Transcript of a heretical text created by the Cultist Gol, detailing the rise of the Fortress of Pain

Under the harsh whip of the Last Apostle, the workers toiled. Amongst the rabble were the zealous few, alongside those that had fled from the Governor's side at his last moment and others still that we seized from the Imperial grip to serve our will. All came together to serve the will of the Dark Gods, in life and in death. On the sixteenth day, the labours were complete. The great black Obelisks was risen and so it was that the Psykers and Apostate Preacher came together underneath Vross' watchful eye. For three days, I led the chants and the benedictions. For three days, we begged the Gods for their favour... for the strength to vanquish our foes.

When the third sun set, it was prepared. In the pale moonlight, I beheld our dark work for the first time. Illuminated by the flaming banner of Chaos, I gazed into the black terror of its hull and shuddered beneath the terrible wail of its hell engine. The main artillery we called 'Blight', in respect to our greatest patron, and the Demolisher was named 'Julian' in honour of our great guide. The massive battle platform, once complete, was named the Fortress of Pain and this was to be a name that would be terror to those that had brought us so low.

"I expect great things of you, Vross. Julian was a weakling... a servile idiot, enthralled by forces that he could not even begin to comprehend. He was my simple pawn... but you, Vross... I have seen your work. I have seen you spill blood on the altars of Khorne, I have seen you raise the temples of Tzeentch and indulge in the pleasures of Slaanesh. And Nurgle himself only knows how many souls you have brought to blissful agony. Your piety is a credit to you, Vross... you show great potential."

Sarados was standing before the kneeling Enforcer. His armoured hand was atop the Last Apostle's scalp, looking as though he might crush it. Vross was very still and made no motion towards his master. It seemed to me as though something were passing between our leader and the Master Sorcerer, though what that might be I could not fanthom.

"Morax is advancing on the position held by the Space Marine librarian. I trust that you understand the role you are to play. Your men, Vross... they have failed you, have they not? They fled when the Governor fell... you fled. This has not pleased me. But I am a generous lord... soon, Vross, shall I ascend... and soon shall the great gateway shall be open once again and the Imperium's defences will be compromised... slowly, but surely, my great work will begin... and when the great day comes and the Gods call upon me to bring about their commands you shall stand with me amongst my disciples, Vross... presuming that you redeem yourself here."

Vross did not move. The Fortress of Pain screamed, as if begging to be unleashed... begging to spill the blood of those that would dare to defy the tide of history. Sarados looked upon it with his terrible red eyes, before raising his staff to the heavens to give the great machine his final blessing.

"Do not disappoint me, Vross," he said as he began to walk away, "Return to me with the Space Marine Captain's skull or do not return at all. Kill or be killed. It is all a service to Chaos."

And with those words the air seemed to bend and the unparalleled sorcerer vanished into the air, leaving us to proceed with our dark work.

Taken from the writings of the Sage Alexander Petranus concerning the reversal of the Imperium's fortunes.

Of the three hundred crew members aboard our Thunderhawk, there were but four survivors, including myself. The Grandmaster appeared at the eleventh hour, dispatching the Chaos rabble that were combing through the great ship's wreckage, but he was little too late. Alastor was gone... I could but watch, gripping my wounds, as the Heretical Sorcerer dragged him off. I confessed my sin to Lucas when he appeared before me and asked that he deliver the Emperor's judgement, but he refrained and spoke thus:

"Despair not, my good Sage. Your wounds are proof enough of your innocence. That you did not die in His service today is no shame. It simply means that the Emperor may yet still have a plan for you."

And so the Champion brought me, unworthy though I am, to the medics where I was stitched back together. I am but a coward, unworthy of speaking His divine name, but if this is truly His will, then I shall continue to serve in the small way that I am able.

When we returned to our headquarters , I found a dozen Oathkeepers splayed out near the landing pad, their apothecaries painstakingly removing broken power armour and tending to their wounds or retrieving the holy geneseed where required. Two blocks down, I could see Isaiah, holding his power weapon aloft in front of some two dozen of his brothers, apparently giving some sort of oration. I was not four steps out of the ship when I was shoved down to the ground.

