the doorway, his chainaxe ripping through another marine as his voice echoed through the vox casters across the ship. “I come bearing the promise of slaughter!” His voice was a guttural roar of barely controlled rage as he melted another warrior with his pistol. “You know who I am! I have slaughtered your so called warlord as a tribute to the Blood God!” Another swing of Gorechild, and another marine fell before him, their torso falling soon after. “I am Khârn! Champion of Khorne! You will serve me, or your blood will serve our god!”

Within seconds the hallway was cleared, Blood running slick under the boots of the Berzerker. “Follow me, and I promise great slaughter in the name of Khorne! We will break accursed Cadia! Not for that wretch Abaddon, but for Khorne!”

Khârn took a moment to breath, before roaring loudly and incoherently. ‘No! My name... is not Khârn! It is Gordon! I AM GORDON! I WILL MAIM KHÂRN!’ He smashed his head against the wall, denting the blood soaked metal as his thoughts warred with each other. “All… all who travel to the coordinates I have marked in the ships navicomputer will be granted glorious slaughter in Khorne’s name!” He roared again, and a voice broke through the red mist blanketing his mind from his vox.

“Commander Gordon, are you ready for teleport evac? Remaining in the combat zone for any longer will have a negative impact on your mental state.” The voice asked, calm as ever.

“Grrraaaah! Yes! We must sate Khorne’s thirst elsewhere!” Gordon roared, and moments later the smell of ozone reached his nostrils, and the world was blanketed in white.

Blinking away the leftover afterimages of the teleportation, Gordon found himself face to face with a marine in purple armor lined with silver, a winged iron halo adorning his armor. A silver buzzsaw symbol decorated his armor, and in his hands he held a massive chainblade at the ready. The marine went without a helmet, revealing his hairless yet almost chiseled face, his hazel eyes looking at Gordon questioningly.

“Rrrraaaaggh!” Gordon screamed as he rushed forward, his chainaxe roaring again as he prepares to kill this warrior for Khorne.

“Gordon.” The Marine grumbled, and the berzerker hesitated for a moment. It was all he needed. He ducked under Gordon’s swing, his leg kicking out and sending the bloodied soldier to the floor. “Cease hostilities. We are your allies, not your enemies.”

Gordon paused as recognition dawned on him, and his senses began to return as he took a few breaths. “.... Captain… Reason…?” He breathed, dropping his axe to clutch at his head. “Gah… the Nails… bite deep…”

“I’m sure they have, Commander. But do not focus on that.” The Captain said, pulling Gordon to his feet. “I’m sure you’ll need to recover, but the Warmaster has ordered us to finish our mission quickly, then report back to the Equestrian Territories.”

“Right… r-right.” Gordon took a moment to look around. They stood upon a large and mostly barren platform, dozens of pipes lining the floor around it and over it. Many of the pipes had burst, and were being tended to by small four legged repair drones. A few feet away from the platform was a control panel, where one of the equestrian servants worked tirelessly at the oversized keyboard. The Earth Pony has been modified extensively, half of his head having been replaced by gleaming metal, and dozens of mechadendrites pouring from his back and stabbing into several nodes in the console.

Behind Reason stood five marines in armor similar to his, but less decorated. They stood with their boltguns at the ready, each of them prepared to gun down their commander should he go berserk. He couldn’t see past the glowing blue lenses of their helmets, but he was sure that their faces were that of constrained anger. His presence tended to have that effect on them when he was fresh from battle.

“So.. has the… Warmaster completed his mission with those damned Sorcerers?” Gordon asked, biting back an insulting name for Ahriman as he stood up, though he still had to look up to meet Reason’s eyes.

“Yes, he has. Apparently he will next be meeting with a… Warsmith, from a Legion known as the ‘Iron Warriors’.” Reason said, gesturing for Gordon to follow him.

The Berzerker resisted the urge to tear Reason’s head off with his bare hands, and instead went to his own helmet, removing it with a swift hiss and clicking it to his belt, revealing his surprisingly slim and noble face, giving no hint of emotion. Only his eyes betrayed his thoughts, an unreasonable rage evident in them as he followed the captain out of the teleportarium.

One month later, Cadian system

The cramp, dimly lit and nearly prison-like room of Commissar Harsh Stratagem shuddered, and the green eyed brunette had to quell the anxious fear that took hold of her lying form. She was roused from her bed, disregarding grace as she took the shuddering as the ship telling her that they’d arrived, and began to dress herself in her uniform. She fastened her metal breastplate to her body, before grabbing her black trenchcoat and swinging it around her to push her arms into the sleeves, her pastel red skin complimenting with it’s red interior. She covered the top of her head with a peaked black and red cap, which bore a golden skull in the center.

