Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(36) Excelsus Under the Eye===
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Though the Agri-World of Femor II may have some issue recovering, the world for now is safe. There are a number of requests for assistance pinging about, displayed for review. There is also a note encrypted with the greatest data-djinn the Mechanicum can muster - "The Star Bomb is 85% Complete"

1) The Knight World of Paramara has come under attack from Hive Fleet Nidhoggr, and while House Askari has sent a Lance to assist, support from House Pyrus is conspicuously absent, and House Excelsus is dealing with its own problems. The Raja of the House has been isolated with his Kshatriyan Guard, with numerous Tyranid bioforms making landfall. Break through the Tyranid fleet above, secure the Raja of House Kshatra, and work with the Knights to remove the Tyranid presence from their world.

2) What Korst'la wants, Korst'la usually gets. A VIP on the eleventh moon of the gas giant of Iniega has requested sanctuary aboard Studio 69, and Korst'la is more than willing to accommodate her, offering to "make her a star." She is currently holed up in a pleasure den owned by the system's kingpin, Magos Boris the Genetor. The Commandos are tasked with selecting a fast, durable vehicle, recovering the VIP, and bringing her to a designated Webway Portal on the world's surface for recovery. While the VIP is more than willing to accompany the Commandos, a number of unknown forces are also converging to prevent the recovery. Be prepared to defend oneselves, but as the world is a recruiting ground for the Black Panthers Chapter, it may be possible to secure their assistance.

3) Deepthroat has located Aun'o O'Res'Nan, mustering a great fleet and army over the misty world of Sors Natio. Deepthroat has alerted his superiors, and through channels illicit and official, the local Squat Hold has been mobilized, and a company of the Black Panthers Chapter is en route. Stealth and subterfuge will not avail - call upon allies as needed for a direct frontal assault breakthrough, for O'Res'Nan's pride will demand he face an open assault in person. Numerous Squat Hearthguard and Solar Sect Exo-Forces have volunteered to join the breakthrough. Spend them well.

Kill Aun'O O'Res'Nan, the Strong Armed Sword of the Ethereal Caste. Remove the Tau Empire from the Tiji Sector once and for all.

4) House Excelsus has reported that numerous fringe settlements on the world have cut contact, after self-mutilation of their eyes and erecting tall burning shrines pointing to the orbiting gas giant of Audax. Meet with the commanderies of House Excelsus, and work with the Knights to root out whatever is causing the disturbances. Be prepared for anything. The terrain is swampy and uneven, so it is wise to keep this in mind if vehicles are requisitioned.

Cortain peers at the requests. "So, we have two, maybe three real big requests: Tau, Hellstar, and Nidhoggr. Oh, and some annoying request from Korst'la."
"I wouldn't exactly call'em requests, lad," Rockfist mutters, "But give us a destination, an' we'll get ya there."
"The Inquisitors should be sending a vessel to retrieve Crusader Invictus," Rose offers, "So you can worry a little...less about that."
"Good. We should keep our contact with them consistent," Cortain states, "I have a feeling we will be needing to call upon it very soon..."
"Given the nature of our primary assignment, Audax appears to be of highest importance," Temur observes.
"If that's yer priority, jus' give the order," Rockfist nods.
"To Audax then, Brothers?" Temur asks.
"Aye," Brynjol nods, giving the order.
"Aye, lads," Rockfist says, "We'll be there before ya know it."
"This would be the second Knight House we've visited," Rose considers, "During my time, the Knight battlesuits were to be a temporary line of first defense. It's interesting to see how they all changed."

The order is given, and the Blade begins to leave Femor local space. Orienting to a clear path, the Blade's Warp Drives kick in, the world of Audax on target.
"The Hellstar's objective was not on Femor..." Cyril considers, "It seems we had disappeared just before its search began in earnest. We should arrange for all red gas giants in Tiji to be surveilled, if the Inquisitors have not already set up something of that nature."