"My brother! Where is my brother?" I gasped as my recently-sealed wounds screamed out within me. The golden Librarian stood above me, a whirl of lightning crackling across his staff. "Alastor! Where is Alastor?"

I was incapable of speech. Octavius stepped forward and I was certain then that I would be struck down, but a hand clasped the Librarian's shoulder. Octavius turned and saw Grandmaster Lucas standing before him. The two locked eyes for a moment and I saw the Grandmaster shake his head ever so slightly. Octavius' head bowed.

"I'm sorry..." I managed as I stumbled to my feet, "We were not prepared for such resistance... Our ship was downed and we were surrounded. He... he isn't dead, Master Librarian."

"To fall into the grip of Chaos is a fate worst than death," another voice said. I turned and saw Claudius in full battle array. There were scorch marks on his power armour. "Tell me, Sage. How was it that your flight path was known? How did the forces of Chaos know to strike at that very instant?"

"I... I do not know."

"But I do," Claudius spat, "We are betrayed again. This foul world bears a strong taint... I can feel it in the very air."

"No one disputes that, Brother Chaplain," said Lucas softly, "Betrayal is a fact we must face when facing the foul Gods. It is a lesson I learned long ago and it is a lesson I still learn today... a group of Officers under Inquisitorial Mandate in this facility were discovered making unauthorized transmissions earlier today. They claimed to possessed no memory of the events in question and I was inclined to believe them. Not every man may keep his own will when faced with the ruinous powers. Needless to say, I have dealt with them."

Claudius' head snapped towards them. "They must have accomplices!"

"And so they did," Lucas acknowledged, "Three sanctioned psykers also lie dead by my blade. Others doubtlessly remain, but the damage to the conspiracy should keep them in check for the time being."

"We cannot abide any traitors! Alastor has suffered a fate worst than death and I will not rest until every last conspirator is..."

"Claudius," said Octavius, his head still downcast, "Brother, please... we do not have time."

Though the Chaplain was wearing his skull helmet, I could tell he was taken aback. "This was your brother, Octavius! Your own flesh and blood! How can you speak of time when he suffers untold torments at the hands of traitors that walk in our own midst!"

"You, too, are my flesh and blood, Claudius," Octavius said sadly, "And so too is every man in the Company. It is to their safety and ultimate victory that we must look towards now. The Inquisitor... my brother... he shall not go unavenged."

"Well spoken," Lucas said with a nod, "Come, let us retire to the governor's citadel. There is much to be done."

Thirty minutes later, the three men were seated around a circular table. The governor's palace still wreaked of the debauchery and blood he had spilled here. They sat in silence then until at last the Brother Captain entered, for whom they each rose respectfully to their. Isaiah gestured for them to be seated as quickly as he entered.

"I just heard of the ambush. My condolences, brother."

Octavius nodded thanks and clasped his hands together. "The Emperor will watch over his soul. Always."

"May it be so with us all," Isaiah answered with a nod, "Report."

"Brother Claudius led a small reconaisance force southward to probe the defences of the agents of Chaos and encountered heavy resistance. A Chaos Lord calling himself Morax led the assault. Though Claudius and I drove him from the field, his forces were too numerous... Sixteen battle brothers were slain before we withdrew."

Isaiah turned towards "Was this the same Chaos Lord that you encountered previously?"

"Yes," Claudius answered, "His is not a face I am soon to forget."

"Morax," Lucas repeated thoughtfully, "The name is known to me... his Alpha Legion detachment has harassed Imperial shipping around the Eye for some time."

"You sound puzzled, Grandmaster," said Isaiah, "Is there something the matter?"

"Morax is a cunning creature," Lucas answered, "Barbaric, of course... I have heard that he drinks the blood of his victims. But he is a dagger, not a sword. He prefers to strike and disappear before reinforcements may arrive. The fact that he is on this world, conducting an extended campaign is unusual. It does not seem to fit his modus operandi."