Once she was in a presentable state, she picked up her polished plasma pistol and her chainsword, holstered them, before exiting her room to the cacophony of Guardsmen rushing to their posts through the bleak halls of their Strike Cruiser, ‘The Pale Lady’. At any other point, she’d have barked at them, ordering them to increase their speed lest she threaten to melt their genitals in the Warp, but she had her own superiors to appease, so she silently made her way towards the strategium, occasionally glaring at a fumbling Guardsman with her sharp eyes.

Her quarters weren’t that far from the strategium, but despite that she noticed she was the last to arrive.

The Strategium was far larger than most rooms aboard The Pale Lady, large enough to contain dozens of cogitators manned by brain dead Servitors across the room, though the center was dominated by a raised platform, bearing a massive hololithic display table. On the ceiling, two heavy bolter turrets tracked her movements, until the machines identified her and went back into standby mode.

Surrounding the table in the center were three towering giants. The first two were covered in black and green ceramite, though their armor was of different designs. Whereas one wore what the Commissar knew was standard armor for their kind, with massive shoulder pauldrons and thick battleplate, the other wore a lighter variant, with one large pauldron on his left and a smaller one on his right. The armor was thinner, with reinforced ceramite only around the breastplate and several joints, and Harsh soon noticed that whereas the other two’s armor whirred with unseen hydraulics and powered systems, his was completely silent.

However, the third giant of the group was what really drew her attention… and her fear.

He was about a head smaller than the other two, but had much more of a presence. His armor was a dark crimson splattered with blood, jagged bronze lining the armor and in some cases forming the visage of screaming Daemons. His left arm was completely exposed, pale flesh covered in scars and wrapped with what looked like steel chains. His other arm was better protected, coated in armor and bearing a large pauldron that bore the skull faced symbol of the Blood God.

There were two things in particular that made the Commissar fear this marine. One was the utterly gigantic Chainaxe laying next to him against the hololith table that dwarfed her own, the haft and axe head just as long as the marine was tall and coated with dried blood. The other thing was his eyes. The marine had his crested helmet mag-locked to his side, and his unnaturally perfect face was completely without expression, metal dreadlocks acting almost like hair towards the back of his head. But his eyes… they were like a raging inferno, windows into the unnatural and destructive inferno of pure, unadulterated rage that was hidden within that facade of calm.

“Lord Commissar Stratagem, reporting for duty, Lord Khârn.” The woman gave the intimidating marine an elegant bow, something she’d been practicing so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself with the higher chains of command. “I apologise for my tardiness.” She bit back a comment about how her men hadn’t informed her of their arrival. She would have wholeheartedly blamed them, but she knew better than to fall back on such childish excuses. It was likely that they didn’t know either.

“It is good enough that you are here.” The warrior grumbled, his eyes flicking to her momentarily before returning to the Hololith. “We will be arriving soon, and I would rather the ship not stay long.”

Harsh made her way nearer to one of the Space Marines, and waited for Khârn to tell them what they were doing there. Or at least, she hoped he would. She didn’t want to be the only one not knowing what she’d be doing.

“You will be launching an attack upon one of the Equestrian cities.” Khârn grunted, his voice cold and dead underneath the heavy accent. Harsh thought it might have been russian. “Sergeant Nitro will be in command of this operation, because that damned Warmaster thinks I am needed elsewhere.” He pressed a few buttons on the hololith, and bright green holograms sprang to life above the table, taking shape in the form of planetary bodies, orbital defense stations, and too many other things for the Commissar to keep track of. The holograms zoomed in towards a planet. It was the sixth planet from the system’s star, and from the reports it was an ‘unidentified world’.

“You will be slaughtering every single pony you come across, and should the main targets arrive, the Mortals will pull back to lure them into the guns of the 17th.” The red marine stated. “You will be accompanied by a few Displaced, and some accursed Sorcerer of Ahriman’s brothers.” He looked over at the marine with lighter armor. “Your Commander has suggested you be in command of this mission.”

The marine in question- Nitro most likely if Stratagem had to guess, nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Khârn grunted. “I am not very… good, with making plans, so I shall leave those to you. So long as blood is spilled and the message is sent, I do not care. But once this initial attack is complete, you are to leave the city. Begin running multiple attacks upon Equestria, and leave it in ruins!” Khârn’s face flashed a momentary rage, but it was gone a moment after. “The damnable Sorcerer will use his witchcraft to aid you should you need it.”

“We can use his magic to prevent their trackers from following us.” Nitro replied matter-of-factly. Harsh had to admit, it sounded reasonable. None of them were confident their force of Guardsmen and Space Marines wouldn’t be easily tracked by the locals. Magic was currently a commodity that the Legion were lacking during this assault, with their only expert on it being the apparent Sorcerer they’d been assigned.