Rockfist and Rose return to the Manufactora to continue their work, while O'Malley merely glares from the Bar and Grill's counter, preparing rites for the fallen in the Blade's small Chapellum. As for Thexus, well, he's somewhere. probably. Estimated time to Audax: 1 week, give or take a day or two. 

Cortain looks for any transcripts involving the new "acquisitions" from Oculus Aquila, and why they seem so off-putting. Like how they could possibly eat someone's leg off. However, as he heads on over to his quarters to review the archives, he finds the way impeded. The halls themselves are blocked, and it is clear there are a few Squats trapped within the great clogged mess as well. At least, those moans of hunger are what he assumes are squats.

Envelopes. Hundreds of thousands of them.

Most are to the Ask the Commandos section of Cortain's Commando Ledger, all on about Crusader Invictus, but a fair number are prayers, well wishes, and intonations for blessings. Pleased at the attention, he realizes it's clear what this issue's focus should be on: The Invincible Crusader Invictus! It will take a bit to address all the fanmail and requests for blessings, so he summons two servo-squids to help file through the mail. Every so often, a pile of letters is moved, revealing an emaciated, exhausted squat. The Servo-automata pay them no mind as letter after letter is delivered to his desk. Cyril stumbles across the clog en route to the Laboratorium and assists with sorting questions and requests from general fangushing. Cortain even provides a gift of a spent bolt shell from Cyril's bolters to five thousand lucky supplicants! What a swell guy.

During the torrent of mails, the Editor in Chief / Iron Praetor reads a letter with a certain address on the Noosphere. What he discovers there horrifies even one who survived the horrors of the Hellstar: REPUBLICAN COMMANDO FANFICTION. Such magnificent stories, such as "ICE WRAITHS OF GOR", "The Techmarine and the Tank," and one rather poorly-spelled illustraded manual, "E-Brinjol" he quietly resolves to never tell another soul of such things.

There are a few blasts coming from the manufactorum, but overall the trip is relatively calm and quiet.

Brynjol works with his serfs, who are quite busy treating the wounded Squats from the mission. There were a few that died, but most suffered only minor to moderate injuries. Concerned at their weakness, Brynjol wonders if augmenting them is possible...

Temur proceeds down to the forge to inquire to Thexus about the nature of his cyber-hawk, notably the panels seeming to cover ports with no identifiable purpose. In the Manufactora, Rose is quite busy at her desk, working on some sort of weapon attachment. Rockfist is reviewing the motor pool, ensuring all is ready for when Sors Natio is the target. Oddly, Thexus is nowhere to be found. Temur looks around, somewhat puzzled.

"Have you seen the Executor?" Temur inquires, "I had a matter I wished to discuss, but I cannot seem to locate him."
Rose removes the blast shield covering her face, and wipes away some soot, "I...haven't actually. I haven't seen him since Audax was decided as the target. Is there a problem?" She pushes away pieces of what looks like a weapon further away, turning her chair.
"Not a problem, mostly curiosity," he says, "It can wait, but his absence does trouble me... what manner of device are you tinkering with?"
Rose sighs, leaning back.
"You know, just because I grew up in the Dark Age of Technology, that APPARENTLY means that I'm the go-to girl for fixing things," Rose huffs, "Rockfist and the Executor gave me this, they called it a Disintegrator Combi-attachment. And yes, I've almost gotten it working."
She spins idly in her chair.
"With any luck, I should have it ready in another week or two," she says, "As for the Executor, he'll probably show up again soon. He's been in such moods before."
"Your expertise is quite valuable, when so much similar knowledge has been lost, but do not overtax yourself," Temur offers, "I think brother Cyril would be quite upset if he found out that the crew had been asking too much of you."
"I understand. If I see him, I'll let you know," Rose says, before part of the weapon pops in a dark flash, spooking the nearby Tripodon, "Oh, not again...there there, Willoughby, it'll be okay"
Rose heads off to calm the Tripodon, now bleating in panic.