"Do his motivations matter to us here?" Claudius interjected, "There is no method in Chaos' madness."

"A common misconception," Lucas disagreed, "The forces of Chaos are not simply a pack of raving madmen. There exist malevolent intelligences within their midst, Brother Chaplain, who are not meant to be underestimated. Not everything is as it seems here... the Alpha Legion have still not committed their full forces. Why the delay? And what is the mind that guides them? There are far too many unanswered questions here."

There was a silence in the room for a moment after that as the three Brothers contemplated the Grandmaster's words. It seemed to me, sitting there, that the death of the traitorous Governor truly was but the first step.

"That is a problem," Isaiah said at last, "That may be dealt with afterwards. For now, our Scouts are reporting that a host of traitorous Marines are descending upon this very citadel. If we cannot hold this position, all hopes of taking the fight back down to the south will be dashed."

"Indeed," Claudius nodded, "Our forces are already taking position. Many are exhausted, but their faiths hold them. Most of the city has been levelled, of course, but I do believe we may yet hold against the tide."

"Supplies from the North are already arriving on schedule," Octavius added, "We must hold this area until reinforcement arrives. Only then may we begin to bury our dead."

"Let it be so then," Isaiah replied, "And may the Emperor protect us all."

Transcript of a heretical text created by the Cultist Gol, detailing the capture of the prisoner.

At the twenty first hour, the last of the grey armoured brutes fell. His halberd fell from his hands as his power armour cracked beneath the might of Warp-Blessed Zharesh's axe. He breathed heavily on the ground, calling out to his false Emperor. Zharesh laughed at his folly and drove the edge of his blade through his skull as yet another fine offering to the Dark Gods.

"Has he been found?" Zharesh asked as he kicked at the corpse.

Ten of my brethren emerged from the Thunderhawk's husk. In their midst, a pitiful creature was bound in chains that we had forged before the altar of Khorne on the previous moon. Our prey, his armour broken and his face bloodied, was dragged forward and forced to kneel. He looked up at Zharesh, his eyes betraying his fear. Zharesh laughed again and put his hands to his helmet, removing it slowly and deliberately.

"It... it can't be," our wretch said as he gazed at our blessed champion.

I will admit, I had never myself been given the honour of seeing Zharesh shed his helmet before. His face was pale and his grey hair was long and almost silken. On his face, he bore many deep scars and his pale red eyes seemed to twist and turn as though they contained within them the essence of the warp itself. He smiled, revealing a row of even teeth that seemed somehow to have escaped the depredations of Lord Nurgle. "Come now, Brother Inquisitor," Zharesh said with another laugh, "Surely you recognize your old friend and comrade? These scars should be proof enough."

"Proof that my word was true, traitor!" the Imperial brat spat. I stepped forward to club him, though Zharesh held me back. "Proof that you were everything I said!"

"Is that how you sleep at night? Is that what you tell the Emperor in your prayers?" Zharesh asked, "That all the poor souls you brought to the firing line... all the innocents, all the ones that were in your way... that you killed them all for His sake?"

"Don't you dare speak His name! You defile everything you touch, traitor!"

"I ask you, Alastor, who the real traitor is? The man who was damned or the man who carried out the sentence?" Zharesh hefted his axe lightly, "You were but an administrator... a foolish bureaucrat without talent or wits. But you were ambitious, yes... very ambitious. I thought to use that ambition to drive you... to make you strive harder in the Emperor's service. Little did I know that the Changer of Ways was already whispering in your heart."

The Inquisitor tried to rise, only to be bludgeoned backwards by the flat side of Zharesh's axe. He cried out and one of my brethren kicked him in the side until he fell silent. I licked my lips as I saw the man's agony.

"I am the judge here, Alastor," said Zharesh softly, "When the Storm Troopers came, I knew at once... you were many things, but you always managed to get in well with your with your betters. A poisonous word here and a lie there and suddenly, you were in my place and I was a traitor. I, who had served the Emperor in all things for half of a century, a traitor! I was sacrificed, Alastor, so that you might better serve your ambition."