The Commissar was also a tad worried that her men would waver in this task. Most of them were newer to the Legion, some even having never held a rifle in their hands before this deployment. She wasn’t sure how they’d take eradicating a city of bystanders. But Harsh knew better. She’d seen the defiance of the equine race firsthand, their resolve, but also their weakness. Hopefully, it’d only be one city, and the fear of the extermination would shock the inhabitants into laying down their arms before they even took them up.

“That works.” The other space marine spoke up, the red lenses of his helmet giving Harsh no idea of his thoughts. She believed his name was Boomstick. “How should we deploy our forces, Nitro? We’d probably want to strike quickly to catch them off guard.”

“Me and the 17th can take drop pods aimed at their police precincts, since they’ll be their biggest resisting force. My squad particularly should target their capital building so we can confirm that the officials haven’t been evacuated.” Nitro glanced at the Commissar. “The Guardsmen should land via valkyrie at the edges of the city and establish a perimeter, then push in to help us mop up any dissidance. Once the civilian population has been thinned out, we can detain the survivors for our Sorcerer’s use. If anything unexpected comes up, we’ll play it by ear.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Boomstick nodded, before turning to Khârn. “Can we expect orbital support should something go wrong?”

The Berzerker Lord shook his head. “I will be taking this craft to move into position for the attack, along with other warships on similar missions. Once the Crusade begins, The Warmaster has promised you reinforcements.” Khârn said. “But for the first few months you will be on your own.”

Harsh’s mind went abuzz with what they’d do after they’d clear out the city. She was sure that her betters- excluding Kharn, of course- were thinking the same by their silence. The fairly young Commissar cleared her throat, “If you don’t mind my asking, Lord Kharn, but you mentioned Displaced? What should we expect of them?” To her, it was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying to speak to the imposing being that was Lord Gordon Kharn. Excitement over the prospect of speaking to him, but also nerve wracking as she hadn’t heard much about him besides how he’d tear apart anything in his path.

“It matters not.” Nitro cut in, his cold voice causing Harsh’s already tense muscles to strain. “They’ll be in our way during our raid on the city. Their purpose is to assist with the inhabitants’ surrender, right?”

“Something like that.” Khârn nodded. “Nitro will still be in command of all military affairs.” The Berzerker snorted. “The Warmaster wouldn’t trust such strangers with the more important issues unless they have proved themselves to him.”

“Noted.” Nitro said with what Harsh could only take a gander as an approving nod. “Are there any expectations, or additional objectives after this… purging.”

“Continue to cause havoc across the country, ensure that the enemy must dedicate forces to trying to hunt you down, and turn the populace against them.” Khârn grunted. “We will turn them against each other before we utterly destroy them.”

‘That seems to be the end of that.’ Harsh thought, disappointed at how short her meeting with the Warmaster’s right hand was, while simultaneously thrilled at a chance to prove herself to the Legion at its peak, even if their foe was a meeker Equestria then she was used to seeing. ‘This’ll be a cake walk compared to our previous conflicts. We pretty much outmatch them in every regard. Numbers, technology, leadership, even our magic far outclasses them where military application is concerned.’

The leader of their mission began to trudge off, followed by his brother Boomstick. “Have the Displaced arrive on a separate valkyrie then the mortals. I want them as far away from the conflict as possible without leaving them completely unsupervised.” He told his fellow Space Marine.

“That works. We can at least use them as a surprise weapon, should things come to it.” Boomstick nodded.

“They’re an important resource. The less our enemies know of them, the better off we are.” Nitro elaborated, and Harsh felt like for some reason it was directed at her rather than to Boomstick.

“Good. Shall we go prepare our soldiers? I’m eager to test some of these new ‘krak’ grenades. On something sturdy.” Boomstick said, and despite the helmet altering his voice, the Commissar could somehow still hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah. I’ll go make sure our pods will hit where we need them.” Nitro replied, then turned to Stratagem. “You should make sure your men are ready. We need to keep casualties low. If this is too costly, we’ll be stranded behind enemy lines with very little we can do before the month passes and we receive reinforcements.”

“Of course, Commander.” Stratagem had to admit that this Nitro seemed to know what he was doing. Unlike a lot of the Chaos Marines she’d met, who’d have wanted there to be mountains of bodies from both sides.

“Then go prepare your men.” Khârn grunted. “We’ll pull into orbit, and will remain until your attack has begun.” He turned to leave. “Consider yourselves lucky. You get to be the first to strike a blow against our foes. I would kill for…” his features scrunched up, turning furious as he clenched his fists, gripping his massive weapon tightly. “... May you fill the streets with the corpses of our enemies.” He growled, before marching out of the strategium.

Author's Notes:

We felt that the previous chapters weren’t up to snuff, and we felt there was a severe lack of control from our authors, so we decided to scrap the original version and try a bit of a slower pacing. So, here’s the new chapter 1! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you‘ll enjoy Whats to come!