Temur gestures to the ship and machinery around them.
"Surrounded by all of this, seeing revived wonders of the dark age of technology, it does give me pause in quieter moments to consider what Chogoris may have been like in those days."
"You might be able to ask the Executor about that," Rose says, "He was telling me a story about a world he called Mundus Planus once."
"I will remember to ask him," Temur promises, "When he is no longer taken by whatever mood has him avoiding us. Good luck with your endeavors, I shall be in the armory if you have need of me."
He heads off to the armory to practice working in tandem with Vachir.

After about a week, give or take a day, the general alarts begin to blare, and the Blade begins to transition to realspace. The surroundings are thick with the green-tinted dust of the Sheltered Reef Nebula, as the Blade travels on plasma drives.

Cyril curses as the alart blares. "Already? Drat. I had work to do..." He rises from a desk of letters and makes for the bridge. 
Brynjol looks up as the alart goes off, joining Cortain and rushing to the bridge. In the wake of such horrors, Cortain would ask O'Malley for a drink. However, he holds off. Not only does he think O'Malley might cut on him because they're stalling helping the Squats, but he also really wants to kick the dependency of astartes-enhanced liquors to forget the horrible things this sector brings him.

The dull orange world of Audax spins idly, with one of its moons, a misty brown and green world, floating idly amongst the heavens.
"We've arrived, lads," Rockfist declares, as the Blade reaches a stable orbit, "Audax, home of Knight House Excelsus."
Cortain reviews the noospheric datasieves, searching for information on the world. Audax is a varied world where lowlands and swamps give way to verdant equatorial jungles and mountainous poles. The world and local spess is ministered by the Domineus Council of House Excelsus. The world's capital, Fortress Adtonitus, and the surrounding Borderlands, are the center of activity on the world. Passing a heraldry test, and reviewing historical archivae, it seems House Excelsus is remarkably new on the galactic scene, appearing only about 17 years back. The organization of House Excelsus is, in polite terms, a loose collection of Freeblades, but mirrors in ranking the many hive gangs and rat packs prevalent in the underhives of the civilized worlds of the Imperium. Soldiers of fortune and fighters from all over the sector seek to prove themselves to join it. Surprisingly, it maintains manufactora to provide for all sorts of pattern knights, including the rarer Questoris, Cerastus and even Acastus patterns. This intrigues him - it's always been a dream to learn things meant for Sacristans.

Cyril checks local vox traffic, picking up nothing out of the ordinary. Incoming and outgoing supply transports, Lances departing for glory, and even a few combat vessels in orbit.
"Anyway, lads, we've reached stable orbit," Rockfist says, "We can try teleportin' ya down, or prepare a transport. 'S up ta you."
"Let us take a Stormbird," Temur declares, "If nothing else, I wish to see the fortressworks from above."
"Affirmative," Cyril agrees, "It will afford room for Notomok and the Thanatar."
"I will fly, then," Brynjol sighs, considering how bad Notomok smells, "Cyril, try and get your manbeast to take a bath before he gets aboard."
"Very well, lads," Rockfist says, "We'll ready a Stormbird. Anything ye'll be needin' from the Armory?"

The Commandos review the Rites available to them. Given how they do not know the location of the enemy, and the terrain is rough, Jetbikes are in order. Temur is forcibly made Squad Leader, and they select the Chogorian Brotherhood Rite of War, granting them Jetbikes and the Hit and Run talent. A Warrior Squad of Squats is also prepared, also mounted on Jetbikes. Deciding on the Squad Modes of Tactical Spacing and Furious Charge, the Commandos move on to gear.

Temur selects a power, lance infernus pistol, and skapulan bolter, as well as a cartograph. Cyril selects a relic bolter, cryopistol, and a winged jump pack. Cortain decides only his bike is necessary, as befitting a vehicle-mounted Auroran, while Brynjol selects a jump pack and that's it. A Stormbird is readied, and a mass hauler prepared for the accompanying Squats and gear.