"My proof is before me right now, Zharesh," Alastor retorted, though this time he did not rise, "Who your true masters are could not be more clear."

Zharesh looked down upon his axe, which seemed to pulsate with an unseen power. "Oh yes," he said softly, "When I sat in your dungeon, awaiting execution, I prayed for the chance to avenge myself. To take from you what you took from me. Then, an hour before the morning that was to see my end, Sarados appeared. I knew what he was... I could feel it. The corruption, the despair and the never-ending yearn for battle. I cursed him and cried for the guards... but they did not come."

"If you had been a true servant of the Emperor," Alastor said, his eyes burning with a foolish fury, "You would have died there, for His sake."

Zharesh smiled again, taking a step towards the Imperial wretch. "And so I would have, had it not been for you. I remember Sarados' words well... he is a man of no small intelligence, Sarados... he said: 'You have but two choices, Inquisitor... you may embrace the power that you have spent your life cursing or you may die in the morrow for a crime you did not commit... but know this: Should you die, he shall never again escape you. And should you live, you may yet attain a greatness beyond your wildest dreams'."

"I see no greatness before me."

"And nor do I, Alastor. Believe you me, I know what I have become. But I sold my soul to the promise of the Chaos Gods for but one purpose and now, at long last, they have repaid me. As the Emperor is my witness, Alastor, I do say that there is justice in this universe."

The Inquisitor squared his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Perhaps, for a moment, he saw his folly and realized that his False Emperor could not save him from the fate the Chaos Gods had left for him. After a moment, his head bowed. "Do it then. Take your justice."

Zharesh laughed for a third time and the gathered host joined with him. "Oh, you will not die here, Alastor. You will wish you had, but no... death shall not take you for some time yet. Bear him away and bring him to our encampment. When I have the leisure, his true judgement shall begin."

With those words, the Warp-Blessed Sorcerer took up his helmet and placed it upon his shoulders again.

Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

With the death of the traitor Governor, the remaining Renegades soon fell into disarray. In the two weeks following the conquest of the capital, Inquisitor Alastor Drakonis, with the assistance of the Oathkeeper, began the process of filtering the population and distinguishing between those who had bent their knee to the abominable Gods and those that had stayed true to the Imperium. Tens of thousands of trials were conducted on the spot and countless heretics fell when Alastor gave the nod and the Storm Troopers unleashed the Emperor's cleansing fire.

The taint of heresy on this world remains strong, however. Grandmaster Lucas has been unrelenting, pursuing the great daemon that fled the governor's palace. Isaiah has told me that a core of die-hard traitorous Guardsmen has also rallied around one of the Ex-Governor's trusted lieutenants in the wastelands to the south east. And in the southern continent, the Chaos Marines lie in waiting behind their formidable entrenchments. All scouts and land speeders sent to probe their defences have not returned.

Julian lies dead, but much work is left to be done.

Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

Betrayal. Our Thunderhawk was en route to the east when we were struck by ground-based lascannon fire. We were expected. The sky began to twist with foul energies and Furies appeared, swarming and throwing themselves into our hull. "Get us out of here!" I heard Alastor shouting amidst the explosions, though soon our craft was lurching towards the ground. I made my peace with the Emperor and watched the ground rush up to us. But the Emperor is merciful. At the very last moment, our Machine Spirit made a last effort. The engine fired as we crashed to earth. I was thrown across the room and felt an arm break. But though the disaster met us, we were not broken.

"Damage report!" Alastor yelled.

"Our hull integrity is lost," the helmsman reported, climbing "The Machine Spirit is wounded, though the Tech Priests believe him not dead. Casualty reports coming from all over the ship... fifty dead, mainly from our Storm Trooper compliment. I've already sent out a distress call, but there's..."

"Sir, the Furies are coming again!"

