This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
Korde crouched down behind the rocks on the pebbled beach facing the ocean, watching the Necrons' slowly approach. Behind him, crouched on one knee, was Judson, holding his auspex, trying to count the number of Necrons heading towards them.
"Sarge, I'm counting about two hundred of them. I think our time has come."
Korde looked back at Judson.
"Have faith in the Captain. Remember, we've seen worse. In the city of Volcane there were thousands of Night Lords heretics."
Syakotus silently crept over to the two crouched Marines, with the wind and rain dancing off his back.
"Korde, I've found a cave...it looks as though it will take us straight to the tower," he said, whilst crouching besides them.
"Holy Emperor," Korde stuttered out.
Both Syakotus and Judson looked up to see a Necron Lord emerge from the trees. Patting Korde on the shoulder with his bionic hand, Syakotus said: "C'mon, time to go."
The three of them dashed across the pebbled beach, through the strong winds, with the rain slamming into their chests, joining the rest of squad Korde, hidden inside the mouth of a dark cave.
Inside the cave it was mostly dark, and damp. Syakotus took up the lead, with the others following him further into the darkness. They were brought to a sudden halt by a set of stained steel bars.
"Judson, Bealon, take up the rear. Niven, drop behind them for a supportive fire, should they need it," ordered Korde.
Syakotus used his bionic arm to clasp hold of one of the bars, and then began to bend it. Specks of dust dropped into his hair from above whilst he yanked the bar free.
The bar dropped to the ground with a clang once it landed. Syakotus began stepping through the gap he'd just made, followed by Korde, then the rest of the squad. Judson and Bealon covered the rear, slowly stepping through backwards with their bolter trained forwards, in anticipation of a sudden attack.
Once on the other side of the bars, the cave became more like a medieval, stone-made, long corridor. Syakotus let a red laser beam come from the side of his bionic eye into the darkness a head. Then they set off, picking up their pace as they went.
Outside the cave in the violent winds and thrashing rain, the Necron Lord led the Necron foot soldiers into the cave after the Space Marines. One by one they marched into the darkness, Gauss guns trained forwards, Necron Immortals and Necron Wraiths joining the ranks.
Stood at the centre of what looked like a medieval courtyard was a stranger attired in a dusty black sackcloth gown and guarded by six Reavers, all wearing giant rats' fur and armed with las guns. They watched as a rusty red gun cutter came from the dark windy sky. The gun cutter began levelling off for landing. The wind from its thrusters blew at the stone floor below, kicking up the dust.
Then it landed, letting the thrusters die out. The side door opened downwards making a ramp for its crew to walk down. A gush of steam blew out of its doorway, followed by the sound of grinding metal. The whole craft came to a sudden stop.
Inquisitor Lord Taharan was the first to emerge from the door way, down the ramp, followed by Sister Periar. Both had their hands cuffed in chains. Behind her, a Reaver emerged holding a shotgun to the back of her head. The moment they stepped off the ramp, the Reavers waiting by the stranger stepped up to them, pointing his las gun forwards. Then, flapping out of the doorway, six slimy green tentacles with snake heads emerged, hissing loudly. Salvanfor led them out.
"My master, you have changed," said the stranger.
"Never mind me, Prill, have you anything to report?" asked Salvanfor, once off the ramp himself.
"Yes, my master, that I do," Prill said, softly approaching his master.
"The Necrosphere has begun to glow brighter than we've ever seen it do before. Also, it be making some strange whisper," he finished.
Turning to his prisoners, Salvanfor said: "Are you ready to witness my ascension, as I will use the Necrosphere to take control of the Necrons?"
Sister Periar looked up at him with her battered and bruised face.
"You are nothing but a Heretic. You scum," she said, spitting into his face.
Wiping the spit from his face with his hand, he licked it.
"Ooh, the sweet taste of the saliva. Bitch," he returned.
The strong winds blew back Prills' hood and the sackcloth cape covering him. Prill was more machine than man. A thing of wires formed in the back of his metallic skull, and metal augmetics. Salvanfor could see the rotted flesh stretched and pinned across what he called his face, the face of a man 1,100 years in age, all of which spent in the service of the Imperium, before following his master away from being a loyalist.
"Come, we have work to do," Salvanfor said, walking off into the open castle doorway before them.
Grailin led the Marines from the waving trees and the wind and rain. Redeka and the four scouts took up the rear, walking slowly, pointing the shotguns into the trees, expecting an ambush at any second. Gevedin, Crispin and Lukos followed Grailin cautiously, expecting an ambush like that of the scouts.
Grailin engaged the comm within his throat; "Captain, Captain."
"Grailin, where are you?" came the Captain's reply.
"We're in the woods at the moment. The Thunderhawk crashed us into the trees. You must know we have Necrons here."
"Yes. That I am aware of. If you can see a tower with a bright green glow coming from it, head towards it. We'll meet up there."
"I see it," Grailin said, looking up beyond the waving trees to see the lime glow of something bright dazzle him through the wind and rain.
Gevedin stepped up to Grailin.
"What are the Captain's orders?" he asked.
Grailin turned to him, prepared to answer, but stopped from the sight of dozens of Necrons appearing from the darkness within the trees.
Gevedin spun around with a gauss blast slamming into his chest, knocking him from his feet and on to his back. Lukos dropped to one knee raising his plasma pistol, firing plasma into the attacking Necrons. Behind him, Crispin turned to face their rear, aiming both his bolt pistols at the Necrons. Yet something from above hurtled him upwards, with him firing off both his bolt pistols. Then he was gone within the trees.