"We've already let the Fortress know yer comin', an' they're sendin' out a representative," Rockfist says, "Good luck down there."
Cyril nods his thanks and boards with Notomok, patting the recently-washed yeti's shaggy lilac-scented fur. The Launch bay is cleared, and Brynjol pulls the Stormbird out slowly. The mass hauler is not far behind. He pilots the bird down carefully, ensuring a smooth ride. Swirling over the sight of Audax, and its moon Audax, drifting through the Sheltered Reef Nebula, he carefully takes the Stormbird through the misty clouds to the night side of the world, where Fortress Adtonitus and the Borderlands currently lay. Even though it is currently night, the Commandos could hardly tell as they land, so suffused in lights the Fortress Adtonitus is. The doors of the Stormbird finally fall out, opening for rapid deployment.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_5blMi0ve4

All outside, amongst the light rain, the Commandos can hear the wide voices of activity. Surprisingly, the occasional servo-squid floats about in the sky, ducking and weaving between skyscrapers. Though Fortress Adtonitus is by far the tallest building around, large gothic skyscrapers covered in neon signage and advertisements are strewn about. Heavily armed people walk about, doing business or aspiring to join the ever-growing Knight House Excelsus. Great noises echo through the streets, as the Commandos can see one of the trial pits on the outskirts of the world - a pair of knights are evidently dueling, probably to settle some bullshit. 

"Is it just me," Brynjol begins, "Or is it concerning that Mechanicus technology is being used to power what are essentially the warmongering desires of a mercenary faction?"
"This entire place is probably cobbled-together by the upstart Domineus Council," Cortain points out.
"Warmongering? Knights do not instigate conflicts, they end them," Cyril declares, "Decisively."

Cyril idly views the advertisements in between scrutinizing the squids' iconography. Indeed, some advertisements are showing off the Excelsus Death Games, where lucky folks can try to survive and join the ranks, and an advert for Excelsus Idols, where men and women of particularly pleasing countenances compete to be the star-studded "public face" of Excelsus. His eyes catch the numerous advertisements for joining House Excelsus.

Temur catches a rather curious advertisement - it's him, looking angry and staring at the camera, a powerful grimace etched on his face.
>"Feeling silent but deadly?" the Advert asks, "Try Pepto-Bismatus, available at your local apothecary!"
Cortain cannot help but blast electrostatic laughter. Temur stands wordless, unsure of how to respond.

Cortain notes at least a few screens are dedicated to highlights of the Commandos' collective actions - fighting the enemies of mankind, delivering the citizens, etc. There are even adverts for the Commando Ledger.

As for Brynjol, he can see it. EVERYONE can. It's impossible to miss - an advert for the latest animated series taking the noosphere by storm - Magical Boy Felleye Brynjol!
Now Cyril and Cortain are both doubled over, in a remarkably unprofessional stance. To bring in a real world example, an entire city of Times Square now beckons the Commandos, and their reactions are quite varied.

Brynjol begins nonchalantly heading towards the titanic screens near each glowing billboard, when a crowd begins to gather.
"The Republican Commandos are here!" they yell, as they begin to cluster about.
Brynjol unsheaths his claws slowly. "I... am not... MAGICAL!" He leaps in a dazzling jet-assisted pounce, and claws the shit out of the screen. Sparks fly. He looks... pretty magical.
"MAHOU GAROU TSUME!!!" some local children cry out. Brynjol silences them with a wordless glare.

While Brynjol destroys any merchandising that has his name, the rest of the Commandos fly through the city on Jetbike, and can get a good idea of the layout. It's organized in grid fashion, and Fortress Adtonitus is the largest, centrally-located building. They also pass by numerous street carts selling exotic foods, and a lot of businesses. While most are weapons, the Commandos definitely see the occasional flophouse and Official Republican Commando™ Souvenir shops. Cortain checks to see how many of these MIGHT be worth investing in. And how many of them should be sekritpoliced. He records every instance in his cogitators, for later review. Offhand, he can definitely tell who might be worth investing in, and who's selling cheap knockoffs. 

The Commandos finally arrive at the grand entrance of Fortress Adtonitus stretches forward. Great engraved doors of Knights on Crusade fit snugly between great signs declaring the Fortress. They can also see, outside the entrance, a mighty statue of a Spess Mareen. Cyril gets closer, noticing the statue has a plaque. He gets a look at the plaque and reads it in his memorance implant while he circles.