I looked out the viewscreen and saw them. Two dozen of the beasts flew in a v formation. I am ashamed to admit that I cried out. A heavy bolter began to fire to defend us, but there were far too many... death would not be cheated of us. I looked to the Inquisitor, who was clasping his fist in silent prayer. Then, with a flash of light, they came. Storm bolters scythed through the air and the Furies screamed.

A communication channel was opened. "Inquisitor Drakonis? Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Justicar," he answered, "But this is not over. Where are your fellows?"

"We are mustering what we can," the Grey Knight answered, "A local Imperial garrison conducting cleansing operations in your name has already dispatched reinforcement. Grandmaster Lucas has also been informed. We shall defend you from the daemons while you conduct repairs to your vessel."

The Inquisitor was silent for a moment, looking out the viewscreen and into the distance. Before the Emperor, I do swear that for a brief moment, I saw him shudder. "The daemons may perhaps be the least of your concerns, Justicar."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh sweet justice... He's here."

"Who is here?"

"My old friend and fellow," Alastor answered, "Zharesh is here."

Taken from the text of the Sage Alexander Petranus, who observed the battle via a holoprojecter set in the Inquisitorial Battle Barge

The Marines of the Oathkeepers descended upon the burning city, their bolters singing the praises of the Emperor. Isaiah Aetos led the charge, his famous blade shining in his hand. With him flew Octavius Drakonis, that unparalleled man whose very presence could send an entire regiment of Julian's foul traitors into flight. On the right flank stood Claudius Varnus, that hardened Chaplain, with a sixteen picked men who had vowed to either find Julian's head or perish in the attempt. And who could forget the blessed Canoness, Clara Amparion, who flew with six of her heavenly Seraphim. Isaiah had begged her to stay behind until the city was secure, but the holy sister thirsted for vengeance against those who had betrayed mankind. Together, these four champions charged into the citadel of the betrayer, ready to claim the Apostate Governor once and for all.

Though the Governor's dupes were well fortified, the Marines moved from house to house, slaying everyone they could find before moving onward. As the final assault upon the Governor's Palace began, the foul traitors of the Alpha Legion revealed themselves at last. As Isaiah and Octavius forced their way into the Governor's ruined palace, there was a great explosion. From the smoke came a towering figure. His eyes glowed red with blood and he held a massive scythe aloft.

"Welcome Captain," the Arch-Traitor said as he brandished his weapon and licked his lips with a forked tongue, "Allow me to introduce myself... I am Caine. I trust that my Guardsmen have been good company. I must say, your Governor has been a wonderful puppet. I have seen your skill, Captain, and I do say that you will be a worthy replacement. So I will give you this chance now: Bow before me and call me master and you may yet be spared."

"So," Octavius said softly, with holy lightning twisting around his Force Weapon, "It was your whispers that drove the Governor into madness. Your whispers which damned this world."

"The Gods of Chaos whisper in the hearts of all men, brothers," Caine declared, his twisted mouth attempting to smile, "You foolish Loyalists are simply too weak to hear their call."

"Then feel the wrath of those you call weak," Isaiah declared, raising his sword high, "For the Emperor!"

And with His name upon their lips, the Loyalists charged. Isaiah and Caine's blades clashed, the scythe's dark blade deflecting Isaiah's holy sword before bouncing off the holy shield of the Brother Captain's Iron Halo. Octavius came forward then, his flaming staff striking home and forcing the blasphemous Champion back. Caine screamed and a killing blow from his scythe sailed towards the Librarian's head. It was not an inch away from Octavius' armour when Yoz, his faithful familiar, flew forward.

"Yoz!" Octavius cried as his oldest friend was cut in two by the black scythe.

Isaiah sprang forward, taking advantage of Caine's moment of elation. He struck a firm blow against the foul Traitor's skull and then activated his jump pack. Power armour struck power armour as Caine screamed, arms pinned against the wall by the strength of Aetos' jump pack.

"Octavius! Finish it!"