The four scouts dropped to their chests, firing off shells from the shotguns in a desperate attempt for survival. The sound became loud and confusing. Grailin held out his crimson hand, summoning a lightning strike, then directing it towards the Necrons. Three Necron warriors were engulfed by his lightning, dropping to the ground, mouthes open. Vebb, the lead scout, jumped to his feet, clenching his shotgun tightly and firing shot after shot. The following three scouts did the same. Redeka dashed to be at their sides amongst the gauss blasts and shotgun fire.
"C'mon lads, we have to flee from here," he bellowed, above the white noise that covered them and their ears.
Necron Wraiths dropped from the trees, Grotesque floating killers. The Wraiths moved like that of ghosts, shifting in and out of phase. Wide, hunched shoulders supported their leering skull faces. Long whip-like arms wielded scalpel blades that they used for fingers, with a nightmare assortment of arcane surgical equipment. And they moved with a speed that was far quicker than the Crimson Fists could keep up with.
Lukos ran at them, firing off his bolt pistol. Shell after shell thudded into their chests and yet they refused to fall. One by one they jumped him. One Wraith slashed him across the face with its snake-like body. Lukos flew up into the air from the lash, his back slammed into the damp bark of a tree. Sliding down, he still managed to retain aim with his bolt pistol, with his finger constantly squeezing the trigger. Yet the blades of the Wraith's scalpel fingers sliced into his face, cutting the skin away. Blood poured out faster than it could clot. Grailin jumped towards him, but was blocked by Gevedin's arm, yanking him back.
"He is gone," he yelled, pulling the Librarian back.
Amongst the attack, the scouts became separated from Grailin and Gevedin who'd now began to disappear into the trees, with the Necron's concentrating on attacking the scouts.
Lukos was still clinging to life, even though the Wraiths had disembowelled him, with his intestines dripping with blood hung from his stomach. One of the Wraiths ploughed its scalpeled hand into his face, moments before pulling his brains from the new hole it had made. Lukos was dead.
Sergeant Redeka, followed by Vebb, Tyke, Possle, and Annaud, tried hard to evade the Necrons. That is until they were blocked by the twisted and ghoulish terrors of the night. The Flayed Ones stood forwards of them, making a clipping noise as though someone was clanging pins together. Thin and wiry, they adorned themselves with the still-wet flesh hides of their victims before. Leaving a trail of blood in their wake, they were advancing towards the scouts. Possle and Annaud charged them, raising the butt of their shotguns. And yet the Flayed Ones flung their blade like fingers into the chests of the two scouts, hoisting them upwards. Vebb and Tyke rose up their shotguns, but were not quick enough. The bodies of Possle and Annaud had all ready been shredded into chunks of fresh meat.
"Bastards," screamed Vebb, charging forwards.
Stumbling, then slipping backwards with the wet mud below his feet, he dropped on his back. One of the Flayed Ones jumped on to his chest, then began ripping away his armour before killing him.
Tyke turned to see a Wraith hoist Sergeant Redeka high above its head, seconds before ripping him clean into two.
By now Tyke had realised his fate would be the same as his fallen comrades, whilst watching their still twitching bodies through the pouring rain. Looking up at the approaching Flayed Ones, he un-strapped one of his krak grenades.
"Praise be to the Emperor, praise be to Dorn," he said, releasing the pin.
With a loud explosion, followed by a sudden gush of wind, Tyke was blown to pieces.
Grailin and Gevedin managed to get clear of the onslaught, clearing the trees. Grailin looked up through the windy skies above. There had to be at least twenty or even more Grey Knight Thunderhawks descending from the sky. Clenching his power axe, they both set off in the direction of the brightly glowing tower.
Krupeus turned his gaze from the grey planet of Proticou.
"Commander Clotuk, are your men ready?"
Still adorned in black sackcloth, standing in nothing more than the darkness that surrounded them, Clotuk stepped forwards
"Yes, my Master. Give the word and we will act," he said with a whisper to his tone.
"The word is given. The arrival of the Grey Knights has changed matters. If they discover the purpose of the chosen one, they will slay him. You must protect him from harm, Clotuk. If he falls, all will be lost," Krupeus explained in a ghostly voice.
"And what of the Necrons, my Master?" asked Clotuk.
"They are greater in number than I first thought. They must not be allowed to obtain the orb. If they do, all will be lost."
Another figure entered the darkness of the battle barges bridge. Like that of the bridge crew, he too was adorned in black sackcloth.
"Etheane," Krupeus announced.
"My Master, the Orb is becoming brighter, thus making it stronger."
"This concerns me. If the Orb bonds with the chosen one, can it be stopped?" asked Clotuk with a silent whisper.
Krupeus turned back to face Proticou; "Yes," he replied silently.
With that Clotuk was gone from the bridge.
Etheane slowly moved to stand with Krupeus. His movement was like watching a ghost haunt the shadows.
"If they merge, this will be better. But if it merges with the radical we will lose all control," Etheane said, as if slithering his words out.
"It will not."
"How do you know this, my Master?" Etheane asked.
Krupeus turned to Etheane. With a sudden spark from a distant star the light lit up the darkness covering Krupeus's face momentarily, revealing his paler than white face from the nose down to his chin; "Because I have seen it."
Hive World Terra