"In Memoriam, honored Praetor Khordyn Zahn. Loyalty is its own reward, eternally safeguarding the future." The statue has no heraldry, surprisingly enough, but it is well embellished.
In slightly smaller text, "In Memoriam, honored Warlord Urist McThornswoggle, for all must do their part to preserve our heritage."

Above the engraved doors is the great symbol of House Excelsus, a pair of lightning bolts crossing a white circle. The Doors are slightly open, as people go in and out on business. Many people who go in and out of Adtonitus see the Commandos, and are quite surprised. To actually meet them, it's enough to distract them from the great surrounding city, if even momentarily. Entering Fortress Adtonitus, a number of Battle Automata stand present in guard formation. While tasked with keeping out miscreants, they offer the Commandos no resistance, allowing them to pass. Rockfist was correct, the Commandos were expected.

"You've arrived," a woman's voice says, as a figure begins walking down a flight of grandiose stairs, "Welcome, Republican Commandos, to Fortress Adtonitus."
The woman looks to be in her late twenties, with long brown hair, and a thin set of glasses. In fact, the Commandos estimate her to be maybe five or so years older than Rose. Her dress is an elegant folded gown of black and teal, with shining green inlays in the sleeves. Of curious note is the golden winged sun disk floating behind her. Cyril pauses a moment - he's definitely seen that symbol before. The Commandos picked up a solar disk in that same style 800,000 years in the future.
"Greetings," Cyril declares, "I suppose you will be our intermediary in this...affair?"
"Thank you, and well met," Cyril nods.
"You are correct. As the Domineus Council is away currently, I will be working alongside you," she nods, "My name is Meghara, Domineus and Acting Leader of House Excelsus."
Cyril and Temur twitch a bit.
>They were in my previous game, Excelsus, as Ophilia and Vathrek, respectively.
"Please, this way," Megh gestures, "We have a more quiet room set up so we can discuss things in peace."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_ktCDCyhAI

Cyril is reasonably certain her dress, a kalarisis, is Necron in origin, but he pushes it aside for the immediate duty.
Brynjol nudges Cyril. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Is there an issue?" Megh asks, "Our food on hand would do you little good, but if there is anything you require, please let us know."
As the Solar Disk bobs, she finally gestures to a small conference room. The Commandos note the walls are thicker than normal - there will be no interruptions. Indeed, intercepted vox traffic dies down heavily as the Commandos sit. 

In the quiet room, Megh closes the doors. "Now then, we can begin. First, on behalf of House Excelsus, I wish to thank you for coming to assist us so swiftly."
"The Hellstar is our foremost foe and duty," Cyril explains, "We came as soon as we received word. Are you at all familiar with it and its Cult?"
"We have heard of it, yes. The Domineus Council reported sightings of it some seventeen years back," she nods, "Which is why we tried to stay as vigilant as we could."
"You mentioned Clawed-out eyes in your missive," Cortain states, "Have any other anomalies taken place? Any...unwelcome guests?"
"Yes, sir Forge Lord," she says, "A few days before the reports of the cultists, we detected a meteoric impact near one of the Legionary Castellums surounding Adtonitus. From there, one of the Castellums had gone silent."
Cyril leans forward. "Concerning. Have you sent any forces to investigate?"
She sighs, "Most of our Lances are currently diverted to the Euclisine Crusade. The next wave of knight aspirants will not be ready in time to address this problem. Only myself and a few others are combat ready."
Megh brings up a personnel list on dataslate.
"There have been soldiers who went to investigate, using the issue to prove themselves to join us," she says, "None have returned."