Octavius, still feeling the sting of his loss, brought his staff down and sundered black power armour. A second passed where the Librarian looked the Arch-Betrayer in the eye before holy thunder shook the building. Isaiah leapt away as Caine's armour was set aflame by righteous fury. The traitor writhed on the ground and screamed before a flash of light blinded everyone in the room. When the storm passed, all that was left of Caine was a pile of ash.

"Well done, Brother," Isaiah said as he took a moment to catch his breath, "But wait... where is Clara?"

Octavius was silent for a moment and his eyes appeared distant. "She has gone ahead of us... Claudius is with her and... by the Emperor... we must hurry!"

The Brothers flew through the narrow corridors. The few Renegades that offered resistance were cut down as the Assault Marines found their way to the blood-soaked throne room. The scene they witnessed I shall never forget... at one side of the room stood Julian upon a raised dais, a host of traitor Marines, Daemons and Renegades all around him. At the other stood Clara, the Chaplain Claudius and a handful of Marines, their backs to the wall as a massive Daemonic abomination cut through their ranks. It's great cleaver swung downward, knocking Claudius off his feet and across the room. He slammed against the wall and crashed to the ground, limp. It turned back towards the Canoness, grinning toothily.

"Clara!" Isaiah cried as she narrowly dodged the monstrous Daemon's cleaver.

There was a sickening laugh. "Where is your Emperor now, girl?" Julian sneered from his throne, "Your Marines have failed you, but it is not too late to beg for my mercy. I assure you, your death will be quick."

"You will pay for all the blood you have spilled, swine!" Clara snarled, "I shall avenge my sisters and my world here and now!"

With that declaration, the Daughter of the Emperor sprang upward, her jump pack carrying her above the throng as lasgun fire deflected off her power armour. She was but an inch from Julian when a blue whip struck like lightning. It wrapped around her waist and pulled her down to earth. "Well done, Vross," Julian said as the whip retracted and wrapped around her throat, "I'm sorry Clara. Be certain to tell your Emperor that he shall see me before long."

A spark of blue light coursed through the whip and the holy martyr fell limp. "Clara!" Isaiah yelled, "Clara! No!" He charged forward, only to have the massive cleaver of the Greater Daemon block his advance. Octavius dodged to his right and struck the foul beast's tainted flesh vainly.

"Fools!" Julian yelled as the forces of Chaos moved in for the kill, "The Gods of Chaos cannot be denied! Not by you, not by the Orks or that fool Sarados! He thought me weak, but the Gods stand with me! And soon the entire galaxy shall come to know my name!"

"The only thing that shall be remembered is your folly."

For a moment, all was silent. Daemon and human, loyalist and traitor alike stood still, eyes searching out the source of the sound. From the corner of the room, five shining figures emerged, their swords glowing blue. The Greater Daemon screamed, his cleaver falling to ground and his massive arms clasping at his head. It pounded a fist into the wall and opened a hole before running through the opening.

"Governor Julian," said Grandmaster Lucas, "By the authority of the God-Emperor of mankind, I find you guilty of treason. Face my judgement."

"Who... who dares? St... Stop that man!"

The Grey Knights advanced in a walk. Renegades and Alpha Legion Marines fell in droves as the greatest of the Emperor's servants charged, singing His holy names as they cut through flesh and armour alike. Lucas eyes remained locked upon the Ex-Governor, walking up the steps to the throne with his ancient blade at the ready. The one called Vross sprung forward to halt him, but his whip was sliced in two by a simple flick of Lucas' wrist. Glancing at his master briefly, Vross threw down his weapon and ran without speaking a word.

Lucas continued his ascent. Julian shook visibly and fired twice with his pistol at that giant of a man, only to have the shots bounce harmlessly off his ancient armour. Julian raised his blade high and lowered it, faster than the eye could see. The Governor crumpled.

"So," Julian gasped, "The Emperor's help comes at long last."

"The Emperor's light can never be denied, traitor," Lucas said as he withdrew his blade.

"Be that as it may," Julian replied, "I saved this world... the people... will remember me... I..."

