Tomax Hell, Chaos Space Marine Lieutenant, Commander of the Night Lords' 17th Legion of Fear.

Courtesy of Jokersminis

Captain Euripides of the Scions of Dorn, Seventh Company.

Courtesy of Aurelius Rex

Veteran Sergeant Rhadamanthys of the Brazen Claws

Courtesy of, well courtesy of me I guess...

Thanks also go to The Khan for the use of Khan Vaishin and Ajax for the use of the Skull-Taker, the unnamed commander towards the end of the story represents Nite_Moogle for his efforts in organising loyalist support for the AoD.

Several authors contributed to the story you're about to read.

Orkdung, Brother Tyler & Refuse of the B&C - If it's in the story, and it's in black, these guys wrote it. The original idea is all theirs, the other authors just expanded on the excellent groundwork they laid out.

Jokersminis - The first major character to appear in this tale was Tomax Hell, Night Lords Lieutenant. If it's in the story and in red, Jokersminis wrote it.

Aurelius Rex - If it's in the story and in green, Rex wrote it. The valiant, yet tortured Captain Euripides is his main character - and an awesome looking miniature too.

Several Concerned Cricketers - That's me, or at least the name I go by on the B&C, if it's in blue and in the story, yup, you guessed it, I wrote it.

Standing upon the command podium overlooking his assembled "allies" he gazed at the assembled marines. Each an aspirant to his current position, each as likely to attack him as their enemies, and each striving to make their mark. They were the warriors of Chaos, the ultimate power in the universe. Theirs was the power of the marine, and the freedom of Chaos.

At his command the podium lowered him to the ship deck where the assembled warriors stood at mock attention, a throwback to their days in the service to the corpse god. There were no chaos lords or daemon princes amongst this group, this was a collection of aspirants, warriors who sought to find the favor of their gods upon this mission. Many had led and lost armies, others had left warbands in honor or disgrace, but they had all been called here by their desire.

He had not been so careless to put the ancient enemies together, but he was impressed with the control they showed in their restraint. And he knew the reason, any who failed his commands would be destroyed, or worse. Those who obeyed would be given the chance to find favor, and power. They would constrain themselves until the upcomming battle, and then they would fight.

He walked amongst them, looking each in the eye, finding their messure, and identifying those who would probably be standing after the upcomming battle. A sampling of the warriors of chaos, he grinned at that, would the loyalist see this sampling? Ah, it didn't matter, three hours till the Divine Hunter dropped from warp, three hours till the plan went into effect.

He was apart, crouched in a shadow, unconsciously mimicking his long dead primarch. He studied the the two groups with disdain. He needed not the power of a Cult God, he was a God. The galaxy was his to take at will. The Legion of Fear would soon be his to command, and they would rampage the galaxy. If they wanted to kill, they would kill. If they wanted to rape and steal, they would rape and steal, and they would collect the spoils. They would make their own rewards from the fallen planets.

Soon many servants of the Corpse would die, and this was his chance. Kill as many as possible, use the notoriety to overthrow the Legion of Fear and begin his Reign of Terror.

Tomax Hell smiled. Behind his faceplate his ebony eyes glittered and his pale skin pulled back from his fangs in an evil sneer.

Soon.

As the ship approached the orbital space dock a chime clanged in and the Officer of the Watch appeared on a Holo-vid. “Your lordship, your cargo and brethren await you in hanger 17G”. Brother Captain O'rchd'ng nodded, but made no attempt at a reply.

Bulkhead doors creaked and steam escaped as the ship opened itself to stale metallic air, servitors bustled about below the ship plugging it into the hanger, securing power lines and loading cargo. The two Moderati Marines followed by a contingent of Frater clunked down the ships ramp, ceramite boots sounding off in unison.
At the end of the ramp the procession was met by an Adept “Good evening Astartes, Warriors of the Emperor” he bowed, his wispy voice barely audible “ I am Vargon Kilthran and the servant of his Govenorship to Thracian Primaris, we welcome you and your fellow Marines to Thatticux Orbiter VIII”. Vargons eyes flashed an inhuman red as he rose. “The Brother Marines are assembled and await your review. So many Chapters bless our presence, what ever are all these representatives for?” Veteran Sergeant Brother Tyler grimaced “None of your concern Adept! We begin review!”

A dozen Marines stood at attention just outside the docking area; many wore fresh battle scars, a few with dents and dings in their armor. O'rchd'ng slowly walked by each one, never once looking at the Marines. At the end of the line he turned abruptly. “Heroes every one.” His thermal waste dissipaters kicked in and blew a plume of thick ichorous smoke out the back and into the face of Vargon, he coughed and choked attempting to catch his breath. “Brother Marines, it is time.” He raised his hand pointing toward the ramp, Frater Marines had lined up alongside it as if to herald in their new brothers.
With a quick flick of his wrist and a wink of his eye, Vet. Sergeant Tyler belted out his commands. “RIGHT FACE! FORWARD MARCH!”
One by one the Marines cleared the ramp and disappeared into the belly of the Strike Vessel, the familiar resonating sound of the ceramite boots slowly faded away.
Still wheezing the Adept looked slightly dumbfounded and a little annoyed.

On board the ship O'rchd'ng gave orders to his navigator to set course immediately for the Segmentum Solar, time was of the essence, the last of the Brethren had been picked up and it was time to rejoin the Chapter

'Captain Euripides, Scions of Dorn! Well-met, my brother. I have fought side-by-side with your chapter in the defence of Kasr Partox and Macharia...' A silence settled over the room at the mention of that lost world. '

*Radamanthys came to attention with a metallic click of his heels. His right hand formed a fist and he crashed it against his breastplate. As the last echo of his salute faded the sneer left his face and he spoke.*

"My Lord Captain. Sergeant Rhadamanthys of the Brazen Claws at your service."

*Rhadamanthys watched as the Scion of Dorn removed his helmet. His face cracked into a grin, an expression that surprisingly, fit his face as well as the sneer that seemed to be permanently imprinted there just moments before*

"Euripides you old dog! Who died and made you Captain?"

*Rhadamanthys grabbed the proferred hand and shook it firmly*

"It has been a long time since we fought together Brother, I look forward to it again."

Who would they send? The sons of the Lion would send someone, most likely clad in the bone colored armor of the Deathwing. A formidible opponant, but what if the others knew the secret, the secret of the Fallen...
The children of the fool Dorn would be there. A psychic flash of the fight between the Night Haunter and Dorn raced across his memory. He sneered again, they would fall as had he.
The pups of Russ would never miss a chance for a fight. A braggart and a drunk, he had passed his thick skull down to his children. They would be easy, show them a tankard of ale or a metal object and they would chase them both for hours. His chuckle sounded like metal plates grating together.

There would be others, but it didn't matter, they were all the same. All mindless servants of the Corpse. Captains, Sergeants, Chaplains, they would all be there, eager to please their brothers and the Corpse. But it didn't matter. They all had a weakness, something he could exploit, a hole in their soul. He would pick out that weakness and use it to his advantage. The same would happen in the arena. Let the foolish children of the Blood God race off and face the Deathwing Captain the his massive armor. There were easier, softer targets, that he would take first. If things went well the others would have taken out the tougher opponants by the time he was to enter. If not, he would kill them himself.

Tomax chuckled again.

Soon.