"Sounds like we have our location," Cortain declares, "Have your pict feeds shown what might be there?"
"Where is this Castellum?" Cyril asks.
"Regrettably, any attempts at pict-feed show static and heavy interference," Megh explains, "The Castellum in question is located to the southeast of us, in the borders of the equatorial jungles. It is a tall structure. I can provide you with coordinates to the Castellum for your Cartograph, but the swamps are treacherous, and the paths ever shift. You will need to be cautious."
"Understood," Temur says, eager to move on, "Do you wish to recieve the coordinates of any of the failed parties should we find them?"
"There is no need," she shakes her head, "If they died, then they were undeserving of joining Excelsus. The Domineus Council demands only the best."
Brynjol snorts, disbelieving.
"I am attempting to assemble a Lance," Megh says, "We intend to join you as soon as we can, but, as much as it pains me to say, you should not expect our support."
"So be it," Cortain acknowledges.
With a wave, the Skull-emblazoned door opens. "I wish you luck, Commandos," she nods, "Watch the swamps."
"We will, Domineus Meghara. Emperor keep you..." Cyril salutes the Aquila, "And say hello to the Phaeron for us if you meet him again."
"I...ah..." she splutters, turning quite red, adjusting her glasses.
Cortain simulates mirth all the way out.

Approaching formation with the Squats, the Commandos prepare to blaze the trail. Though it is night time, autosenses compensate, and the dark expanses ahead provide no obstruction.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOZZ1LH74yo

All ahead, the swamps extend out. Floating over them at a good height, the Commandos can nonetheless keep a rough track based on cartographic information. The Squats, even over the jetbikes, however, begin grumbling every so often. More than one finger points to great gashes in the swamplands. There is much muttering about hated enemies and grudges unfilled. Cyril calls in a second Brotherhood, these with Volkite jetbikes, and listens in. As the Commandos surge across, after about a few minutes, another squad of Jetbiking Squats is deployed over the air by hauler. The same grumbling continues.

"Ye can see'em, right?"
"Aye, I do. Damn bugs."
"Filthy xenos, no matter where ya go."
"We'll avenge the Homeworlds one day, even if it takes a thousand generations."
"Aye."

And many variations thereof.

"Bugs?" Cortain asks, "Hellstar entities don't usually take forms of - oh wait, they did. Last week."
"Urist, report," Cyril requests, "Your men seem agitated; have they detected hostiles?""Nay, Praetor," Urist McSquadLeader says, "But look down. The burn marks. The oddly shaped pools. The bits of chitin. Tyranids were here once."
"Acknowledged," Cyril nods, "Take heart; it means this world repulsed the filthy creatures."

Temur maintains the trail flawlessly, and the Commandos manage to make excellent time. The jungles of the equator are beginning to be visible. The Commandos tune their autosenses for anything out of the ordinary. While Cyril can't hear much over the thrum of the jetbike, Temur, Cortain, and Brynjol begin to hear a buzzing, or rather, a sharp keening.

http://picosong.com/x6ft

The world of Audax itself shakes, as if almost being torn apart as from behind, under the Horizon, the reddish-black Hellstar surges forward, its singular eye transfixed on the Gas Giant Audax.

"Keep all fingers on their triggers," Cortain orders, "We. Have. CONTACT."

Stopping short of impact, the Hellstar's beak begins to sift through, consuming some of the Gas Giant. An errant pseudograsper twirls around another of the world's moons, bringing it ever closer as the Hellstar goes about its grisly business. 

Cyril curses briefly in Nixarterian. "Cheating bastard is too fething fast for something so huge."

Lucky for the Commandos, they can see a fortified Castellum off in the distance. It is clearly Legionary in origin, based on how many they've seen so far. painted white and blue. Cortain pauses a moment - the Executor did say that the World Eaters had been the first to the Sector. The Throng of squats get close, in close formation to counteract the being's maddening gaze.

"Not again," Brynjol frowns, "Not here."

Approaching the Castellum Tower, the Commandos pull up, to the building's high roof. With Jetbikes, they can avoid the long drawn out interior bullshit and see a great collection of disheveled people on the roof, praying and beckoning the world-sized entity.

"All Brotherhoods, target the cult, five rounds rapid!" Cyril commands.

The Commandos are immediately on target. Temur advances up, gunning his Jetbike forward and aiming his bolter downrange. Cultists party hard in every direction, as blasts shred into them. As ded cultists fly in every direction, the Commandos note something off. The Cultists are in greyscale. They can also pick out a rather odd crater near the Castellum, which appears to be glowing.