The Grandmaster turned his back as Julian breathed his last breath. A great scream was taken up by the Renegades then. Seeing their leader dead, they fled, even as the Grey Knights continued their slaughter. The surviving Alpha Legion Marines, seeing the day lost, began to fire their bolters anew as they moved backwards in a fighting retreat. The Grandmaster, always remembering his duty, followed after them.

Octavius walked towards his Captain as his squad made to join the pursuit. His Captain was kneeling near the throne next to Clara's limp body. The jolt of the whip had not left a mark on her body. The Brother-Captain placed an armoured hand upon her face and gently shut her eyes.

"Brother Captain... Claudius is still alive," Octavius said quietly, "He needs to be brought to the apothecaries immediately."

The Brother-Captain was silent.

"She died with the Emperor's name on her lips. She died saving this planet from heresy. We must not dishonour her sacrifice, Isaiah."

"No," Isaiah said softly. He looked down at the Sister for the final time, "May the Emperor always smile upon you, his finest daughter."

Taken from the personal records of Court Historian Astor Eusebius on the eve of the Battle of Ariacad.

The walls of the palace are groaning. The Emperor's dogs fire volley after volley of their insolent artillery against us. Word of the siege has spread across the kingdom and many garrisons are reporting open revolt. The fact that so many of our own would betray the man who scourged this land of the Ork and return to the Emperor who abandoned them to their fate chills me. But the Gods of Chaos know that Julian is their devoted son. Their aid shall soon come.

At the first hour passed midnight, Julian called together his Champions. Some were already burned with loyalist-inflicted wounds, but none dared to refuse to answer the calls of their master. They sat together in a grand chamber, with Julian at the head and Vross at his side.

"Champions," Julian said when the chamber was filled and the gates closed, "We have been through much together. Not long ago, we stood together in this very room waiting for death to come by an Ork axe. Yes, there was not a single man in this room who I did not think worthy of the favours of the Dark Gods."

He paused, touching a hand to the eight pointed star carved into his face. I noticed that his eyes had taken on a sickly green glow. Clearly a sign of favour from the Gods that he serves so well.

"It pains me then to see that I was so wrong. Our defences have crumbled. The people riot and rebel against the will of the Dark Gods... all that we have built has been torn down," he slammed his fist against the table and rose, "As Tzeentch is my witness, I should have left you all to die with the Orks!"

One of the Champions, shaking visibly, spoke: "My Lord, the Loyalists-"

Vross cut him short. His whip snapped out and wrapped around the fool's neck. A jolt of electricity erupted and the man crumbled in a smouldering heap. Julian waited for a moment, challenging his Champions to speak. Not a sound was heard.

"We have but one chance left to reclaim the favour of the Dark Gods," Julian said softly, "This world and everyone on it belong to Chaos. The Marines think that we are finished, but this palace is blessed by the Dark Gods. It will not be taken. The altars of Khorne will run red with blood and then the banner of Chaos shall rise," he paused, starring into space for a moment, "Now go and prepare. And do not return to me with anything less than victory, lest you feel my... displeasure."

The Champions all praised Julian and bowed low, before filing out as one. Only Vross and I remained in the chamber. Julian starred into space again before rising in place. "I know you're there," he said suddenly.

"You know only because I wish you to know," said a voice behind us. There stood Caine in full power armour, the eyes on his helmet glowing red. "Why so anxious, Governor? Is something the matter?"

"Where is Sarados?"

"Sarados has much more pressing matters to attend to, Governor," Caine spat, "I thought I made that clear."

"So he intends to sit and watch while this city falls?" Julian demanded, standing and turning to face the Marine, "He wishes a victory for the Loyalists? Is that it?"

"'Fall'?" Caine repeated, "Really, Governor? After all the aid and supplies we have given your forces, you still cannot stand on your own two feet? My, my, what a poor investment you've proven to be."

Julian stepped forward defiantly. "These aren't Orks. I don't even know if these are even normal Marines... you must have seen the Flesh Hounds and Daemonettes in the streets. They're screaming. Something is here... some new weapon. Twelve of our psykers have been driven mad by its presence. We can't be certain of anything with this new unknown."

Caine was silent at this. "Be that as it may," Caine answered, "Sarados is completely absorbed in the task of deciphering the tome and refuses to commit any more forces save for my own personal guard. So see to it that you prepare for what is to come."

"Caine," said Julian as the Marine turned to leave, "If Sarados wants to sacrifice me, then so be it. But I'm going to remember this."

Caine glanced backwards. "Such is the way of Chaos, Governor."

Retrieved from the personal records of Chief Librarian Octavius Drakonis

Our Chapter was forged by tragedy. Side by side did the old Chapter Masters fall to stave off the Tyranid mass. Argus Warhorn and Marcus Angelus... Five billion souls owe their lives to their sacrifice. So it is then that we bow our heads towards them before consigning our souls to the Emperor and waging war against those that would curse His holy name. So it was on that day, when Isaiah led our prayers, holding his sword high and exhorting our men to battle.

"On this day, the Imperium has left its trust with us! The Servants of Chaos think us weak, but they shall soon know our strength! But we shall not retreat! We shall not fail! Brothers! On this day, the Emperor will see that we are, as ever, His devoted servants!"

The gathered Battle Brothers cheered and the banner of the Chapter was raised. On the next day, we found the enemy unprepared. Ten veterans led by Brother Orestes took up position behind their lines and disabled their armour before the tank crews could even man them. The Renegades desperately rallied, but it was too late. I made my landing next to one of their officers and split his body in two with a thought. The degenerates fought with a sickening fanaticism, but they could not stand before our fury. The base was razed and those that we did not slaughter we forced into full retreat. Claudius' reserves arrived then and gave them chase.

I can see the capital now, over the horizon. It swirls with the evil horror that Julian has brought forth. The streets here are stained with the blood of the innocent. I can hear them all... the brave men who were offered up to the lust of Khorne for staying true to their Emperor... the children who were given over to the black mercy of Nurgle... the women who were left to the deprivations of Slaneesh... and the poor imprisoned souls who even now were agonizing under the lash of Tzeentch. For a moment, I felt as though I might be overwhelmed, but I cast my mind towards that holy guiding light that sustains us. I gazed towards His glorious form and found in myself new strength, for I knew that against His holy will the darkness could never prevail. Our Whirlwinds took up position and began the bombardment. I gripped the staff and touched the hilt of my bolt pistol to my heart. The day's work was not yet done.

Personal account of the Sage Alexander Petranus, a member of Alastor Drakonis' personal guard.

The Thunderhawk landed near the hills. It's hatch open and a pearly mist came out. Ten stormtroopers came down the ramp, hellguns at the ready. They formed a phalanx and waited. I heard his heavy steps before I saw him. The Holy Warrior, the Great Defender, the Pure-Hearted... His names were only spoken in whispers. His ancient Terminator armour shimmered in the moonlight. I had to tilt my head back to take in his full height. He moved slowly, but methodically, his deep black eyes evaluating the gathered host.

"Brother-Captain... Master Chaplain..." the Inquisitor said after a moment, "Allow me to introduce Grandmaster Lucas of the Grey Knights. He has come to offer you his assistance."

"I..." I had never before known a Space Marine to be at a loss for words, but I think I understood how Aetos felt, "I am honoured."

"Do not bow, Brother Isaiah," Lucas said. His voice had an absolute clarity to it. "And same to you, Brother Claudius. One who has served the Emperor as well as you both have should bow only to the Emperor himself."

"I had heard rumours," said the Chaplain Claudius, "Of the Emperor's hammer... of the Grey Knights. The Champions who carry the blood of the Emperor himself..."

"That holy blood flows in both my veins and yours, Brother Claudius. Please, let us turn towards the matter at hand. The Governor of this world has taken solace in the twisted creatures of the warp and seeks to bring this entire world into the grip of heresy. It lies with us now, brothers, to bring forth his final judgement."