"Hmm," Cyril muses, "Redeploy; target that crater!"

Brynjol moves up, attempting to hit the crater with his jetbike's plasma cannon, but he misses pretty bad. Cyril and Cortain fire their culverins at the crazed cultists, melting and incinerating cultists everywhere, while some Squats provide cover fire. Another squad of Squats has their weapons pointed directly at the crater. They are not disappointed.

The glowing crater begins to stir, as a strange scintillating cloud begins to flow out.  Augurs pick up a high mass of corrosive chemicals in the cloud. Something quite fast, and silver surges out of the crater. Cyril's squats' overwatch triggers, but the shape moves too fast for the Squats to keep up with, missing their shots. The Commandos finally identify a silver, amorphous orb. The Auspex definitely pings it as metallic, as it hides in that corrosive fog. The orb floats over the wailing cultists, shifting into the form of a stellated dodecahedron, impaling them, and draining them into dust. The colors flash brightly, giving the Commandos headaches, because those colors should NOT exist. A pair of Octahedrons float down, flanking the silver color creature, and shifts once more into a trapezohedron. Shards of silver approach.

"Oh joy..." Cortain sighs, recalibrating his culverin.

Brynjol and Temur dodge numerous shards coming at them, though a pair of crystal shards dig deep into Temur's mind, causing some internal bleeding from rejection of kosmic truths. A number of squats are unlucky as well, storms of metallic corrosive silver downing almost twenty Squats.

http://picosong.com/x6VS

Temur draws the Parthinian Serpent, and attempts to get a shot off, but the creature's shield narrowly manages to block the hit. Brynjol surges forward, claws outstretched, but the creature effortlessly shapeshifts around his attacks, drawing him further into the corrosive cloud. His armor begins to suffer integrity hits, but overall holds. 

Cyril orders the surviving Squats to fire at all targets. The two Octahedrae take heavy damage, one even shattering, while the colorful orb from out of spess manages to weather the hits. Cortain continues his advance, digging into the orb with Volkite and well-placed furies. The Orb swaps shapes once more, and sends multiple points into Brynjol. His faith and shield holding, he is able to strike with a mighty counter-attack.  As he pulls his claw away, he feels some resistance. Just some. The creature is magnetic. To his concern, the Silver creature begins to expand outward, attempting to engulf Brynjol with itself. While initially caught off guard, he catches himself and weaves out of the way. The Octahedron attempts to fire more shards of itself at Cyril and the Squats, but misses pretty badly.

Brynjol continues to punch out, landing another hit on the shapeshifting colored orb. Another shot from Temur, however, is shielded by the kosmic creature's reality-repulsing ways. Cyril's squats, filled with Ancestral Fureh, finally down the second Octahedron. Cyril also manages to land some volkite hits on the colored orb out of spess. The once pristine silver surface of the colored orb is beginning to look severely damaged, but it's still going. Cortain realizes he can end the fight. He opens up with a Volkite barrage, setting up for a declaration of Furious Charge. Cortain charges forward on his bike, Gladius Invictus drawn, and impales the relic gladius into the scintillating creature. It screeches a most terrible screech, before exploding outward in a corrosive cloud.

Up in the sky, the Hellstar's beak retracts from the Gas Giant Audax. It is evident what it seeks is not here. The beak turns to the moon caught in the pseudopods, the eye focusing on what to it is a light snack. The beak bites deep into the abandoned moon, swallowing it, before the world-sized entity then surges off, to its next target.

"Well, that was...inconvenient," Cortain quips.
The Squats are falling from the combat high, now solemn for their dead brethren.
"HOW MANY RED GAS GIANTS ARE THERE IN THIS WRETCHED SECTOR?" Cyril yells, parking his bike and begins checking the wounded for survivors. "Brynjol, you may be needed!" Brynjol heads swiftly towards the wounded.
"There is a lot, actually," Megh voxes, as the ground shakes.
"FETH! Of course it is not over!" Cyril yells, rushing to his jetbike.

Continuing the grand tradition of allies arriving too late to assist, a Lance of House Excelsus rounds the horizon.
"Oh. Friendlies," Cyril says, "One cannot be too careful when tunneling-prone Hive Fleets have been about, regardless of how long ago..."
A Cerastus Knight Atrapos and Questoris Knight Crusader advance forward, though they are quite tiny compared to the Acastus Knight Porphyrion in the center.
"Commandos, try to leave the immediate area," Megh states, "We're going to enact a purge."
Cortain points at that Atrapos, "I want to study that."
"And I want to deploy the Strike Suits in support of Kalashtra," Cyril replies, "Brotherhoods, gather your wounded; Rockfist, take us up."
"I thought we flew down," Cortain points out.
"Oh," Cyril catches himself.
"Republican Commandos," Megh states, as she turns the Porphyrion Magna-Lascannons forward, "You've sent that...thing away. You've saved our world. House Excelsus remembers its debts. We will come when the summon appears. We will also deploy lances to Paramara to support as much as we can."

Cyril organizes a hasty retreat with damaged jetbikes and fallen Squats. Flying over the Lances, the Magna-Lascannons begin burning everything around. While the Commandos did the bulk of the work, the Knights can at least clean up.
"It is our duty and privilege to aid the warriors of the Imperium against that menace," Cyril explains, "I look forward to fighting alongside you."
"It is our duty to protect the sector," Cortain adds, "Think nothing of it."
"Sors Natio is becoming a warzone as well," Cyril reminds the Knights, "The Tau Black Caste is soon to be beheaded there; a glorious day for the Imperium and any of its soldiers who can attend. Until we meet again."
"Oh, how I want an Ethereal head on the trophy rack!" Cortain says wistfully.

Surging on back to the haulers and Stormbird, Ordeci and Notomok are embarked. Taking the Stormbird back to the Blade, Serfs stand ready to assist any wounded, of which there are a fair amount. Though 20 died, more are wounded but still combat-capable. Curiously, as the locks re-engage over the launch bay, Executor Thexus is standing over the edge, watching the world.

He's quite silent.

Cyril finishes conversing with the Brotherhood leaders, recording combat injuries and commendations before relinquishing the Squats to their leisure or Brynjol's ministrations, and walks over to stand solemnly beside the Paragon. Cortain soon joins him.

"Something the matter Executor?" Cortain asks.
"THIS WAS OUR...FINAL DEPLOYMENT, PRAETOR. WE WERE DISPATCHED TO ASSIST A NEW KNIGHT HOUSE CALLED EXCELSUS, TEN THOUSAND YEARS AGO."
Thexus's chest skull stares down.
"WE FAILED."
"We?" Cyril asks.
"NONE LEFT THAT WARZONE, BUT IT WAS THE ACTIONS OF A FEW, LOYAL FOREVER MORE, THAT PRESERVED THINGS FOR THE FUTURE."
"Your detachment?" Cortain asks.
"I WAS BUT ONE OF MANY, THE MARKED OF THE FABRICATOR LOCU...GENERAL NOW. MY OWN SYSTEMS WERE DAMAGED, AND I WAITED."
Thexus crosses his mechadendrites.
"I WAITED TEN THOUSAND YEARS, AND I BELIEVE I AM THE ONLY MARKED LEFT."

Cyril and Cortain both stare out with him. However, the burning question must be asked.
"Thexus... who was Khordyn Zhan?" Cyril finally asks.
Thexus turns to him.
"PRAETOR KHORDYN ZAHN, LOYAL WAR HOUND TO THE END. WE ALL FOUGHT TO THE LAST. I AM SURE HE WOULD BE PROUD TO SEE HE MADE A DIFFERENCE."
"Leave it behind," Brynjol finally steps up, "Move forward. No backwards step."
Thexus stares.
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR. I AWAIT YOUR ORDERS."

The Launch Bay finally seals, as the crew goes about their work, in preparation for the next deployment.

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